Fanfic - Counting Stars 6/17 [Torchwood: Jack/Ianto]

[soera]

Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five

---

They eventually donned their trousers and shirts just long enough to go down to the hotel shops and get a fresh change of clothes. Then they went to the spa and made the most of the packages Jack had bought for them. Tosh found them arguing over whether they should go to the pool next (Jack’s vote; Ianto thought Jack just wanted the chance to ogle his wet, near-naked body) or go for a full hot stone massage together (Ianto’s vote; he wanted to see the looks on the masseurs’ faces when they realised the ‘couple’ they’d be working on was two men) and promptly took the decision out of their hands by dragging them off to the restaurant for lunch.

“Does this count?” Jack whispered to Ianto when Tosh wasn’t paying attention.

“Nope,” Ianto replied, equally quietly.

“But I’m paying,” Jack argued.

“Still doesn’t count,” Ianto said. “Not with all the others there.” He made the mistake of looking at Jack, and promptly had to bite his lip to keep from laughing at the disgruntled pout on his face.

The food was good, and the conversation, though initially slightly stilted, eventually became much more comfortable. The other three had obviously decided not to quiz Jack any further, so lunch proceeded without much awkwardness. When Jack excused himself to go to the washroom, however, open season was declared on Ianto.

“Why the hell are you doing this?” Owen hissed under his breath.

Ianto paused with his fork halfway to his mouth. “Excuse me?” he asked mildly.

“Are you really sure you want to be jumping back into a relationship with Jack?” Gwen asked hurriedly, glaring at Owen.

“What relationship?” Owen snorted. “Jack’s just trying to get back in your pants and – you, you’re letting him.” He glowered at Ianto.

“Why, Owen,” Ianto said archly. “I didn’t know you cared so much about my well-being.”

Owen choked on his food. Tosh and Gwen both looked torn between laughing and chastising Ianto.

“Ianto,” Tosh said worriedly, and he gave her a small smile.

“I know, Tosh,” he said. “And whatever Owen – or any of you - thinks, Jack and I aren’t sleeping together.” He sipped some water, then added thoughtfully, “Yet.”

“You aren’t sharing a room then?” Gwen asked in surprise.

“We are, actually,” Ianto corrected her.

“And… Jack kept his hands to himself?” Owen asked in disbelief.

“Two beds,” Ianto confirmed. No need to tell them they’d shared one for the better part of their stay. “He’s been very good about it.”

That sparked off a debate about whether Jack was actually capable of behaving as well as Ianto was claiming. Ianto saw Jack approaching the table and subtly waved him back, holding up two fingers. Jack looked like he wanted to come over anyway, but obediently slipped back out.

The two minutes seemed to get most of the gossip out of their system, so that by the time Jack re-appeared, they’d moved on to easier topics. They were discussing Myfanwy’s penchant for kidnapping sheep when Jack slid back into his seat next to Ianto.

“What are we talking about?” he asked with great interest. Ianto kicked his foot lightly, knowing full well exactly what Jack was referring to.

“Myfanwy’s sheep-stealing exploits,” Gwen told Jack with a blissfully unaware smile.

“Has to be Welsh,” was Owen’s contribution to the conversation. “Bloody dinosaur.”

“Pterosaur,” Jack and Ianto said simultaneously. Ianto gave Jack a suspicious look.

“You’ve rubbed off on me,” Jack said innocently.

“Oh, I’ll bet he has,” Owen groused, but without any malice.

“Numerous times, in multiple ways,” Ianto affirmed solemnly. Tosh had already started to giggle, and Gwen looked very much like she wanted to join in.

“Multiple locations,” Jack added, and that sent both Gwen and Tosh off into gales of laughter. Owen’s face was a study in utmost revulsion.

“In the Hub?” he demanded, then blanched when Ianto and Jack looked at each other, then smiled. “Oh god, it had better not have been anywhere near my table!”

“Of course not,” Ianto said blandly, and nudged Jack before he could say anything else. Jack shot him a delighted look.

“I don’t want to know!” Owen cried, and dove into his food with single-minded fervour.

“Oh, Owen,” Gwen managed to say through her laughter. “You should see your face now!”

“They’ve probably fucked on your desk,” Owen jibed. Thankfully, no one other than Jack noticed the little hint of red creeping up Ianto’s neck. “Most space, right?”

“No,” Gwen said, laughter abruptly stopping. She looked uncertainly between Jack and Ianto. “You wouldn’t have.”

“We wouldn’t have,” Jack assured her. Ianto nodded quickly.

“I’m not sure I believe them,” Tosh said, finally calming down.

“You wound me, Tosh,” Ianto declared gravely.

“And you’re full of it, tea-boy,” Owen snorted. “For fuck’s sake, let’s talk about something else.”

“You’re the one who brought it up,” Jack merrily pointed out.

Owen’s response to that was an inarticulate growl and a fork waved threateningly in Jack’s face. Jack simply smirked at him. Under the table, he held Ianto’s hand as if they were fifteen, and no matter how hard he tried, Ianto couldn’t hide the glowing happiness that suffused him.

---

They lingered over lunch, and then everyone scattered to take advantage of the hotel’s facilities. Jack and Ianto went for a couple’s massage (Ianto was right; the looks on the masseurs’ faces had been priceless, though to their credit, they’d recovered quickly), after which they retired to their room to spend some time alone together.

“Any requests for that date?” Jack asked, inspecting the fresh arrangement of chocolates and strawberries that had been delivered while they were out.

“Thought you were going with a movie and dinner,” Ianto said. He was sprawled on his largely-unused bed, watching Jack.

“It’s so spectacularly clichéd I thought I had to do it,” Jack said. He looked up and flashed a quick grin at Ianto. “You know, I’ve never done the whole movie-dinner-date?”

“Can’t call it clichéd then,” Ianto said, giving Jack a tiny smile. “Not for you, anyway.”

“Guess not,” Jack agreed. He picked up one chocolate and turned it over, visually dissecting it before putting it back, fingers hovering indecisively over another one. Ianto watched the proceedings with amusement. “I think I’ve only been to the movies twice or thrice, actually. Don’t much like them. Too loud.”

“Let’s do something else then,” Ianto said. “Not much fun if you’re not having a good time.”

“But you’ve got to be having a good time too,” Jack said earnestly. “What d’you like doing?”

Ianto let his eyes wander appreciatively across Jack’s body, then arched an eyebrow pointedly.

“Besides that,” Jack said, throwing a strawberry at Ianto. Ianto caught the strawberry neatly and popped it into his mouth, humming in contentment. He closed his eyes to better savour the sweet tang of the juice bursting onto his tongue. When he opened them again, he found Jack watching him intently. He innocently licked his lips, watching as blue eyes tracked the movement.

“Could go for a play instead,” he suggested, and hid a laugh as Jack seemed to jolt back into awareness.

“A play,” Jack repeated blankly. “Right. Right, that does sound good.” He frowned. “Do I get to pick, or would you rather…”

“Surprise me,” Ianto said. “Strawberry?”

Jack obligingly tossed another over, and the whole process was repeated. Ianto thought he might be enjoying himself rather too much.

“And dinner afterwards?” Jack asked distractedly.

“Yep,” Ianto agreed. “That way, even if the play was terrible, we can insult it over dinner.”

Jack smiled at him crookedly. “Do I get to plan dinner as well?” he asked hopefully. “Only, I just had a thought, and…”

“Go ahead,” Ianto said with a nod. “Strawberry.”

Jack slid off his bed, bringing the entire arrangement with him over to Ianto. Whatever Ianto had been expecting, it wasn’t to be hand-fed his next piece of fruit, Jack’s fingers lingering longingly over his lips.

“Wouldn’t say no to a kiss,” Ianto told Jack, and that was all he managed to get out before Jack’s mouth was on his, desperate and absolutely scorching. Wet warmth slid across his bottom lip and he obediently parted his lips, letting Jack’s tongue twine briefly with his before exploring his mouth. At some point, his arms had wrapped themselves around Jack entirely of their own volition, and pulled him flush against Ianto’s body. His weight was reassuring; his heartbeat, thumping in counterpoint to Ianto’s, even more so. After a long moment, the kiss relaxed into something less frantic, more soothing, and then Jack slowly pulled away, resting his forehead against Ianto’s with a contented sigh.

Ianto tightened his grip on Jack, unwilling to let him go just yet. That got him a brilliant smile, and Ianto noticed that Jack’s eyes seemed to have lost some of their shadows, at least temporarily.

“Thanks, gorgeous,” Jack murmured affectionately. Ianto turned his head a little, brushing his lips against Jack’s in a movement that was more of a caress than a kiss. Jack sighed again at the touch, a helpless smile pulling at his lips.

Ianto swallowed, tasting strawberries and Jack in his mouth. “How much longer till we can leave?” he asked.

“Few more hours, I guess,” Jack said. “You want to do something or get a little more sleep?”

“Sleep,” Ianto decided. “God knows working for Torchwood means you’re always short on sleep.”

Jack grinned at him. “Okay if I lie down with you?”

Jack had always been a fairly tactile person, Ianto thought, but always on his own terms, always holding back most of himself. There was something heartbreaking about the way he was now.

“I’d like that,” Ianto replied. Jack cleared away the forgotten strawberries and chocolate, and then they made themselves comfortable, Jack spooning up behind Ianto and holding him securely in his arms. Ianto drifted off feeling Jack’s breath on his neck, warm and alive. For the first time in ages, he slept deeply.

Jack woke him up some hours later to tell him that they were safe to go back to their homes now. Ianto sleepily changed into the clothes he’d arrived in, folding up their new clothes and packing them away. Jack pressed a kiss to his forehead, told him to check the bedside table and lock up, then left to go find the others. Still half-asleep, Ianto wandered over to the table where the phone was. Nothing seemed out of place, and he was turning away when he caught sight of a hastily scribbled message on the small notepad there.

29) Forgives me (even if I don’t deserve to be).

He stared at the message for a while, re-reading it multiple times before it finally sank in. Then he carefully tore off the page and folded it, tucking it into his pocket for safe-keeping.

Jack was delighted to be greeted with a kiss in the parking lot.

---

Something about having his Captain back had loosened Ianto’s tongue.

Oh, he’d always had a response ready in his mind whenever someone said something spectacularly (or even mildly) idiotic, but he’d never actually said them out loud. Seeing Owen at a loss for words made Ianto think that maybe he should say them more often. And in the end, they’d stopped Cell 114 and though Beth was dead (poor girl, even if she had turned out to be a sleeper agent), it had generally been a good day.

It ended on a good note, too (ignoring the bloody duct tape residue which Did Not Want To Come Off the wing mirror). Ianto cleaned up as usual while Gwen and Jack retired to his office to talk (he didn’t feel jealous, which was odd but nice) and after everyone had left, Jack came up, wrapped his arms around him and frankly snuggled against him.

“It’s a bit scary, isn’t it?” he said quietly.

“Stop worrying if we’ve really stopped them,” Ianto told Jack. “There’s nothing we can do about it now.”

Jack smiled wanly. “Suppose not.”

“We’re prepared now,” Ianto said. “Not only for them, but for others like them. Think of that instead of worrying about things you can’t change.”

Jack muffled a groan. “Others like them. I hadn’t even thought of that, thanks.”

“Always glad to be of service, sir,” Ianto said blandly. “Might I get back to washing these cups now?”

“I’m not moving,” Jack said petulantly.

“Suit yourself,” Ianto said, and returned to washing up, this time with an oversized kid hanging off him.

“This Saturday,” Jack said. “About four. Are you free?”

“Rift willing, yes,” Ianto said. “Why?”

“Let’s go out then,” Jack said. “I mean, on that date. Uh, a date. There’ll be others, I didn’t mean to make it sound like there wouldn’t. That is, if you –”

“Yes, Jack,” Ianto cut in before Jack could embarrass himself any further. It was very strange (and entertaining) to see Jack uncertain of himself, but there was a limit to how much Ianto could tolerate before wanting to put his Jack out of his misery.

“Oh, good,” Jack replied, and buried his face in the crook of Ianto’s neck. “Wow, I’m really horrible at this,” he muttered, voice muffled.

“You really are,” Ianto agreed. He was rewarded with a brief nip to his skin.

“You’ve gone and gotten a mean streak in you, Ianto Jones,” Jack said, and Ianto turned just enough to see the laughter in his eyes and reassure himself that Jack wasn’t really mad.

“Grew up some,” he said lightly.

“Guess so,” Jack said, sounding somewhat melancholic. Ianto dried his hands and turned in Jack’s hold, allowing himself the simple luxury of being held. In the few days since he’d returned, Jack had taken every opportunity available to just hold Ianto – when they were alone, anyway. Ianto suspected that the only reason Jack refrained from doing so around the others was respect for Ianto’s own sense of modesty.

“What’s wrong?” he asked softly, bringing his own arms around Jack’s waist to loosely hold him in place.

“Nothing,” Jack said with a sigh, then noticed the thoroughly unconvinced look in Ianto’s eyes. “Just – shouldn’t have left.”

“Yes, you should,” Ianto told him. Jack got a mutinous look in his eye; Ianto stopped him from commenting with a kiss. “You had to go, we both know that,” he continued. If you hadn’t, you’d be sorry now that you missed him. At least now you’ve got some answers – some kind of closure. It’s better than wondering all the time, isn’t it?”

Jack tucked his chin against Ianto’s shoulder, lips upturned in a smile that his younger lover couldn’t see. “Yeah,” he agreed. “Once again, you prove that you know me better than I know myself.”

“I simply have a good dose of common sense,” Ianto informed him dryly. “Something which you appear to be quite lacking in.”

“Hey!” Jack protested indignantly, pulling back to mock-glare at Ianto. “You have gone and gotten mean. Which reminds me – what’s wrong with my bad cop routine anyway?”

“Absolutely nothing,” Ianto said solemnly. “You can be quite terrifying.”

Jack growled at him, but the effect was rather spoiled by the amused look in his eyes. Ianto gave him a small smile.

“Fine,” Jack said, taking a step forward and pushing Ianto up against the counter. “Suppose you’ll have to teach me then.”

“Could do that, I guess,” Ianto murmured, sliding his hands up Jack’s sides, wrapping one around a suspender and pulling him closer.

“You’d be a good teacher,” Jack purred.

“I try my best,” Ianto said, tilting his head slightly so that his lips just barely grazed Jack’s. “Of course, we might want to wait till after that date.”

Jack froze. “Date,” he echoed weakly, and Ianto suppressed a grin – certain parts of Jack were most emphatically uninterested in waiting. “Right. After the date.”

Ianto managed to slide out of Jack’s grasp while the older man was still trying to comprehend the sudden change in topic. He’d already put on his coat by the time Jack pulled himself together. “See you tomorrow, Jack,” he said sweetly, heading for the exit at a fast trot. Jack simply shook his head and watched Ianto go, an incredulous, yet amused look on his face.

“Definitely developed a mean streak,” he muttered. “Saturday at four!” he called out after Ianto. “Dress formal!”

Ianto raised a hand in farewell; he didn’t dare look back for fear he’d start laughing.

“Yep,” Jack decided as the door rolled shut. “Mean.” He looked down at himself, then resignedly heaved himself off to the shower. He’d need either a long warm one or a very cold one.

---

Miraculously, Saturday arrived without any problems. Neither of them was nursing injuries, and the Rift had been mercifully quiet thus far. Ianto rather pessimistically suspected that it would explode on them at probably the best part of the evening. Jack was convinced that Ianto’s doomsday-ing was enough to keep Murphy’s Law satisfied and at bay. They both took off from work after lunch that day, Jack promising to pick Ianto up at his flat at four.

Tosh had helpfully agreed to watch the Rift that evening while the Hub was unmanned. That didn’t, however, stop Owen from making snide comments right up until Jack vanished into his office (really, his room, the existence of which the others suspected, though they still didn’t know where it was). Jack rather suspected Owen’s griping was continuing even without his presence, and spared a moment of pity for Tosh and Gwen before returning his attention to making himself look as good as he possibly could.

Ianto, he decided as he knotted his bow-tie, would likely be astounded to discover that Jack had a tuxedo at all, much less that he’d decided to wear it. In all honesty, he didn’t think he’d ever even worn the thing – he’d bought it as a bribe to get some information from the tailor. It still fit him perfectly.

He picked up his wristband absently and was just about to fasten it when he realised what he was doing, and promptly dropped it into a drawer. He wasn’t about to tempt fate by bringing the damn thing with him. A quick check ensured that he was presentable, and that he hadn’t forgotten anything. Unfortunately, planning out each little detail beforehand meant that he now found himself with plenty of time to fret over everything that could go wrong (the Rift could blow up per Ianto’s predictions, Ianto might hate his choice of entertainment, Ianto might think the location of their dinner was ridiculous, Ianto might think he was being too presumptuous). Consequently, he was feeling somewhat of a wreck when he finally emerged from his office.

Gwen’s jaw just about hit the floor. Owen actually gawked. Tosh just stared, her eyes impossibly huge.

Jack felt a lot better.

“I’ll leave you kids to it then,” he said with an insouciant grin. “Buzz us only if the world’s ending.” With a jaunty wave, he set off, heading out to the car he barely used. In fact, he hadn’t touched it in so long that he’d brought it to be serviced a week back, just to ensure it was actually still in working order. The engine turned over smoothly and he pulled out of the garage, biting his lip nervously as he ran through what he’d say. He really hoped this went well.

He arrived at Ianto’s house exactly on time and rang the doorbell. Two beats (Jack counted), and then the door opened and he looked up and the lines he’d been rehearsing the whole way over got stuck in his throat.

“Uh,” he croaked intelligently.

“Thank you,” Ianto said, smiling and looking absolutely gorgeous in a tailored, three-piece suit. A black suit. With a red shirt. Silk. Red silk shirt. Jack’s brain wasn’t quite able to move past those facts. “Would you like to come in for a coffee before we leave?”

“Uh,” Jack replied, nodding. Ianto stepped aside to let him in, shutting the door quietly. Jack allowed Ianto to take his coat, hanging it neatly before leading him into the kitchen. The coffee maker was already at work, and in a matter of moments, Ianto had small mugs of coffee made up for them. The first sip sent Jack’s eyebrows shooting up.

“Good stuff,” he said, impressed. Even by Ianto’s standards, the coffee was excellent.

“I’ve been working on a new blend,” Ianto confessed. “I take it you approve?”

“Very much,” Jack said, eyes raking over Ianto’s body hungrily.

“I’m glad,” Ianto murmured over the rim of his cup. Jack took another sip before setting down the cup and offering Ianto the box he’d been carrying.

“Didn’t know if you’d appreciate it, exactly,” he admitted. “But I really wanted to.”

Ianto gave Jack an amused look when he saw the neatly-arranged corsage. It was just discreet and elegant enough to appeal to his tastes. “Very school prom,” he commented, then grinned as Jack’s face fell. “But I like it. Pin it on for me, will you?”

They got themselves sorted, finished their coffees, and made to set off. Jack stole a few moments while Ianto was distracted to hurriedly write a note for him to discover when he came back – 10) Looks really good in a suit. – then led Ianto out to his car.

Jack had done a little research, and made a few educated guesses as to what Ianto might enjoy. He had his fingers crossed that Ianto would actually enjoy it, and that he hadn’t doomed them to just about two hours of torture. Still, he’d enjoyed the performance back when he’d first seen it – when was that, 1874? – and he rather thought that it might appeal to Ianto’s sensibilities too.

Besides, there was an intermission where they could make their escape, if need be.

But the gamble paid off. Ianto sat through the operetta, thoroughly enraptured. It helped that his beautiful Welshman knew French, and thus had no need for the surtitles. Jack was astounded to find, during the intermission, that Ianto had never been to the opera before.

“We’ll go again,” he promised him solemnly, and Ianto positively glowed.

“Their voices,” Ianto murmured. “How do they do that?”

“Training,” Jack replied. “Lots and lots of training. I used to do a little Broadway singing, did you know? Just as an understudy, and nothing of that calibre, but I think I was decent. And it was loads of fun.”

“Broadway,” Ianto repeated, giving Jack a half-amused, half-terrified look. “You. Oh dear.”

Jack affected a wounded expression. “And what’s that supposed to mean, Mr Jones?” he asked plaintively.

“Absolutely nothing,” Ianto said with a straight face. “Come on, let’s get back inside. I don’t want to miss anything.”

In a display of astounding maturity, Jack stuck his tongue out at Ianto.

The next act was just as good, keeping both men spell-bound to the very end. The acting, Jack had to admit, was excellently done, and the amusement amongst the audience was palpable. He could practically feel the laughter radiating off Ianto, and his young partner was fairly bouncing when the show finally ended.

“I’m guessing you’re hungry?” Jack asked as they made for his car again.

“Starved,” Ianto agreed. “Where are we going now?”

“Call it a surprise,” Jack said, laughing a tad nervously. “You’ve got two options – close your eyes till we get there, or try and guess where we’re going.”

“Door number two,” Ianto decided, and watched intently as the scenery flew by. They were only a few minutes from their destination when he seemed to put things together and turned an incredulous look on Jack.

“No,” he said, voice rich with amusement.

“Yes,” Jack replied, lips twitching as he tried not to grin.

“Our first date,” Ianto breathed girlishly, clasping his hands together and fluttering his lashes at Jack. “You remembered!”

“Stop that!” Jack cried, starting to laugh. “Are you trying to make us crash?”

“Oh, anything but that,” Ianto said. “Seriously. There?”

“I cleaned it up some!” Jack protested. He made the final turn and brought the car to a stop.

“This I have to see,” Ianto said delightedly, hurrying out of the car and into the huge warehouse, completely ignoring the beat-up old Ford Prefect parked inconspicuously to the side. Jack locked up his car and glanced over at the Ford, which flashed its headlights once before the engine kicked in and the car pulled out quickly. Everything had been set up like he’d specified, then. He headed for the warehouse at a more sedate pace, trying to figure out what Ianto’s reaction might be.

Ianto’s reaction, as it turned out, was to hug Jack the moment he stepped through the door. When he moved back, Jack saw some strange kind of expression in his eyes, something he didn't dare think too much about.

“Thank you,” Ianto breathed quietly. “This is wonderful.”

Jack smiled in relief. “Glad you think so,” he replied. “I just spent the last eight hours thinking you’d hate it.”

“Nope,” Ianto said cheerfully, slipping his hand into Jack’s. Jack obligingly led him over to the table he’d set up. It wasn’t fancy; just a plain wooden table covered with a white tablecloth and decorated with a single small vase of assorted flowers. The food was waiting on covered plates on a second table next to them. Jack switched on the music, letting Billie Holiday’s smoky voice waft gently through the cavernous space, and waited till Ianto had taken off his jacket and sat down before serving them both. He’d gotten the food from a few of Ianto’s favourite restaurants, his selection guided by a sly little joke. He wondered if Ianto would pick up on it.

They were halfway through their main course (and some interesting debate about the opera they’d just watched) when Ianto suddenly broke off mid-sentence and stared at his plate, then at Jack, then at his plate again. Then he turned a suspicious look on the remaining covered dishes.

“Jack,” he said slowly. Jack took a hurried bite of his grilled steak to hide the smile that wanted to break free. Oh yes, Ianto got it all right. “Is there a reason why you selected these foods in particular?”

“Absolutely none,” Jack said, so innocently that it was obvious he was lying. For good measure, he batted his eyelashes at Ianto, who choked down a laugh.

“Is that revenge for earlier, in the car?” he asked. Jack winked.

“Call it whatever you want,” he said airily.

“Crisps with an avocado dip for starters,” Ianto mused. “An arugula and pine nut salad. Steak with a mustard-peppercorn sauce and a side of roast asparagus. What,” he said apprehensively. “Is for dessert?”

“You’ll find out,” Jack said, not even bothering to hide his grin. Ianto studied the look on Jack’s face, then sighed in a very put-upon manner.

“Oh, Jack,” he said reprovingly, spearing a piece of asparagus. “That’s not even subtle.” He popped the asparagus into his mouth, watching Jack watch him.

“Most people wouldn’t get it,” Jack pointed out happily. “Thought you would, though.”

“Well, you were hardly trying to hide it, were you?” Ianto pointed out. “I’m surprised though. I’d have thought you’d get oysters for starters.”

“Except you hate them,” Jack replied. Ianto gave him an absolutely dazzling smile in response.

“True enough,” he said. “I suppose dessert involves chocolate?”

“That would be telling,” Jack said reprovingly. “You’ll find out in a bit.”

Ianto dove back into his food happily. “Okay,” he agreed. “You were saying about that singer?”

“I don’t remember her name,” Jack said. “Too long ago. Started with an M, I think. Brilliant voice.”

“And did she make a convincing Eurydice?” Ianto asked.

“Well enough,” Jack said thoughtfully, straining to remember. “I have to say, I quite liked the soprano today. It’s rare finding such a well-trained voice, especially given general public opinion of the opera…”

“Not something people would voluntarily go to,” Ianto said, nodding. “But honestly, hitting notes like that so perfectly –”

“Hard to imagine, isn’t it?” Jack said, grinning wryly. “But really, I think the acting today was even more fun than Offenbach’s version – I mean, different times, whatever, but they updated it pretty well –”

“Perfect comic timing, anyway,” Ianto said.

“Yep! The comic ones are always my favourite,” Jack confessed. “More entertaining, somehow.”

“I never knew that this was where the tune for the can-can came from,” Ianto said.

“It’s kind of amusing how many songs from opera make their way into the mainstream,” Jack laughed. “And most people have no clue!”

“I have to say, I never much took you for enjoying opera,” Ianto admitted. “I mean, it seems so high-brow and all…”

“Sure, it’s got that sort of reputation now,” Jack concurred. “But you have to remember, back in the 1800s, opera was the popular entertainment of the day. People went there to socialise. They shut up for the big arias and then went back to snacking and talking to each other and sneaking out before the show ended – all the things that’d get you blacklisted today.”

“And that’s the time that you wound up in,” Ianto said thoughtfully.

“Yep,” Jack said. “Things have changed a lot, obviously, but I do still like a good opera. Are you done?”

Ianto nodded and dabbed at his lips with a napkin. “Do I get to see what dessert is now?” he joked. Jack grinned and gathered their plates together, getting them out of the way before bringing out the dessert.

“And it’s chocolate,” Ianto said with satisfaction.

“Did you really expect to be wrong?” Jack asked with a laugh. “There’re strawberries and raspberries on the side – give me a minute –”

He brought out the fruits as well and then there was absolute silence for a while as both of them savoured the warm chocolate pots. The molten dessert was thick and creamy and luscious and absolutely everything that Jack could have asked for, especially given Ianto’s reaction to them. If it was possible to be jealous of a dessert…

Ianto licked the last bits of chocolate off his spoon, and Jack amended that to If it was possible to be jealous of an utensil…

“Like it?” Jack asked, finishing off his own chocolate and popping a raspberry in his mouth.

“Very much,” Ianto purred contentedly. “This must have been difficult to set up – thank you, Jack.”

Jack beamed at him. “Glad you liked it,” he said.

“I still can’t believe you picked this warehouse though,” Ianto laughed.

“Right about where I crash-landed on you, too,” Jack pointed out smugly. Ianto took another look around and realised that Jack was right.

“Just about… here, right?” he asked, getting up and stepping a few paces away from the table. Jack hadn’t bothered decorating the entire warehouse – it was simply too huge for that – but he’d spread a lovely thick carpet over this entire section.

“Yep,” Jack agreed, coming up behind Ianto and dropping to the floor. “Like so.” He sprawled out flat on his back, grinning up at Ianto. “And a sleepy pteranodon right over there,” he added, gesturing lazily to the side.

Ianto shook his head in amusement, kneeling down beside Jack. “You’re something else, you know that, Harkness?” he asked rhetorically, stealing a quick kiss from a surprised Jack. He lay down on his side, head propped up on his arm, lazily tracing patterns across Jack’s chest.

“I try,” Jack murmured, eyes sliding shut as he turned into Ianto’s touch.

Ianto reached down and pressed another kiss to Jack’s lips, this time lingering over it. Jack’s mouth slipped open and their tongues twined together lazily, Ianto tasting chocolate and Jack. Rather a good combination, he thought as he languidly explored that familiar mouth. Jack brought his arms around Ianto, pulling and tugging until he had the younger man satisfactorily arranged over him, their bodies flush against each other. Ianto hummed in contentment as he slowly pulled away, eyes fluttering open to meet Jack’s.

“Déjà vu,” Jack whispered, and Ianto smiled at him.

“This is how that night could have gone,” he murmured, bending for another taste of Jack’s lips.

It didn’t matter that they’d both been sex-deprived for quite a while, or that they’d missed each other fiercely, or that they’d spent the past week teasing each other far past the point of frustration. There was nothing quick or desperate about the way they clung to each other, doing little else but kissing and holding on. Jack found himself cataloguing the strangest things – Ianto’s cheeks were smooth, an oddity for that time of night, but then he didn’t normally get the chance to shave again in the afternoon – his suit was of a finer material than usual – he felt somehow hotter and more alive in Jack’s arms – there was that ever-present small hint of shyness that Jack adored –

“Ianto,” Jack murmured. “Move over, let me –” And before he could even finish his sentence, Ianto obediently slid off, rolling them over so that their positions were reversed. Jack kissed Ianto’s lips, his cheek, the upturned tip of his nose, his chin, his neck, the round of his Adam’s apple, and then he sat up, straddling his lover’s waist.

“All right?” he asked, and laughed at the disgruntled look Ianto gave him. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he purred as he leaned forward, raising Ianto’s hands to his lips and fluttering tiny, teasing kisses all across the fingertips.

“Yes, yes, and yes again,” Ianto mumbled, eyes closing again, a look of pleasure on his face.

“Good.” Jack sucked the tip of Ianto’s finger into his mouth, relishing the salty tang. With his free hand, he clumsily unbuttoned Ianto’s vest and loosened his tie, fingers skimming the silky black material. He released Ianto’s hand to focus on undoing Ianto’s shirt, following the trail of exposed skin with his lips. If he remembered right, there was a spot just below his ribcage which –

Ianto mewled and bucked up involuntarily. Jack rode out the movement, inwardly pleased that he’d remembered accurately, even after a year. It was such a peculiar place to have a hotspot, but it had always elicited a strong reaction from Ianto.

“Up a little,” he said, moving back so that Ianto could sit up just enough to get out of his vest and shirt. Jack let the silk tie play through his fingers as he watched Ianto slide off his clothes, feeling his groin tighten at the sight. It wasn’t even a consciously sexual act; Ianto wasn’t trying to tease him, was simply undressing in a matter-of-fact manner, and yet there was something about him…

Jack sought out Ianto’s lips again, happily wrapping his arms around Ianto’s now bare back.

“Gemmfyorths,” Ianto said. Jack took a last moment to savour Ianto’s taste before pulling back.

“In English?” he asked.

“Get out of your clothes,” Ianto repeated, the tiniest pout on his lips. Jack grinned and obligingly slipped off his jacket and shirt, managing to nearly strangle himself with his bowtie in the process. Ianto, the traitor, found that vastly amusing.

“Stop laughing,” Jack said, mock-scowling.

“Okay,” Ianto said agreeably, catching his breath and appreciatively eyeing Jack’s bared torso. “Mm, I’ve missed that.” He sighed and leaned into Jack’s shoulder, nuzzling against the warm skin, his hands settling on Jack’s hips.

“So have I,” Jack told him. Feeling Ianto shift uncomfortably under him, he nudged his lover back for a moment and crawled off him to lie down next to Ianto.

“Let me taste you?” Ianto asked, and Jack nodded – as if he would say no to that! Ianto didn’t need any more invitation than that to bend over Jack’s chest, his lips and tongue unerringly attracted to a tight nipple. Jack hissed and threw an arm over his eyes, trying to rein in the effects of Ianto’s talented mouth on him. As Ianto shifted to kneel over him, still teasing his left nipple and leaving the other feeling cold and neglected, Jack almost missed those deft fingers undoing his belt and trousers. He definitely didn’t miss the slight relief his cock felt though, as it pushed past part of the confining fabric, trapped now only by his boxers.

“God, wait, stop, wait,” he gasped out, and Ianto raised incredulous eyes to him. “I don’t have anything –” he explained hurriedly. “Didn’t think – not on the first date –”

Ianto stared at him for a moment before a strangled whimper escaped him. Jack might have been worried had he not known the sound of Ianto trying to suppress vast amusement.

“Stoppit,” he whined, poking Ianto in the shoulder. “D’you have any stuff?”

“Thank god I’m prepared,” Ianto wheezed through his laughter. He pushed himself to his feet, stumbling awkwardly to his jacket (Jack noticed with pleasure that he was finding it a little uncomfortable walking in his trousers too) and digging around in the inner pocket. Jack took the opportunity to rid himself of the rest of his clothes, carelessly flinging them off to the side. And damn, did it feel good losing those boxers!

“Voila,” Ianto proclaimed, holding up a fresh tube of lubricant and a few condom packets.

“Good,” Jack said, utterly relieved. “Come on then –”

“Hey, when did you lose the clothes?” Ianto asked indignantly, padding back over to him. “And here I wanted to strip you –”

“You could always strip yourself,” Jack muttered, reaching for Ianto’s hand and pulling him down. “Or you could let me do that –”

“When you deprived me of that pleasure? I think not,” Ianto retorted, batting away Jack’s questing hands.

“Next time,” Jack protested, managing to pull off Ianto’s belt. “You can strip me next time!”

“And have my wicked way with you,” Ianto proclaimed solemnly.

“What is this, a trashy romance novel?” Jack asked, sneakily undoing Ianto’s fly.

“Absolutely,” Ianto replied. “You’d be the dashing aristocrat sweeping me, poor peasant that I am, off my feet.”

They stared at each other for a few long moments, then burst out laughing.

“Oh god, were we ever this ridiculous before?” Jack deadpanned.

“Too busy trying to actually have sex,” Ianto told him. “Which we should maybe get back to doing?”

“If you’d let me get these off you!” Jack said indignantly, pushing Ianto’s trousers down. “Up, up –”

“And away,” Ianto intoned, obediently bracing himself with his hands and lifting his hips, allowing Jack to draw his trousers off.

“You,” Jack said, punctuating the word with a kiss to Ianto’s belly. “Have evidently had too much sugar. I’ll have to take that into account next time I get to choose dessert.”

“It’s not the sugar,” Ianto said, twining his fingers through Jack’s hair. “I’m just happy.” He smiled crookedly, and Jack had to remind himself to breathe.

“Well, good,” Jack replied. “But while you’re busy being happy, if you could just work with me in getting these off?”

Ianto grinned and pushed the boxer-briefs off his hips, letting Jack pull them off completely and toss them aside. “Happy now?” he asked archly, propping himself up on his elbows to watch Jack’s reaction.

“Ecstatic,” Jack said. “And so are you, apparently,” he cooed to Ianto’s cock, hiding the grin as Ianto started giggling again. It was such a lovely, undignified sound, especially coming from Ianto, and he adored hearing it.

“It’s been lonely,” Ianto said, spreading his legs a little. “All these months, and nothing but a hand for company.”

“Dammit, Ianto,” Jack yelped, squeezing his eyes shut and willing himself to calm down. “Don’t go putting images like that in my head!”

“Oops,” Ianto said unrepentantly. “Should I not mention the fantasising then?”

Jack peeked up at him. “There was fantasising?”

“Quite frequently,” Ianto assured him. “And quite varied, if I do say so myself.”

“Like what?” Jack asked speculatively, sinking back on his heels and nuzzling Ianto’s half-hard cock.

“Well, that, for one,” Ianto commented a tad breathlessly. Jack grinned and licked a bold line up from Ianto’s thigh to the hollow of his hipbone, nibbling gently around the bony protrusion.

“Details, sweetheart,” Jack murmured, continuing to alternately mouth and nip at Ianto’s skin.

“Mm,” Ianto said intelligently. “Uh. You going down on me. When – god, do that again –”

Jack obligingly traced his tongue over Ianto’s balls again, breathing in the strong, musky scent of sex already hanging heavy in his nose.

“When you – you said about offices,” Ianto managed to get out, his voice surprisingly even. “I wondered if that was all offices. Yours.” Jack made an interrogatory sound. “What you’d do,” Ianto continued. “If I went down on you in your office. When the others had gone home. Or even when they were there. You telling them that you’ve got a lot of work to do, not to interrupt you – oh god, there, please – and, and when they’re not looking, I slip in and you in your chair and I’m kneeling in front of you and undoing your trousers, taking out your cock and sw-swallow – Jack, god, stop teasing!”

Jack gave a soothing lick to the spot on Ianto’s inner thigh that he’d just bitten lightly. “The hell d’you think you’re doing?” he growled huskily. “God, Yan, just the thought of it –” He pressed his erection against Ianto’s thigh, sighing involuntarily at the welcome friction before pulling away; he didn’t want to come too soon.

“Rubber?” Jack asked, and Ianto practically whined in frustration as his lover moved away. “Unless you want to go without – I know I’m clean, every time I come back it wipes out any mad alien disease I might have picked up –”

“Clean at my last check, three months ago,” Ianto said hurriedly. “I don’t mind, just please –”

“Sweetheart, you’ll hate us both if you don’t think this through properly,” Jack murmured, reaching up to kiss Ianto’s cheek softly. “Rubber, yes or no? Think about it.”

Ianto took a deep breath, then another, and another, until he felt a little more in control of himself. “Okay,” he murmured. “Okay. I’d like to try without, if you don’t mind.” He gave Jack a shy look. “We’re both clean, and we’ve never before…”

“Only when I’m going down on you,” Jack said. “Best to use a condom for the rest.”

“Cleaner,” Ianto agreed. “Could we please get back to the important stuff now?”

Jack laughed breathlessly, giving Ianto a fervent kiss. “Okay,” he sighed into Ianto’s mouth, and slowly slid back down to Ianto’s still-hard cock. His first instinct was to simply swallow but he restrained himself, teasing Ianto with little licks and nuzzles until he started squirming with impatience.

“Hey, cut it out!” Jack laughed, licking a broad swathe from root to tip, then retracing the path with a light touch, following the vein. A shudder ran through Ianto’s entire body and he flopped back onto the soft carpeting, weakly waving a hand at Jack.

“Cutting it out, just keep doing that,” he mumbled indistinctly.

“Go you one better,” Jack said, wrapping one hand around the base of Ianto’s erection. He licked the pre-cum off the tip, letting the saltiness roll round his tongue, enjoying the velvety hardness of the head. Then he took a deep breath and slipped his lips around Ianto’s cock, sliding down until they met the side of his palm. This was familiar ground for both of them, but somehow it still felt new. Because this is for real, Jack thought fuzzily. And we know it now, we’re not busy deceiving ourselves.

He consciously relaxed his throat muscles, then pulled his hand away, moving his head down in the same breath until his lips were up against hot flesh and his nose was buried in thick curls. It had been a long, long time since he’d deep-throated anyone, and he had to stay still for a few moments and remember how to breathe. But the discomfort slowly faded, and as he hollowed his cheeks and swallowed around his mouthful, he rather thought that hearing Ianto outright scream made it completely worth it.

He relaxed his grip on Ianto’s hips, nudging them encouragingly a few times before Ianto got the idea and started pumping up into Jack’s mouth. Ianto was still being careful – how, Jack didn’t know, but he appreciated it – and Jack rode the movement with him, providing as much suction as he thought he could without tipping Ianto over the edge. He would never, Jack thought, understand why people used the term ‘cock-sucker’ like it was something bad, as if something like this, seeing Ianto like this, giving him this much pleasure, tasting everything that was him, could ever be bad. It was with a great deal of reluctance that he held Ianto’s hips steady again and pulled back, his lips leaving Ianto’s cock with a quiet pop.

“Y-you’re not stopping now,” Ianto panted in disbelief. Jack gave a little kiss to the head of Ianto’s cock, sitting up and straddling Ianto’s thighs, his cock nudging up against Ianto’s.

“Don’t want you to come yet,” Jack told him with a wicked grin, snagging a condom and the lube.

“Oh god,” Ianto moaned. “Bloody tease, is what you are –”

“If I was, I wouldn’t let you get any,” Jack pointed out. “But since I am –”

“When?” Ianto asked, fingers curling around Jack’s own neglected cock. Jack nearly thrust into Ianto’s hold before he managed to catch himself, quivering with the effort of staying still as he tore the condom packet open. Ianto wasn’t helping matters by pumping his cock slowly, steadily, eyeing it as if he’d like to pop it in his own mouth. And it definitely didn’t help either, when Ianto wrapped both hands around both their cocks, pressing them against each other and working them slowly. The combined heat and friction of Ianto’s hands and cock were liable to tip Jack over soonish if he didn’t do something about that.

“Wait,” he managed to get out, snapping the lube open and squeezing out a generous dollop, then – Ianto watched with startled, wide eyes – reaching behind himself, gingerly pushing in one finger, working himself loose.

“Oh fuck,” Ianto breathed, and then he was scrambling to sit up. “Move, turn a bit, I want to see –”

Jack managed to raise himself off Ianto enough for his younger lover to sit up, slide around and watch as Jack prepared himself. The third finger in caused a bit of discomfort, and Ianto slid his hands around Jack reassuringly, letting Jack support himself against his shoulders. “Easy, cariad,” he murmured. “Feel good?”

“N-not bad,” Jack gasped. “Can’t reach – Yan, I want you in me –”

Ianto fumbled for the condom packet that Jack had opened, taking out the rubber and quickly sliding it onto his own sensitised cock. “Anytime, cariad,” he breathed, as he smoothed more lube over his sheathed erection.

It was all the invitation Jack needed. He pulled his fingers out and straightened a little, bracing himself on his knees as he positioned himself. Ianto could feel the head of his cock blindly rooting around for Jack’s entrance before they managed to line themselves up and then he was slowly pressing home. Ianto found that he couldn’t quite catch his breath, and was breathing into Jack’s neck in short, sharp gasps. It was taking all his effort not to move, to let Jack settle in at his own pace. Mercifully, it wasn’t long before Jack was fully seated on him, arms hooked around Ianto’s neck and legs splayed obscenely on either side of Ianto’s body.

“Been – a while,” Jack said unevenly, and Ianto tried very hard to hold still.

“Hurting?” he asked cautiously, breathing open-mouthed against Jack’s skin, feeling the heat rising off their bodies and mingling.

“Little,” Jack admitted tightly. “It’s not too bad –” He lifted himself up a little, then slid back down, apparently testing how he felt. “Oh – that was –”

“Nice,” Ianto supplied breathlessly, recognising the look on Jack’s face. “Move?”

“Oh, yes,” Jack breathed. “Please.”

“No, ride me,” Ianto corrected. “I want to watch you –”

“Done,” Jack got out, and suited words to action by setting up a slow, constant rhythm. Every so often he’d squeeze down on Ianto’s cock and Ianto would have to bury his face in Jack’s sweaty shoulder and try not to come, because as unhurried as they were being now, they were both already near the edge. Ianto could feel Jack’s cock poking his belly and felt somewhat guilty for having neglected it so long – that in mind, he wrapped his fingers around it, pre-cum slicking it. He let the pre-cum smooth the way, wrapping his hand around Jack’s cock and pumping it in counterpoint to Jack’s thrusts.

“I’m gonna last ten seconds if you keep that up,” Jack warned, his voice unsteady enough for Ianto to believe him.

“Doesn’t matter,” Ianto said. “I want you to.” He rocked insistently against Jack, changing their angle slightly – and hitting his prostate, if Jack’s strangled yell was anything to go by, once, twice, Jack’s cock stiff and heavy and tight in his hand –

“Yan –” Jack managed to get out, and then he contracted impossibly tightly around Ianto, coming in spurts between their chests. Ianto clutched Jack around the waist with one arm, still holding his cock in the other, riding out the orgasm with him. Jack went limp in his arms; if it hadn’t for the unsteady breaths still puffing in his ear, he might have been worried. As it was, he held Jack steady, rotating his hips within that sweet heat, gently, minutely, straining for his own orgasm that lingered just out of reach.

It took a few minutes for Jack to come back round. Rather astounding, considering their track record – Ianto couldn’t remember Jack ever passing out like that before. Neither, apparently, could Jack.

“I don’t think I’ve ever whited out,” he murmured, tightening his arms around Ianto and contracting around Ianto’s cock, lazily at first, and then speeding up as he regained his strength. “Want you to feel that, Yan, like I did, want you to come for me, I want to feel you coming in me, sweetheart, to let go –”

Ianto came so hard he thought he might have blacked out. He didn’t recall anything other than blinding pleasure and the heat and tightness of Jack’s body – and then, blurrily, the sight of the warehouse roof.

“I was a bit worried there,” Jack murmured from beside him. “It’s been five minutes, I think.”

“Wow,” Ianto breathed.

“Yeah,” Jack agreed. “Is that normal, five minutes?”

“Not that,” Ianto said, too completely spent to even turn his head. “Just – wow.”

“Oh,” Jack said, and even without looking, Ianto could hear the grin in his voice. “Well, yeah. That too.”

“Can’t move,” Ianto said petulantly. Jack laughed and shifted into Ianto’s line of view, smiling mischievously.

“Well, well,” he said. “Got my gorgeous Welshman here, and he can’t move. Whatever shall I do with him?”

Ianto blinked guilelessly at Jack. “Whatever you want,” he told him. The smile on Jack’s face slowly faded into a serious expression, like Ianto had rarely seen on Jack’s face. This was a seriousness underlain with happiness, a kind of – he didn’t dare think the word.

(Commitment?)

“Let’s see if I can make you happy,” Jack whispered.

---

Tosh had been fairly bouncing off the walls the whole week. They’d all noticed it, of course, even if Gwen still didn’t know the reason behind Tosh’s sudden enthusiasm. Ianto couldn’t help worrying about her though – he recognised the infatuation for what it was, and he really didn’t want Tosh to get hurt. What kind of life was it waiting for someone who’d only wake up once a year?

All the same, he smiled and told Tosh it wasn’t a problem when she hesitantly asked if they could postpone their usual Friday get-together that week.

“Thanks, Ianto,” she said happily. “I’ll make it up to you. Saturday maybe?”

“It’s all right,” Ianto told her. “We’ll just do it next week. Your place again?”

“Sounds good,” Tosh said, giving him a blinding smile before waving and hurrying off to inspect a program she had running.

“I think I might be jealous,” Jack said, a small pout on his lips. Ianto turned, eyeing him strangely as he leaned against the door of his office.

“Pardon?”

“That’s why you said you weren’t free last Friday, right?” Jack asked. “Meeting Tosh?”

Ianto nodded. “Every Friday, Rift barring,” he explained, trying not to fidget.

“What d’you do?” Jack asked, his voice casual.

Ianto shrugged. “Watch bad movies and insult them, mostly,” he said. “Come up with ways of improving on the special effects. Complain about Owen, talk about the top ten places we’d like to see before we die, she’s helping me with my Japanese pronunciation –”

“You speak Japanese?” Jack asked in evident surprise.

“Yep,” Ianto said. “Jack – I do need to get back to my work…”

“Oh,” Jack said, a brief frown passing over his face. “Right. Right, sorry. Didn’t mean to keep you. See you later, yeah?”

“Be making a round of coffee in a couple of hours,” Ianto promised, and was relieved to get a small, genuine smile from Jack. Then the Captain turned and vanished into his office, and Ianto retreated into the archives to continue working.

He tried not to think about the shadow that had fallen across Jack’s face.

The next day had been fun though. Gwen’s face when she found out about Tommy had been priceless, and Ianto had to admit it was a lot of fun teasing her like that. Later on, though – later on had not been as much fun.

Nothing changes.

What was it like for Jack? Constantly losing those he loved, constantly watching his team-mates die in front of him. How did one live like that, all alone, without eventually going mad? Working for Torchwood meant an early death; he knew that. They all did. But what would their deaths do to Jack?

He suspected that they would hurt, but that Jack would go on. It had happened to him too many times for him not to have learned to deal. And eventually he’d forget them, because that was the only possible way he could’ve stayed sane all this while. He’d forget what Ianto looked like, the way his coffee tasted, the feel of waking up in his arms.

If, Ianto amended silently, any of that registered with Jack now. He thought it did, but he wasn’t entirely sure.

But Jack would forget. As well he should. Ianto hated the thought that, some time after his death – perhaps a few months, perhaps a few years – there would be nothing left of him in Jack. But if it made things easier on Jack, then who was he to begrudge him that simple comfort? Ianto couldn’t quite wrap his mind around the concept of forgetting, except in the abstract – yes, in the abstract – it would help Jack – it would ease the loss, unlike for Ianto, and all the better, considering how many more losses Jack was bound to have suffered, would still suffer –

Bloody cheer up, will you?

Ianto took a deep breath, slowly let it out, then straightened his shoulders. There was work to be done.

He managed to work steadily for about an hour before he had to get back to the team. Events were unfolding far more rapidly than he was comfortable with, and when they realised that they’d have to send Tommy back to 1918, it was Tosh’s face he sought out first of all. Her pain was near-tangible, her despair at this fledgling relationship being torn from her, and Ianto had to close his eyes for a few moments against her turmoil.

But it couldn’t have worked anyway, he thought as he watched Tosh and Tommy leave. Not unless Tommy could have been allowed to awaken more than a day a year. Tosh’s infatuation was just that, a completely irrational feeling that had no grounding in reality.

As if his feelings for Jack made sense.

Slowly, quietly, he made his way up the stairs, thinking. He took a moment to watch Jack working, committing to memory that particular scene (Jack, reading his papers, a painting in bold chiaroscuro).

“This time tomorrow,” Jack said, without looking up. “He’ll be back in 1918.”

“In his own time,” Ianto concurred. He hesitated a brief moment before ploughing on. “Would you go back to yours? If you could?”

“Why?” Jack huffed. “Would you miss me?”

“Yep,” Ianto said immediately. Maybe not so much the sarcastic prickliness whenever someone gets too close to the bone, he thought wryly.

Jack clearly hadn’t been expecting that answer, because he froze, then dropped his papers with a minute sigh. Ianto wandered over closer, wanting to get a look at Jack’s face, wondering what sort of expression he was wearing.

“I left home a long time ago,” Jack said. “Don’t know where I really belong.” A pause, then a quick shake of his head. “Maybe that doesn’t matter anymore.”

“I… know you get lonely,” Ianto ventured, perching gingerly on the edge of Jack’s desk. And it was true, it was impossible to miss the look in Jack’s eyes sometimes, when he told Ianto about his old team-mates, when he spoke briefly about the Time Agency, about the time he’d been born in, about his travels with the Doctor.

Jack’s lips quirked. “Going home wouldn’t fix that,” he said. “Being here, I’ve seen things I never dreamt I’d see. Loved people I never would’ve known if I’d just – stayed where I was.” He looked up, eyes boring directly into Ianto’s. “And I wouldn’t change that for the world.”

He couldn’t mean anything else, Ianto thought, but how could Jack possibly let himself in for that, time and again, even knowing what would come? He couldn’t help reaching out for Jack, framing his face in his hands and reaching for those familiar lips, kissing him desperately. Jack’s hands came up around him instinctively, gripping him hard. Ianto slid off the table, pushing back slightly as he did, never breaking contact with Jack’s lips. Jack stood clumsily, pulling Ianto closer. The need for air finally made them break apart, though Jack went right back to pressing brief kisses to Ianto’s lips and chin as they both tried to catch their breath.

“Staying tonight?” Jack mumbled, sighing contentedly as he nuzzled Ianto’s stubbled cheek.

“I don’t have a change of clothes here,” Ianto pointed out absently. Jack sighed despondently.

“Keep a couple of outfits in my closet,” he suggested. “Uh – if – you want to.”

I think we should move in together.

Ianto huffed out a laugh into Jack’s hair. “I’ll bring some tomorrow.” He pulled back a little, pressing a kiss to the tip of Jack’s nose, laughing as Jack went cross-eyed following his lips.

“I should probably be getting back, I suppose,” Ianto murmured, then spent a few minutes kissing the sad pout off Jack’s face.

“All right, go,” Jack said when they finally pulled apart. “Before I drag you downstairs and you show up for work tomorrow in the same clothes you’re wearing now and we have to endure Owen’s commentary the whole day.”

Ianto laughed. “The whole week, more like.” He looked down pointedly. “You might have to let me go.”

“Never will,” Jack said, even as his arms dropped from Ianto’s waist. Ianto’s smile slowly faded as he stared at Jack, feeling his eyes inexplicably prickle with heat.

“Good night, then,” he managed to say in a more or less level voice.

“G’night, Yan,” Jack replied. Ianto took that as his cue to leave, trying hard not to look like he was running. He wasn’t sure he’d succeeded.

---

Part Seven

Comments

[soera.livejournal.com]

Oh, absolutely: I'm of the firm opinion that Jack's a bit of a sop at heart. *grins* As I mentioned to another reviewer up there *points* I think Ianto's afraid of Jack loving him, simply because he knows it'll hurt Jack to lose him. It's kind of a lose-lose situation for Ianto, really.

Glad you like this - I'll be waiting to hear what you think when you're back and caught up on the new parts. =D