Disclaimer: Don't own Torchwood or Jack or Ianto (more's the pity) or anything else like that.

Ianto pushed the door open a crack and peered inside. Jack's office was a mess and the sound of snoring was reverberating off the walls.

He shuffled into the room, a plastic bag in one hand and a feather duster in the other. Jack was lying, stretched out on the sofa, one hand resting on his chest, the other behind his head. Ianto swept a pile of screwed up pieces of paper and a use polystyrene cup in to the plastic bag, tied the top in a little neat knot and placed it next to the door. Next came the feather duster. It wasn't as if the room needed it (Ianto never let anywhere in the Hub get to a state where it needed cleaning) but he liked cleaning and cleaning Jack's office was always interesting. You never knew what you were going to find. He flicked the end of the feather duster past the tips of Jack's fingers, chasing a speck of dust.

"I do hope you weren't planning on tickling me with that." said Jack without moving from where he lay.

"Were you ever asleep, Sir? Or were you just pretending to see if I poke around in your drawers" asked Ianto, still dusting.

"Ah, we'll never know." Jack said, sitting up and stretching "And I wish you'd stop calling me 'sir'. I think we both know my name is Jack."

"Yes, Sir." said Ianto.

Jack walked round to the back of the desk and started shuffling papers into messy piles. The pair worked in silence for a few minutes and then the calm was broken by the sound of tinkling glass and Ianto swearing loudly in welsh. A large amount of blood was pooling in the palm of his hand around a long cut. Jack jumped over his desk and dashed over to the Welshman.

"Impressive." said Ianto sarcastically.

"Shut up and flatten your hand for me," said Jack "I can't see the extent of the cut."

"But that'll get blood on the carpet." complained Ianto, attempting to keep the blood cupped in his hand.

"Don't be ridiculous. A bit of blood doesn't matter. You can clean it up later. Shouldn't stain if you use a bit of elbow grease."

"Ha, ha, Sir. Very funny." Ianto said, sarcastically but he flattened his hand all the same.

After a few moments of examining the gash, Jack pulled a handkerchief out of a pocket and folded it up into a neat rectangle.

"Press it down, hard, and hold it there while I get Owen." said Jack, handing it to Ianto and heading for the door.

"He's already gone, Sir. They all have." Ianto said.

"So… We're alone?" asked Jack, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

"Perhaps not the most appropriate moment, Sir." said Ianto, nodding pointedly at his hand.

"Oh, yeah. I'll go get a kit and do it myself. Be prepared to be healed by the healing hands of the Captain." Jack sad, backing out of the room, wiggling his fingers at Ianto.

As the door swung shut Ianto let out a little moan of pain. He hadn't wanted to show weakness in front of Jack but, God, his hand was killing him. Ianto sank down on the sofa and waited for Jack to come back. A minute later, Jack crashed back into the room.

"Haven't feinted from blood loss yet then?" joked Jack, moving a coffee table to crouch in front of Ianto.

For ten minutes Jack worked on cleaning and bandaging Ianto's hand. As Jack worked Ianto found himself unable to look away from Jack's face. As soon as Jack began packing the medi-kit away, Ianto leapt to his feet and started to back away from Jack, towards the door.

"Oi, you. I'm not finished yet." said Jack, pointing with his index finger to a patch of floor in front of him.

"What's left?" asked Ianto, moving unwillingly back to Jack.

"I need to kiss it better." said Jack and pulled Ianto close, brushing his lips against the welshman's.

Jack half expected Ianto to step back but instead he wrapped an arm round Jack's waist and pulled him closer. After a few moments Jack pulled away.

"Any better?" he asked, raising his hand to run his fingers through Ianto's hair.

"Not yet." said Ianto "I think it's going to need a bit more care than that."

Jack responded by taking hold of Ianto's tie and pulling him down onto the sofa.

A/N: hope you liked it. Thanks to the great writer Hobbit 985 who inspires me to write. See the little button just below this? It's sorta purple/grey. Yeah? Got it? Press it.