Torchwood Fic: To Learn This Holding and The Holding Back (Part 2)
Title: To Learn This Holding And The Holding Back
Pairing/Characters: Jack/Ianto, Tosh, Gwen, Owen
Authors: rm & kalichan
Rating/Warning: NC-17, mostly plot this time, with a serving of porn for dessert.
Summary: With every night, a morning after. Jack and Ianto try to cope.
Author's Notes: Concludes the triptych begun with A Strange Fashion of Forsaking and Dear Captain, Last Night I Slept in Mutiny; takes place after those two stories somewhere in between 2x05: Adam and 2x06: Reset. Title adapted from a poem by Lucie Brock-Broido. The next story in this 'verse will be coming soon; it will pick up after 2x09: Something Borrowed. Third Installment of I Had No Idea I Had Been Traveling
Wordcount: 16,700
Part 1
Two days and things had almost returned to normal at the Hub. The girls had stopped trying to corner him and Jack every two seconds -- thank god, because this wasn't the sort of thing intervention was going to help, although granted, Ianto felt that way about everything that wasn't in the movies. And Owen had returned to his regular level of insulting behavior, meaning that Tosh, not him was now the target. Ianto even included Jack in the takeaway orders. It was causing too much tension in everyone else not to, but it didn't mean he had to be partifriendly or give him much choice in the matter.
The weekend, which existed in concept only, rolled by and if Ianto put in slightly fewer hours than normal he figured something would happen sooner or later to make up for it. Probably sooner.
Monday brought him fresh stacks of fliers for upcoming city events, a dodgy pipe in the ceiling (always, always on Mondays he couldn't help but notice) and a crisp, white envelope with his name on it in the center of his desk. His name on it in what he privately considered Jack's good handwriting. Fast but legible, the type he used on the white board. As opposed to the type he used on all official paperwork, which was illegible enough to merit no other adjectives at all.
He felt as apprehensive as if he were holding a letter-bomb, although probably Jack wouldn't send him something that would actually explode. Although Ianto wasn't nearly so sanguine about his own hard-fought equilibrium. And honestly, who knew what Jack had learned from that maniac, John Hart? Maybe it was a dismissal; perhaps Jack had finally grown tired of his demands and was letting him go. Somewhere inside himself Ianto knew he was being ridiculous, but the nightmarish scenarios kept unfolding in his brain regardless.
He steeled himself, and slit the envelope carefully.
Dear Ianto,
I think we've allowed this cold war to go on long enough. Can we draft a peace treaty? Normally there'd be some flowers to go with this, but Gwen thinks that would be adding insult to injury? I may never fully understand your strange culture. Be ready at 7:30pm. I'd tell you to wear something nice, but then, you always do.
-Jack
Ianto smiled in spite of himself. Then he decided he was infuriated. Maybe he had plans. Maybe a microwaved dinner and some bad telly sounded really appealing right now. Maybe the Rift would open and ruin whatever Jack was up to -- certainly a man like him should know better than to promise anything.
But mostly Ianto was just curious. And amused. And stunned that Jack still couldn't seem to say "I'm sorry" even if he was clearly trying to get the point across anyway.
Ianto shoved the missive back in the enveloped and fanned himself with it as he headed for Jack's office.
"You're not yelling at me," Jack noted.
"I'm not," Ianto said, still waving the envelope about.
"Is that a yes then?"
"I don't know what I'm saying yes to, Jack.'
"Do you care?" he asked, all flirt.
"Probably. A little. Yeah."
Jack sighed. "Just let me do this. And trust in our ability to avoid small talk if you have to."
"All right," Ianto said, cautiously. "Your leash is short though. Remember that."
"I wouldn't have it any other way," Jack purred, although he also sounded sad.
Ianto spent most of the day alternating between bouts of glee, fury at himself for being so pleased at the slightest hint of a gesture from Jack, and nervousness about whatever he had planned. He was also angry with himself for getting worked up over whatever it was, as he was mortally certain that something would happen to make it all moot. Aliens, death, fairies. Something. When 7:25 rolled around and nothing had happened, he couldn't resist pinching himself to make sure he wasn't still dreaming.
“It's always in the last five minutes anyway,” he muttered to himself.
“Then why don't we beat the rush?” Jack's voice said from behind him, and Ianto jumped with surprise.
“Jack! I didn't know you were there.”
Jack laughed. “Are you ready? Let's go before something comes through and makes us have to postpone.”
“Why? We'd just have to hurry back anyway.”
“The rest are staying, so unless it's life or death...”
“How'd you talk Owen into that?” Ianto asked.
“I didn't,” Jack said. “There may have been pressure from other quarters.”
“Ahh,” Ianto said. “Gwen?”
“Does it matter? Let's go.”
“Should we take two cars?” Ianto asked pointedly. “Sir.”
"They should have the SUV. Just in case. And we're not taking Owen's car. So, no. Trust me?"
"Not really," Ianto said with a shrug.
"You do hold a grudge, don't you?"
"Don't minimize my anger, Jack," he said as he headed for the garage.
"Right," Jack muttered to himself as he hurried to catch up. There was such a long list of things he needed to do to not make this situation worse and he was starting to think he didn't know half of them.
"I suppose one good will gesture deserves another," Ianto said when they got to the car and tossed his keys to Jack.
Jack grinned, kissed the keys, popped the door lock and hopped in.
"So, where are we going?" Ianto asked as he slid into the seat beside him.
"Do you dance?" Jack asked as he started the car.
"Define dance."
"Feet moving to music?" Jack said, bemused.
"Type of music then," Ianto amended, realizing that the question Jack was asking was probably entirely different than the one, say Gwen or Tosh or Owen would mean if they used the same words.
"Swing. Big band. The sounds of a delightful ballroom orchestra," Jack said, clearly entirely entertained with himself as he maneuvered the car out of its space, up the ramp and into the streets.
"Some. Enough. Maybe not by your standards."
"You sound nervous," Jack said casually, eyes on the road.
"Is this going to be okay?" Ianto asked.
"This what? This whatever it is we're doing?"
"No. The dancing thing. I mean...." Ianto trailed off into a useless hand gesture that Jack caught out of the corner of his eye.
"Is this one of those I don't understand the boxes questions?"
"Yeah."
"The planet has whole industries based around the idea of two chicks making out, but a couple of guys want to go dancing and the universe threatens to collapse. Nah, it'll be fine."
"So... it's a gay thing then?" Ianto asked quietly.
"No," Jack said, bemused. "It'll still be fine though. Seriously. And if it's not, I am wearing a sidearm."
"Isn't it rude to dance while wearing a gun or something?" Ianto asked awkwardly, feeling embarrassed to have even brought the whole thing up.
"Spoken like a man who's never been to war," Jack said and floored the gas.
When they pulled up at the Metropolitan, Ianto looked around wildly.
“This? This is where you're taking me?”
“Yeah,” Jack said with a grin. “Isn't it great? I discovered it awhile back. They do these special nights here.”
“I'm not getting out of the car,” Ianto said firmly. “Old people, Jack. People who've seen a few episodes of Strictly Come Dancing and have gone totally mad. You can't make me.”
“Hey,” Jack said. “What's wrong with old people? Just 'cause I don't look my age! Come on. Give it a chance.”
Ianto thought about digging in his heels and protesting, but Jack was looking at him almost pleadingly.
“There's no way this ends well,” Ianto muttered, but he opened his door anyway.
“I'll hold your hand,” Jack offered.
“That's what I'm afraid of,” Ianto replied, lengthening his stride so that he was walking ahead of Jack.
Jack wasn't sure if Ianto was just being difficult because he thought he owed Jack a hard time or if he was genuinely freaked out. But how anyone could be so disturbed by the idea of dancing, Jack really couldn't understand. So it must be the first thing. Jack wondered briefly if this whole effort was even worth it. Maybe he should just cut his losses and move on. But then he looked at Ianto, trudging determinedly on in front of him and shook his head. He'd see it through.
When they got inside, Jack took a deep breath. It was great; the little tables set off around the dance floor, the band playing a catchy version of Benny Goodman's Sing, Sing, Sing, a bar set up on the side. There were some couples in what had to be their late sixties dancing away and girls dressed in some approximation of what they thought folks had worn in the 1920s were doing flashy spins.
He handed the ticket-taker twenty quid, and steered Ianto past him.
“I need a drink,” Ianto said, eying the dance floor.
"I'll get you a drink, you get us a table," Jack said and Ianto had to stop himself from making noise about wanting to die because no matter how angry he'd been at Jack or how appalled he was at this turn of events, he still didn't want to be entirely ungracious.
One of the girls, who couldn't have been older than eighteen, gave him a grin as he awkwardly acquired a table, and he couldn't help but smile back at her. So young and so much she hadn't and probably -- hopefully -- would never ever see. It made him sad, even if she probably just thought he was flirting with her.
Jack set a scotch in front of Ianto and sat down next to him.
"You look uptight and miserable," he said.
"I feel uptight and miserable."
"Close your eyes."
"What?"
"Close your eyes."
"Are you going to retcon me?"
Jack laughed. "No."
Ianto finally closed his eyes. "Yes?" he asked impatiently.
"Shhhhh. Listen to the music. You have to admit they're good."
Ianto gave a little nod of acknowledgment.
"And once upon a time they would have been outrageous. And decadent. And you and I would have both been younger and in uniform, and the girl I saw you smiling at earlier would be dressed better. And the room would have been loud and full of smoke. And people would have been happy, even though it felt like the end of the world. Also desperate and warm and doing their best to be beautiful when nothing was beautiful." Jack lightly rested his fingers on the back of Ianto's hand. "It would have smelled like plaster dust in here, under the smoke, and you'd know the vibrations of bombs in your bones. Maybe you do anyway, right? And no one, except the person you were dancing with mattered, because everyone else was lost to you anyway. And maybe by the morning your friend, your lover, your sweetheart would be dead and gone too. So fuck the old people, Ianto, fuck that girl I saw you looking at and fuck your embarrassment. Can you do that for me?" Jack whispered to him, leaning in.
Just like that, Ianto felt his bones turn to water. His mouth opened slightly as he sucked in air, and he felt himself lean towards Jack involuntarily, seduced utterly.
When he opened his eyes, Jack was laughing triumphantly.
“Come on, let's try it,” Jack said, standing up, and extending his hand.
Ianto reached for his glass and downed the scotch in one gulp, because despite being so aroused he thought he might burst, he was still, actually, pretty nervous.
“Okay,” he said, feeling the alcoholic warmth pool in the back of his neck. “I don't think I remember what to do though.”
“It's very simple,” Jack said. “The first thing you have to do is listen for the beat.”
He pulled Ianto out of his chair, and when they were standing close together, he said, “Close your eyes.”
"Again?"
Laying his hand on Ianto's shoulder, he tapped out, “One, two, three, four, five, six. You hear it, right?”
Ianto nodded.
"So it's six counts," Jack said. "Side, side and back and together," he talked it out in the rhythm of the music as he demonstrated, holding onto Ianto's hand even though the other man wasn't moving with him.
"Easy, right? Just over and over. We'll make it flashy later," he added and pulled Ianto in by the waist and tried to settle them into the right position. Which wasn't working at all.
"Are you leading?" Ianto asked, his voice pitching up slightly in alarm.
"Yeah. Unless you suddenly remembered this. You can try later."
"So I, uh, have to start on the other foot?"
"Yeah," Jack sad indulgently.
"And I'm the girl?"
"Not tonight," Jack smirked.
"I'm stalling, aren't I?" Ianto asked.
"Yes, yes you are," Jack said, laughing before being more forceful about getting them into the proper pose and counting them in.
Ianto had rhythm and could count, which sadly, was more than Jack could say for a lot of people, but he was beyond tense and clearly had no idea to how to follow.
"Okay," he said softly. "Resist me a little. It'll make my signals easier to read."
"Oh, is that how it works, sir?" Ianto said dryly.
"Ha ha," Jack said, only pretending to be unamused. "Now, I'm going to push you out and you're going to turn and come back when I tug, right?" Jack asked, but had already started the thing going before he had finished speaking.
"Oh god, everyone's looking at us," Ianto groaned when Jack had him back in his arms and had returned to counting out the steps for him.
"Too tense, Ianto, too tense."
"But --"
"We're the best looking people here, of course they're looking at us," Jack said, hoping to humour him.
“I don't think that's why they're looking,” Ianto hissed.
“Don't be so self-conscious. There are other learners here too, see...look over there? That girl's teaching that guy.”
Ianto gritted his teeth, and Jack began to realize that he really was uncomfortable in a way that couldn't be accounted for by simply physical unfamiliarity.
“What's wrong?” he said, dropping his hand and stopping. “Ianto?”
Ianto looked around at the crowd. Some of them were staring with shock. Others looked bemused in a relatively benign way. Two girls were staring at them with what seemed like avaricious glee, and Ianto blushed. A few people caught his glance and then let their eyes slide away, embarrassed. At the other end of the floor, the band played on, oblivious. Jack was looking at him, an oddly vulnerable expression on his face, as if he knew he'd done something wrong, but was completely clueless as to what, and Ianto felt something pull at his heartstrings.
“You know, those boxes?” Ianto said, finally. “I'm not very good out of them. I mean,” he corrected himself, “I'm not accustomed to being out of them. I know you don't understand, but they mean something here. And people are looking at us, and I just...I don't know how to do this. I've never... It's one thing in... at work, where everything is out of this world, and it's all mad and brilliant. This is real life, Jack. It's different.”
"I'm sorry. I mean... I still don't see it by default," he said, sounding frustrated by himself, "and fuck knows, I had to learn to be circumspect for a long time."
"Thank god for the 70s, right?" Ianto said in a weak attempt at humour.
"Yeah. Exactly. Look, maybe they do think we're hot. Maybe you're all that old guy over there ever wanted, or maybe that woman has a gay son and I'm pretty sure I know what type of porn those two," Jack indicated a pair of girls, "like to watch. So yeah, everyone's an idiot. Probably even me. But what did I say, Ianto? Fuck them and fuck your embarassment. And I meant it. If you're really freaked out we can go, but...." Jack trailed off awkwardly, waiting for Ianto's answer.
"No. Let's get another drink. And try again. I am not being run off by old people and toffee-nosed dancers and your spectacularly shitty judgment. How's that?"
"Grand," Jack said, stretching and grinning. "Grand."
Ianto followed Jack as he slithered up to the bar and ordered two drinks from the bartender before the gaggle of more patient customers could do much more than blink curiously. Ianto leaned his back up against the bar top as he waited.
“You're drinking too?” he asked when Jack handed him another scotch -- a double, this time, Ianto noted.
“Yeah,” Jack said. “Can't let a man drink alone. What, did you think I was just holding this one in readiness for you?”
“I thought perhaps you were trying to get me drunk so you could have your way with me.”
“You've cottoned on to my cunning plan,” Jack said dryly. “Although, if I thought it might relax you....”
“Too right,” Ianto said, taking a swallow of his drink.
“You know what I really like about this kind of thing?” Jack said as he scanned the crowd and gestured to include the whole event. “Look at all these people, trying so hard to capture a lost moment in time. Most of them weren't even twinkles in their parents' eyes when all this was going on. They'll never get to really see it, never know what it felt like. And yet they work so hard to make it come back, just for a night, like fighting a giant armed with nothing but a toothpick.”
Jack looked at Ianto out of the corner of his eye. He was staring at one of the pretty girls in the corner, who was dressed up to the nines, tapping her foot to the beat as if she was dying to get up and join in.
“Why don't you make that girl's night, and ask her to dance?” Jack suggested.
"But I have no idea what to do."
"Ah, not true," Jack said. "Plus, you'll get to lead, and I'll get a nice show."
Ianto looked at him dubiously.
"Come on, it'll be just like riding a bicycle," Jack said, but then silently wondered if Ianto had even been that close to a woman since Lisa.
Ianto took another long swallow of his drink and then handed it to Jack. "If she laughs at me, you're responsible."
"If she laughs at you," Jack said, leaning in, "I promise I'll make it all better."
Ianto laughed and rolled his eyes before heading off towards the girl, almost pleased that somehow asking a woman to dance still made him nervous, as if this life were somehow a logical continuation from his old one and not something that had started one day with the death of something else.
"Pardon me," Ianto said as he approached her, "would you...." He stopped, thought of how Jack would say it, and corrected himself. "May I have this dance?"
The girl looked up at him, blushed, and then laughed. “Thank you,” she said, and put her hand in his. “I'd love it!”
Jack strolled over to one of the little tables and watched as Ianto began to dance with the pretty girl. He was better than he thought he was -- especially with a few drinks in him, Jack reflected, and his essentially British unflappability was pretty useful on the dance floor, even if it did sometimes all fall apart whenever Jack thrust him into some unanticipated situation. He wondered, briefly, if he was doing the right thing. Ianto was so young. And Jack was moving through his life and warping it, like that fixed point the Doctor liked to call him, like the birth of a star nails down and distorts the fabric of space and time.
It wasn't like Ianto was unwilling, Jack reminded himself. He asked for it, demanded it even, every step of the way. But still. Maybe he should have let it all just evaporate, another incidental casualty of his careless, carefree life. But no, he couldn't. He wanted it. Besides, Jack mused, he was so very pretty.
Oh, Rose, he thought. What did you do to me? By the time it's all over - if it ever is - I'm going to be older than dirt, and everyone I ever knew will get to walk away from me in the end. That's the future. He swallowed the rest of his drink; some old habits never died, and even if it didn't burn like it was supposed to, like he could just barely remember, he was vaguely comforted by the motion.
The girl was following Ianto brilliantly, making him look like a better dancer than he actually was, Jack noticed. She was attentive to his movements and creatively, subtly flashy when he gave her room. Jack was impressed.
“Is that your young man?” a voice interrupted his reverie.
“Excuse me?” Jack said. It was a woman who had addressed him -- late sixties, Jack guessed -- and she was sitting at the next table.
“I only asked if that was your young man.”
“Yes. No. Maybe,” Jack said, and laughed. He looked at the woman and added, “but who could look at young men with visions like you around?”
“It's not nice to mock old ladies,” she said, rebukingly.
"I'm not mocking, and you're not that old," Jack said with his easy charm.
"Twice your age," she said.
"Oh, that's unlikely. Good genes. Twice his age," he said indicating Ianto, "certainly."
She laughed, and Jack couldn't help but be reminded of Estelle.
"Captain Jack Harkness, ma'am," he said bowing to her and extending his hand. "Would you care to dance?"
"A captain? I don't think I can say no to a captain," she said and stood.
Jack led her gracefully onto the dance floor and then twirled her into his arms.
"Although what an American military man is doing in Wales --"
"RAF actually, it's sort of a long story."
"They all are after a certain age," she teased. "You'll get used to it."
"I appreciate the vote of confidence, but you still haven't told me your name."
"Sarah Perkins."
"Well, Sarah Perkins, it's a pleasure to meet you."
"Now, about that young man of yours...."
"Yes?"
"I hope you know you'd be a fool to let him get away."
Jack briefly glanced over his shoulder at Ianto still dancing with the girl, before returning his full attention to Sarah. "He is awfully pretty isn't he?" he asked.
"Oh yes," she said. "It's nice. Young people starting to come here. My parents used to listen to all this music when I was small. Fell in love with it then. It's good someone still notices."
"Someone always will," Jack said softly.
"I hope you're right, Captain Harkness," she said.
"Jack, please."
She swatted his arm. "Let an old woman have her fun. A captain! Really!"
Jack threw his head back and laughed.
Somewhere in the middle of the dance, Ianto realized he was actually having a fabulous time. He smiled gratefully down at the girl and realized he hadn't even asked her name.
“Sorry,” he said as soon as he realized he could take at least a little attention of his feet and spare some for conversation. “I'm Ianto Jones, by the way. Can I ask who I have the pleasure of dancing with?”
She looked up at him and laughed.
“I'm Rhiannon,” she said as she came back in from a spin. “It's nice to meet you, Ianto Jones. Thanks for asking me to dance.”
“You're very good,” he said admiringly. “Do you do this a lot?”
“Quite often, yeah,” she said. “It's a bit of a lark, isn't it? Like playing with Mum's clothes out of the dressing up box, you know. Playing pretend. Only with liquor.”
“The liquor definitely helps, I have to say.”
“I've never seen you 'round here before though...Are you here alone? Or do you have your mates with you? Or a girlfriend?”
“Well. Not my mate so much as my...boss.”
“Work outing?”
“Sort of?” Ianto tried.
“Seems a bit odd to have one of those here,” she said.
“Yeah, okay,” he said. “Time to come clean, I suppose. He is my boss, but we have a....slightly unorthodox relationship.”
He darted a look over his shoulder and saw Jack dancing with an elderly woman. He was honestly so taken aback by the sight that he missed a step and then lost count completely. They could have been under some kind of spotlight, so obvious was Jack's special brand of charm that surrounded them like a halo. Jack had his head thrown back as he laughed, and the older woman was light on her feet, and they moved like they thought they were the only two people in the room. Jack was so beautiful, Ianto felt his throat catch.
Rhiannon followed his gaze and smiled. "So by unorthodox you mean you're in love with him and he's...?"
"Tall and mysterious. And I am not in love with him!"
"Well, you should be," she said. "He's even better looking than you."
Ianto laughed and pushed her into a huge twirl and then spun them around as she came back to him.
"I thought this was going to be miserable," he said. "You've convinced me otherwise. Thank you for that."
"You're welcome. So is he straight or just...."
"Complicated."
"Work things," she said. "Never the best idea."
"True," Ianto said, resisting the urge to tease her about giving him advice. Sure, he was young, but she was really young.
The song ended and she spun out from his arms to applaud the band. He saw Jack do the same thing with the woman he was dancing with and then start to walk towards him.
"I think my date's back on," he said to Rhiannon.
She grinned. "Go on then," she said. "Give us a show."
"It won't be very good," he said, "I'm not used to dancing with men."
"So what," she said. "Fuck everyone, right?"
Ianto nodded. "Yeah. Indeed. Fuck everyone," he replied and knew that if he were Jack he would have winked at her then and strolled away.
Instead, he leaned down and kissed her on the cheek, then turned and went to meet Jack in the middle of the floor.
“Have fun?” Jack asked. “You looked like you were.”
“I did, yes,” Ianto said. “I saw you too.”
“Sarah is an excellent dancer. So was your partner--”
“Rhiannon,” Ianto supplied for him. “She was very good. She also told me to fuck everyone.”
“I knew she seemed like a nice girl,” Jack said with a grin. “Like another drink?”
“Yes, please,” Ianto said. “I'm parched.”
“Another scotch?” Jack asked.
“How about a gin and tonic?” Ianto said. “I'm thirsty now, not scared out of my mind.”
“Just wait,” Jack said. “But okay, g and t it is.”
“You really need to work on your menacing, Jack,” Ianto said. “I think it's having a detrimental affect on your work. Think how much quicker you could get the job done if you were actually, you know, frightening in any way.”
Jack growled at him playfully before going to collect the drinks. Ianto tried to take out his wallet when Jack returned, and Jack hit his hand, hard.
“Oh, please,” Jack said. “Don't be ridiculous.”
“Ow!” Ianto said, cradling his hand. “That hurt. I was just trying to make a contribution.”
“I know what you were trying to do, and you deserve everything you got. If you're worried about your 'contribution,' don't. All you need to do is sit there and look pretty.”
“I can afford to pay my own way, Jack, thanks,” Ianto said, getting irritated.
“Well, since I'm the one that pays you, I think I'm in a position to say, actually, no you can't.”
Ianto glared at him, and took a long swallow of his drink before saying, “You know, we're treading pretty close to the whole reason you had to take me out dancing in the first place. How many more grandiose plans for apology do you have up your sleeve?”
“Who says this is an apology?” Jack asked, bristling a little.
“Do you have any respect for me at all, Jack?”
“What kind of question is that?” Jack groaned. “Things were going so well. Can't we rewind or something?”
"I don't think so. No. I can't keep living every moment in your presence as if it's utterly unconnected to every other moment in your presence. My life is a straight line. And right now, so is yours."
"Oh." Jack obviously had no idea what he was supposed to say to that. "Look, the money thing isn't about you. It's about having no expenses and a hundred and fifty years of compounding interest. Think about it."
"Oh," Ianto said, his brain involuntarily doing the math and then refusing to actually ponder the results because the scale was simply too strange.
"Right. So I get to buy the drinks," Jack said as he saw the shock register on Ianto's face.
"Does this ever get any easier?"
"People?" Jack asked.
Ianto shook his head and sipped at his drink. "You."
"No idea. Look, I didn't steal your car because you're you. Hell, I didn't steal your car. It just seemed the most efficient thing at the time. You can be angry at me for not thinking it through, but it wasn't some special disrespect all for you. I could have done that sort of shit to anyone."
"I don't want to be anyone, Jack!"
"That's good. I'm rather fond of this Ianto fellow."
Ianto looked down into his glass and poked at the lime viciously with the stir stick. Then he took another swallow of his drink.
Jack smiled. “For what it's worth, I am sorry, though. I'd like to tell you that I won't fuck up like that again, but I'd be lying, and worse, you'd know it. I did have good intentions -- can we get a mention of that on the peace treaty?”
“I suppose,” Ianto said. “But Jack, seriously. It's not that I want special treatment; it's the opposite. I've no interest in being your little office pet, or whatever. I just...I don't want you to try to take care of me, okay? I can handle it. Don't try to protect me. I find it... disconcerting and upsetting.”
“Sorry,” Jack said. “Can't do anything about that. If it helps any, I feel the exact same way about the whole team.”
“I just...” Ianto's voice trailed away. He thought for a moment and then continued, “We fight together. Even if all I'm doing is cataloging things, or helping you on with your coat, that's what we're doing. And I want that. I want to be that for you. For the world. Even if we stopped fucking, we'd still be fighting together. I may not have wanted to be a soldier, and maybe I don't even always like it, but I am one now, Jack, and I 'll take whatever orders you give me. But I don't want to be something that has to be protected. Or something that you have to run away from. Just give me that, and I'll worry for the rest.”
Jack nodded and swallowed. Ianto didn't even realize how perceptive he was.
"Fighting alongside someone is the best way for me to have them," Jack said. "And the hardest way for me to lose them. So when I'm an asshole, just keep that in mind, okay?"
Ianto nodded, having heard Jack struggle to make himself say those words.
"And I respect you a hell of a lot. Because you force me to. And that's a real feat for a guy who's an eighth of my age."
"Do I seem like a child to you?" Ianto asked.
"No. Not anymore than I seem like a child to me now that I'm sort of starting to get what I'm in for. We're both children, Ianto. Just very different ones. Now will you come dance with me?" he asked, nodding his head towards the dance floor where a slow song had just been struck up by the band and couples swayed mostly, rather than danced.
Ianto drained his drink and set it down on the table with a crash. “Yes, sir,” he said.
This time it was different. Jack didn't count or do any fancy steps, or really any steps at all, just held Ianto against him as the band played Glenn Miller and hummed along in his ear. And Ianto felt like he was in a movie -- really all the old movies ever -- with his tall, dark, mysterious man and dancing cheek to cheek as if it was to every torch song in the world.
“I think I'm swooning,” he said softly, almost under his breath.
“Good,” Jack replied. “Good.”
After they'd danced on in silence for a while Ianto said mildly, “I thought you were going to let me lead this time?”
He could feel Jack chuckle soundlessly against his cheek before he said, “You never let me get away with a thing, do you?”
“You wouldn't like it if I did,” Ianto said.
"Fair enough," Jack said and dropped his hands so Ianto could take up the lead.
It was nerve-racking, somehow, even though the dancing was easy. It was saying I choose this, I am responsible for this and if you stare or whisper or make any comment about us at all, I'll be the one to do something about it. With Jack leading, all his statements about not wanting special treatment didn't really matter -- even if he would never hide behind Jack when there was a gun or an enemy, it meant he could and would still hide behind him when it came to this, everything from being with a man to simply being demonstrative in public. He was sure Jack had no idea why it was so important to him that he try to do this, this way.
"This is astounding," Ianto breathed in Jack's ear.
"What part?"
"The fuck everyone part. They're all so envious."
Jack smiled. "Good boy.”
"Mmmm, careful, Jack," Ianto said and nipped hard at his ear.
“Where's the fun in that?” Jack asked innocently.
Ianto laughed, and let his hand slip for a second from Jack's back onto his arse.
“You're wicked,” Jack said. “Where are all those fine manners now?”
“You bring out the worst in me, sir, what can I say?” Ianto thought if he could wish anything at this moment, he'd want this -- just this -- to keep going forever. It was like one of those pure bubbles of effervescent joy that you just want to keep always but never can. And if you try to hold onto them too hard, they just pop. Remember it, he told himself fiercely. This, right now. This is happiness.
"Not the worst, Ianto. Never the worst. Well, except when I make you mad, I guess."
"Apology accepted, Jack."
"Thank you. Now, more dancing or home?" Jack asked, by which he meant sex.
"One more," Ianto said. "One more drink. One more dance. I want to do this right."
"You leading?" Jack asked.
"Yes, and you're buying the drink."
They waited until the song ended and then a few moments more to separate, Jack wanting to tell Ianto about the Doctor, about dancing with him and Rose when Jack had stupidly and cowardly screwed everything up and almost given his life, truly, his one short brief life, to fix it. And they had, they had all fixed it, and the Doctor had saved him. And there'd been times since when he'd thought maybe he should have ended there, in that one glorious moment of doing something right, and then he wouldn't have had all that love and lust to mourn, all that long journey through their kindness and cruelty and foolishness. And he thought that maybe someday he'd be able to tell the story to Ianto. He liked that, the idea that one day he'd tell it fondly, and it wouldn't hurt either of them. Maybe it would even mean they weren't children anymore.
Someday, when he could find the words to explain. Someday, when it was all gladness and no regret. Today, however, was not that day. But getting closer to it, Jack thought, with some surprise.
He bought Ianto another gin and tonic, and then another (because Jack believed in being profligate in all things), watched him drink them down, his usually precise and economical motions a little blurred now, his forehead glistening a little with sweat.
Ianto smiled at him, with a cat licking cream smile. “Might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb, eh?”
“You Welsh and your sheep,” Jack said, laughing.
"Not nice to taunt a drunk man," Ianto said.
"You are, aren't you?" Jack asked, bemused.
"Quite. Sort of pleasant really."
"I should hope," Jack said a little wistfully.
"D'you miss it?" Ianto asked.
"Getting drunk?"
"Yeah," he said with a shrug.
"Used to have a thing about vodka martinis. So yeah. Guess I do."
"Is there anything that...."
"Not that I've found. Also haven't looked that hard. Why?"
"'Cause I'd like to see you out of control."
"Really now? And here I thought you thought I was always out of control."
"Not that type of control. I mean, you not calculating. You not constantly running through a list of all the stuff you're not supposed to say to us mere mortals. That type of control."
"Why? So I'd tell you things?" Jack's tone had gotten a little harder. He hadn't meant it to, but Ianto was drunk and open in a way that while charming was also making Jack unaccountably nervous.
"No. I mean, sure. But no."
"What then?"
"Unglued."
"Pardon?" Jack was back to bemused.
"I'd like to see you unglued."
"Oh, you mean without having to kill me?" he said jovially.
“Low blow,” Ianto said, stealing Jack's glass (a highball, this time) and taking a swallow out of it. “You must like having me off balance too. Why?”
“What do you- ”
“Why bother?” Ianto answered. “It's not sporting is it, when it's so easy?”
“Easy's not the word I'd choose,” Jack said. “And I never said I was sporting. Cheater from way back, that's me.”
Ianto laughed. “Let's see if I can guess, shall I? It's all part of your mask isn't it? Keeping us at arm's length, too busy concentrating on ourselves so we can't ever look straight at you.”
Jack shook his head. “I'll tell you,” he said. “Do you cook?”
“Please tell me this isn't going to end with us somewhere experimenting with retro 1940s cuisine?”
“Ever tried to crack an egg without breaking the yolk?”
Ianto paused. “I'm not sure I find that analogy complimentary.”
“You don't want to become a fried egg? They taste so good,” Jack said. “They're the pinnacle of egg-ness, and that's all any egg can hope for.”
“Are you sure you can't get drunk?”
“Positive,” Jack said. “Just high on life.”
"Do you know," Ianto said slowly, "that I actually have no idea what we're talking about anymore?"
“I was trying to tell you something about the properties of eggs.” Jack said casually. "You were talking about how you think I like to keep you all at arms length so I don't break my heart and ruin your lives."
Ianto squinted at him.
"Good thing I'm bad at it then, eh?"
"I wouldn't say that," Ianto said cautiously.
"That I'm bad at it or that that's a good thing?"
"Both. I think. Ask me when I'm sober."
Jack grabbed his hand. "Come dance with me, Ianto Jones. Much better than talking. None of those nasty translation problems."
"Is this where we make a colossal scene?" Ianto asked, realizing he was too drunk to be unambitious in his dancing.
"Fuck everyone," Jack said and winked, just like Ianto knew he was supposed to.
Jack pulled him from the table, and Ianto let himself be carried along, not resisting in the slightest. Instead of taking Ianto in his arms as the other man had been expecting, Jack just clasped both of his hands in his own, holding them loosely and at a distance.
He looked at Ianto, the dare clear in his eyes. “Ready?” he said. “Here we go.”
Jack waited a momemt for the beat and then immediately started to dance. This was different, Ianto realized. It was really fast, for one thing, and Jack spun him out and back before he even had a second to catch his breath, but he was drunk, and it was glorious.
"Don't think," Jack said quickly at one point when it was clear Ianto was trying to puzzle out how to do this.
"Okay," he said, and then Jack was twisting away from him again and having him turn, but this time just half way so Jack was pressed up against his back and Ianto was both glad and miserable that the music was so damn fast.
"Still thinking!" Jack teased.
"Two syllables," Ianto said as they passed quickly.
"What?" Jack laughed and yanked on Ianto's wrist to snap them back together again.
"Two syllables," he said as Jack walked them forwards and then back for a moment so they could actually talk. "That's all the words I can get in."
"So don't talk," Jack called as he spun Ianto under his arm again.
"You'll miss my vowels," Ianto said, this time pulling Jack in. This distance thing wasn't quite doing it for him.
"Nah," Jack said, stopping them for a moment. "I've got better uses for them."
“Mmm...soon,” Ianto said, before turning away from Jack in an ambitious if slightly clumsy move.
“See, you can say a lot in two syllables,” Jack called to him.
But Ianto was now too caught up in the dizzying movements to speak any further. His head was whirling, the music was rushing past him, and his feet seemed to have minds of their own. Jack pulled him in and spun him out, and when Ianto looked at him, he looked abandoned, and perfectly controlled all at the same time, as if each carelessly flung foot somehow could hit the air or the floor at precisely the right point, without thought or intent. Ianto knew he himself didn't -- couldn't possibly -- look like that; while Jack danced, Ianto was simply being pulled along, stumbling enthusiastically, panting to keep up, and yet idiotically, terminally pleased with himself. Like he'd given in to a tornado and was now just spinning, and being swept away.
If he looked like a fool, Ianto thought as he giggled uncontrollably (there was just no other word for it), he really, truly couldn't bring himself to care.
"I've never seen you laugh so much," Jack said.
"That's 'cause you never saw me stoned in Uni," Ianto called, and Jack hoped he wouldn't be embarrassed by all this tomorrow. He shouldn't be, but it was like Ianto to be hard on himself when it came to matters of propriety, perhaps because it was, as far as Jack was beginning to suspect, entirely inorganic to him.
"You know," Jack teased, breaking it up over a couple of moves, "Everyone is looking at us."
"Good," Ianto said, and Jack barked with laughter.
Continue to Part 3
Pairing/Characters: Jack/Ianto, Tosh, Gwen, Owen
Authors: rm & kalichan
Rating/Warning: NC-17, mostly plot this time, with a serving of porn for dessert.
Summary: With every night, a morning after. Jack and Ianto try to cope.
Author's Notes: Concludes the triptych begun with A Strange Fashion of Forsaking and Dear Captain, Last Night I Slept in Mutiny; takes place after those two stories somewhere in between 2x05: Adam and 2x06: Reset. Title adapted from a poem by Lucie Brock-Broido. The next story in this 'verse will be coming soon; it will pick up after 2x09: Something Borrowed. Third Installment of I Had No Idea I Had Been Traveling
Wordcount: 16,700
Part 1
Two days and things had almost returned to normal at the Hub. The girls had stopped trying to corner him and Jack every two seconds -- thank god, because this wasn't the sort of thing intervention was going to help, although granted, Ianto felt that way about everything that wasn't in the movies. And Owen had returned to his regular level of insulting behavior, meaning that Tosh, not him was now the target. Ianto even included Jack in the takeaway orders. It was causing too much tension in everyone else not to, but it didn't mean he had to be partifriendly or give him much choice in the matter.
The weekend, which existed in concept only, rolled by and if Ianto put in slightly fewer hours than normal he figured something would happen sooner or later to make up for it. Probably sooner.
Monday brought him fresh stacks of fliers for upcoming city events, a dodgy pipe in the ceiling (always, always on Mondays he couldn't help but notice) and a crisp, white envelope with his name on it in the center of his desk. His name on it in what he privately considered Jack's good handwriting. Fast but legible, the type he used on the white board. As opposed to the type he used on all official paperwork, which was illegible enough to merit no other adjectives at all.
He felt as apprehensive as if he were holding a letter-bomb, although probably Jack wouldn't send him something that would actually explode. Although Ianto wasn't nearly so sanguine about his own hard-fought equilibrium. And honestly, who knew what Jack had learned from that maniac, John Hart? Maybe it was a dismissal; perhaps Jack had finally grown tired of his demands and was letting him go. Somewhere inside himself Ianto knew he was being ridiculous, but the nightmarish scenarios kept unfolding in his brain regardless.
He steeled himself, and slit the envelope carefully.
Dear Ianto,
I think we've allowed this cold war to go on long enough. Can we draft a peace treaty? Normally there'd be some flowers to go with this, but Gwen thinks that would be adding insult to injury? I may never fully understand your strange culture. Be ready at 7:30pm. I'd tell you to wear something nice, but then, you always do.
-Jack
Ianto smiled in spite of himself. Then he decided he was infuriated. Maybe he had plans. Maybe a microwaved dinner and some bad telly sounded really appealing right now. Maybe the Rift would open and ruin whatever Jack was up to -- certainly a man like him should know better than to promise anything.
But mostly Ianto was just curious. And amused. And stunned that Jack still couldn't seem to say "I'm sorry" even if he was clearly trying to get the point across anyway.
Ianto shoved the missive back in the enveloped and fanned himself with it as he headed for Jack's office.
"You're not yelling at me," Jack noted.
"I'm not," Ianto said, still waving the envelope about.
"Is that a yes then?"
"I don't know what I'm saying yes to, Jack.'
"Do you care?" he asked, all flirt.
"Probably. A little. Yeah."
Jack sighed. "Just let me do this. And trust in our ability to avoid small talk if you have to."
"All right," Ianto said, cautiously. "Your leash is short though. Remember that."
"I wouldn't have it any other way," Jack purred, although he also sounded sad.
Ianto spent most of the day alternating between bouts of glee, fury at himself for being so pleased at the slightest hint of a gesture from Jack, and nervousness about whatever he had planned. He was also angry with himself for getting worked up over whatever it was, as he was mortally certain that something would happen to make it all moot. Aliens, death, fairies. Something. When 7:25 rolled around and nothing had happened, he couldn't resist pinching himself to make sure he wasn't still dreaming.
“It's always in the last five minutes anyway,” he muttered to himself.
“Then why don't we beat the rush?” Jack's voice said from behind him, and Ianto jumped with surprise.
“Jack! I didn't know you were there.”
Jack laughed. “Are you ready? Let's go before something comes through and makes us have to postpone.”
“Why? We'd just have to hurry back anyway.”
“The rest are staying, so unless it's life or death...”
“How'd you talk Owen into that?” Ianto asked.
“I didn't,” Jack said. “There may have been pressure from other quarters.”
“Ahh,” Ianto said. “Gwen?”
“Does it matter? Let's go.”
“Should we take two cars?” Ianto asked pointedly. “Sir.”
"They should have the SUV. Just in case. And we're not taking Owen's car. So, no. Trust me?"
"Not really," Ianto said with a shrug.
"You do hold a grudge, don't you?"
"Don't minimize my anger, Jack," he said as he headed for the garage.
"Right," Jack muttered to himself as he hurried to catch up. There was such a long list of things he needed to do to not make this situation worse and he was starting to think he didn't know half of them.
"I suppose one good will gesture deserves another," Ianto said when they got to the car and tossed his keys to Jack.
Jack grinned, kissed the keys, popped the door lock and hopped in.
"So, where are we going?" Ianto asked as he slid into the seat beside him.
"Do you dance?" Jack asked as he started the car.
"Define dance."
"Feet moving to music?" Jack said, bemused.
"Type of music then," Ianto amended, realizing that the question Jack was asking was probably entirely different than the one, say Gwen or Tosh or Owen would mean if they used the same words.
"Swing. Big band. The sounds of a delightful ballroom orchestra," Jack said, clearly entirely entertained with himself as he maneuvered the car out of its space, up the ramp and into the streets.
"Some. Enough. Maybe not by your standards."
"You sound nervous," Jack said casually, eyes on the road.
"Is this going to be okay?" Ianto asked.
"This what? This whatever it is we're doing?"
"No. The dancing thing. I mean...." Ianto trailed off into a useless hand gesture that Jack caught out of the corner of his eye.
"Is this one of those I don't understand the boxes questions?"
"Yeah."
"The planet has whole industries based around the idea of two chicks making out, but a couple of guys want to go dancing and the universe threatens to collapse. Nah, it'll be fine."
"So... it's a gay thing then?" Ianto asked quietly.
"No," Jack said, bemused. "It'll still be fine though. Seriously. And if it's not, I am wearing a sidearm."
"Isn't it rude to dance while wearing a gun or something?" Ianto asked awkwardly, feeling embarrassed to have even brought the whole thing up.
"Spoken like a man who's never been to war," Jack said and floored the gas.
When they pulled up at the Metropolitan, Ianto looked around wildly.
“This? This is where you're taking me?”
“Yeah,” Jack said with a grin. “Isn't it great? I discovered it awhile back. They do these special nights here.”
“I'm not getting out of the car,” Ianto said firmly. “Old people, Jack. People who've seen a few episodes of Strictly Come Dancing and have gone totally mad. You can't make me.”
“Hey,” Jack said. “What's wrong with old people? Just 'cause I don't look my age! Come on. Give it a chance.”
Ianto thought about digging in his heels and protesting, but Jack was looking at him almost pleadingly.
“There's no way this ends well,” Ianto muttered, but he opened his door anyway.
“I'll hold your hand,” Jack offered.
“That's what I'm afraid of,” Ianto replied, lengthening his stride so that he was walking ahead of Jack.
Jack wasn't sure if Ianto was just being difficult because he thought he owed Jack a hard time or if he was genuinely freaked out. But how anyone could be so disturbed by the idea of dancing, Jack really couldn't understand. So it must be the first thing. Jack wondered briefly if this whole effort was even worth it. Maybe he should just cut his losses and move on. But then he looked at Ianto, trudging determinedly on in front of him and shook his head. He'd see it through.
When they got inside, Jack took a deep breath. It was great; the little tables set off around the dance floor, the band playing a catchy version of Benny Goodman's Sing, Sing, Sing, a bar set up on the side. There were some couples in what had to be their late sixties dancing away and girls dressed in some approximation of what they thought folks had worn in the 1920s were doing flashy spins.
He handed the ticket-taker twenty quid, and steered Ianto past him.
“I need a drink,” Ianto said, eying the dance floor.
"I'll get you a drink, you get us a table," Jack said and Ianto had to stop himself from making noise about wanting to die because no matter how angry he'd been at Jack or how appalled he was at this turn of events, he still didn't want to be entirely ungracious.
One of the girls, who couldn't have been older than eighteen, gave him a grin as he awkwardly acquired a table, and he couldn't help but smile back at her. So young and so much she hadn't and probably -- hopefully -- would never ever see. It made him sad, even if she probably just thought he was flirting with her.
Jack set a scotch in front of Ianto and sat down next to him.
"You look uptight and miserable," he said.
"I feel uptight and miserable."
"Close your eyes."
"What?"
"Close your eyes."
"Are you going to retcon me?"
Jack laughed. "No."
Ianto finally closed his eyes. "Yes?" he asked impatiently.
"Shhhhh. Listen to the music. You have to admit they're good."
Ianto gave a little nod of acknowledgment.
"And once upon a time they would have been outrageous. And decadent. And you and I would have both been younger and in uniform, and the girl I saw you smiling at earlier would be dressed better. And the room would have been loud and full of smoke. And people would have been happy, even though it felt like the end of the world. Also desperate and warm and doing their best to be beautiful when nothing was beautiful." Jack lightly rested his fingers on the back of Ianto's hand. "It would have smelled like plaster dust in here, under the smoke, and you'd know the vibrations of bombs in your bones. Maybe you do anyway, right? And no one, except the person you were dancing with mattered, because everyone else was lost to you anyway. And maybe by the morning your friend, your lover, your sweetheart would be dead and gone too. So fuck the old people, Ianto, fuck that girl I saw you looking at and fuck your embarrassment. Can you do that for me?" Jack whispered to him, leaning in.
Just like that, Ianto felt his bones turn to water. His mouth opened slightly as he sucked in air, and he felt himself lean towards Jack involuntarily, seduced utterly.
When he opened his eyes, Jack was laughing triumphantly.
“Come on, let's try it,” Jack said, standing up, and extending his hand.
Ianto reached for his glass and downed the scotch in one gulp, because despite being so aroused he thought he might burst, he was still, actually, pretty nervous.
“Okay,” he said, feeling the alcoholic warmth pool in the back of his neck. “I don't think I remember what to do though.”
“It's very simple,” Jack said. “The first thing you have to do is listen for the beat.”
He pulled Ianto out of his chair, and when they were standing close together, he said, “Close your eyes.”
"Again?"
Laying his hand on Ianto's shoulder, he tapped out, “One, two, three, four, five, six. You hear it, right?”
Ianto nodded.
"So it's six counts," Jack said. "Side, side and back and together," he talked it out in the rhythm of the music as he demonstrated, holding onto Ianto's hand even though the other man wasn't moving with him.
"Easy, right? Just over and over. We'll make it flashy later," he added and pulled Ianto in by the waist and tried to settle them into the right position. Which wasn't working at all.
"Are you leading?" Ianto asked, his voice pitching up slightly in alarm.
"Yeah. Unless you suddenly remembered this. You can try later."
"So I, uh, have to start on the other foot?"
"Yeah," Jack sad indulgently.
"And I'm the girl?"
"Not tonight," Jack smirked.
"I'm stalling, aren't I?" Ianto asked.
"Yes, yes you are," Jack said, laughing before being more forceful about getting them into the proper pose and counting them in.
Ianto had rhythm and could count, which sadly, was more than Jack could say for a lot of people, but he was beyond tense and clearly had no idea to how to follow.
"Okay," he said softly. "Resist me a little. It'll make my signals easier to read."
"Oh, is that how it works, sir?" Ianto said dryly.
"Ha ha," Jack said, only pretending to be unamused. "Now, I'm going to push you out and you're going to turn and come back when I tug, right?" Jack asked, but had already started the thing going before he had finished speaking.
"Oh god, everyone's looking at us," Ianto groaned when Jack had him back in his arms and had returned to counting out the steps for him.
"Too tense, Ianto, too tense."
"But --"
"We're the best looking people here, of course they're looking at us," Jack said, hoping to humour him.
“I don't think that's why they're looking,” Ianto hissed.
“Don't be so self-conscious. There are other learners here too, see...look over there? That girl's teaching that guy.”
Ianto gritted his teeth, and Jack began to realize that he really was uncomfortable in a way that couldn't be accounted for by simply physical unfamiliarity.
“What's wrong?” he said, dropping his hand and stopping. “Ianto?”
Ianto looked around at the crowd. Some of them were staring with shock. Others looked bemused in a relatively benign way. Two girls were staring at them with what seemed like avaricious glee, and Ianto blushed. A few people caught his glance and then let their eyes slide away, embarrassed. At the other end of the floor, the band played on, oblivious. Jack was looking at him, an oddly vulnerable expression on his face, as if he knew he'd done something wrong, but was completely clueless as to what, and Ianto felt something pull at his heartstrings.
“You know, those boxes?” Ianto said, finally. “I'm not very good out of them. I mean,” he corrected himself, “I'm not accustomed to being out of them. I know you don't understand, but they mean something here. And people are looking at us, and I just...I don't know how to do this. I've never... It's one thing in... at work, where everything is out of this world, and it's all mad and brilliant. This is real life, Jack. It's different.”
"I'm sorry. I mean... I still don't see it by default," he said, sounding frustrated by himself, "and fuck knows, I had to learn to be circumspect for a long time."
"Thank god for the 70s, right?" Ianto said in a weak attempt at humour.
"Yeah. Exactly. Look, maybe they do think we're hot. Maybe you're all that old guy over there ever wanted, or maybe that woman has a gay son and I'm pretty sure I know what type of porn those two," Jack indicated a pair of girls, "like to watch. So yeah, everyone's an idiot. Probably even me. But what did I say, Ianto? Fuck them and fuck your embarassment. And I meant it. If you're really freaked out we can go, but...." Jack trailed off awkwardly, waiting for Ianto's answer.
"No. Let's get another drink. And try again. I am not being run off by old people and toffee-nosed dancers and your spectacularly shitty judgment. How's that?"
"Grand," Jack said, stretching and grinning. "Grand."
Ianto followed Jack as he slithered up to the bar and ordered two drinks from the bartender before the gaggle of more patient customers could do much more than blink curiously. Ianto leaned his back up against the bar top as he waited.
“You're drinking too?” he asked when Jack handed him another scotch -- a double, this time, Ianto noted.
“Yeah,” Jack said. “Can't let a man drink alone. What, did you think I was just holding this one in readiness for you?”
“I thought perhaps you were trying to get me drunk so you could have your way with me.”
“You've cottoned on to my cunning plan,” Jack said dryly. “Although, if I thought it might relax you....”
“Too right,” Ianto said, taking a swallow of his drink.
“You know what I really like about this kind of thing?” Jack said as he scanned the crowd and gestured to include the whole event. “Look at all these people, trying so hard to capture a lost moment in time. Most of them weren't even twinkles in their parents' eyes when all this was going on. They'll never get to really see it, never know what it felt like. And yet they work so hard to make it come back, just for a night, like fighting a giant armed with nothing but a toothpick.”
Jack looked at Ianto out of the corner of his eye. He was staring at one of the pretty girls in the corner, who was dressed up to the nines, tapping her foot to the beat as if she was dying to get up and join in.
“Why don't you make that girl's night, and ask her to dance?” Jack suggested.
"But I have no idea what to do."
"Ah, not true," Jack said. "Plus, you'll get to lead, and I'll get a nice show."
Ianto looked at him dubiously.
"Come on, it'll be just like riding a bicycle," Jack said, but then silently wondered if Ianto had even been that close to a woman since Lisa.
Ianto took another long swallow of his drink and then handed it to Jack. "If she laughs at me, you're responsible."
"If she laughs at you," Jack said, leaning in, "I promise I'll make it all better."
Ianto laughed and rolled his eyes before heading off towards the girl, almost pleased that somehow asking a woman to dance still made him nervous, as if this life were somehow a logical continuation from his old one and not something that had started one day with the death of something else.
"Pardon me," Ianto said as he approached her, "would you...." He stopped, thought of how Jack would say it, and corrected himself. "May I have this dance?"
The girl looked up at him, blushed, and then laughed. “Thank you,” she said, and put her hand in his. “I'd love it!”
Jack strolled over to one of the little tables and watched as Ianto began to dance with the pretty girl. He was better than he thought he was -- especially with a few drinks in him, Jack reflected, and his essentially British unflappability was pretty useful on the dance floor, even if it did sometimes all fall apart whenever Jack thrust him into some unanticipated situation. He wondered, briefly, if he was doing the right thing. Ianto was so young. And Jack was moving through his life and warping it, like that fixed point the Doctor liked to call him, like the birth of a star nails down and distorts the fabric of space and time.
It wasn't like Ianto was unwilling, Jack reminded himself. He asked for it, demanded it even, every step of the way. But still. Maybe he should have let it all just evaporate, another incidental casualty of his careless, carefree life. But no, he couldn't. He wanted it. Besides, Jack mused, he was so very pretty.
Oh, Rose, he thought. What did you do to me? By the time it's all over - if it ever is - I'm going to be older than dirt, and everyone I ever knew will get to walk away from me in the end. That's the future. He swallowed the rest of his drink; some old habits never died, and even if it didn't burn like it was supposed to, like he could just barely remember, he was vaguely comforted by the motion.
The girl was following Ianto brilliantly, making him look like a better dancer than he actually was, Jack noticed. She was attentive to his movements and creatively, subtly flashy when he gave her room. Jack was impressed.
“Is that your young man?” a voice interrupted his reverie.
“Excuse me?” Jack said. It was a woman who had addressed him -- late sixties, Jack guessed -- and she was sitting at the next table.
“I only asked if that was your young man.”
“Yes. No. Maybe,” Jack said, and laughed. He looked at the woman and added, “but who could look at young men with visions like you around?”
“It's not nice to mock old ladies,” she said, rebukingly.
"I'm not mocking, and you're not that old," Jack said with his easy charm.
"Twice your age," she said.
"Oh, that's unlikely. Good genes. Twice his age," he said indicating Ianto, "certainly."
She laughed, and Jack couldn't help but be reminded of Estelle.
"Captain Jack Harkness, ma'am," he said bowing to her and extending his hand. "Would you care to dance?"
"A captain? I don't think I can say no to a captain," she said and stood.
Jack led her gracefully onto the dance floor and then twirled her into his arms.
"Although what an American military man is doing in Wales --"
"RAF actually, it's sort of a long story."
"They all are after a certain age," she teased. "You'll get used to it."
"I appreciate the vote of confidence, but you still haven't told me your name."
"Sarah Perkins."
"Well, Sarah Perkins, it's a pleasure to meet you."
"Now, about that young man of yours...."
"Yes?"
"I hope you know you'd be a fool to let him get away."
Jack briefly glanced over his shoulder at Ianto still dancing with the girl, before returning his full attention to Sarah. "He is awfully pretty isn't he?" he asked.
"Oh yes," she said. "It's nice. Young people starting to come here. My parents used to listen to all this music when I was small. Fell in love with it then. It's good someone still notices."
"Someone always will," Jack said softly.
"I hope you're right, Captain Harkness," she said.
"Jack, please."
She swatted his arm. "Let an old woman have her fun. A captain! Really!"
Jack threw his head back and laughed.
Somewhere in the middle of the dance, Ianto realized he was actually having a fabulous time. He smiled gratefully down at the girl and realized he hadn't even asked her name.
“Sorry,” he said as soon as he realized he could take at least a little attention of his feet and spare some for conversation. “I'm Ianto Jones, by the way. Can I ask who I have the pleasure of dancing with?”
She looked up at him and laughed.
“I'm Rhiannon,” she said as she came back in from a spin. “It's nice to meet you, Ianto Jones. Thanks for asking me to dance.”
“You're very good,” he said admiringly. “Do you do this a lot?”
“Quite often, yeah,” she said. “It's a bit of a lark, isn't it? Like playing with Mum's clothes out of the dressing up box, you know. Playing pretend. Only with liquor.”
“The liquor definitely helps, I have to say.”
“I've never seen you 'round here before though...Are you here alone? Or do you have your mates with you? Or a girlfriend?”
“Well. Not my mate so much as my...boss.”
“Work outing?”
“Sort of?” Ianto tried.
“Seems a bit odd to have one of those here,” she said.
“Yeah, okay,” he said. “Time to come clean, I suppose. He is my boss, but we have a....slightly unorthodox relationship.”
He darted a look over his shoulder and saw Jack dancing with an elderly woman. He was honestly so taken aback by the sight that he missed a step and then lost count completely. They could have been under some kind of spotlight, so obvious was Jack's special brand of charm that surrounded them like a halo. Jack had his head thrown back as he laughed, and the older woman was light on her feet, and they moved like they thought they were the only two people in the room. Jack was so beautiful, Ianto felt his throat catch.
Rhiannon followed his gaze and smiled. "So by unorthodox you mean you're in love with him and he's...?"
"Tall and mysterious. And I am not in love with him!"
"Well, you should be," she said. "He's even better looking than you."
Ianto laughed and pushed her into a huge twirl and then spun them around as she came back to him.
"I thought this was going to be miserable," he said. "You've convinced me otherwise. Thank you for that."
"You're welcome. So is he straight or just...."
"Complicated."
"Work things," she said. "Never the best idea."
"True," Ianto said, resisting the urge to tease her about giving him advice. Sure, he was young, but she was really young.
The song ended and she spun out from his arms to applaud the band. He saw Jack do the same thing with the woman he was dancing with and then start to walk towards him.
"I think my date's back on," he said to Rhiannon.
She grinned. "Go on then," she said. "Give us a show."
"It won't be very good," he said, "I'm not used to dancing with men."
"So what," she said. "Fuck everyone, right?"
Ianto nodded. "Yeah. Indeed. Fuck everyone," he replied and knew that if he were Jack he would have winked at her then and strolled away.
Instead, he leaned down and kissed her on the cheek, then turned and went to meet Jack in the middle of the floor.
“Have fun?” Jack asked. “You looked like you were.”
“I did, yes,” Ianto said. “I saw you too.”
“Sarah is an excellent dancer. So was your partner--”
“Rhiannon,” Ianto supplied for him. “She was very good. She also told me to fuck everyone.”
“I knew she seemed like a nice girl,” Jack said with a grin. “Like another drink?”
“Yes, please,” Ianto said. “I'm parched.”
“Another scotch?” Jack asked.
“How about a gin and tonic?” Ianto said. “I'm thirsty now, not scared out of my mind.”
“Just wait,” Jack said. “But okay, g and t it is.”
“You really need to work on your menacing, Jack,” Ianto said. “I think it's having a detrimental affect on your work. Think how much quicker you could get the job done if you were actually, you know, frightening in any way.”
Jack growled at him playfully before going to collect the drinks. Ianto tried to take out his wallet when Jack returned, and Jack hit his hand, hard.
“Oh, please,” Jack said. “Don't be ridiculous.”
“Ow!” Ianto said, cradling his hand. “That hurt. I was just trying to make a contribution.”
“I know what you were trying to do, and you deserve everything you got. If you're worried about your 'contribution,' don't. All you need to do is sit there and look pretty.”
“I can afford to pay my own way, Jack, thanks,” Ianto said, getting irritated.
“Well, since I'm the one that pays you, I think I'm in a position to say, actually, no you can't.”
Ianto glared at him, and took a long swallow of his drink before saying, “You know, we're treading pretty close to the whole reason you had to take me out dancing in the first place. How many more grandiose plans for apology do you have up your sleeve?”
“Who says this is an apology?” Jack asked, bristling a little.
“Do you have any respect for me at all, Jack?”
“What kind of question is that?” Jack groaned. “Things were going so well. Can't we rewind or something?”
"I don't think so. No. I can't keep living every moment in your presence as if it's utterly unconnected to every other moment in your presence. My life is a straight line. And right now, so is yours."
"Oh." Jack obviously had no idea what he was supposed to say to that. "Look, the money thing isn't about you. It's about having no expenses and a hundred and fifty years of compounding interest. Think about it."
"Oh," Ianto said, his brain involuntarily doing the math and then refusing to actually ponder the results because the scale was simply too strange.
"Right. So I get to buy the drinks," Jack said as he saw the shock register on Ianto's face.
"Does this ever get any easier?"
"People?" Jack asked.
Ianto shook his head and sipped at his drink. "You."
"No idea. Look, I didn't steal your car because you're you. Hell, I didn't steal your car. It just seemed the most efficient thing at the time. You can be angry at me for not thinking it through, but it wasn't some special disrespect all for you. I could have done that sort of shit to anyone."
"I don't want to be anyone, Jack!"
"That's good. I'm rather fond of this Ianto fellow."
Ianto looked down into his glass and poked at the lime viciously with the stir stick. Then he took another swallow of his drink.
Jack smiled. “For what it's worth, I am sorry, though. I'd like to tell you that I won't fuck up like that again, but I'd be lying, and worse, you'd know it. I did have good intentions -- can we get a mention of that on the peace treaty?”
“I suppose,” Ianto said. “But Jack, seriously. It's not that I want special treatment; it's the opposite. I've no interest in being your little office pet, or whatever. I just...I don't want you to try to take care of me, okay? I can handle it. Don't try to protect me. I find it... disconcerting and upsetting.”
“Sorry,” Jack said. “Can't do anything about that. If it helps any, I feel the exact same way about the whole team.”
“I just...” Ianto's voice trailed away. He thought for a moment and then continued, “We fight together. Even if all I'm doing is cataloging things, or helping you on with your coat, that's what we're doing. And I want that. I want to be that for you. For the world. Even if we stopped fucking, we'd still be fighting together. I may not have wanted to be a soldier, and maybe I don't even always like it, but I am one now, Jack, and I 'll take whatever orders you give me. But I don't want to be something that has to be protected. Or something that you have to run away from. Just give me that, and I'll worry for the rest.”
Jack nodded and swallowed. Ianto didn't even realize how perceptive he was.
"Fighting alongside someone is the best way for me to have them," Jack said. "And the hardest way for me to lose them. So when I'm an asshole, just keep that in mind, okay?"
Ianto nodded, having heard Jack struggle to make himself say those words.
"And I respect you a hell of a lot. Because you force me to. And that's a real feat for a guy who's an eighth of my age."
"Do I seem like a child to you?" Ianto asked.
"No. Not anymore than I seem like a child to me now that I'm sort of starting to get what I'm in for. We're both children, Ianto. Just very different ones. Now will you come dance with me?" he asked, nodding his head towards the dance floor where a slow song had just been struck up by the band and couples swayed mostly, rather than danced.
Ianto drained his drink and set it down on the table with a crash. “Yes, sir,” he said.
This time it was different. Jack didn't count or do any fancy steps, or really any steps at all, just held Ianto against him as the band played Glenn Miller and hummed along in his ear. And Ianto felt like he was in a movie -- really all the old movies ever -- with his tall, dark, mysterious man and dancing cheek to cheek as if it was to every torch song in the world.
“I think I'm swooning,” he said softly, almost under his breath.
“Good,” Jack replied. “Good.”
After they'd danced on in silence for a while Ianto said mildly, “I thought you were going to let me lead this time?”
He could feel Jack chuckle soundlessly against his cheek before he said, “You never let me get away with a thing, do you?”
“You wouldn't like it if I did,” Ianto said.
"Fair enough," Jack said and dropped his hands so Ianto could take up the lead.
It was nerve-racking, somehow, even though the dancing was easy. It was saying I choose this, I am responsible for this and if you stare or whisper or make any comment about us at all, I'll be the one to do something about it. With Jack leading, all his statements about not wanting special treatment didn't really matter -- even if he would never hide behind Jack when there was a gun or an enemy, it meant he could and would still hide behind him when it came to this, everything from being with a man to simply being demonstrative in public. He was sure Jack had no idea why it was so important to him that he try to do this, this way.
"This is astounding," Ianto breathed in Jack's ear.
"What part?"
"The fuck everyone part. They're all so envious."
Jack smiled. "Good boy.”
"Mmmm, careful, Jack," Ianto said and nipped hard at his ear.
“Where's the fun in that?” Jack asked innocently.
Ianto laughed, and let his hand slip for a second from Jack's back onto his arse.
“You're wicked,” Jack said. “Where are all those fine manners now?”
“You bring out the worst in me, sir, what can I say?” Ianto thought if he could wish anything at this moment, he'd want this -- just this -- to keep going forever. It was like one of those pure bubbles of effervescent joy that you just want to keep always but never can. And if you try to hold onto them too hard, they just pop. Remember it, he told himself fiercely. This, right now. This is happiness.
"Not the worst, Ianto. Never the worst. Well, except when I make you mad, I guess."
"Apology accepted, Jack."
"Thank you. Now, more dancing or home?" Jack asked, by which he meant sex.
"One more," Ianto said. "One more drink. One more dance. I want to do this right."
"You leading?" Jack asked.
"Yes, and you're buying the drink."
They waited until the song ended and then a few moments more to separate, Jack wanting to tell Ianto about the Doctor, about dancing with him and Rose when Jack had stupidly and cowardly screwed everything up and almost given his life, truly, his one short brief life, to fix it. And they had, they had all fixed it, and the Doctor had saved him. And there'd been times since when he'd thought maybe he should have ended there, in that one glorious moment of doing something right, and then he wouldn't have had all that love and lust to mourn, all that long journey through their kindness and cruelty and foolishness. And he thought that maybe someday he'd be able to tell the story to Ianto. He liked that, the idea that one day he'd tell it fondly, and it wouldn't hurt either of them. Maybe it would even mean they weren't children anymore.
Someday, when he could find the words to explain. Someday, when it was all gladness and no regret. Today, however, was not that day. But getting closer to it, Jack thought, with some surprise.
He bought Ianto another gin and tonic, and then another (because Jack believed in being profligate in all things), watched him drink them down, his usually precise and economical motions a little blurred now, his forehead glistening a little with sweat.
Ianto smiled at him, with a cat licking cream smile. “Might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb, eh?”
“You Welsh and your sheep,” Jack said, laughing.
"Not nice to taunt a drunk man," Ianto said.
"You are, aren't you?" Jack asked, bemused.
"Quite. Sort of pleasant really."
"I should hope," Jack said a little wistfully.
"D'you miss it?" Ianto asked.
"Getting drunk?"
"Yeah," he said with a shrug.
"Used to have a thing about vodka martinis. So yeah. Guess I do."
"Is there anything that...."
"Not that I've found. Also haven't looked that hard. Why?"
"'Cause I'd like to see you out of control."
"Really now? And here I thought you thought I was always out of control."
"Not that type of control. I mean, you not calculating. You not constantly running through a list of all the stuff you're not supposed to say to us mere mortals. That type of control."
"Why? So I'd tell you things?" Jack's tone had gotten a little harder. He hadn't meant it to, but Ianto was drunk and open in a way that while charming was also making Jack unaccountably nervous.
"No. I mean, sure. But no."
"What then?"
"Unglued."
"Pardon?" Jack was back to bemused.
"I'd like to see you unglued."
"Oh, you mean without having to kill me?" he said jovially.
“Low blow,” Ianto said, stealing Jack's glass (a highball, this time) and taking a swallow out of it. “You must like having me off balance too. Why?”
“What do you- ”
“Why bother?” Ianto answered. “It's not sporting is it, when it's so easy?”
“Easy's not the word I'd choose,” Jack said. “And I never said I was sporting. Cheater from way back, that's me.”
Ianto laughed. “Let's see if I can guess, shall I? It's all part of your mask isn't it? Keeping us at arm's length, too busy concentrating on ourselves so we can't ever look straight at you.”
Jack shook his head. “I'll tell you,” he said. “Do you cook?”
“Please tell me this isn't going to end with us somewhere experimenting with retro 1940s cuisine?”
“Ever tried to crack an egg without breaking the yolk?”
Ianto paused. “I'm not sure I find that analogy complimentary.”
“You don't want to become a fried egg? They taste so good,” Jack said. “They're the pinnacle of egg-ness, and that's all any egg can hope for.”
“Are you sure you can't get drunk?”
“Positive,” Jack said. “Just high on life.”
"Do you know," Ianto said slowly, "that I actually have no idea what we're talking about anymore?"
“I was trying to tell you something about the properties of eggs.” Jack said casually. "You were talking about how you think I like to keep you all at arms length so I don't break my heart and ruin your lives."
Ianto squinted at him.
"Good thing I'm bad at it then, eh?"
"I wouldn't say that," Ianto said cautiously.
"That I'm bad at it or that that's a good thing?"
"Both. I think. Ask me when I'm sober."
Jack grabbed his hand. "Come dance with me, Ianto Jones. Much better than talking. None of those nasty translation problems."
"Is this where we make a colossal scene?" Ianto asked, realizing he was too drunk to be unambitious in his dancing.
"Fuck everyone," Jack said and winked, just like Ianto knew he was supposed to.
Jack pulled him from the table, and Ianto let himself be carried along, not resisting in the slightest. Instead of taking Ianto in his arms as the other man had been expecting, Jack just clasped both of his hands in his own, holding them loosely and at a distance.
He looked at Ianto, the dare clear in his eyes. “Ready?” he said. “Here we go.”
Jack waited a momemt for the beat and then immediately started to dance. This was different, Ianto realized. It was really fast, for one thing, and Jack spun him out and back before he even had a second to catch his breath, but he was drunk, and it was glorious.
"Don't think," Jack said quickly at one point when it was clear Ianto was trying to puzzle out how to do this.
"Okay," he said, and then Jack was twisting away from him again and having him turn, but this time just half way so Jack was pressed up against his back and Ianto was both glad and miserable that the music was so damn fast.
"Still thinking!" Jack teased.
"Two syllables," Ianto said as they passed quickly.
"What?" Jack laughed and yanked on Ianto's wrist to snap them back together again.
"Two syllables," he said as Jack walked them forwards and then back for a moment so they could actually talk. "That's all the words I can get in."
"So don't talk," Jack called as he spun Ianto under his arm again.
"You'll miss my vowels," Ianto said, this time pulling Jack in. This distance thing wasn't quite doing it for him.
"Nah," Jack said, stopping them for a moment. "I've got better uses for them."
“Mmm...soon,” Ianto said, before turning away from Jack in an ambitious if slightly clumsy move.
“See, you can say a lot in two syllables,” Jack called to him.
But Ianto was now too caught up in the dizzying movements to speak any further. His head was whirling, the music was rushing past him, and his feet seemed to have minds of their own. Jack pulled him in and spun him out, and when Ianto looked at him, he looked abandoned, and perfectly controlled all at the same time, as if each carelessly flung foot somehow could hit the air or the floor at precisely the right point, without thought or intent. Ianto knew he himself didn't -- couldn't possibly -- look like that; while Jack danced, Ianto was simply being pulled along, stumbling enthusiastically, panting to keep up, and yet idiotically, terminally pleased with himself. Like he'd given in to a tornado and was now just spinning, and being swept away.
If he looked like a fool, Ianto thought as he giggled uncontrollably (there was just no other word for it), he really, truly couldn't bring himself to care.
"I've never seen you laugh so much," Jack said.
"That's 'cause you never saw me stoned in Uni," Ianto called, and Jack hoped he wouldn't be embarrassed by all this tomorrow. He shouldn't be, but it was like Ianto to be hard on himself when it came to matters of propriety, perhaps because it was, as far as Jack was beginning to suspect, entirely inorganic to him.
"You know," Jack teased, breaking it up over a couple of moves, "Everyone is looking at us."
"Good," Ianto said, and Jack barked with laughter.
Continue to Part 3