Ianto glanced at his watch for the 23^rd time in 14 minutes. It was 1.05am and he and Tosh were sat in the Hub waiting for Owen to return from a recovery mission. Gwen had left early (Rhys apparently had a surprise for her) and the doctor had insisted that the job only needed one person. But that had been nearly six hours ago and they hadn’t heard from him since.

 

“Where is he?” Ianto asked yet again. He stood up and stalked around to Tosh’s station, looking at her as though she knew and was choosing to withhold the information for some reason. “I’m going to call him again.”

 

“Ianto, you’ve tried that nearly fifty times already!” Tosh protested, but Ianto was already holding the phone to his ear. Tosh sighed, chiding herself for bothering when she knew it was hopeless. But she looked up expectantly when she heard the Welshman speak.

 

“Owen, it’s Ianto. Again. Call me when you get this.”

 

Ianto closed his mobile and gave Tosh a concerned look. It wasn’t that he cared about Owen as such; they just couldn’t afford to lose their medic. No sooner had he done so then the heavy steel door rolled open and Owen walked in, carrying a box which assumedly contained the alien artefact he’d been retrieving. Tosh jumped up and ran to meet him, with Ianto at her side. As Owen placed the box on the floor, Ianto did the unthinkable; he pulled the older man into a rough hug, holding him for just a few seconds before letting go, taking him by the shoulders.

 

“Where the hell have you been?!” He asked, giving Owen a small, forceful shake. Owen looked confusedly between Ianto and Tosh, who was stood staring at the two men with her mouth partly open. Physical contact had been at a minimum since Jack had left, and considering the last contact Owen and Ianto had had involved considerably more violence, this was more than a rarity. More like a once in a lifetime experience one should be grateful, if not a little disturbed, to see.

 

“I finished quicker than I thought so I went for a couple drinks.” Owen explained, looking thoroughly alarmed as Ianto’s hands did something of a quick body check down his torso. Ianto let out a small, almost inaudible sigh of relief and walked back towards the filing cabinets, running a hand through his hair.

 

“What’s up with him?” Owen asked, not taking his eyes off Ianto’s retreating form.

 

“He’s just worried about you, that’s all,” Tosh told him. She’d watched Ianto’s increasingly agitated body language enough that night to know that much. Owen gave her a sceptical look.

 

“Yeah? Well too bad he wasn’t worried about me when he was putting a bullet in my shoulder.” He said bitterly, picking up the box and heading off towards the autopsy bay. Tosh sighed, deciding to call it a night. As she closed down the programmes she’d been using, she wondered what on earth had caused Ianto to do what he had. Across the room and unbeknownst to her, both men were wondering the same thing.