Ianto sat in the tourism office. It wasn't actually open, but this was his space, the place where none of the others would bother him. He stared at the scotch in his glass, swirling it idly. He'd already had more than was probably good for him, but that didn't stop him from taking another sip. After today, he needed it.

It wasn't usually Ianto who cheated death; that was Jack's job. And while they had all—except Owen—had guns trained on them today, it was Ianto who'd had it pressed to his chest and skull, who'd seen his life pass before his eyes as someone screamed at him to die. He could take pride that the empty chamber was his own doing—if he hadn't tried to wrestle the gun away, the bullets would have still been in there to make their way into him.

And while he'd been sitting there, marveling that he was still alive, he'd been ordered to follow the man who would have willingly killed him. He'd done well with that too, disarming and stunning the remaining resistance and making sure that Owen knew the extent of the danger the others were in. Not that they would have been in that danger if he hadn't gotten caught, if he'd gotten his hands free quickly enough to prevent Rhys from getting shot. No one had said anything about that, at least. Neither had they commended him for what he'd done right, or offered him sympathy for nearly getting killed. None of them. Not even Jack.

Jack, who had taken the time after the incident with the cannibals—still gave him the shivers to even think about that one—to make sure Ianto's combat training was where it should be. Jack, who knew how much Ianto hated having a gun held on him. Jack, who spent at least half of his nights sharing Ianto's bed, yet was even now sitting in his office brooding over the fact that Gwen had chosen Rhys over Torchwood.

Ianto tossed back more scotch, wishing he had another bottle up here, remembering that there was one at his flat. Maybe he should just go home. If Jack hadn't acknowledged him by now, he probably wouldn't. Sitting here and waiting for something that would never come just made him pathetic. He snorted at that thought. As though the team doesn't know that already, watching you pine for him while he was gone and then jump right back in after he came back.

He was just sober enough to realize he shouldn't drive, but he lived less than a fifteen minute walk away. He wasn't so pissed that he'd get lost on his own route home. Ianto turned to gather his things, cursing quietly when he realized that in his rush to get away from Jack he'd left his suit jacket down in the Hub. He could just take it home tomorrow—he should probably leave it there rather than going back downstairs. But that did not suit his tidy soul. With a sigh, Ianto opened the secret door to the Hub.

Owen and Tosh were on the lift as it came up. "We're heading out," said Tosh, her always careful tones seeming a little more so just now. "See you tomorrow, Ianto." She laid a hand on his arm, just for a moment.

"Be careful, mate," cautioned Owen, his dark eyes looking deep into Ianto's blue ones. "Don't want to stress those bumps and bruises." But the look in on Owen's face had little to do with physical ailments.

It hurt, knowing that they saw it, that they pitied him. Worse, that they believed he was going back down now to be kicked again. He just needed to grab his jacket and go home, finish off the bottle of scotch in his flat and get pissed enough to forget about Jack Harkness for a few hours.

Jack wasn't immediately visible, thankfully. Ianto moved as quickly as could still be considered casual, cursing himself for leaving the jacket up by Jack's office. His only hope was that Jack was still sulking enough that he wouldn't notice.

But it was not to be. Jack called his name just as he picked up the jacket. When he didn't turn around, Jack came up behind him, slid his arms around his waist. Ianto shivered when his lips descended on the back of his neck, cursing himself again for the weakness. It was so hard to resist Jack; Ianto's previous attempts had lasted only minutes before his lover convinced him to give in. But not tonight, Ianto told himself. Not when it's been so clearly demonstrated that it's her he wants.

So when Jack's mouth wandered to his earlobe, Ianto stepped away. "I'm headed home, Jack."

"Sounds good," came the reply, accompanied by the wide grin that Ianto adored.

He swallowed, gathering himself. "Alone." The grin disappeared. "I'm knackered, Jack. I just need some sleep—uninterrupted sleep," he added quickly as Jack started to speak. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"What's wrong, Ianto?" The blue eyes bored into him, and another curse crossed Ianto's mind. Why does he have to be perceptive now? Why can't he just not see me like he always does?

"Nothing, sir," said Ianto, choosing his words deliberately. "Just been a long day."

"We've had longer." Jack fixed him with a stare, the one that said he knew there was more going on. Ianto resisted the urge to squirm.

"Perhaps. But someone who kept me up most of last night shouldn't complain when I'm tired." Not that last night hadn't also been about Gwen and Rhys. Ianto kept his face bland.

Jack closed the distance between them and opened his mouth to speak, but stopped suddenly, wrinkling his nose. "You're drunk," he said incredulously.

"A little," said Ianto with a shrug.

"I know things were a little hairy today, but you handled it," said Jack shortly. Two emotions warred in Ianto, the fury of Jack's easy dismissal against the thrill of his approval.

"I had a gun to my head, Jack," he snapped, letting the anger win because to be happy over such faint praise was humiliating. "Just because it's the fourth time doesn't mean it's gotten any easier."

"So you got drunk." Ianto rolled his eyes. "That's not like you."

"I nearly died today!" Ianto shouted. "If that bloody idiot hadn't fired all of his bullets into the air, he'd have shot me to death right there on the floor." Jack blinked, clearly surprised. "You didn't even notice, did you?" The rage fled, leaving only despair in its place. Ianto dropped his eyes, not wanting to see the confirmation.

"The creature was flailing, I had Tosh and Gwen and Rhys to protect—how can you expect me to hear over that?" Defensive, always defensive. Never wrong, that was Jack.

It was on the tip of his tongue to give in, to acknowledge the justice of this. But still….whenever Jack died, Ianto noticed. Ianto was there, both to hold him when he woke and to give him what he needed later—whether that was coffee to warm him, a discreet ear to speak to, or a willing body for comfort. And it hurt, really hurt, to know that his lover didn't feel the need to do the same for him.

"What am I, Jack?" he asked, his voice barely audible. Jack extended a hand towards him, but Ianto took a step back, out of reach, before he continued. "This was easier before you left, when I knew I was just a convenient fuck. But then you came back, you asked me out properly. It's more than just a quick shag after hours in your office, it's dinner and a movie, it's you coming back to mine and actually staying the night. I thought I was more. Today I learnt that maybe I'm not."

"I told you, things were crazy. I didn't realize—"

"You saw him with his gun on me. You saw me with my hands bound behind my back, and you know full well what that will remind me of."

"Did you want me to break down like Gwen did, put the rest of the team in danger because you need reassurance?" Anger for anger. That was Jack, too.

"Don't be ridiculous," sighed Ianto. "But a hand on my shoulder or a quick comforting word would have been welcomed. I'd have expected at least that much from any boss I was on friendly terms with; I'd have expected my lover to find a time to corner me and berate me for scaring him. I got terse orders to take charge of cleanup with the extra treat of watching you fret about someone else." Ianto paused, but no American-accented words filled the gap. He'd never seen Jack speechless before.

"So tell me Jack," he continued as the silence loomed. "What am I? Am I still just a convenient fuck, a willing body that you use on your terms? Or am I something more?"

"Why do you have to put labels on everything?" demanded Jack in a ragged voice. "Why can't you just accept it as it is?"

"Because I need to know what it is," said Ianto. "If I'm nothing more than a sentient sex toy, then I am. And if it is more, I'm not asking you to define what that is. Just that I mean enough for you to notice when I'm in danger."

"Do you think it didn't kill me to see you there like that?" Jack burst out. "To see them with guns on you, to hear them shooting when I couldn't see you were all right?"

"Why would I think that? You gave me no indication of it, not there and not in all the hours we've been back here."

"What do you think I was doing just now before you went mental?"

"Priming me for the sex you're not having with someone else." He'd done it again, rendered Jack speechless. That was twice in as many minutes; maybe he should get pissed more often.

Jack dragged a hand through his hair and moved away to lean against the door of his office. "That's really what you expect from me?" he asked, his voice smaller than Ianto had ever heard it. "That I turn to you when I want someone I can't have?"

"Don't you?"

Jack stared at him for a moment, then suddenly came towards him, grabbing him by the shoulders. "You are not, nor have you ever been, 'just a convenient fuck,' Ianto Jones," he said, his whole body vibrating with intensity. "And I'm a fool for making you think that. A selfish fool."

Ianto let Jack pull him into a hug, resting his chin on his lover's shoulder and relaxing into his arms. They stood that way for several minutes, holding each other in silence. Finally Jack pulled back, gently kissing Ianto's lips before he settled with their foreheads resting together.

"How much of that scotch did you drink?"

"I don't remember, exactly. A lot."

"So next time I'm trying to figure out what you're thinking, I should just give you more of it?"

Ianto rolled his eyes at Jack's wicked grin. "I'd really rather you didn't."

"Then let me know if you need something and I'm not giving it." Jack's voice had gone quiet again. "And know that if I'm with you, I'm thinking about you." This time Ianto initiated the kiss, though he kept it chaste. After about a minute, he stepped carefully back.

"I should go," he said softly. "Being tired wasn't just an excuse."

"Do you want me to come along?" asked Jack. "Just to hold you while you sleep?"

Ianto smiled. "I'd like that." And to his surprise, Ianto slept well that night, held in his lover's arms….at least until the following morning, when Jack convinced him they needed to do something more interesting. But that was okay too.