#Taking a brief jaunt down memory lane for this one | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

op-peccatori · 5 years ago

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a little gift | MLQC Lucien (nsfw)

Happy Birthday, Lucien! a tad later than planned, but here’s the promised birthday sex from my invitation XD Let me know what you think!

Fandom: Mr Love: Queen’s Choice

Pairing: Reader/Lucien

Rating: 18+

Wordcount: 5200

Summary: It’s Lucien’s birthday and you’ve got a wonderful trip planned for him – along with an extra gift he isn’t expecting.

Warnings: explicit sex (vaginal & anal), mild masturbation, birthday sex, sex toys, established relationship

author fact: I spent so much time sitting in one place as I wrote this that my butt too, was aching by the end of it. this is the first time I’ve ever written anything involving butts, so please let me know if it’s...right?

a/n: im gonna have to come edit this once i get some sleep. i forgot how to spell laugh.

A bite of cake and a sip of wine, with a familiar warmth nestled into his side: Lucien is dangerously content.

Not for the first time, he thinks he will never give this up for anything in the world. He could never let go of the little surges of happiness brought on by the girl holding a forkful of cake up to his lips, and not the deep love flowing in his veins, keeping him alive.

The second photo album you've ever given him rests beside the cake. The second roll. A collection of your memories.

He can’t help the way he sneaks a kiss, helpless against your smiles, the way they curve your lips up even as they’re pressed to his. It makes him shudder when he feels your tongue flick against his lip, to tempt and to taste. He’s glad for the booth they’re hidden away in, that gives them enough privacy for him to lose himself for a moment. He lets the greed slip past, eager to take whatever you give it. Before the time comes when you might not get a chance.

He suppresses the heartache at the thought. There's no telling what the future holds. Danger still lurks in shadowed corners, and it's taught him fear. Not for himself, but for the one who holds his very being in her hands.

“You had some frosting there,” you murmur when you pull away, smile coy and eyes bright, fingers tracing a gentle path along his thigh. Never stepping a foot over the line, just toying with it. He wants to step over it with you, to fall over it, to fall into bed and wherever else you can and to taste you, the sweetest dessert, his lovely girl who just wants to give him a special birthday.

And you will, once you go away tomorrow, for the weekend. He remembers the way your face fell when he told you he has important meetings he can’t skip on the day of his birthday; it was subtle, but there is nothing he can miss when it comes to you. You both had to be content with brunch for today, as he would only get home at a late hour.

“Is it going to be a tiring day for you?” you had asked, concern hiding a hint of something he can't quite identify. It would be just like you to wait up, to give him a goodnight kiss – you do it often since you haven’t had much time to yourselves for weeks.

“Well, no. I’ll have to sit through a few meetings, review some of my colleagues’ work, but nothing too exhausting,” he had assured you. You haven’t mentioned anything about meeting him when he comes back, but he’s always had endless patience for you and your adorable tricks. He watches you as you eat carefully measured bites of cake, eyes lingering on the way you lick your lips, satisfied with the sugar and his company. He has never felt more thankful for birthdays when you let him feed you small bites with little protest and an endearing blush. It makes him think, makes him want to test boundaries. But he refuses to risk hurting you for the sake of his depraved curiosity. The time to part ways arrives all too soon, and your smile dims a little; for a moment, he seriously considers quitting his job.

“I can barely wait till tomorrow,” you mumble, arms would tight around his waist and forehead pressed into his chest. You stand outside the restaurant, packed cake in hand, waiting for the bus after you declined his offer to drop you home. He nuzzles the crown of your head, breathing in the faint scent of your favourite shampoo, closing his eyes in the face of your affection. “I want you all to myself.”

Your words feel warm on his skin. “Me neither, darling. And you will. What time is the flight?”

“8 am,” you answer, and again he senses something...off. Perhaps it’s the prospect of having to get up at 6 in the morning? You're not much of an early bird unless you're coaxed out of bed by the scent of breakfast. He still remembers the first time he stayed over vividly, and not just because of how soundly he slept next to you. You had to get up earlier than usual, for a meeting, and any ideas he'd had about a chirpy morning bird were shattered by the sight of your grumpy expression. It's a memory he likes to revisit when he's feeling dull; he had slipped into unexpected laughter, and you threw a pillow at him. Then he cuddled you until all thoughts of rage-texting Victor faded.

“Want me to come wake you up?” he asks after the brief jaunt down memory lane. He doesn’t bother trying to sound innocent; they both know if he wakes you up, it’ll be with his head between your legs. No danger of a grumpy ___ then.

“...I’d like that,” you agree readily, smiling up at him. "I'm sure I'll need it. I've been so tired these days..." There's little sign of the shy desire that usually clouds your eyes when he suggests something so improper in public, even though he keeps his voice low. He would be hurt, but instead, there’s a shiver of anticipation running along his spine as you brush your lips against his, dancing away when he leans in. "Happy Birthday, Lu."

Just what is his little butterfly up to?

The question sits in the back of his mind throughout the day, through each file he reads and every person presenting their research. He doesn’t exactly know where you’re taking him, but he has a few guesses, as you had insisted on packing not only his warmer jackets and thicker shoes, but also his swimming trunks. His thoughts race through ideas, drifting back to last month when he accidentally saw you scrolling through a cute little lingerie website.

'Oh.'

As he flips through the photos you took such care to preserve, he thinks that it's okay that he sees through most of your surprises. It doesn't lessen the delight they bring. He's eager to see what you picked out, what could have caught your fancy, and he hopes he gets to see it tomorrow.

It will take him some time to admit it, but he didn’t expect what he really found waiting for him in his apartment.

You look down at your collection, of new and old, with excitement curling along your mouth and a glass of water in hand. There’s some regret, for eating cake so early in the day when you have plans, but it's not like you could have skipped Lucien's birthday cake. Or even cake in general. You resisted where you could, and you think it'll be fine. You take a moment to fantasize about the sinful dessert sitting in your refrigerator before you get to work. It's 4:00 pm, which gives you plenty of time to work, but there's much to be done.

You're trying really hard to refrain from calling Lucien. Your boyfriend's been getting melancholic again, and you've come up with just the thing to distract him on his birthday.

You shower thoroughly, shave your legs with care, scanning them in the mirror to make sure you haven't missed a spot, applying sweet-scented lotion liberally across the skin. Painful flashbacks of the Brazilian you got for today have you wincing, but you've been determined to live up to the image you painted in your head. Willow, who'd gone to get one too, treated you to ice-cream afterwards, saying it's a must after the first one. After some deliberation, you paint your nails a pearly white and decide to take a nap before you get to blow-drying your hair.

It's 6:00 by the time you scramble out of bed, fixing yourself a light dinner and texting Lucien to make sure he's eaten.

[6:03] Lu: Don't worry. Professor Collins ordered enough for the building. I suspect he feels some guilt for calling me in today.

[6:04] Y/n: I knew there was a reason I liked him! Btw, what time do you think you'll be home?

[6:06] Lu: I'll try to make it home by 12. Don't worry, I'll get up on time ;)

Mouth pursing at the reminder of his horrendous sleeping habits, you go back to your soup with a restless heart. The clock's ticking, and you're quick to finish washing the dishes, finish some last minute packing, and when there's no chore left to do, you head for your bedroom. You connect your phone to the Bluetooth speaker, settling on an upbeat song while you plug in the hairdryer. As you divide your hair into sections, you're nearly giddy with excitement. As far as you could observe, Lucien has no idea what you've got planned, and you're quite proud to have slipped this past him.

You put the device down once each strand of hair is smooth and shiny, warm to the touch. And then you undress, until you're completely bare, running your fingers over lace, giddiness giving way to trepidation.

You're thankful there's a video on the website because there's no way you could've put on the set by yourself.

As you tighten the garter belts around your thighs and adjust the lace collar, peering at your reflection in the mirror as you put on simple pearl studs, you decide that it's fine that it's not the most comfortable thing you've ever worn, because you look really good. And you think Lucien will like it. Especially the very convenient holes in the cloth.

You don’t bother to put on much makeup, keeping it simple with waterproof mascara and lip balm.

You wrap yourself in a simple robe as you hurry to the living room, picking out a pair of black handcuffs, a toy you've only used a few times, all in preparation for today, and a bottle of lube. You put them in a bag along with a towel, a pack of wet wipes and grab your phone. It's 11:30, and you have a text from Lucien saying that he'll be done soon. You put on your flats and exit your apartment quickly, letting it shut behind you as you run over to his front door, tapping in his security code with ease. Before you enter, you pull out a thick white ribbon from your bag, tying it around the handle of the door.

As you slip off your shoes, you realize it's quite strange to be in Lucien's apartment without him there. The lights are off, the curtains drawn to keep the moonlight out. In the past, he's left you dozing in his bed if he has to go to work earlier, but you've never entered the place in his absence. There's no time to ponder the peculiarities of the situation, and you head to his bedroom, your steps timid as if to avoid waking up something slumbering in the shadows.

As you open the door, you peek through the slight crack even though you know he isn't home, stepping in once you're sure it's empty and letting the door close behind you with a click. You're more than familiar with his home, but something in you shies away from invading his privacy. If he knew you were thinking this after several months of dating, he would call you a silly. And get you to stay over more often.

With a resolute nod, you move towards the bed, turning on the lamp next to it. You take out the towel first, spreading it out over his clean sheets and taking a seat on it. You pull up a pillow behind you as you lean back against the headboard, slipping your robe off and folding it, putting it in the bag. You take out your tools, spreading them out in front of you, unsure how to go about this.

The scent of him is subtle, but it's very much present. It soothes your nerves, and the thought of his reaction to your presence gives you strength as you relax your shoulders. You close your eyes, resting them and your mind for a moment, acknowledging the nervousness. Whatever he might be expecting, it's certainly not this, and you can't hold back a smile at that.

You enjoy catching him off-guard.

Your fingers brush lightly over the side of your neck, across your collarbone, through the valley of your breasts, thinking about the way he likes to explore your skin with his mouth. As you toy with your breasts, you think about how he likes to start slow, never rushing, always taking his time to draw your pleasure out. He's the biggest tease you've ever met, and you can barely keep up with the games he likes to play, but it's always worth it – he ensures it. He likes to draw out your pleasure, to take it for himself, more and more until you beg for respite.

As you begin circling your clit lightly, you think about the time you tried to wake him up and it resulted in you positioned over him, riding his face as he devoured every drop of pleasure you had in you. How tightly he'd held on to your thighs, refusing to let you move away as he ate you out with only greed and gluttony driving his mouth. When your fingers are glistening and your cheeks are flushed, you leave it there and move to the next step.

Sitting up, you reach for the bottle of lube, pouring it generously, making sure your index finger is coated well before you turn your focus to the entrance above your sex. You’re on your back now, the soft cotton of the pillow warm from your body heat; your knees are pushed up, your arm reaching down between them. The slight trepidation you had felt the first time, at the feel of your finger dipping into the tightness is all but gone now, leaving behind slightly shaky confidence.

This is something Lucien has wanted to try for a while, but he hasn’t been too direct about it. He’s never gone beyond sliding in a finger, usually, while he’s fucking you, and you decided introducing it on this special day would be perfect. It was a good idea to try it on your own first, to see if it's something you would like, and ease into it. Still, you know Lucien's going to be at least a little difficult about it since you've kept this from him for nearly a month.

You're liberal with the lube as you prepare yourself, adding another finger once you’ve adjusted to the first and you slide them in and out steadily, pressing where it feels pleasing. The flash of your phone distracts you, and you rise onto one elbow to see it's a text from Lucien.

[11:35] Lu: I'll be home in 30 :)

'He's being strangely cooperative,' you think absently. Once you’ve deemed yourself ready, you pluck out a wet wipe, wiping your hands carefully before reaching for the sleek toy and the bottle of lube. You coat it thoroughly before circling the tip around your entrance, then pushing it in slightly. You try to remain patient as you slide it in slowly, being gentle with your body, letting your tight heat adjust to the plug.

You have about ten minutes by the time you’ve pushed it in as far as it can go, it’s round ring nestled between your cheeks; you lie there for a minute, breathing heavily, your walls clenching and fluttering. But you're satisfied with the familiarity of it, confident that your idea will be executed smoothly. Your walk to the bathroom is slow, and as you wash your hands you pray he doesn’t get here before you position yourself. Hurrying back into the room, you put everything except for the lube and the handcuffs back in the bag, leaving the bottle on the side table along with your phone once you’ve switched it off, hoping that Lucien will think you're asleep, in case he calls.

And then you try to figure out how he should find you.

This, like everything else, took a lot of thought. Initially, you thought you could just lounge on your front, letting him think you're asleep. But, now is not the time to be lazy. This is the time to make your boyfriend snap and bury himself inside you so deeply he forgets everything else, if just for today. And, preferably, the next three days.

And so you crawl onto the bed, letting your head and chest rest on the firm surface, leaving your rear in the air, presented with absolutely no subtlety. You struggle a little with the handcuffs, but manage to get them on safely, without pulling any muscles. Your arms are stretched over your head, it feels ridiculous, and you’re still giggling into the sheets when you hear the front door open.

‘The things I do for love.’

You try not to squirm when the bedroom door doesn’t fly open immediately. Knowing the man, he’s probably scanning his living room. Taking his sweet time, knowing you’re in here waiting for him.

‘This position is very uncomfortable when Lucien’s not there to distract me,’ you muse to yourself, trying to adjust your head comfortably. As if on cue, the door opens.

You don’t even try to look at him. It won’t be possible, and it’ll only happen when he wants it to - you’ve ensured that by leaving the key on the table. Your heartbeat quickens as you strain your ears, jolting when you hear the door shut. Your back tenses as you pick up on the subtle sounds of him breathing, of light footsteps, of cloth rustling. You wonder what he thinks of the ring standing out between your cheeks, framed by delicate lace, and hope you don’t have to wait too long to find out.

The bed dips as he takes a seat, and your heart races like a mouse, cornered and trapped, waiting for the cat's paw to fall on it. And then he speaks.

“I have to admit, I was quite disappointed when I didn’t see you outside,” he says casually. The hoarseness in his voice belies his nonchalant attitude, as does the way he clears his throat. You can hear the smile in his tone. You’re thankful he can’t see your face because you’re certain your wide grin would look out of place right now.

“Are you still disappointed?” Your words are nearly a whisper, hushed and eager. You know he hears them when they prompt him to plant quick kisses across the plump flesh of your rear, a finger trailing across the ring keeping your plug from slipping in.

“Darling,” he begins, his hands sweeping over your body, feeling the flimsy cloth, tugging at the garter. His touch is delicate, not meant to arouse, but you shiver from it anyway. “I don’t think I could be further from disappointment if I tried. But…”

His hand dips down between your legs, fingers pressing into your slit. You bite back a whimper, surprised that you’re this sensitive. He seems to realise it too, pushing the slender digits in, meeting little to no resistance. Your walls squeeze down, palpitating around it, and you push back immediately.

“...but, I think I could do with a cup of tea, first. You don’t mind, do you? It was a long day.” A kiss on the back of your head and he’s gone, walking out of the room to get his tea, whistling obnoxiously. You're left staring at pristine sheets, unable to process his abrupt departure and your absolute helplessness in the face of it.

“Lucien!” you cry out, heart beating desperately. There's no space for shame here. “Lucien, please!” There’s no response. But you didn’t expect this to be easy in the first place. “Fuck.”

And it doesn’t get better. Lucien walks in with a cup of his favourite, steaming beverage, and just stands there at the foot of the bed, sipping it and making casual remarks like he's in a museum.

“I have to say, you’ve done a wonderful job. Did you buy this set for today?” He toys with the lace on your waist and the straps digging into your skin, his hand sliding up your back as he walks around to stand next to the bed. He, very pointedly, doesn’t mention the new toy.

You lift your head slightly, tilting it enough to get a good look at him before you nod. He’s in a skintight turtleneck, slim fit pants, but the dark of his clothes can’t compare to the one in his eyes. The ribbon you left at his door lies next to you. You don't miss the slight bulge at his crotch. He smiles at the sight of your teary eyes, glaring up at him even as you tremble.

“I guess you don’t like your surprise,” you mumble, trying to fight the pout forming on your lips. The curve of his lips fades as he blinks in surprise before sitting down next to you.

“Sweetheart, no,” he coos, placing his empty cup on the table. He leans in to kiss you on the cheek. “This is...I don’t think I have the words to describe what I felt when I walked in to see you spread out for me.”

“Was it good?” you ask softly, trying not to sound smug. You know it was good. You look like you're begging to be fucked – which you are. He chuckles at the cockiness slipping through cracks of faux sincerity.

“I don’t know how to describe it,” he repeats. He strokes your hair gently, pulling it away from your face. “Shall I show you instead?”

“Yes. Please.”

He moves towards the foot of the bed until he kneels behind you, facing your ass, his warm palms a soothing balm to your starved flesh. He caresses your skin gently, squeezing it a few times before you feel his breath on your sex. The first swipe of his tongue feels like it could ruin you, and the feeling only increases as he continues to lick into you.

“You’ve got yourself all wet for me, haven’t you? You’re such a good girl.” The first snack of his palm against your ass is unexpected; the second stings terribly and the third painfully welcome. After the seventh one, he pauses to press his mouth to your swollen entrance again, and you’re so wet you can hear the sound of him lapping at you. “But my good girl has been keeping secrets.”

“I-I wanted to surprise you!” you protest, arching your back further, trying to urge him to move faster. He hums against your slick flesh, his mouth enveloping your swollen clit a second later. It only takes a few sucking motions for you to come with quaking walls and limbs, sobbing in relief at the surprising show of mercy.

“I know you did. You’ve worked so hard to give me this,” he murmurs, curling a finger around the ring resting between cheeks that flaming red. And then you cry out again when the slender object is pulled out halfway before it’s slid back in, in repetitive, curious motions. “You’re so good to me.”

“Fuck, Lu-Lucien,” you gasp, struggling for breath. He stills at the sound of his name, a displeased sound leaving his lips.

“While I adore the view, I do think you’re too uncomfortable like this,” he decides, reaching for the key to your freedom. A part of you suspects he just hates not being able to see your face as he makes you come. You nearly collapse once your hands are freed, and Lucien is quick to gather you in his arms and lay you out on your back.

As your arms slowly reawaken, you put them to good use, pulling him over you to press up into him, nipping at his jaw until he gives in to your silent demand and kisses you deeply. He doesn’t pull away, slipping a questing tongue through your lips, tangling a hand through your hair to keep you there as he plunders your mouth without restraint. He kisses you until you’re putty in his hands, and he whispers his affection into your ears.

“Please fuck me, Lu,” you plead, just the way he likes it. You place his hand on your breast, arching into his touch; you're deeply aware of the extra addition in your body, pushing against your walls, keeping your feet dipped in a pool of pleasure when you want to drown in it. “Please. It’s all I’ve been thinking about all day.”

He inhales sharply at your words and moves away to undress slowly, letting your eyes rove across the hard planes of his torso, lean muscle flexing as he moves closer. You watch the way his cock bounces before he wraps a hand around it, giving it a few, sure pumps. He nearly succeeds in distracting you with a kiss, but you still open your mouth demandingly, widening your eyes in the way that never fails. Never one to deny you anything, he climbs over you, kneeling and bending until he can slide the tip of his plump cock into your mouth. You suck at it eagerly, swallowing more and more of him until you choke, until all you can taste is the He slides his swollen shaft out and back in, breathing heavily, groaning at the feel of your wet mouth and zealous tongue.

You whine when he pulls away, quieting when he climbs down the length of your body to kneel between your legs. He unclasps the straps around your thighs and waist, pulling them off to toss them on the other side of the bed. After a second of consideration, he strips you of the bra as well but leaves the lace collar on. You're left completely exposed and shivering, aching with the need to feel his skin. He locks eyes with you as he wraps his hands around your thighs, pushing them up until you’re spread out, ready to be taken apart.

“My darling girl, my heart.” His fingers curl over your breasts, tweaking and tugging, his mouth dropping down to suck at a pebbled nipple. You sigh as your fingers slither into his hair, as he rises up to press his cock to your entrance. He slides in all the way and it feels so full you could cry. “God, Lucien. I...it feels so good.” Strange, but you adjust to it. Each drag of his hips, of his skin against yours, feels like it’s setting you on fire. You scramble to catch hold of something, an anchor, before you slip; you pull him down into an urgent kiss as your hips buck up into him.

He groans into your mouth and leans closer, swallowing your gasps; it’s unbearable, as if you’ll break, and as his thrusts speed up, you push back into him frantically, chasing after the fall, the rise, the destruction – it doesn’t elude you, he doesn’t rip it away but throws you into it instead. He leans back, reaching down for the plug and thrusting it into you, syncing its motions with that of his cock. Before you can comprehend the sudden pressure you’re coming so hard it blinds you, makes you scream, has tears pooling in your eyes. Lucien works you through it gently, with lips quirked up at the way you babble, kissing you so, so softly your heart floods with how much you feel for this man. With a pounding heart, you watch as he reaches for the drawer, plucking out a condom and grabbing up the lube.

"Are you sure, darling?" Your response is to push your knees further until they're nearly level with your shoulders. He watches you as he lathers his cock with the liquid, using his other hand to pull your plug out. You got used to it, you realize, when it feels so empty. But he doesn't let it remain so, pressing the head of his leaking shaft against your entrance. You're treated to the full depth of his patience, as he dips in and out, getting further in with each propulsion. His eyes spark with every moan, his lips brush your mouth at every discomfited grunt.

Once he's deep within you, in this new territory, and your head is thrown back, your mouth has fallen open at the feeling – he leans back and begins to thrust. His groans are everything you wanted to hear, and you can't help but smile up at him, unable to tear your eyes away from his bright eyes. There is no sign of the gloom, the sorrow. There's life, there's desire as he tests out all the different ways he can make you moan.

"I love you," you blurt out instead, overcome with the sudden flow of emotion. He slows as you tear up, to your immense embarrassment, and try to throw your arm over your head to cover it up. 'There was nothing sexy about that!'

And then you nearly choke as, in one swift movement, he wraps your legs around his waist and pulls you up against him. He shudders, clutching you to him as you throw your arms over his shoulders, eyes rolling back into your head when he slips deeper. Your kiss is frenzied, as are his thrusts when they start anew, and then you do cry when he whispers his love, his praise against your lips, over and over again. Your nails dig into his skin, and his teeth sink into yours. You sob harder when he presses you into the bed, drilling into you like a man crazed and sliding his fingers into your throbbing sex.

His eyes glow as he strikes where it shatters you, and you're blinded by it – completely consumed by the force of it, the way it leaves you in pieces, but even through your quaking limbs and the ringing in your ears, you feel Lucien pull out of you. Through bleary eyes, you watch him rip the condom off hastily before sliding through your oversensitive slit. He chokes out a guttural groan, clinging to you as he falters, the snapping of his hips unsteady as he comes almost violently, pumping himself into you, filling you up past what you can hold.

For a long moment, the only sounds in the room are of you two trying to catch your breath.

“Happy Birthday,” you whisper, pressing a shaky kiss to his cheek. He stays curled over you, staring down at your flushed face, your hair now far from smooth and sticking to your skin. His damp bangs fall haphazardly across his forehead, his lips are kissed red and he's so beautiful you need to look away before you cry again.

His eyes are suspiciously shiny as he kisses your forehead gently. “I love you, my darling girl.”

As he settles next to you on the bed, you turn over gingerly. You're completely spent, sore and sweaty. Still, you aim for casualness, ignoring the slight tremble in your legs. "Excited for tomorrow?"

“Very,” he answers once you’re curled up into him, and he can play with your hair to his heart's content. “I'm glad we have the whole weekend to ourselves.”

You gasp in mock outrage. "I do have an itinerary, you know." And you’ve also opened a new door for you both. You have no doubt Lucien will be experimenting on you until he’s familiar with every inch of this new area, and the slight fear you feel is understandable. He can be quite enthusiastic when it comes to figuring out what makes you tick.

"So do I." His smirk is positively feral and you can't help but snort.

“Think we can shower before bed?”

“Yes, if you’d like,” he gathers you into his arms gently, then sinks back into the bedding. “...maybe in some time. Are we actually leaving in the morning?“

You know your smile is a tad impish when he pinches your cheek. “We’ve got an afternoon flight.” If all goes according to plan, your boyfriend's birthday weekend will have a very pleasant start – with your mouth wrapped around his cock. You just have to make sure you wake up before him.

#mlqc lucien #mlqc smut #mlqc #mr love queen's choice #mlqc fanfic

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rockyoberlin · 7 years ago

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Why Ianto Now Hates Camping

Mentions of cannibalism and PTSD. Crossover with other fandoms closer to the end.

Ianto remembered roughing it. He remembered foraging for food, hunting small animals for the small pot he had to carry, and moving off to a secluded area to do his business. The camping that Captain Jack Harkness proposed reminded Ianto of the many times he was in the army. His billets were not in the civilized places or it was in the middle of a warzone. Today, people could buy a tent and pack food in a cooler and claim that going behind a bush, while chancing the poison ivy, was roughing it. If Ianto really wanted to stroll down memory lane, he would call his sister and they would visit the Isle Royal Park in Lake Superior. What Captain Jack Harkness had planned was a joke at best and a very sick, very twisted, very annoying joke at worst. Too bad Ianto couldn’t find the punch line as they drove away from Cardiff for the countryside. He also didn’t have a very good reason as to why Captain Jack Harkness decided to include him along for the ride. The whole project was a mystery to Ianto and it was giving him a bad feeling. Especially since they were going in the general direction of the area where many people have disappeared for the past few decades.

Then there was Owen’s complaining and Gwen’s snarky comebacks to the complaints. Ianto was ready to have an old fashioned line up, but Tosh didn’t deserve the whipping and Jack would probably enjoy it too much. So, Ianto was stuck with a questionable jaunt into a possibly dangerous part of Wales with the soundtrack of Owen’s complaining to spur them along. Ianto was really wishing that he had eaten a better breakfast than the toast and coffee that he had before coming in.

“Jack, are we going to stop for lunch soon,” asked Gwen.

Jack glanced at his passengers and noted the surly look that he was getting from Owen and the hopeful looks from Tosh and Ianto. “Sure, we’ll stop at the first foods stand that we can find. Then I’ll let you know about what we are doing out here.”

That did little to comfort Ianto; he knew they were going into Bannau Brycheiniog (Brecon Beacon). For several decades he had heard of reports of people disappearing from this area with no traces found of them. If Jack was taking them out there, then the police must have contacted him about the possibility of it being a “spooky do” as Constable Davidson calls them. Ianto didn’t think so though; he thought that is was something else.

When they stopped at the foods stand, Ianto was elected by Gwen to get the food and Jack didn’t negate her delegation. Ianto wasn’t too upset, but he was irked that Jack had started the briefing without him. “What am I, the dog’s body?” Ianto muttered as he walked back into hearing of the group.

“Does the Rift go out this far?” asked Gwen.

Ianto snorted, but he let Jack answer that question. They both knew that the Rift was over Cardiff and splinters only occur if someone was stupid enough to use it for something they shouldn’t. (Like when Jack first visited with the Doctor and then the Lord Mayor disappeared when they left. Ianto did sigh in relief when the nuclear reactor was moved to a more stable and out of the way placement, then the one the Lord Mayor had first suggested.) Ianto wasn’t around when the quake at the Roald Dahl Plass occurred, but he did hear about it from his sources and they said that the Rift opened a little more due to the light show.

“We don’t know,” Jack said. “The Rift is unpredictable.” He winced when Ianto gave him a raised eyebrow that spoke volumes about that poor explanation he gave to Gwen. Ianto figured that Jack was hoping for aliens that had moved out there. Ianto wasn’t so sure. “Alright, everyone back in. We have a long drive ahead of us.”

Ianto took care of the trash and noted that he was squeezing Tosh between him and Owen. It figures that Gwen was calling shotgun. Ianto just wished that Tosh or Owen was up front. He could have continued quietly quizzing her over Torchwood protocol again. May be something would stick.

When they found their camp site, Ianto almost did wish that they could have gone to an inn and taken their chances there. This place was too open for an attack and the forest could hide enemies that could watch them easily. Tactically the place was unsound and Ianto figured that Jack wasn’t expecting much. He should remember that this is Torchwood and Murphy’s Law loved them. Seeing as he couldn’t question Jack, Ianto just pulled out the tents and helped Tosh start putting up her and Gwen’s tent. Gwen decided that she was going to help Jack with making the seats (insert rolling of eyes by Ianto here) after “helping” him put up his own tent and let Owen fight with the tent Ianto was going to share with him. Cue the start of new complaints.

“Ianto, I think that you forgot a few pieces,” Owen called.

“No, Owen, I made sure each tent had all the pieces before packing them in the SUV. I even included instructions for those who don’t know or remember how to put up tents.” Tosh and Ianto had their tent up and Ianto quietly went over to “help” Owen finish with his; after all, Ianto did want something between him and the beings responsible for the disappearances, even if it was just a piece of canvas.

“Ianto, could you produce some coffee magic,” called Jack.

Ianto wondered what was keeping Gwen from helping with the manual labor, but he figured that breathing down Jack’s neck was her definition of helping. Unpacking the meal was Ianto’s idea, so he had to pull that out with the coffee tin. At least Tosh came over to help with the set up over the fire while Jack and Owen looked over the map. It seemed that Gwen was busy holding down the camp chair next to Tosh.

When Jack and Owen came over to the fire, Gwen was ready with something else to stoke the emotional fires. “Let’s play a game! Who was the last person you snogged? Mine was Rhys.” In Ianto’s opinion she looked a little too smug.

Ianto wasn’t the only one who rolled his eyes at that particular idea. “What are we in grade school?” Owen groused. “Mine was Gwen, when we were hiding from that alien in the warehouse down on the docks three weeks ago.” He gave her a smug smile that was duly ignored as Gwen batted her eyes at Jack in the hopes that he would make her his last snog.

After Tosh’s answer of Owen last Christmas and Jack’s question about it being just with humans, Ianto decided to remind them that he was here and he was knowledgeable of certain things a lot longer than most of them. “Ummm, I would have to say that it was a pretty Scots girl during World War II. I was shipping off to join my regiment and she gave me a farewell kiss.” Ianto grinned. “Her boyfriend made sure I remembered that she was taken before I left.”

Owen groaned, “Geez, Tea Boy, did you have to try to outdo Harkness?”

Ianto just grinned back at the snarky medic. “No, I just was remembering that lass with fondness. She was the last real kiss I have had for a very long time. The rest of the time I was trying to keep certain blood-thirsty directors from finding out about me, my family, and the alien we’ve been hiding from them.”

Jack raised an eyebrow, Owen narrowed his eyes at Ianto to see if he was pulling everyone’s leg, and Tosh’s eyes widened. Gwen scoffed at Ianto’s statement and rose from her spot. “I’m going to get more firewood,” she announced with a huff.

“We shouldn’t be alone right now,” said Jack. “We don’t know how these people are disappearing.”

“Then come with me,” Gwen challenged. Ianto almost thought that she was batting her eyes to entice Jack to come with her.

“I’ll go,” Owen volunteered. Tosh looked crushed that Owen decided to leave with Gwen, but Ianto just wondered if Owen had an ulterior motive in his actions as well.

“May be I should go instead of Owen,” said Ianto. “I know what I’m looking for.”

“But you also know how to cook over a fire,” said Jack. “I’m sure that Gwen and Owen can fend for themselves in the woods and you can help Tosh and I learn how to cook over an open fire.”

Ianto nodded his acquiescence and settled back down on his seat. Owen nodded to Jack and followed after the grumpy Gwen who was flouncing off to the woods (in disappointment that Jack wasn’t coming with her, Ianto assumed). Ianto hoped that he wouldn’t have to go looking for them if they managed to get lost.

The panicked exclamations from Gwen as she came running back really didn’t surprise Ianto as much as it probably should have when she came back babbling about a stripped corpse in the woods.

When Ianto got his first look at the corpse, all he could think about was the stripped bodies of rabbits and deer that his sister would break down into edible cuts. If it was useful, she kept it. The body that Gwen and Owen found in the woods reminded him of that. All the choice cuts were gone including the organs and the remains were left to taunt them. A disturbance in the breeze told him that someone was in their camp and the SUV starting up confirmed that they were being targeted by someone; someone with a taste for human flesh. Ianto really hoped this wasn’t going to be another Donner Party incident. The description from his brothers in the area was enough to turn him off pork for a while and give an askance look at any meat for longer.

Ianto decided to alert them to the plight of their car as he started moving back toward the campsite. “Who was in the SUV last? I hear it running and we are all here.”

Ianto guessed that the fact that the SUV was running didn’t register too much as much as the fact that the car was being stolen. It was only when they returned to the ruined campsite that the question was repeated by Jack over who had been in the car last. Owen’s bristly comeback proved to Ianto that the medic needed a keeper (or someone to continually beat common sense into him, but Ianto didn’t know anyone who would take the job). Ianto picked through the equipment that was left at the camp and picked up anything that was salvageable including a PDA that he was able to find the signal to the SUV, although it was a bit weak. It was a good thing that he could track the car another way if the PDA failed.

He started down the trail and called over his shoulder, “I have the SUV’s signal. Shall we go?” Ianto didn’t wait for the others to stop with their arguing and continued down the trail. He didn’t get far when the rest of the team finally got with the program and hurried to catch up with him.

“It’s a good thing you had that PDA,” said Jack.

“I had it with the rest of the equipment. We are just fortunate that it wasn’t damaged by the person who stole the car.” Ianto looked back at Jack. “I would have known what to pack if I had been given better information, Jack. There is more to camping than tents and food.” Ianto turned away from his reproach and continued to lead Team Torchwood toward their car.

“So,” started Owen. “How do you know so much about camping?” It figured that he would want to concentrate on that little tidbit.

“My older sister and brother taught me in a more undeveloped part of Canada back in the late 1700’s. It was after the colonies decided to leave the British Empire. The placement was a compromise between our two governments. Harm wanted someplace that wouldn’t be destroyed too badly if I couldn’t control my abilities. For a while it was touch and go; the clearing in the forest was a bit bigger when I left than when I first came to their tutelage. The closest village was more of a lumber camp than a proper town. We had to depend on what my sister knew from when she was living at Fort Michilimackinac. I picked up on a few things by the time I came back to Wales.”

“So you were living rough?” asked Tosh. She sounded interested.

“You could say that. My sister was calling what we had a lap of luxury as compared to being on the end of the supply chain in the quote middle of nowhere unquote.” Ianto studied the PDA. “I think that we are close to the SUV, sir.”

“How close is close?” asked Gwen. “My feet hurt.”

“You should have thought of that before wearing new shoes to work,” snarked Owen. Ianto thought the same thing, but he kept quiet. Jack and he were still in disagreement over the hiring and training of one Gwen Cooper.

"Owen, not now,” said Jack. To Ianto he sounded tired of the snarky comments, so Jack was probably getting complaints from more than just Ianto about her training. “Ianto, how much further?”

Ianto looked out over the landscape stretched before him and considered it as compared to what the PDA was telling him. “I would say that it would be one more kilometer, give or take. It’s near that village.” Jack nodded at his estimate and started down the hill in the direction Ianto was facing. The rest soon started to follow their fearless leader.

They were on the outskirts of the village when Jack called a halt and started to divide the troops. “Tosh, I want you and Ianto to get the car. We’ll start investigating the village to see if we can find out who we’re up against.”

Ianto and Tosh nodded their understanding and left the rest of the group. Ianto had a bad feeling, but he would let them do what Jack thinks was necessary. Ianto just wished he could get the H-E-Double Hockey Stick out of the area. He kept hearing fox barks, but the calls didn’t sound like real foxes. They sounded more like the barks soldiers would use back when he was deployed in certain wars and conflicts. He knew that his brothers and sister used them when they were tracking something and were trying to be inconspicuous.

“Which way now, Ianto?” asked Tosh.

Ianto shook himself out of his thoughts and studied the readout from the PDA. “According to this it’s behind that farm.” Ianto was still trying to shake the feeling that they were being watched by someone, but he couldn’t concentrate on finding them at the moment. Too bad he didn’t take the time.

When Tosh and Ianto spilt up to go around the barn, Ianto started to worry when Tosh didn’t appear after a minute and the fox barks were increasing his anxiety. When he went to see if she had seen something on her side of the barn, all he found was an empty corridor between the barn and another out building. Ianto felt a quick rush of air before a pain in his head and then he knew no more.

When Ianto woke up, it smelled like he was in a charnel house. He opened his eyes to see they were in a dark room and, by the smell of damp earth, they were in an underground cellar. He let his eyes get used to the darkened room and what he saw started to worry him. There were shoes and clothes stacked in the corners of the room and a large freezer was running quietly. Ianto could tell there was a faint blood smell coming from the freezer, but the older blood smell was coming from above them.

This was bad. Ianto was slowly starting to panic from the memories the smell and darkness was bringing back. It was bad enough that he remembered the wars where he was a marksman (sniper, admit it Ianto) for His Majesty’s Army. No, they had been dealt with between the time he was let out and now. It was the memory of Torchwood 1 at Canary Warf that was starting to get to Ianto. He still had not had much time to deal with the loss of his longtime friend and partner, Lisa. He was still dealing with the nightmares of metal boots stomping in unison and the words “You will be upgraded” or “Delete”; then came the high pitched screeches of “Exterminate!” by the Daleks. Ianto was going to take a vacation to talk to Spencer, but he never made the time. Now Ianto was regretting not making the time as his hysteria climbed with each intake of breath.

Ianto was trying to keep the memory separate from reality when Tosh started to stir. It gave him a bit more to concentrate on than the so recent, so hair-raising memories of Canary Warf. Her calm confidence helped a little, but the question of who would protect them poked more than just Torchwood. His panic ratcheted up more as she discovered the shoes and opened the freezer door. Pandora’s Box had been opened and now he had to know what was in that damned freezer. He should have listened to her and his common sense when they said not to open the damn door. He knew then that they were not in the hands of aliens; they were in the hands of cannibals. This was worse than the Donner Party.

“I hear someone,” whispered Tosh.

Ianto stilled everything and concentrated on the unforgiving door that Tosh couldn’t open quite yet. The lock was unlocked and the door was slowly opened. Ianto had settled enough to give the woman props for acting like she was a prisoner of whoever was holding them. Too bad the gun made Ianto suspicious and a look at her soul showed that she was as black as the space between the stars. It seemed to comfort Tosh a bit, so he let the woman herd them up the stairs and listened as Tosh questioned their captor on who was holding them.

The woman revealing that she was part of the group who hunted people deflated Tosh, but it gave Ianto the adrenaline rush he needed to clear out the last of the hysteria that was bubbling in the back of his head. He studied the pair and figured when the best time to get the pair of them out was. “Tosh,” he whispered. “Get ready to run.”

Tosh nodded her head and watched the disgusting man run his bat over her chest while he explained how the “meat” tasted better when it was flushed with fear and tenderized first. When he got to Ianto, the Guardian grinned innocently at the monster and then head-butted him in nose. Tosh scrambled out of the door after body checking the woman with her own gun. Ianto wished that he could have done the same, but the woman recovered quickly as she brought the butt of the gun down on his already sore head. The darkness consumed Ianto.

That was the last straw. Her Guardian was in extreme danger. Wales sent out a thrum of urgency to the other Guardians. As the day ended, storm clouds gathered and thunder rumbled. The first of the Guardians were coming and the rest were quickly following.

Ianto floated in the darkness and saw pictures of what was happening to his friends. Gwen was shot by a panicky kid with a shot gun because she didn’t completely clear the doorway. Owen tried to help her as much as possible, but his gallows humor was lost to the pain running through Gwen’s side. The stand at the inn was disastrous and resulted with the loss of the kid and Gwen and Owen leaving Jack alone. Ianto figured they would have been safer if they had stayed with Jack and the whole group could have looked for the car later. Tosh had been safe for a while, but when Gwen made the mistake of figuring that a fellow constable was a friend, all three were taken captive. Jack was the only one left free and he was out of ideas when the gun he was holding misfired and he ran out of bullets in his Webley while trying to save the others.

Then the storm that was brewing outside came to a head. The rumbling thunder pealed and a large flash of lightening crashed through the tree outside the main house where the cannibals were getting ready to tenderize their recent acquisition of “meat”. More lightening crashed and the thunder grew louder as the cannibals brought out Ianto. It was the rumbling ground that got Ianto’s attention. The gathering water alerted Jack, but the flaring fire grabbed everyone’s attention. Ianto figured that was the reason why the door crashing open startled everyone.

“What the hell is going on here?” roared an unknown voice.

Everyone turned so fast Ianto wondered if anyone got whiplash as they took in the imposing figures standing in the entryway. Ianto could hear the head cannibal lick his lips as he studied the group of eleven glaring at him and the rest of the group.

“Well? I haven’t been answered yet.”

“We’re gathering the Harvest,” smiled the head cannibal. It sounded oily to Ianto as it brushed past Ianto’s ear. The cleaver at his throat pressed a little harder and Ianto swore he felt a thread of blood flow down his neck.

“I don’t see any fruit or grains,” said the woman at the imposingly tall man’s right.

“They might be gathering something else,” said the normally smiling man standing off to the left of the head of their group.

The tall man in front of the group in the US Navy uniform narrowed his eyes at the head cannibal holding Ianto with the meat cleaver. “Let him go.” The order was quiet and strong.

The cannibal smirked at the navy man. “He’s meat.”

The US naval officer didn’t turn his head from the tableau in front of them. “Guilty.”

“Guilty,” was repeated by nine other voices.

No one really understood what they were talking about until the plain knife hilt seemed to magically appear in the right eye of the head cannibal. Jack tried to figure who threw the knife, but all the people in the group were stony faced.

The cannibal slowly dropped from his position behind Ianto and the cleaver fell to the floor by Ianto’s left foot. It was like a signal was given. The other eight men in the group separated and started to gather up the fleeing cannibals. A few were handcuffed, but most were bound with zip ties. A litany unfamiliar to Gwen was being muttered by the newcomers as they restrained the cannibals. She watched as the woman in the medical scrubs walked over to Ianto and took the knife out of the head cannibal Evan. The medical woman wiped the knife on the clothes of the dead man before using it to cut the ropes holding Ianto. Gwen wondered if anyone else’s stomach turned as they witnessed the same thing she did.

“Ianto, can you tell me what the date is?” was the quiet question.

Ianto muttered something in Welsh and the woman raised her hand to flag someone down. “Tim, I need some medical help here. Ianto seems to have a concussion.”

Owen shouldered his way over. “I’m his primary doctor. I don’t know who you are, but I know I know what I’m doing.”

The woman ignored Owen as she continued an exam on the woozy Welshman. “She’s a naval nurse in the United States,” said a new comer to the little party. “What do you have?” he asked the woman.

“Obvious head contusion; pupils are 5mm and equal; is orientated to person, place, and date, but will only respond in Welsh. He has been beaten as evidenced by the bruising and he is holding his right side. The way he is wincing as he’s breathing suggests that his ribs are bruised at least. His grip is equal, his reflexes are a slower than usual, and his push/pulls are strong.”

Tim glanced at Owen. “Has someone called the emergency service? Ianto will need to have his head and ribs checked and I would say that the rest of you could do with a checkup. And someone will have to take these monsters off our hands.”

“Our…?” Jack came for the last part as he glanced at the still Navy officer who still stood in the same place as when he first appeared.

“Oh, we’re police from all over the US, but Ianto and Harry are both from the UK,” said Tim. “Harry is with a specialized police force, but he could take over for the rest of us. We will just have to have reports forwarded to our bosses regarding the situation that we stepped into.” Tim smiled at Owen. “I’ll leave my brother in your capable hands. I haven’t practiced medicine since the Korean War.” He looked over at the nurse. “I’ll be seeing you this Memorial Day?”

She grinned at him. “Can’t wait. I already put in for my vacation time. Just let me know what I’ll need to bring.” She looked over at Owen. “Anything you need me to do at the moment doctor?”

Owen sighed as he looked over Ianto. “Make sure he doesn’t fall asleep before the medics get here. I have to make sure Gwen didn’t do anything to her injury.”

“How did she get injured?”

“She cleared a door and then was shot by that kid with a shot gun.” Owen smiled grimly as he saw the eyebrow rise up. “I will tell you that I don’t think that she cleared the door very well, but I’m not a constable.”

The nurse just snorted. “Even Ianto knows how to clear a door and to go in carefully when in an unknown situation. I would say that she needs more instruction.” She glanced at Jack as he was standing nearby with a stiffened back. “People like that can get others killed. The most famous last words for a lot of people who don’t have all the information on a place are “Oops”; just ask General Custer.”

“Please don’t bring him up at the moment,” said the naval officer. “How is Ianto, sis?”

His sister blew out a breath. At a glance at Owen, she said, “He’ll be sore, he’ll have a headache, and this will probably add to the nightmares he already is dealing with. Heck Harm, I’ll be having nightmares of this place and the aftermath of Torchwood One’s invasion myself. I would say that he really needs to talk to Spencer or find someone who Spencer thinks will do him some good.”

Harm blew out a breath of his own. He looked over at the interested Captain Jack Harkness and decided to talk with the man. “Stay with him please. I don’t want to lose a brother so soon after finding the last of our family.” His sister nodded and he walked over to the head of Torchwood 3. “I’m Captain Harmon Rabb, US Navy; Ianto is my little brother who has been trying to keep you people under wraps since Queen Victoria first started this whole business.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “Naval captain? Where’s your ship? And how do you know about Torchwood?”

Harm smiled grimly at the junior officer. “I’m stationed at the North Atlantic Fleet JAG in London. As for how I know about Torchwood, several of us, including Ianto, have been around for longer than Torchwood has been active. Who do you think took care of the different alien incursions and refugees before Queen Victoria started this whole thing up. We had Ianto make sure that as many of the more harmless aliens were protected from the grabby hands of those two witches that were in charge at Cardiff during the late 1860’s.”

Jack’s face went stony. “He didn’t do anything for me,” he gritted out.

“Actually, the reason he couldn’t stay in Cardiff or Wales for so long was because of those two women,” contradicted Harm. “He made several complaints over the treatment of certain harmless aliens and of you. At the time Queen Victoria was more interested in keeping the Empire safe and believed the lies those two were giving her. Even our sister had the feeling those two were abused by men and were now lording their new found power a bit too much. They pretty much banished Ianto to Torchwood House for trying to counter their tactics. He had to get permission to leave Scotland to even join the military when the need arose. He was as much their prisoner as you were, but Ianto was able to sneak away from his prison easier.” Harm cocked his head and then turned to the gathered strangers. “I hear the sirens. I’ll give them the names of our bosses for a copy of their report, so if you need to get back to your jobs, make it quick. They are almost here.”

There was a bit of shuffling as handcuffs were replaced with more zip ties and then most of the Guardians walked out the door and just seemed to disappear in the calm and clear night. Tim nodded to Owen and whispered something to the nurse before leaving. The now smiling man that had been at Harm’s left stood near Harm and Jack but helped the young man with black hair and green eyes cover the prisoners. Tosh and Gwen were seated on the floor as far away from the cannibals as the floor plan allowed and leaned against the wall that had been cleared of plastic. Owen was returning from examining them to Ianto’s side.

“So, what will happen to the wankers?” asked the black haired young man conversationally.

“They’ll probably be able to plead insanity and will be put in psychiatric hospitals,” spat out the nurse. “Personally, I would like to see them put in general population with rumors about what they did to little children.”

The young man looked back with disgust at the assembled cannibals. “What would happen if your wish would come true?”

“If British prisons are anything like American prisons, then they will have fatal accidents with some help from the other inmates.”

“You’ve been working for the state too long,” commented the cheerful man near Harm with a distasteful look on his face. “You need to get out more.”

The nurse looked up at her brothers. “I haven’t worked for the state for a few decades. Right now I’m working in a county hospital. I still get to talk to the prison guards when they pass through once in a while.”

“I’m wondering if we shouldn’t have you re-up for a few tours in the Navy again,” muttered Harm. The man near him snorted a laugh. Even the young man and the nurse were smiling at the suggestion. After a moment of consideration, even Harm smiled and huffed out a laugh. “On second thought, you stay right where you are in the Reserves. The SecNav has enough trouble with Steve and me.”

“And Tony and G,” added their sister. “Leave the white hair to the Governess right now. I’m waiting to see who we get as a governor after she leaves.”

They quieted their conversation as the police constables came in to the strange tableau of several restrained people with blood on their clothes being held by a couple of the Torchwood agents and several strangers from the US. The reports made by the people involved were even stranger, but the evidence was damning. After the necessary paperwork was worked out and the injured Torchwood personnel were released into the care of Doctor Harper, Jack turned to the last of the foreign Guardians.

“Do you need a ride anywhere?” he asked.

Harm shook his head as his sister smiled at Jack. “No, we have our travel arrangements covered,” Harm said. He shook hands with Jack and looked over at Ianto. “You be careful for a few days or we’ll sic our sister on you. Remember what happened last time?” There were a few quiet chuckles from the gathered Guardians, including said sister, and a nod from Ianto.

“I’ll take it easy; I promise.”

“And I’ll make sure he does,” added Owen.

“Thank you,” said Harm.

“No, thank you,” said Jack. “You saved us when Fate seemed to be against us.”

“No, not Fate; just a bad set of circumstances,” said the smiling man. “They happen to everyone, even us.”

They bade the rest of Torchwood good bye and walked away from the blood infused village. A stiff wind rushed past the Torchwood group a few minutes later and Ianto whispered, “See you later.” The others wondered if that had been his concussion talking or if his family really was in that wind.

Ianto was put on sick leave for a week with daily visits from Owen. Jack stayed with Ianto the first 24 hours to make sure that he didn’t have an accident or became worse from the head wound. The ribs were another matter and all Owen could do was wrapping Ianto’s ribs and give him heavy duty pain medicine. Ianto settled for taking it when the pain was really bad, but took ibuprofen and acetaminophen for the day to day activities he performed around his home and at Torchwood. One day Owen came in smelling of Gwen all over him. Ianto just sighed and didn’t say anything. Owen might have guessed that Ianto knew he had spent the night with Gwen, but he didn’t say anything either. Right at the moment, this was between the pair of them and it wasn’t affecting Torchwood. But the moment it did, then Ianto would step in and play the bad guy. He was used to it after all; his reports were littering Gwen’s probationary file.

It was later that he figured that he should have said something sooner.

#torchwood #Guardian Ianto #Ianto Jones #Jack Harkness #toshiko sato #owen harper #gwen cooper #season 01 episode 06 countrycide

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