“Fine!” Ianto snapped as he turned and marched out of Jack’s office. He was moving at a fast clip and was already several steps away when Jack got to the office door behind him and called out “We’re not done talking about this, Ianto!”

“Yeah, we really are!” Ianto didn’t even turn back, although a very startled Gwen looked up at Jack and saw the thunderous expression on his face. It was enough to send her right back to her computer screen.

At the main door to the hub, Ianto waited for the cog door to roll open, and again without turning around he announced, “I’ve got errands to run.  Dry cleaners. Tesco’s.”

“Dammit, Ianto—“

“It should take me approximately 75 minutes, and I’ll be 6.2 kilometers away at most.” Now he did turn around, and Gwen saw his expression was one of utter neutrality. She knew that look. It was the look that said “I just get the coffee around here, and the rest is none of your bloody business.” It was not Ianto’s best look.

“Would you like to track me on CCTV? I could wave for the cameras if you like.”

Gwen winced.  If the Queen ever decided to reward her subjects for sarcasm, Ianto would be the first to receive a knighthood.

“You’re being unreasonable!” Jack argued.

“I catch aliens for a living and I date you, Jack. It’s a little late to bring reason into it.” The door was open now and Ianto stepped through, turned back one more time and the bitter resignation was undeniable in his tone. “You die, too, Jack.”

Gwen thought only Ianto could clip the end of Jack’s name quite that harshly.

And then Ianto was gone up the stairs and Jack was cursing and stomping back into his office.

Gwen’s first thought was to go to Jack and find out what they were talking about—or rather shouting about.  She almost immediately nixed the idea. While she, Jack and Ianto had discovered a new closeness after the loss of Tosh and Owen, she knew that Jack wasn’t always as open and honest as he could be (or should be, she thought) with her.  Then add into the mix Ianto’s jealousy, which, to be fair was nowhere near as—as *loud* as Rhys’, but potent nonetheless, and it left her frozen at her desk, trying to work out what the hell had just happened.

‘…you die, too…’ Ianto’s last comment came back to her, and she pulled up the CCTV outside the Hub, scanned the area for a minute and then, with a sigh that was one part resignation and two parts trepidation, she grabbed her leather jacket off the back of her chair and took the same route out the cog door that Ianto had taken minutes ago.

Jack watched her go and tried to work out what the hell had just happened.

Ianto was standing on the dock, staring blindly out at the bay and trying to work out what the hell had just happened.  Master of the multi-tasking, he was also trying to determine what else was on the Tesco’s list, and trying not to berate himself for over-reacting. So wrapped up in his thoughts was he that he failed to notice Gwen’s approach until she was right beside him, holding a take-away cup of coffee under his nose.

He took it from her without comment and they didn’t speak for a few minutes while he drank coffee and she drank tea and they both watched small boats bobbing on the water in precise random patterns.

“Thanks,” Ianto finally said.

“So…?”

Ianto didn’t look at her.

“Going to tell me what that was all about?” she pressed.

“You mean besides Jack Harkness being a complete prat?” Ianto surprised himself with the outburst. He felt like he and Gwen had definitely found a closer relationship recently, but he still he was more often the listener during story-sharing time than the teller of the tale. 

“Ah, a domestic then.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Gwen gave him a knowing smile. “Every couple knows that when the conversation ends in cursing and name-calling, it’s a domestic.” She held a hand up before he could protest. “I know you know everything, Ianto Jones, but I’m married to a man nicknamed ‘Rhys the Rant’. I believe I’m what’s known as an expert in the field.”

Ianto snorted a laugh, and was frowning into his coffee a few moments later. Gwen was impressed to get even that much—Ianto played all his cards close to the vest, especially the emotional ones.  But Gwen remembered the emotional man who’d tried so hard to save his girlfriend not as long ago as they pretended, and she knew he felt things keenly. And while she’d never acknowledged that getting Ianto Jones to open up was part of her Torchwood agenda, she knew it was definitely something she did.

“We’d need to be a couple to have a domestic, Gwen,” Ianto told her quietly. “And I don’t know if that’s the label I’d choose—and I know damned well Jack doesn’t do labels at all.”

“Maybe neither of you are ready for marching down the aisle, but actions often speak louder than words. You of all people should know that.” Gwen berated him gently.

Ianto went back to contemplating his coffee and thinking about actions. His, Jack’s….

“I don’t know what to do, Gwen.  Actions, words, it doesn’t matter. I sometimes wonder if he thinks about his actions at all, never mind his words.  He all but called me a child today. Doesn’t want me going out on my own—like I can’t take care of myself!”  He was still angry enough that his usual recalcitrance around Gwen disappeared.

“He worries about you, sweetheart. You know that. After Tosh, and Owen—“

“What about him, though?” Ianto interrupted. “I know he doesn’t stay dead, but you’ve seen it Gwen—when he dies, when he comes back—the pain! How am I supposed to let him go through that?”

Gwen frowned at that. She understood full well what Ianto was talking about, and she knew it had to be painful for him to watch Jack claw his way back into life, but—

“But he does it, doesn’t he? Comes back? “

Ianto nodded miserably.

“And you don’t!” Her sharp tone caused him to raise an eyebrow, which she ignored. “If you die, Jack doesn’t get a do-over.  It’s finished.  Don’t you think that would scare the shit out of anyone? Even if he’s not labeling you two, he’s certainly feeling it!”

Ianto thought about it.

“I over-reacted,” he said after a few minutes.

“You had a domestic,” Gwen corrected him, thinking that in this case Jack did have a bit of the upper hand, but she’d seen him in the office—he’d been acting like an ass just as much as Ianto had. Men, she thought, shaking her head.

“But it’s not the same. This is life or death, not a missed phone call or a pub-crawl that ran late! It’s difficult. It’s…” He blushed and looked utterly uncomfortable, and then in a small voice, he asked, “What do you and Rhys do?”

Gwen laughed and was glad she could do so, even though she remembered just how painful that particular domestic had been. “Tossed me out one night he did—couchland.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah. Next night it was all candlelight, his favorite spag-bol from scratch and a low cut blouse.”

Now it was Ianto’s turn to laugh. He was serious a moment later, though. “Did it work?”

“I’m a married lady, aren’t I?” Gwen cocked her head back towards the Hub. “Come on.  You know Jack’s getting an eyeful on the CCTV. “ Both of them looked up at the camera mounted on a tall pole near them. “We’ll get back to work. You can go sort out files in the Archives and work on your apology, and I’ll keep Jack out of your hair, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He crooked his elbow and she took his arm and steered him back towards the tourist office door.

***

Some hours later, Ianto looked up from the 1974 financial statements and realized he’d lost track of time.  Between trying to plan a special apology for Jack (no mean feat when he didn’t even know what Jack’s favorite food was) and becoming fascinated with the book-cooking of the 1970s, he found that several hours had gone by. He swore under his breath and then tapped the Bluetooth in his ear.

“Gwen?”

No response.

“Jack?”

Again, only silence greeted him. 

With a sigh he locked up his work for the night and made his way back upstairs, knowing it was too late to do anything remarkable and hoping a simple, “I’m a twat,” would be sufficient enough to work his way back into Jack’s affections. 

The Hub was shut down for the night, but not dark. Not at all. His eyes widened.

On every available surface, candles flickered. Tea lights, votives in jars, fat pillars and even some of those novelty sand candles from the seventies. 
Ianto wondered if it was a slightly romantic alien invasion and almost reached for his gun.  Then he caught movement on the stairs to Jack’s office.

Jack stood up from where he’d been sitting on the steps and slowly approached Ianto. He stopped an arm’s length away and candlelight made his eyes shine.  His braces were down around his hips and the top three buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing no undershirt, just smooth bare chest.

Ianto wondered what Gwen had been up to while he’d been working.

“ I’m sorry.”

They met each other half way and melted into one another’s arms.