Orange Wednesday

If there was anything more reliable than a sunrise it was Jack's libido, Ianto thought sourly, slapping the Captain's hand away from his arse for the second time that morning. "Careful, I'm working."

"All work and no play," quipped his boss, refusing to take the hint and trying again. The shit-eating grin never wavered.

"Go toss a weevil if you're horny." If you haven't already he added silently to himself. He wondered if taking a pair of secateurs to him would put him off. Probably not, they'd just grow back.

"Aw, come on Ianto. You can borrow my measuring tape."

"Piss off, will you." Ianto stormed away leaving a surprised and hurt Jack in the doorway of his office.


"It's only natural," Martha started. "It doesn't mean he's stopped caring about you."

"What are you on about?" For a second he wondered who she meant.

"Jack. He's blaming himself over Owen."

"You think I'm in a huff because he's showing Dead Guy more attention than me?"

"I think," she said quietly, "that sentence says it all."

"Bollocks!" But the moment the word slipped out of his mouth the damage was done. The part of his brain that had tried desperately to ignore the situation short-circuited. He had to scratch, and scratch violently.

Ianto glowered at her as Martha's face was split open with an all-knowing, if beatific, smile. "Having a little problem 'down there' are we?" She took the silence as an affirmation. "Shall we take a look?"

"No we won't." He pulled his hand out of his underwear. There was a trace of red under his fingernails. "Oh god."

"If you'd rather Owen had a peek?"

"I'm not letting Dead Guy loose around my dick. I'd have nightmares for weeks."

"Well, I can't have you going to the local GP with what could be an extra-terrestrial infection, could I?"

Extra-terrestrial. Jack. The bastard. He moaned softly and started undoing his belt. Thank God the rest of the team were out. On the plus side he could have sworn she raised an impressed eyebrow as his silk shorts slid majestically down to his ankles.

"How long?"

"In inches miss?"

"No! I – um – mean how long have you had the itch?" She blushed under her dark skin the way Lisa used to.

"Two days ago. About the same time as the spots started appearing." Her latex gloves were cool and professional. Almost soothing.

"Have you had unsafe sex recently?"

He remembered the team's late night drinking session, coming back with Jack to tidy up and falling into each other's arms too far removed from sobriety for any pretence at reserve. "It's alien isn't it?"

She looked at him strangely then shook her head. "I can do a swab and run a culture analysis but it looks to me like a common-or-garden STD."

"I'll kill the bastard. Don't care if he's immortal or not."

"Oh, I can tell you one thing for certain – you didn't get it from Jack."

"I must have." The thought crossed his mind that Dead Guy might not have been washing his hands before coffee. Could you catch something from a used mug?

"Nope. His leukocytes would attack any infection from the first moment of contact. He's incapable of passing any disease on." She motioned for him to pull up his trousers, and added, as if it were a fact she'd known all her adult career: "It's a side-effect of time travel."

"So now what?" If not Jack then... Who? Oh. Fuck. The memory came flooding back. The rain. Two lost souls caught in the downpour at a crime scene. Changing back at his flat. Hanging their trousers on the radiator to dry.

"Well, I can give you some antibiotics. Just lay off sex for fourteen days."

Fourteen days. It was impossible to fend Jack off for fourteen hours. "I'll never be able to face Jack again."  How could he hope to keep Jack if it got out that he'd been a dirty little boy.

"Well..." The Medical Officer tapped her fingers on the side of a chair. "There is a special treatment  I keep for my UNIT boys when they get into difficulty. It's very fast acting. Twenty-four hours and you're completely clear."

"I'll take it."

"There is one little side effect," she added hoping Ianto couldn't see her crossing her fingers. Top Brass had welcomed her cure but insisted she added a certain – deterrent element – to the medicine.

"Don't care. Give."


"I didn't think you were the one to go in for fake tans, Ianto." Jack grinned reaching out to squeeze a tangerine cheek. "We'll have to start calling you Captain Tango." Ianto smiled as best he could and slunk away to the basement before the rest of the Hub arrived.

There was one thing for Ianto left to do. As he picked up the telephone and started to dial with his thumb he toyed with a small pill with his other hand. "Is that the police station?"

He heard the crackling acknowledgement. As revenge went it wasn't terribly daring but it was very, very sweet.

"May I speak to PC Andy Davidson?"