Tosh could never remember exactly when it had changed.

Was it when Jack had touched her, so gently, after Mary?

When they'd ended up stranded back in World War Two?

After they'd mutinied and Jack had forgiven them, before disappearing?

Was it those long nights drinking too much coffee with Ianto and just hoping like hell that Jack would return to them?

Was it after Tommy had been sent to his death?

She didn't know. She couldn't pin it down. She kind of wished she could, because starting a relationship with two men really should be a memory she should keep. But she had to settle for other memories. And they were good ones, too.

Waking up, sleepy and coming to awareness, an erection pressed against her back — she never knew which until the first kiss, and then if it was hard and enthusiastic it was Ianto behind her, and if it was softer and more tender, that was Jack who would be just about to slide down and enter her.

The feeling of being held between them, as Ianto prepared to enter her from behind and Jack pushed himself into her wet folds — they always did it that way, she never knew why, but the pleasure was so overwhelming she didn't need to ask. If Jack had wanted it another way, he would have let them know.

Being watched as she took Ianto's cock, glancing over at Jack who was stroking himself, until Ianto snapped his hips and made her gasp, bringing all of her attention back to him.

The feel of a mouth on her folds and another on her breasts — which man was where depended on the day — until she dissolved into a screaming mess of pleasure.

When she got to make the moves, too. When she would kneel and take one of them in her mouth, while the other slid into her. Or when she would strap on a toy and fuck either of them — they told her it was as good as when they did each other, and going by their reactions, Tosh had to be pretty close.

It wasn't all sex — though Tosh's memories of that were more vivid, and she would blush but as Jack would say, you had to take the pleasure life offered. He was good for her like that. And for Ianto, too.

But there were the other times. When Ianto would stumble in, hurt from something that they couldn't identify, and Tosh couldn't break down, she had to find out what it was, if it existed in the databases she had access to. There were too many that didn't, that Owen just had to make a good guess on. Luckily his guesses were always right — or at least bought them enough time to find the right answer.

It had once seemed easier when Jack could come back. Now, though, Tosh worried that every time would be the last one. No matter what Jack said his mysterious Doctor had said, Tosh worried. She knew Ianto did too, and they would hold each other for those moments when Jack was so still, and then there would be a tight hug and murmurs of relief when Jack came back to them.

Another thing that had once seemed easier was Tosh not going out into the field as often. But when she had two men to worry about, it was worse to sit behind a computer and hear things that sounded dangerous. Sometimes she had one of them — usually, but not always, Ianto - frantically looking over her shoulder, itching to try and manipulate her keys so that things could change. Of course if that had been enough, Tosh would have done it by then, and she often longed to tell Ianto that.

There were also the nights when she would stay awake, watching over Ianto. Jack never slept and he found her something that would let her stay awake on those nights, though she tried not to take too much of it, not knowing what it was.

But it was always worth it when Ianto would open his eyes and smile at them, no matter the time of day or night. Even if Jack did have a disturbing tendency to tell him that now he and Tosh could go back to work, but Tosh could live with that, it made a contrast to her usual few tears of relief — where a few tears usually meant damp shoulders.

On rare occasions, the alien tech would be good, or useful, or able to be used to find out about things in the archives. And when they figured those things out, it was a cause for celebration, be it an extra cup of coffee, a glass of wine, or a quick grope behind the filing cabinet — which Tosh knew was Jack's favourite way of celebrating and she was quite partial to it herself.

The occasions when they all got to go out to dinner, Tosh dressing up and seeing the boys (even if Jack wasn't fond of her calling him that, she couldn't help it in her mind) in formal suits, were few and far between, and they usually made as good a night of it as they could. The ones that weren't interrupted were even fewer and further between, and the times when they ended up sprawled out on their bed, jackets off, Tosh's dress unzipped so her breasts were available to be touched, Jack or Ianto thrusting into her after pushing it up to her waist, were too rare, but treasured more for their rarity, Tosh felt.

There were times that Tosh thought of the statistics, of how many Torchwood employees died young. Of how, one day, Jack would be left behind while she and Ianto weren't… there any more. She didn't dwell - she'd taken on this life and it was a good life, especially now she had her two men, the one element that had been missing. But she did think about it, and she made plans for if it happened — and if her mind whispered when rather than if sometimes, she'd tell herself that it was just acknowledging her humanity.

It wouldn't take much to dispel the thoughts, usually watching Jack and Ianto curled up in bed, as she got ready to join them, the sun fallng over their bodies, was enough.

Tosh loved her life… and would take every golden moment she could, even if not every moment was perfect.