Pairings/Characters: Ianto/Jack
Contains: Fluff. Swearing.
Word Count: 1232
Author's notes: Written for guilshad for her lover100 prompt: cuddle, Ianto/Jack. Unbeta'd so please let me know of any horrific errors.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by the BBC. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Ianto impatiently pushed an errant lock of damp hair off his forehead and nudged the dishwasher drawer closed with his hip. He pressed the start button and, with an electronic beep of supplication, the quiet susurrus of rushing water overlaid the hum of white noise drifting into the kitchen from the living room. After casting one last critical glance over the kitchen, Ianto headed for the door.

It was unusual to be home so early on a Saturday night. It was thanks to Owen, who'd cut into a Hugbri carcass only to discover they emitted a noxious gas postmortem. The gas itself was benign; the only danger coming from the overpowering scent that accompanied it, making Gwen swoon, Tosh wheeze, and Ianto sigh about how long it would take him to get the smell out of the couch fabric. Amidst the litany of complaints, Jack had locked the Hub down with the air filters working overtime, and sent them all home, batting his eyelashes pleadingly at Ianto until he'd rolled his eyes and muttered, 'Come on then.'

Toshiko had consulted the remote Rift monitor and declared an alien amnesty for the next forty-eight hours. Tosh's guarantees were as good as God's word in Ianto's book so he'd made a detour to Tesco's to stock up before ferrying Jack back to his flat.

They'd showered together - ostensibly to save water even though shared showers always ended up taking twice as long – then eaten a surprisingly good packaged vegetarian quiche before Jack settled in front of the television, making pointed tsking noises when Ianto insisted on tidying up the kitchen before joining him.

All in all, it had been a nice couple of hours but, as he reached the kitchen door, it suddenly struck Ianto that this was the longest length of time he and Jack had spent together in his flat - awake and not shagging. The realisation was enough to make him stumble to a halt, the butterflies he'd thought he'd caged long ago escaping and fluttering madly around his stomach.

So what now? Sex? What do we do the rest of the night if we shag now? More shagging? Bloody hell, it's easier when he bends me over the desk at work. At least I can bugger off and feed the pets after.

He peeked around the door frame, biting his lip as he gazed at Jack, a slow, fond smile spreading across his face. Jack was wearing a pair of Ianto's jeans which, although shapeless and baggy on his gangly frame, fit Jack like a second skin. The top button was undone and a strip of tanned skin was visible above the waistband and below the tight, black t-shirt – also Ianto's. With a bottle of lager in one hand - the other rubbing absently over his stomach - and a packet of open crisps between his thighs, Jack looked as though he belonged on Ianto's navy-and-cream striped couch.

Ianto's heart did an odd little patter. It was fucking domestic is what it was. This is what... couples did – ate together, watched telly or a DVD then bunked down for a shag and sleep. And Jack was playing along, acting all 'boyfriend-y' which really should have been more disturbing than it was, and, instead of panicking about their relationship taking an unexpected turn from casual into – well, a relationship, all Ianto wanted to do is stand in that doorway and watch Jack ogle footballers on the telly - his bare feet on the coffee table and crisp crumbs all over his shirt – all night.

Well, that was his second most pressing desire, actually. The first...

Ianto crossed the room, slung his leg over Jack's thighs – crushing the crisp packet - and kissed him firmly. Jack made a muffled noise of surprise, but quickly responded, sinking oil-slick fingers into Ianto's hair as his mouth opened eagerly. Ianto lashed his tongue over Jack's salty lips, smirking when Jack's groan vibrated through him, leaving his whole body buzzing. They kissed lazily, Ianto taking the lead, his fingers splayed along Jack's jaw as he melted into the languid lip lock.

When their chests were rising and falling too rapidly against each other, they parted with a wet 'smack'. Jack was panting hard as he blinked, dazed, up at Ianto. 'What brought that on?' he asked, voice husky. He shifted his body, sliding his hands down to Ianto's hips to fit him better against him. 'Not that I'm complaining, mind.'

Ianto smiled and pressed another, softer kiss to Jack's mouth. 'Because you're here,' he said simply.

Jack looked a little taken aback for a moment before a grin lit up his face. 'Well, if we're celebrating being together...' His hands slid around to cup Ianto's arse then he tipped them over onto the couch, twisting as they fell so he was lying across Ianto's chest, cradled between his thighs. He smirked triumphantly down at a startled Ianto. 'My turn.'

Ianto expected ferocious snogging quickly followed by the loss of his clothing and a quick tussle over who would top before falling asleep, sticky and sated, with Jack using him as a pillow. Instead, Jack's smirk softened as he lowered his head slowly, pressing his lips chastely to Ianto's. Ianto frowned, puzzled, and lifted his head off the cushions to deepen the kiss, but Jack pulled back, shaking his head.

'Uh uh,' he murmured, tilting his head to drop a trail of kisses along Ianto's jaw. He sucked lightly on Ianto's earlobe, and the words of query on Ianto's tongue disappeared. He made a sound of approval and felt Jack smile against his skin. Jack returned his mouth to Ianto's, catching his lower lip between his own and nibbling gently.

Confusion itched at the back of Ianto's brain, but Jack's tongue was carefully lapping at Ianto's rapidly swelling lips, his thumbs tracing lazy circles over the skin of Ianto's jutting hipbones, so he just sighed contentedly and flicked his own tongue at Jack's.

Jack chuckled and licked a stripe along the bridge of Ianto's nose, startling Ianto into laughter. He pulled back, a grin – broad but somehow softer than his usual beam – on his face. 'No rush tonight,' he said, voice hushed. His hands curved over Ianto's sides and stilled there; no rush to pinch a nipple or curl around Ianto's cock, no attempt to speed things along.

Jack's thumbs followed the ridge of Ianto's bottom rib, making him squirm and choke on a chortle. Jack smirked and nipped at Ianto's shadowed chin. 'We never get to do this,' he said softly, a finger tracing abstract patterns over Ianto's stomach and watching his eyes flutter shut. 'Take our time, just be together. It's... nice.'

Jack pressed his lips against Ianto's closed eyelids then draped himself more comfortably against-over him before leaning in once again. Ianto lost count of their kisses – the playful, sweet interplay of lips and tongue and teeth – as he let the world slide away. There was no agenda tonight, no plan; just Ianto and Jack and a couch that was more comfortable than it looked.

It was domestic and couple-y and Ianto knew that this was a rare moment that few got to share with Captain Jack Harkness. So he carefully collected each precious kiss, each reverential touch, and held them close to his heart, recognising the treasure he'd been given and grateful for the gift.