Title: ...a Pile of Forms
By: amuly
Pairing: Jack/Ianto, Gwen/Rhys
Word Count: 504
Rating: PG
Summary: Jack and Ianto's Valentine's Day (and night) may be unconventional, but it's all Ianto could ever want.
Warnings: none
A/N: When I first saw the prompt, I was like “NOT doing schmoop”. So, this is me not doing schmoop. I know: I'm a big sap :P

“See you later, Ianto!”

Ianto smiled politely from his position at Tosh's old terminal, barely taking his eyes off the screens. If he could just finish up the coroner reports, falsify a few accident reports and delete some CCTV footage in a timely manner, he might be able to get to bed before midnight. Hell, he might even be able to make it back to his own flat: an absolute miracle if it happened, he knew. But damned if he wasn't going to at least try.

“-plans?”

Distractedly Ianto lifted his head, glancing at Gwen who was still standing by the cog door. “I'm sorry, Gwen. What?”

“You and Jack. You have any plans for Valentine's Day?”

Much more coldly than before – but no less politely – Ianto smiled at Gwen, shaking his head slightly. “No, Gwen. Jack really doesn't do organized romance.” When that sympathetic, motherly look flashed across Gwen's face, Ianto hurried on: “And neither do I. Have a nice time with Rhys.” Ianto wracked his brain quickly. “Dinner and a movie, right?”

“At the new Italian place,” Gwen confirmed brightly. With a little wave, she was off, cog door clanking shut behind her.

Sighing, Ianto rolled his neck and turned back to the displays. Finally. Now he could get some work done.

**

With a rather undignified snuffle, Ianto cracked an eye open, looking around. Slowly the glowing light of the displays and chill air of the Hub wormed their way into his perception, bringing him to a gradual awareness of the world around him. Drool was drying between his mouth and keyboard, which Ianto tried to swipe at subtly as he searched for what woke him.

Warm breath and a searching nose prodded at Ianto's ear, until he stretched back into Jack with a sleepy sigh. “What time is it?”

“Too late,” was Jack's murmuring reply. “Come on: I'll drive you home. I can finish up the reports myself.” At Ianto's incredulous snort, Jack pinched at his side even as he helped Ianto to his feet. “And I can actually do the reports. I was doing them long before you showed up to keep me organized.”

The drive to his flat passed quickly, large portions of it missing from Ianto's memory as he let Jack take control in his exhaustion-induced relaxation. The last thing Ianto could remember of the night was Jack's warmth above him, pulling the covers up to his chin before his lips pressed against Ianto's hairline. “Happy Valentine's Day, Ianto.

**

The next morning, Ianto's eyes opened to the sight of a red rose on Jack's side of the bed, nestled atop a pile of signed and dated forms: every one filled out to his satisfaction, if his first impression of them was accurate. Ianto let his eyes fall shut as he trailed a finger gently across the petals of the rose.

There was no way Gwen had a better night, or received a better gift, than Ianto this year.