A cramp on his right shoulder wakes Ianto up, and it takes him a few moments to get his bearings and remember where he is.

Jack's room.

His heart skips a beat as last night flashes back into focus, every little detail, every small moment. Images, sensations, feelings flood his mind.

More precisely, Jack's bed.

He swallows, or rather tries to, but the knot in his throat only tightens.

Sex with Jack had been a quick encounter in the depths of the Hub followed by a swift getaway more often than not. The very few times they ever made it to bed he managed to slip away shortly after, finding any random excuse to leave, or simply waiting until Jack fell asleep.

Though he always suspected Jack just pretended to fall asleep, giving him a chance to sneak away.

Tonight, however, Jack seems to be genuinely asleep, comfortably settled in front of him, head resting on his arm rather than on the pillow. Between that and the fact that he's got his back to the wall, he very much doubts he could move without waking Jack.

The realisation that he doesn't really want to leave almost knocks the air out of him.

Okay, yes, he shared Jack's bed that night after the faeries took Jasmine, but that had nothing to do with sex and too much to do with the pain in Jack's eyes and the desperate way Jack had held on to him as soon as he got within reach. Jack looked so lost, so unlike his usual Captain Harkness persona, that he couldn't just walk away and leave Jack to wake up alone.

And there was that night after the cannibals, when he was still shaken to the core — maybe even a bit concussed, after headbutting one of them — and Jack's reassuring presence next to him, in a house full of noises that were still unfamiliar enough to make him jump every so often, and the half-muttered 'you are safe now' that Jack kept repeating every so often were probably the only reasons he managed to get any sleep.

Jack snuggles in his arms, somehow managing to get even closer, and the thought of 'Jack' and 'snuggle' in the same sentence makes him dizzy. It's cozy and warm even under the light covers, Jack's body wam and pressed against him in the narrow space. His hand slides from Jack's waist to a surprisingly bony hip, fingers idly tracing outlines that are more familiar than he expected.

He only notices his hand has frozen in place when strong fingers lace with his, dragging hid hand over Jack's body until it settles over Jack's heart. He swallows, head spinning in a whirlwind of not-even-thoughts that he can't really put into words or made any sense of.

"Morning." Jack's voice is barely a whisper, but it seems to echo in the small room. He can't help but snort. It's hard to tell the time in the half-light of the Hub. It wouldn't be the first time he goes out hoping to catch the shops before they close and finds himself in the middle of a cold Cardiff night.

Well, probably Torchwood's total disregard for sleeping patterns and work hours has a lot to do with that as well.

"Can't be morning already." He yawns and moves around, trying to find a more comfortable position. Jack holds on to him, body tensing for a moment, as if half expecting him to bolt and disappear. His neck cracks in what should be an alarming way, but it's done that so often recently it does barely register.

"Close enough." There is a hint of something that sounds a lot like sadness in Jack's words. He settles down again and tightens his grip around Jack, trying — in vain — to keep up with the mayhem in his head. Jack seems to slowly relax again, and there is a long moment of silence, of the bed creaking as they both move, getting closer and rearranging limbs and sheets. "Did you get any sleep?"

"Some." A pause, because he wants to say too much that he can't even get his head around, let alone voice. "You really need to get a bigger bed." Jack snorts, then breaks into a laugh. He finds himself joining in.

"Will you stay more often if I get one?" The invitation is clear, as is the chance to opt out. Under his fingers Jack's heart is beating faster. He opens his mouth to speak but the words refuse to come out. What's he supposed to say? He swallows, considering, thoughts spinning way too fast for him to make any sense of them.

"Yeah." Jack let's out a breath and somehow manages to turn around without falling from the narrow bed. A puff of hot air hits his lips and he shivers, despite the heat from Jack's body. A single finger runs down his neck, along his collarbone and his mouth goes suddenly dry. He has to wonder whether Jack can read him like an open book or it's just blind luck that touches always fall where his skin is itching for them.

"I'll have to look into it." That single wandering finger traces his shoulder and slides down his arm. "So..." There is an implicit question to the word, even if he can't quite figure out what it might be. "Ready for another go?" At that, he has to laugh. The whirlwind in his head is still there, but seems to have receded somewhat.

"I'm game if you are." In the half-darkness of the Hub, Jack smiles. The world outside can wait.