[OS] 38.2 Romance
"Keep her talking," said the voice of Toshiko in his ear. "Jack and Gwen haven't checked in." He nearly groaned; that was exactly what he'd hoped to avoid. Only his sense of decorum kept him from making his discontent audible. Unsurprisingly, his sense of decorum was also the cause of his ever-present, tourist-office polite smile.
Jack would pay for this later.
Deidre kept leaning forward to stroke his arm. He supposed that somewhere along the way, someone had told her that was how human courtship worked.
"I was thinking," she started, her voice so low it was nearly a purr, "about dessert."
"I bet she was," Tosh muttered, and Ianto rather abruptly faked a cough so he couldn't laugh.
She touched his arm again, her long fingernails scraping against the fabric of his jacket. "Excuse me," he said quickly, smiling to let the slightest bit of embarrassment slip through. It wasn't hard. "I'll ask for a menu, shall I?"
When she nodded, he signaled for the waiter. Truth be told, though, he was more than ready for this date to be over.
The dinner hadn't even been very good. The wine was the wrong vintage, the risotto was greasy, the prawns were sparse. If he'd actually intended this to be a proper date, he would have been ashamed. As it was, he was undercover, entertaining a woman who was very possibly an alien in disguise, and he was still inclined toward shame.
"Dessert, please," he told the waiter, who then scurried away. Anticipating a lull in the conversation, Ianto was halfway through a painfully civil and not awfully accurate declaration of "I hear excellent things about the panna cotta"--
When suddenly, with the clatter of dishes, Jack was through the door that led to the kitchen, gun in the air and pointed directly at Deidre, as he shouted, "Torchwood!"
Ianto was dimly aware of his fellow diners screaming, rushing for the door, and/or hiding beneath their tables. He jumped to his feet, his chair crashing to the floor behind him as he knocked it off-balance, and pulled his own weapon from the shoulder holster he wore beneath his jacket.
Deidre sighed and unpinned her hair. "Always the quiet ones," she said, her eyes on Ianto. For an alien with two weapons trained on her, she seemed far too calm.
"You know," Jack started as though she hadn't spoken at all, moving closer, "at first, I couldn't figure you out. You're a long way from home. A long way. Judging from what we found in your flat, I'd guess forty-sixth century?"
"Forty-fifth. We're very cutting-edge..." Her smile glinted in the candlelight. "So to speak."
"Why are you here?" Ianto's voice was just this side of harsh. All too easy, really, to turn this into a game of charming cop bad cop. It was certainly nothing they hadn't tried before. "What do you want?"
"I was just getting to that," Jack said. He glanced at Ianto for the first time, smiling to show his dimples. Irritatingly, it was really very appealing. "Other than attempting to infiltrate Torchwood. That part's pretty obvious. And for the record, I don't appreciate you seducing my staff."
"For the record," Ianto couldn't help but interject, "I wasn't seduced."
"She tried!" Jack waved his gun for emphasis, though the movement was calculated rather than distracted, and at no point was she out of the line of fire. "And who knows what would have happened if I hadn't showed up. She's a very beautiful woman. Which reminds me--"
He took a moment to look her up and down, and as he did Deidre's expression could only be called expectant. "Whoever you are," he said appreciatively, after a short pause, "you have good taste. Though I might have gone for ginger."
Ianto Jones
Torchwood
625 words
Jack would pay for this later.
Deidre kept leaning forward to stroke his arm. He supposed that somewhere along the way, someone had told her that was how human courtship worked.
"I was thinking," she started, her voice so low it was nearly a purr, "about dessert."
"I bet she was," Tosh muttered, and Ianto rather abruptly faked a cough so he couldn't laugh.
She touched his arm again, her long fingernails scraping against the fabric of his jacket. "Excuse me," he said quickly, smiling to let the slightest bit of embarrassment slip through. It wasn't hard. "I'll ask for a menu, shall I?"
When she nodded, he signaled for the waiter. Truth be told, though, he was more than ready for this date to be over.
The dinner hadn't even been very good. The wine was the wrong vintage, the risotto was greasy, the prawns were sparse. If he'd actually intended this to be a proper date, he would have been ashamed. As it was, he was undercover, entertaining a woman who was very possibly an alien in disguise, and he was still inclined toward shame.
"Dessert, please," he told the waiter, who then scurried away. Anticipating a lull in the conversation, Ianto was halfway through a painfully civil and not awfully accurate declaration of "I hear excellent things about the panna cotta"--
When suddenly, with the clatter of dishes, Jack was through the door that led to the kitchen, gun in the air and pointed directly at Deidre, as he shouted, "Torchwood!"
Ianto was dimly aware of his fellow diners screaming, rushing for the door, and/or hiding beneath their tables. He jumped to his feet, his chair crashing to the floor behind him as he knocked it off-balance, and pulled his own weapon from the shoulder holster he wore beneath his jacket.
Deidre sighed and unpinned her hair. "Always the quiet ones," she said, her eyes on Ianto. For an alien with two weapons trained on her, she seemed far too calm.
"You know," Jack started as though she hadn't spoken at all, moving closer, "at first, I couldn't figure you out. You're a long way from home. A long way. Judging from what we found in your flat, I'd guess forty-sixth century?"
"Forty-fifth. We're very cutting-edge..." Her smile glinted in the candlelight. "So to speak."
"Why are you here?" Ianto's voice was just this side of harsh. All too easy, really, to turn this into a game of charming cop bad cop. It was certainly nothing they hadn't tried before. "What do you want?"
"I was just getting to that," Jack said. He glanced at Ianto for the first time, smiling to show his dimples. Irritatingly, it was really very appealing. "Other than attempting to infiltrate Torchwood. That part's pretty obvious. And for the record, I don't appreciate you seducing my staff."
"For the record," Ianto couldn't help but interject, "I wasn't seduced."
"She tried!" Jack waved his gun for emphasis, though the movement was calculated rather than distracted, and at no point was she out of the line of fire. "And who knows what would have happened if I hadn't showed up. She's a very beautiful woman. Which reminds me--"
He took a moment to look her up and down, and as he did Deidre's expression could only be called expectant. "Whoever you are," he said appreciatively, after a short pause, "you have good taste. Though I might have gone for ginger."
Ianto Jones
Torchwood
625 words