Dogs and Cats

***

Dogs and Cats
By Ceefax

***

Gwen picked Jack up. He hooked his paws over her shoulder and bumped his cheek against hers. His nose felt cold and damp on her skin. A deep, contented purr sounded in her ear.

She laughed and used her free hand to scratch behind his ears. "No, you don't mind this at all, do you?" she crooned. "Don't think Ianto's having such a good time, mind."

She put Jack down on an armchair. He pounced playfully at her hand as she straightened up, and she pulled it away with a laughing shriek. He feinted at the other hand, and when she reached out to push him away, triumphantly wrapped his front legs around her wrist and kicked at her forearm with his back feet, claws extended just a little. She wrestled herself free. "Get off, you. Go play with Ianto if you're gonna be rough."

But he twined himself sinuously around her ankles as she headed into the kitchen, then jumped up onto a stool to watch as she made a start on dinner. After a while, Ianto padded up to join them.

He looked most like a chocolate Labrador, but the shape of his head and the waviness of his coat suggested a slight addition of cocker spaniel. He sat at the base of Jack's stool, tail curled around his paws, and his eyes flicked back and forth between the two of them.

She had just finished the chopping when she heard the door. Jack and Ianto both turned towards the sound, Jack's ears swivelling forwards, Ianto's pricking up. "Hi," she called, scraping everything into the wok.

"Oi-oi, they're 'ere, then," Rhys yelled back, undoubtedly catching sight of the plethora of pet paraphernalia that littered the living room.

"Yep, we're all in here." Jack jumped down and trotted towards the source of the new noise. Rhys met him coming the other way.

He smiled down bemusedly at the two sets of blue eyes looking up at him, then leant over to kiss Gwen on the cheek. "That looks a bit interesting," he said, catching sight of the contents of the wok.

"They had fresh squid at the fish counter," Gwen explained, abandoning the spatula and wrapping her arms around his neck, "so I thought I'd give it a go. You feel like tentacles tonight, don't you?"

"You know me, love, always up for tentacles."

"And the rest of it's prawns, cockles, and that Chinese vegetable mix we had last time." She pulled him in to kiss him softly on the mouth, then rubbed off the smears of lipstick with her thumb.

"So, who's who, then?" he asked, looking over at the animals.

"Jack's the cat, Ianto's the dog. You sure you're all right with this, now?"

"Course." He crouched down for a closer look. Jack sniffed him. "And these are really them, are they? You're not taking the piss or anything?"

Gwen poked her stir-fry. "Yep. They're really them." Jack wound himself around her ankles in a figure-of-eight.

Rhys shook his head, ruefully. "Weird stuff just keeps on happening, doesn't it?"

"It's only for a week or so."

"So, how does this work then? Is it like, their minds in animal bodies, or all animal, or what?"

She made a rocking 'comme ci, comme ça' gesture with the spatula. "Bit of both, actually. Tosh reckons it depends what animal you end up as. The bigger the brain, the more of your personality you keep."

Rhys held out a hand to Ianto, who sniffed at it, and offered a small lick of acceptance. "So they'll still be house-trained, yeah?"

Gwen laughed. "Well, I bloody 'ope so. You wanna get your boots off? This is nearly ready."

He vanished back into the living room. Jack 'mrowwww'ed plaintively.

"You want a bit of tentacle, lovely?" Gwen cooed. She picked out a section of fried squid arm, blew on it to cool it, and held it out to Jack. He dropped it on the floor and munched enthusiastically. "Ianto?" She held out another piece. He chomped it delicately from between her fingers and swallowed it in one gulp. "You think it's ready?" she asked them, "I think it's ready." She raised her voice. "Rhys? Could you fetch their bowls for me? They're in the bag at the end of the sofa."

She ladled the food onto two plates, and, when Rhys returned, into two bowls.

"They're eating that, are they?" Rhys asked, frowning as she put the bowls on the floor.

"We bought cat food last time, and Jack wouldn't touch it. Had to feed it to the pterodactyl in the end." She put the plates on the kitchen table and poured two glasses of wine.

"This sort of thing happen often then?" At floor level, Jack and Ianto were chomping steadily.

"No," she said, warning in her voice.

"Oh yeah? Something else I'm not supposed to know about, is it?"

"You got it."

Once the plates (and bowls) had been emptied, Gwen brought over the little two-cup cafetiere. As she pressed down the filter, she was startled by an odd thudding noise. A moment's investigation showed it to be Ianto's tail thumping against the floor.

Gwen laughed. "Would you look at that? That's the first sign of life we've seen from that tail." She ruffled his ears. He shook his head and backed indignantly away, only to scoot forward again seconds later. "You're not supposed to give dogs coffee, are you?"

"I know you're not supposed to give them chocolate," Rhys replied, thoughtfully, "I've never heard anything about coffee, but I don't suppose it can be good for them."

"Ah, he can have a saucerful," Gwen said, looking down into Ianto's calmly determined eyes. "I'll water it down a bit."

When she put the saucer on the floor, Jack trotted over to investigate. He gave the coffee a sniff, had two laps, then turned away and washed his front legs in indifference.

Ianto licked up the rest, chasing the sliding saucer across the floor with his nose.

***

Later.

Jack and Ianto ignored the expensive fluffy beds Gwen had bought them, and curled up together on an armchair. Ianto pinned Jack down with a forepaw and gave him a proprietorial licking. Jack didn't seem to mind, but when he was released, he re-washed himself. Then started washing Ianto. Then gave up and went to sleep.

With Jack curled up against his side, Ianto rested his muzzle on his forepaws and watched Gwen and Rhys as they retreated into the bedroom.

***

Gwen switched off the bedside light and snuggled down under the duvet. She rolled onto her side, walked her fingers up Rhys's spine, then draped her arm over his waist and spooned up against his back, squirming gently against him.

"Oh, 'allo," he said, and turned to face her. They kissed; short, light touches at first, which turned deeper as they pressed their bodies together from chest to thigh. Gwen ran her fingers through his hair, down his back, and gripped firmly at his backside, pulling them still closer, while grinding her crotch against his filling erection.

He stroked up over her hip, easily freed her breasts from the loose vest-top she slept in, and caressed them, squeezing gently at her nipples.

"Yeah," she breathed softly into his mouth, and pulled his hands to her hips.

He pushed his fingers into her black cotton panties to squeeze buttock in turn, then hooked them down. She arched her body up from the mattress to let him drag them over her feet and off. He flung them dramatically over his shoulder, and she laughed.

She tucked his cock between her legs and snuggled up close, kissing him slowly and scratching her fingernails gently over his back the way he liked. The length of his cock slid between her wet lips.

"Hang on a second," she said, and pushed him over onto his back. She straddled his hips, scooped her breasts back into her shirt, then pulled it off over her head.

"Gwen... Gwen, love, come 'ere." His voice sounded worried and apologetic.

She bent over to lay her cheek on his shoulder, keeping most of her weight on her knees. "What is it?" she asked, tracing her fingers over his chest.

"I'm sorry, love, I'm not sure I can. Not with them in the next room."

She gave him an incredulous look. "What, you're embarrassed to do it with animals in the house?"

"It's not animals I've got a problem with, it's your boss and his boyfriend. Carry on like this, and we'll have to get a special bowl for everyone's car keys."

She laughed, and reached down to stroke her fingertips lightly up and down his shaft. "Well, then. We'll just have to be very very quiet, won't we?"

***

Three days later.

Rhys was re-woken when Gwen dropped onto the edge of the bed, making the mattress bounce.

"Mornin'! Coffee's ready, there's toast in the toaster, I've walked Ianto, and everyone's been fed. I've gotta go. I'll phone you about lunch, but it should be okay providing nothing terrible happens." She leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. "Bye!"

"Bye," he told her rapidly departing back. She'd never been this perky in the mornings when she'd still been on the force. He closed his eyes, yawned deeply, and decided on five more minutes.

Fifteen minutes later, he dragged himself out of bed. With a wide-eyed look of guilt, Jack leapt off the kitchen table and shot away into the living room. Rhys ignored him, but shoved his dressing-gown sleeve across the table to remove the traces of fur before he organised his breakfast.

Ianto sat down at his feet and looked at him until he made another round of toast. As Rhys skim-read the morning paper, Ianto lay down under the table, wedged the toast between his forepaws and noisily munched, turning his head sideways to gnaw at the edges. When he was finished, he licked all the crumbs off the floor.

Jack zoomed in and zoomed out again. Neither Rhys nor Ianto paid him any attention.

Rhys finished his coffee, poured the last quarter of the cup into Ianto's water bowl, and left him lapping. In the bathroom he extracted Jack from the sink and had a wash and a shave. He then kicked Jack out of the bedroom and got dressed. He wandered into the living room to find his boots, and Jack played with the laces while he tried to do them up.

When he had located Ianto's lead and the cat carrier, Jack was nowhere in sight. "C'mon, lads," he called, "time to go."

Ianto emerged from the kitchen, pink tongue licking over his nose and whiskers. He sat down by the door and waited patiently.

Rhys began peering behind furniture. "Don't suppose you'd like to help?" he asked Ianto, who just yawned.

He found Jack asleep on the bathroom floor in a patch of sunlight. He scooped him up, and Jack registered his disapproval via claws and teeth. Rhys crammed him unceremoniously into the carrier. Ianto was watching them, mouth open in a dog-grin.

"Well, I'm glad you're enjoying it," Rhys told him, looking down at the fine red lines covering his hand and forearm.

***

As he was making his way from the car to the office, his attention divided between Jack, who was mewing pitifully and slashing a set of claws through the bars, and Ianto, who was determined to walk on whichever side he wasn't holding the lead, he almost walked into a woman coming the other way. "Sorry," he said, automatically.

"You should watch where you're going," she said, coldly. "And you should get your dog neutered."

Jack hissed and his claws flailed after her. Rhys blinked in surprise. "He's not my dog," he protested as she walked away. "And who the 'ell are you, the knackers police?" he yelled after her. She took no notice. "Do you believe that," he said, addressing his words half to Jack and Ianto, half to thin air. "Nosey cow. What's wrong with some people? See a set of balls, and they're not happy till they're lopped off."

He disentangled himself from the lead, which had wrapped right around his body as Ianto had hidden behind his legs, tail curled protectively beneath his belly.

***

When they got in, Ruth pounced on Jack's cat carrier, cooing with delight. At the sound of her voice, his mews of protest stepped up from pitiful to heart-breaking.

As Ianto sequestered himself under Rhys's desk, she snapped open the carrier and lifted Jack out. He went limp in her arms, like a protester in the hands of the police. She cradled him against her large, soft breasts, and he began a deep, rumbling purr. "Who's my pretty kitty, then?" She tapped the pad of her forefinger on his nose. "You're my pretty kitty, yes you are." She rubbed her face against his fur and he arched backwards, resting the back of his head against her cleavage. Rhys and Ianto exchanged a look.

"Morning, Ruth."

"Morning," she said dreamily, gazing down into Jack's wide blue eyes.

"Any coffee, is there?"

"Some in the pot. Isn't there, precious?" She hoisted Jack up and headed for the coffee machine. He gave Rhys a smug look over her shoulder.

Rhys leaned down to switch on the computer. "I don't know how you put up with him," he told Ianto, "I really don't."

***

The day marched on. Lorries were despatched. The sight of Ianto caused a large hairy trucker to plonk himself on the edge of Rhys's desk and reminisce for twenty minutes about the dog he'd had as a kid. Jack went to sleep in the in-tray, and when he was turfed out of there, took up residence on top of Ruth's monitor, his tail hanging down in front of the screen and twitching with annoyance every time she lifted it aside to view the data beneath.

"Shove him off, go on," Rhys said, watching a back foot slowly descend to join the tail.

"No, he's comfy, bless his little heart." She tickled him under the chin. "How long did you say you were looking after them for?"

"They're going back some time this weekend, Gwen reckons."

"I'm going to miss you." She scratched behind Jack's ears, and he jumped down onto her keyboard. "Have you known them long? Their owners?"

"Ummm... Well, they're Gwen's mates, really, not mine. Why?"

She was stroking Jack's head with both hands, flattening his ears back, then letting them spring upright again. "Oh, I just wondered if they'd let me visit," she said, wistfully.

"No, I don't think that'd work," Rhys said, inventing desperately. "See, they're moving away soon. To Scotland. That's where they are at the moment, they're house-hunting in Scotland." To his own ears, he sounded horribly unconvincing.

"Oh." She pushed Jack's ears down like a Scottish Fold. He rolled onto his back and she tickled his belly. "Is my beautiful boy going to miss me too? Hmm? Or will you meet a nice Scottish queen kitty and forget all about me?"

The phone rang. While she was distracted, Rhys lowered his head into his hands. Ianto put his chin on the arm of his chair and gave him a sympathetic look. "Bloody Torchwood," Rhys muttered. "It's all lies on top of lies."

***

When Gwen got home that evening, Jack was curled up on the armchair, and Rhys and Ianto were on the sofa, watching TV. Ianto's nose was on Rhys's knee, and Rhys's hand was resting on Ianto's head, scratching slowly at his ears. As she came in the door, Jack leapt off the chair and ran over to affectionately headbutt her knees. Ianto looked up at her, and his tail thumped once against the back of the sofa.

Gwen flopped down onto the sofa at Rhys's other side. "How's my favourite boys, then?" She tucked her legs up under her and put an arm over Rhys's shoulders.

"We've already eaten," Rhys told her. "There's some leftovers in the fridge."

"That's what I get for staying out late saving the world, I suppose." She sighed theatrically and cupped his chin to kiss him. Jack jumped up and settled himself down on her thighs, curling into a ball and tucking his tail over his nose. She glared down at him. "I'm just getting up." She poked him. He flicked the tip of his tail, but didn't budge. "Fine." She lifted him by the middle, disengaging his claws from her jeans, got to her feet, and deposited him next to Rhys and Ianto.

When she had re-heated the bolognese, she brought it back through on a tray. Jack had spread himself out over her former seat, so she took the armchair. Ianto jumped down and sat at her feet, looking up expectantly.

"Don't pay any attention to him," Rhys said. "He's had his."

Gwen looked down into his pale blue eyes. His ears twitched up and his tail thumped once against the carpet. "Bad as Jack, you are," she told him fondly, and fed him a slice of mushroom.

"Gwen! Don't encourage them."

She looked up from twirling spaghetti around her fork. "We're not trying to train them. Besides, he's brought me food enough times."

"That's as maybe, but I'd rather not have dogs eating off plates, if you don't mind."

Ianto padded back over, lay down at his feet, and looked mournfully up at him. "Don't you start," Rhys told him.

Gwen finished her meal, surreptitiously feeding scraps to Ianto whenever Rhys was particularly engrossed in the television. When she returned from stacking the dishes in the sink, Ianto was back on the sofa, using Rhys as a pillow.

She sat back down in the armchair and settled into a comfortable position, feeling full and sleepy. Jack came and sat on her lap, rolling onto his back so she could tickle his chin and belly. When he got tired of that, he curled into a ball, his front leg draped over her wrist.

"Get any good aliens today, then?" Rhys asked, his hand resting on Ianto's back.

"Nah. Bit of a quiet day, alien-wise. How'd you get on with this lot?"

"All right. But I think they're making Ruth broody."

She laughed and ruffled Jack's fur. Warning claws pricked her captive wrist. "Just as long as she knows she can't keep them. Or if she does, she'll get 'ell of a shock at the weekend."

"So, Sunday night, you reckon? For them to turn back?"

"If it works the same way it did last time." Jack fitted the back of his head into the curve of her palm, and she grinned besottedly down at him.

They watched TV. Jack's head grew heavier and heavier, and Gwen tried to slowly shift her arm to a more comfortable position, but he hooked his paws firmly around her wrist and pulled her back into optimal snuggling position. She gazed down at him, conflicted. Her arm and shoulder were really beginning to ache, but he looked so cute...

She had just about decided to claim her arm back any minute now, when Jack awoke with a start. In a split-second he was upright and launching himself off Gwen's lap, back claws dug into her thighs for purchase. He began to stalk across the living room, head low, shoulders rising and falling with each slow, deliberate step.

Gwen shot Rhys a confused look, and craned her neck for a better view.

"Hey, there it is," Rhys said, pointing to the lamp beside the computer. "He's after a fly."

A large, shiny bluebottle was crawling along the top of the lampshade. Jack leapt up onto the desk and it flew away. Jack dashed after it, and Gwen, Rhys and Ianto's heads turned to follow.

The fly buzzed around the ceiling, tracing a wobbly orbit around the light. Jack sat beneath it, head tilted back, eyes fixed on the tiny spot of movement. Ianto jumped down to join him.

Gwen moved to the sofa, rested her head on Rhys's shoulder, and the two of them watched the hunt, the TV blaring away unheeded.

Jack and Ianto operated with an effortless efficiency that made Gwen think that 'weevil hunting with Ianto' perhaps wasn't as euphemistic as she had always assumed.

Ianto covered ground level, stalking after their tiny prey, ears up and tail down. He snapped at the fly, herding it towards Jack, who bounded across desks and tables, sitting patiently, staring upwards, whenever it flew out of reach, then dashing after it again.

Gwen watched, wincing every time one of them knocked something over. At one point Jack scaled the curtains, and she hid her face against Rhys's shoulder, waiting for the crash of the curtain rail giving way. But it didn't come, and when she next looked up, he was stalking across the carpet, tail lashing.

"It's good, this," Rhys said, as Jack and Ianto closed on the fly in a pincer movement. "Better than a documentary."

"You don't watch documentaries."

"I do. Sometimes. When there's nothing else on."

The fly sat on the carpet, washing its legs, seemingly oblivious to the danger, as Jack crept in closer and closer, body held low, moving slowly and smoothly, all except the tip of his twitching tail. Ianto crouched on the other side, his eyes fixed on their victim.

"I hope that fly isn't anyone," Rhys said, just before Jack pounced.

He jumped up onto the sofa and dropped the dead fly, now minus a wing, onto the arm, looking proudly at them both.

Gwen was giggling helplessly. "Oh my god, they killed Jeff Goldblum..." Jack stepped onto her lap and rubbed his head against her breasts, still radiating an air of smugness. She stroked him.

Rhys picked up the fly remains (including the lone wing left on the carpet) with a tissue and dropped it into the bin. Jack began washing his paws. Ianto sat down at Gwen's feet.

She yawned and stretched, throwing Jack off balance. He gave her a disdainful look and abandoned her lap for the sofa cushions. Ianto jumped up beside him, and he curled up between the dog's forepaws. Ianto licked absently at his ears, then lowered his head and allowed himself to be washed in turn.

Rhys checked his watch. "I'm off down the pub," he announced, "you wanna come?"

Gwen screwed up her nose apologetically. "Not tonight, I'm shattered. But say 'hi' to everyone for me."

"Yeah, yeah," Rhys said with mock-grumpiness, "I always do, dunn'I? Want me to bring you back anything?"

"Nah, I'm just going to have an early night, I think."

Jack rolled onto his back and began to playfully bat at the tips of Ianto's ears. Ianto shook him off, then sat upright to take his head out of range. Gwen smiled affectionately down at them both, then yelped in indignation as Jack pounced on her hand. She wrestled him to the sofa cushions as he gnawed enthusiastically at her wrist.

"Oi!" She lifted him onto her lap and tried to stroke away the bloodlust. "Be'ave, you." He wrapped his legs around her arm and chewed happily on her fingers.

Rhys leant over to kiss her. "I'll see you later, then." Ianto followed him.

At the door, he moved to intercept as Rhys tried to step around him.

"S'ppose you want to come too?"

His tail smacked into the hall carpet.

"So long as you're happy leaving them two alone," he said, quiet enough that Gwen wouldn't hear. He took the lead out of Ianto's mouth, and clipped it to his red cotton collar.

***

Daf and Karen were already there when they arrived. Ianto was exclaimed over and patted, which he allowed for a few minutes before retreating under the table.

Drinks were sorted. Ianto's nose ventured out slightly.

"So, whose idea was the pet-sitting?" Daf asked, with a smug grin.

Rhys mentally lined up his 'house-hunting in Scotland' story. "Well, they belong to Gwen's mates, so..."

"It's a test, mate. Haven't booted them one yet, 'ave yer?"

"In the face of dire provocation, no." He displayed his Jack-inflicted wounds, and Karen made sympathetic noises.

"She's checking you're suitable to breed with. Best leave 'em alone if you wanna pass them genes on." He sat back with the air of a sage passing down judgement.

Rhys gave him a sideways look. "I'll bear that in mind."

Drinks were drunk. Conversation sailed past the state of the roads, last night's telly, the Six Nations, and then circled the dangerous whirlpool of Daf and Karen's everlasting argument about the bathroom tiles.

Reflecting that it wasn't easy running interference for these two, Rhys drained his glass and shoved it across the table to Daf. "You get these, I'll get the next round, yeah?"

"Ooo, and get us some crisps, would ya?" Karen asked.

"Crisps, lager, bitter, vodka. Crisps?" he added, looking questioningly at Rhys.

"Nah. Oh, actually, if they've got any of those chilli peanuts, I'll have them."

"Crisps, lager, bitter, vodka, nuts. Right."

Karen looked down at Ianto, who was sitting patiently beside the table, mouth open and tongue overflowing slightly from between long, sharp teeth. She stroked his ears. "I had a dog when I was little," she said. "A Scottie. Noisy little bastard, but you don't care about that when you're a kid, do you?"

"Too busy making noise yourself," Rhys agreed.

Picking them up by the tips, she lifted Ianto's ears upright, making him look slightly Alsatian-esque. He shook himself free, then apologetically licked her fingertips. "This one seems pretty laid back about things."

"Yeah. Never hear a peep out of him. Wish we could say the same about the bloody cat."

She laughed, and ran her hands down Ianto's back. "Have you been watching that show? That Supernanny for dogs thing?"

"No, haven't seen that one."

"Oh, the states some people get into, it's just awful..."

Daf returned and spread his fresh purchases across the table. "What are we on about?"

"That Supernanny for dogs thing. Rhys hasn't seen it."

"Oh, you should so watch that one, mate. She dresses like a dominatrix, it's fantastic. Don't she?"

"Yeah, she does a bit," Karen said, with a smile. "I love her boots, though."

Rhys retrieved his beer and peanuts. "Er, Daf? What's with the pork scratchings? Nobody likes pork scratchings."

Daf grinned like a magician about to unveil a new trick, and opened the packet. He selected a lump and held it over Ianto's head. "C'mon, boy! Beg!"

"Oi!" Rhys protested. "He's supposed to be inconspicuous, d'you wanna get us kicked out?"

He needn't have worried. Ianto ignored him completely, rested his muzzle on Karen's knee, and focused determined eyes on her packet of crisps.

She laughed. "Well, that's told you, then." She fed him a crisp. It vanished in a single chomp, and he turned hopeful eyes back upwards.

"What am I supposed to do with these bloody pork scratchings, then?" Daf asked, affronted.

"You could try just giving them to him," Rhys suggested.

"Maybe he'll beg for a peanut." He reached across the table and grabbed one.

"Oi, get off! They're mine!"

He held it up, pinched between thumb and forefinger. "Come on, there's a good boy. Beg! Beg for it, c'mon!" Ianto looked at him, glanced up at the peanut, then turned back to Karen. "Oh, come on. You don't want a lick of Rhys's spicy nuts?"

"Fuck off," Rhys said, laughing despite himself.

"No?" Daf waved the peanut enticingly, trying to get Ianto's attention. "Oh, fine. Suit your bloody self." He popped the peanut into his own mouth and crunched it, then rattled the pork scratchings under the table. "Come on then, you bloody dog, come and have some tasty piggy."

Ianto sniffed cautiously around the rim of the packet, then pushed his nose inside.

"Yeah, there we go," Daf said, with the satisfied air of a job well done. He held on to the packet until Ianto rootled it right out of his hand.

The conversation continued. Beneath the table, Ianto braced his pork scratchings using Rhys's foot and his own front paws, and buried himself in the crinkling plastic up to his eyeballs. The sounds of steady, determined crunching came floating upwards.

Karen was complaining about people smoking in pub doorways when Ianto deposited the used packet in Rhys's lap. "Oh, right. Er... Good dog." He picked it up by one corner (it had been licked thoroughly clean) and dropped it onto the table.

"...so every time you walk past one, you have to go through these little clouds of cigarette smoke. And they're all huddled up together, so it's worse than if they were spread around a whole pub."

"Stop hangin' around outside pubs, then," Daf suggested.

"Have to walk past three of the buggers to get to work, don't I? And two more, to get to the shops at lunchtime. I swear, I'm breathing more bloody smoke now than I did before the ban."

"Oh, 'allo, there." Ianto was sitting by Daf's chair. "What're you after now?"

"Don't give him that," Rhys protested, as Daf held out his pint glass.

"There's only a little bit left."

"That's not the point! It'll probably make him sick or something." Ianto carefully fitted his muzzle into the glass, and lapped at the inch of bitter ale sitting in the bottom.

"Nah, me dad used to give our dogs beer all the time."

Karen fished out her phone and leaned over the table to take a picture of Ianto inside the glass. Rhys wondered gloomily if he was supposed to confiscate the phone as evidence. He decided if Torchwood considered a photograph of a dog drinking beer to be detrimental to their security, they could sort it out their own bloody selves.

After declaring him absolutely adorable, Karen offered Ianto the end of her vodka and orange. He had a couple of laps, but didn't seem so keen.

"We're going home," Rhys announced, "before I end up cleaning up dog sick all night. Pair of bloody troublemakers, you are," he added, as he sorted out Ianto's lead, and Daf and Karen laughed.

Karen squatted down to hug Ianto. He licked her cheek.

"He's a good dog, that," Daf said, patting him so hard he staggered slightly. "All evening, and he hasn't humped nobody's leg."

***

Outside, Rhys yawned in a deep lungful of cold, fresh air. Ianto looked up at him, tongue lolling happily between his teeth. "Had a nice night out, have you?" Rhys asked softly, scratching him behind his ears. "Come on, time to go home."

Ianto trotted beside him, the dry tapping of his claws against the pavement marking his progress, sniffing eagerly at anything that seemed interesting. At one point, he did his best to dash out into the road for a better smell at a squashed pigeon, but Rhys hauled him back. "No, leave it alone. Best let the dead rest in peace. Even if it is one big flat piece." He snorted a little at his own joke.

After a great deal of sniffing, Ianto stopped at the entrance to an alleyway between closed, shuttered, shops, and looked pointedly at Rhys until he turned his back.

Rhys tilted his head back and looked at the stars. He couldn't spot any recognisable constellations, and the sounds of trickling urine from below caused a chain reaction in his own body.

"That's not a bad idea, actually," he said, and ventured a few steps into the alley, enough to be out of the street lights. "Should've gone before we left the pub. That's your fault, that is, you're throwing off my routine. Keep a look-out, would yer?"

Pissing against the wall, something he hadn't done since he was a teenager, felt stupidly wonderfully rebellious and primitive. He shook himself off, zipped his fly, and turned around, half-expecting to find himself staring into the disapproving gaze of a police officer - probably that bitchy sod Andy Davidson, for his luck.

But there was nothing. Just the dark night, the deserted street, and Ianto, sitting in the alley's entrance, facing outwards, scanning the surroundings.

"Good look-out." He ruffled his ears. "And don't look at me like that, you just did it."

***

Gwen was still up when they got in, but only in a manner of speaking. She was lying on her back on the sofa. Her eyes were closed. Jack was sitting sphinx-style on her stomach, his front paws between her breasts. He peered at them calmly, his eyes momentarily flashing luminous turquoise discs. The TV played News 24, quietly.

Rhys scooped up the remote from the floor and switched it off.

"I was watching that," she protested sleepily. Her hand came up and stroked over the back of Jack's neck and down his shoulders. He broke abruptly into his deep, rumbling purr. Her other hand stretched blindly over her head. Rhys took it, and leant over the arm of the sofa to kiss her upside-down. "You're back early. It's not even kicking-out time yet."

"Gotta get up in the morning, haven't I?" Ianto sat down by the edge of the sofa and began to bestow affectionate licks onto Jack's fur and Gwen's fingers in equal measures. "Friday tomorrow."

Gwen mimed a small sleepy victory celebration. Rhys laughed and took both her hands, tugging her upwards. "No, I can't," she protested, "I'm trapped..."

But even as she spoke, Jack jumped to the floor and trotted off into the kitchen. Ianto followed him. "Come on," Rhys said. "Time for bed. And don't think I'm carrying you - I'll do me back in again."

As they reached the bedroom door, Rhys's arm around Gwen's waist, his fingertips tucked just inside the waistband of her jeans, Jack and Ianto sprinted across the living room, apparently engaged in an enthusiastic game of tag. "Nocturnal gits," Gwen said sleepily, and shut the door.

***