It had been a busy few weeks at Torchwood; Ianto had barely seen his home, dashing back only long enough to grab some clean clothes and water his plants.
With a lull in Rift activity forecast, Jack had sent him home the previous afternoon with instructions to get some rest. For once, he’d been tired enough not to argue, heading straight to bed and sleeping until the following morning.
Feeling refreshed, he made himself a cup of coffee and stepped out the back door, only to be confronted by a wall of green.
“Huh. Looks like the lawn needs cutting.”