John chuckles, lifts his head from the Bar and smiles wryly. "Ah, thanks, but I can keep my head down for a bit here and head back later, none the wiser."
Then the smile becomes more genuine. "Piffy's a treat. Brilliant girl. Just, well..." he shrugs. "Demon impersonated me, married my bride, hijinx ensue." He attempts the grin-and-wink, but he's obviously exhausted. "Typical wedding, one hell of a reception. Literally."
He looks at Ianto with something dead behind his eyes. "I hear there's already a dead pool going for the poor bint."
He absentmindedly lights another cigarette. *Poof! confetti* He glares at it. "And Bar, in her joy, is starting to make me consider chainsaws and bonfires."
A new packet of Silk Cuts appears on the Bar. He lights one, suspiciously, and when he breathes in the familiar carcinogen, sighs with relief.
Ianto's smile turns gentle. "That's better than what I suspected. I thought you might have been roped into some sort of marriage to a demon bride. Too many fairy tales."
He starts at the poof of confetti and valiantly doesn't laugh, though he does lay his hand on the bar protectively. They're quite fond of each other.
John grins again. "Demon bride? Never had that one, no. Used as a sperm donor? About four times now, if you count the Big Green Guy. No,sweetheart, this is the real thing. Or as close to it as I'll likely ever get." He looks at Ianto with true fondness and maybe just the tiniest touch of regret. "I reckon that at this point, I'm entitled to it. But that just means the time bomb is ticking, innit?"
John winks and straightens up a bit. "Christ, that's enough soft sops for one day. D'ya think you can get the Bar to give me a pint? Not that I don't go for champagne, but I'd rather have a Guinness. And how's things in the alien-catching business?"
"If that's a soft sop I can't imagine what your wedding vows were like."
He lays his hand on the Bar. "The usual for us both, please, dear? It's his wedding day," he adds when Bar doesn't immediately respond.
Bar provides two pints. And a coffee.
"The alien-catching business is utterly mad," says Ianto and has a sip, "but when hasn't it been? A few days ago we stopped the world from ending in 1918."
John takes a long drink of his pint and sighs happily. "Well, thanks for getting the job done before I had to take care of it," he grins. Then laughs quietly. "We were married in a church, can you believe it? Cathoic rite. Her dad insisted. I thought I was going to be struck dead at the altar."
He takes a photo from his pocket and passes it to Ianto. It's of a woman in her early 20s with long black hair cut in a fringe over her forehead. Her eyes are striking blue. She's wearing a red hoodie and a striped scarf and standing in front of a pub. And she's smiling like a kid in a toy shop.
"Dispensation? Not bloody likely," he snorts. "I think I mentioned something about a demon impersonating me, din't I? Beat me near to death, too. Was a hell of a time getting out of that mess."
He blows a line of smoke from his cigarette, pondering a bit. "How did we meet? Let's just say I met her when I was doing a job for her dad. The mob boss," he chuckles. "Now he gets a son-in-law who can make one half of London piss themselves, and I have a father-in-law who can do the same for the other half. Win-win, innit?"
"And oh," he adds with a wry grin, "I was having you on about the Catholic rite. Just wanted to see your face."
"Well done, me china," John says, toasting Ianto with his pint. "You should be on stage, s'truth." After another pause, he asks, "So you and your boss, that still on?"
There's absolutely no bitterness in that remark. Water under the bridge, it seems.
Here's a Ianto, looking at Constantine as if he doesn't quite make sense.
"Got in a fight at a wedding, did we?"
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"Congratulations. Do you need a place to hole up for a while?"
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Oh, and that left hand? It's missing a thumb.
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He gives John's hand a little pat. "You're always welcome in Cardiff.
"Want to tell me about it or shall I just get you a Bushmills and Guiness and dull the pain first?"
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Then the smile becomes more genuine. "Piffy's a treat. Brilliant girl. Just, well..." he shrugs. "Demon impersonated me, married my bride, hijinx ensue." He attempts the grin-and-wink, but he's obviously exhausted. "Typical wedding, one hell of a reception. Literally."
He looks at Ianto with something dead behind his eyes. "I hear there's already a dead pool going for the poor bint."
He absentmindedly lights another cigarette. *Poof! confetti* He glares at it. "And Bar, in her joy, is starting to make me consider chainsaws and bonfires."
A new packet of Silk Cuts appears on the Bar. He lights one, suspiciously, and when he breathes in the familiar carcinogen, sighs with relief.
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He starts at the poof of confetti and valiantly doesn't laugh, though he does lay his hand on the bar protectively. They're quite fond of each other.
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"Don't say that. Fate's a tosser and you've earned some happiness."
Tiniest touch of regret there, too.
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He lays his hand on the Bar. "The usual for us both, please, dear? It's his wedding day," he adds when Bar doesn't immediately respond.
Bar provides two pints. And a coffee.
"The alien-catching business is utterly mad," says Ianto and has a sip, "but when hasn't it been? A few days ago we stopped the world from ending in 1918."
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He takes a photo from his pocket and passes it to Ianto. It's of a woman in her early 20s with long black hair cut in a fringe over her forehead. Her eyes are striking blue. She's wearing a red hoodie and a striped scarf and standing in front of a pub. And she's smiling like a kid in a toy shop.
"Here she is," he says proudly.
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He takes the photo and smiles at the sight of the girl's face. "She's beautiful. How'd you meet?"
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He blows a line of smoke from his cigarette, pondering a bit. "How did we meet? Let's just say I met her when I was doing a job for her dad. The mob boss," he chuckles. "Now he gets a son-in-law who can make one half of London piss themselves, and I have a father-in-law who can do the same for the other half. Win-win, innit?"
"And oh," he adds with a wry grin, "I was having you on about the Catholic rite. Just wanted to see your face."
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Which isn't very, for he is Ianto.
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There's absolutely no bitterness in that remark. Water under the bridge, it seems.
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