Torchwood didn't operate of any kind of a schedule that was recognisable. That was why you learned quickly to become very adaptable. That meant working long hours, odd hours, sleeping when or where you could, being prepared to go without a shower when you were covered head to toe in muck, and knowing that having to get undressed in front of your colleagues because some alien has just covered your clothes in flesh eating slime, is just an occupational hazard.
Wherever possible though, the team try and band together to make each other's lives as normal as possible. This might mean taking an extra night shift so that someone can have some quality time with their other half, or mucking out the weevil cells so someone can get a few hours sleep after two days straight without any.
Most importantly though, you always have to make sure people were fed and watered. They could go without most other things, but trying to chase down a van load of vicious blowfish with zero blood sugar shattered your energy levels and your concentration, and would probably get you killed.
Ianto took this task very seriously, sometimes going without himself, but always making sure the rest of them were in top condition. It wasn't always easy given their workload. That was why he tried wherever possible to plan ahead. He had a weekly planner stuck on the wall next to his desk.
Aided by a handful of thumb tacks, he organised this week's meals, pinning a takeaway menu to each day of the week. Monday, Indian. Tuesday, pizza. Wednesday, fish and chips. Thursday, Chinese. Friday, burgers. Saturday, roast chicken and salad. Sunday, Thai.
He grinned in satisfaction. At least if the world was going to end they wouldn't waste time arguing about what to eat.