Taking a shower in the morning was something of a luxury in Torchwood. Partially this was because many mornings started with a quick cup of coffee and a Rift alert. Mostly, this was because there simply wasn’t a point: he was bound to be covered in alien goo, blood, and other substances by the end of the day anyway.
But since this was his vacation, he could shower whenever he bloody felt like it. In the middle of the day, even.
Not that there was much of a midday here. Jack had merely shown up on his doorstep one night, told him to get a change of clothes and hold onto his arm, and suddenly they were somewhere else entirely. Another planet, in another time; somewhere mountainous and beautiful and close enough to a pole that the day didn’t last for more than a few hours, while the nights were long.
At least he could never complain the Jack had never taken him out anywhere nice. Not that he would have anyway, mind.
The shower was different than the ones on Earth only because the spigot was attached to the ceiling in the center of the stall, rather than hanging off the side. Beyond that though, it was pretty much the same, from the sliding, frosted-glass doors to the small corner shelves for soap.
Just as he was beginning to rinse, the door opened and Jack stepped in behind him, crowding him out of the spray, and that too was familiar.
“Good morning,” Ianto said, turning around. Predictably, Jack was naked, the way only Jack could be naked: so unselfconscious you really could believe that nude was his outfit of choice, if you weren’t aware of how attached Jack was to his coat.
“Good morning to you too,” Jack replied, rubbing his thumb across Ianto’s right cheekbone. It was an area he’d developed a sudden interest in as of late.
He’d developed a lot of sudden interests, actually. They way that his eyes would follow him everywhere, hungry and possessive. The way he clearly put so much care into what they did together. The way he pressed his lips to Ianto’s softly, skimmed his hand down his back gently, like he was made of glass until finally Ianto rolled his eyes and reminded him he wasn’t.
Ianto nipped at Jack’s lip, dug his fingernails into his back as he dragged them up to his shoulders, before giving them a push, intending to pin Jack against the shower wall.
Naturally, this is the juncture at which Jack flailed unrepentantly, throwing Ianto off-balance and knocking over the bottle of shampoo, which emptied all over his face. For a moment, the two of them flailed, grasping for each other in an effort to stay upright on the sudsy floor before collapsing in a heap.
Jack’s head hit the wall, and he slid down it with a slightly dazed grimace on his face. Ianto managed to hit his elbow and get a mouthful of shampoo. He spit, trying to rid himself of the bitter taste.
“I better not die in a shower.” Ianto cradled his elbow, checking it over for any obvious signs of damage with enough focus that he missed Jack’s sad smile.