The First Date - 2/3
It took 3 hours, but Tosh and Ianto finally settled on a suit. Frankly, Tosh was exhausted. The son of a master tailor, Ianto had exacting standards and nearly drove Tosh crazy. After the third store, she was ready to steal his car and leave him arguing with the clerk over the dangers of dry versus home cleaning. One look in his desperate eyes, however, was enough to keep her from banging her head against the wall. Finally, he settled on a dark grey Gabardine wool with a matching silk waistcoat and dark blue shirt, lightened by a pale silver silk tie. The suit clung in all the right places, emphasizing his narrow waist and tight buttocks. Frankly, Tosh would have had him right there on the dressing room floor. She settled for using that image as entertainment later that night. She deserved some fun after spending the better part of the afternoon endlessly listening to fabric critiques, after all.
At seven that night, Ianto was sitting on his sofa. He’d been dressed for over an hour and was terrified that he’d spill something on his suit. He couldn’t figure out why he was so nervous; it wasn’t like he and Jack had just met or something. Still, his palms kept sweating, and he was sure Jack’d find something to cause him to back out. He was just about to try calling Jack’s mobile to make sure they were still on when three knocks came from the door. Ianto stood up too quickly, tripping over his own feet and landing face first on the carpet. Shaking his head and muttering to himself about acting like a schoolgirl, he quickly jogged to the door.
He opened it to reveal a black suit-clad Jack Harkness. Jack stared at Ianto, gaze going from his feet, up his legs, and finally across his chest. He inhaled deeply and wiped his own sweaty palms on the lining of his pockets. Then he saw Ianto’s face and frowned.
Ianto looked back confused. “What? Not good enough?”
Jack cupped Ianto’s face with his hand, and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. He placed it against Ianto’s nose and guided the younger man inside. When he finally pulled the fabric away, Ianto saw that part of it was splattered with blood.
Touching his nose and wincing at the soreness, Ianto swore quietly. Jack raised an eyebrow, to which Ianto responded, “Tripped. Don’t ask, it’ll be fine. At least I didn’t get anything on the suit.”
After waiting a few tense minutes for the blood to stop, Ianto washed his face in the bathroom. When he returned to the sitting room, he saw Jack kneeling by the few drops of blood that had hit the carpet. Jack was running his hand over them, his face twisted.
Ianto dropped to his knees beside him. “Jack?” he asked quietly. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s just….It reminds me of something that happened on the Valiant.”
Ianto sighed and nodded. Perfect way to start date night, this was. Remind the man you want to sleep with of the year he was tortured.
“I’m sorry Ianto,” Jack said, suddenly cupping Ianto’s face with his hands. He placed a hungry kiss against Ianto’s lips, to which Ianto happily responded. “Come on, let’s get out of here. I’ve got all night planned for us.”
Once in Ianto’s Mini, Jack took the driver’s seat and blindfolded Ianto. Ianto humored him, sighing theatrically. He tried to ask Jack where they were going, but Jack ignored him and started singing his own version of the ‘40’s Greatest Hits. Loudly. And off-key. Ianto figured if he stopped talking, maybe Jack would stop singing. It didn’t work.
The car ride was mercifully short, and Ianto imagined they would be in some 5-Star restaurant. Or, at least, something with a relatively decent Zagat rating. When Jack opened the door and led the still-blindfolded Ianto across a road and up a flight of stairs, Ianto began to get concerned. All the decent date-night restaurants he knew were on the first floor. Jack’d better not be taking him to the roof. The man may be good on roofs, but Ianto figured he’d waited long enough for sex and deserved to be treated to something with walls. And heat. Cardiff in January was cold, after all, and Ianto was nothing if not a lover of modern conveniences like heat and indoor plumbing. Hence the aversion to camping, man-eating cannibals not withstanding.
Finally Jack pulled off the blindfold, and it took Ianto a minute for his eyes to adjust. They were standing in a run-down flat’s small dining room. The paint was chipped and peeling, there were no lights (thankfully, there was heat due to the fireplace on the right), and a very large Italian man was standing in the kitchen doorway with a butcher’s knife. Ianto’d had enough of large men and knives and, despite Jack’s presence and the rational part of his mind telling him there was no way Jack’d hooked up with cannibals, he turned and tried to flee. Jack caught his arm and pulled him back, turning him around to face the Italian-could-be-cannibal.
“Ianto,” Jack began, “This is Giuseppe Praino. I knew his grandfather when we fought in Italy in the War. Giuseppe’s a chef and is going to be cooking for us tonight.”
“Capitan Harkness,” Giuseppe began, “I have everything ready. If you’ll take your seats, I can begin the service.” With that, Giuseppe went back into the kitchen, and Ianto could hear him rattling around.
He turned to Jack. “What the hell, Jack?”
Jack had the grace to look sheepish. “I, uh, couldn’t get a reservation at the places I wanted to take you. Back when I worked per diem for Torchwood, I lived here. Haven’t been back in a few years, but the kitchen still works. I called Giuseppe and he said he’d do something special for us. Saved his grandfather’s life back in the War, so his family’s decided to overlook the fact that I can’t die. Giuseppe’s always trying to pay me back.”
Ianto took a step away from Jack and actually looked around. Despite the lack of lights, the room was enveloped in a glow of candles and the light from the fire. There was a small table covered in an old white cloth. Three candles of different sizes sat in the middle, surrounded by old, cracked china. Behind the table was a large window, also surrounded by candles; Ianto could see the stars reflected off the water. From behind him came the soft music of a string quartet. He turned and smirked; Jack had finally figured out how to work the portable CD player he’d bought him last Christmas.
When Jack stepped over to Ianto, he was truly nervous. Ianto just smiled and drew Jack in for a kiss. They were interrupted by a cough from a soup-bearing Giuseppe.
“Sweet Potato soup with fresh crème,” Giuseppe said, setting the bowls on the table and filling the glasses with a strong dose of champagne. He nodded and returned to his cooking.
At first, Jack had expected the night to be uncomfortable, with Ianto asking questions and demanding answers. He should have known better. Not once did Ianto push for anything. Jack was a bit confused, convinced that the man who had (and hopefully would again in a few hours) shared his bed, deserved the right to at least ask. Despite already hearing the tale from the Doctor, Jack figured Ianto would ask a few follow-up questions. Then Jack remembered that, even before he’d left, he and Ianto had never asked each other about their lives.
Instead of focusing on how little they truly knew about one another, they laughed and told stories, Jack telling of his time in the Time Agency, and Ianto of all the things that had happened while Jack was away. He took particular relish in the time Owen had conducted an autopsy only to be sprayed with purple fluid. It took a week before the splotches finally faded, and for a month, Owen refused to conduct any more autopsies without wearing a HazMat suit.
It wasn’t until dessert that things took a heated turn. Jack was pleasantly warm from the champagne, wine, and fire. Either that, or the intoxicating smell of Ianto’s spicy cologne.
He watched in fascination as Ianto deftly swiped his tongue across the spoon, licking the remains of the chocolate ganache. Jack took one of Ianto’s hands in his, and leaned over to lick a spot of chocolate from Ianto’s lips.
Keeping their faces close together, Jack whispered, “May I have this dance, Mr. Jones?”
Ianto swallowed and nodded. Jack guided him to the open area near the fire, and wrapped an arm around Ianto’s waist, pulling him in flush with his body. As they began a foxtrot in time to the music, Jack leaned in closer and asked, “So, Mr. Jones, after tonight, may I see you tomorrow as well? I know it’s your day off, but maybe a picnic in the park?”
Ianto pulled back and smiled. “I’d like that, Jack, but I have plans tomorrow.”
Jack raised an eyebrow. “What plans? There’s nothing on your calendar.”
Ianto chuckled. “That’s my work calendar, Jack, and I stress the word ‘work’. My appointment is non-work related.”
Jack stopped Ianto from dancing. “What, then, a doctor? Are you sick? You could just see Owen.”
“I’m not sick Jack and it’s not a doctor. It’s just an appointment. Now dance with me, you infuriating man, then take me home and fuck me.”
“If it’s not a doctor, then what is it? Is there someone else? I was gone a while, I know, and I’m sure you weren’t celibate”
“Are you implying that I sleep around, Jack?”
“What? No. Wait, you could have. If you wanted. I mean, it’s your life an all. I wouldn’t have cared. Could do now if you wanted, too. I could watch.”
Ianto ground his teeth. He was getting frustrated. Apparently Jack thought he was an easy whore. That really hurt. Ianto tried to live up to Jack’s expectations, even when he was away, and here Jack was basically saying he wouldn’t have cared if Ianto’s slept with half of Cardiff. Why did Jack have to know what he was doing? He’d never cared about Ianto’s life before. “Sleeping around, Jack? I thought that was what you did!”
“Ianto…” Jack began.
“It doesn’t matter Jack. Just let it go.”
“Uh-huh. If it’s just an appointment, why won’t you tell me who it’s with?”
“Because it doesn’t matter! God Jack, just let it go!”
Suddenly Jack’s temper and jealousy flared. He was trying, legitimately trying, with Ianto, and Ianto wouldn’t return the favor. “Why the hell should I let it go, huh? I come back…from travelling with a Time Lord….and you still won’t tell me anything! You just want a fuck!”
“That’s not true! And why the hell should I tell you anything when you tell me nothing either? Pot and Kettle, Jack. I don’t ask about your life and you don’t ask about mine. That’s how we’ve always been!”
“But we’re different now! I came back for you!”
Ianto sighed and left Jack’s arms. He reached for his coat, pulling it on, and started for the door. “You had to go and screw tonight up, didn’t you? Everything was going fine.”
“Ianto!” Jack called, reaching for his arm. “Where are you going?”
“Home, Jack,” Ianto said rubbing his face and taking his keys from Jack’s greatcoat’s pocket. “When you’ve decided to calm the fuck down, give me a call. I’ll call you a cab to take you back to the Hub.”
“You can’t go now. We’re on a date! What happened to trying something new?”
Ianto lent against the doorframe. “Trying something new? You can back for me? Answer this, Jack, did you ask me out before or after you found out Gwen was engaged?”
Jack’s jaw dropped. “What?” he stuttered.
Ianto chuckled sadly. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. You only asked me out ‘cause she was taken. I can deal with it just being sex, Jack. God, I’m 24 and a Torchwood employee. Statistically, I’ll be dead before I’m thirty. I can deal with it just being sex for the next five years or however long it is till I die or you leave with the Doctor again or you wind up with another of your psychopathic exes or heroes from 1941. But don’t lie to me, Jack. For the love of god, don’t lie to me and try to convince me that this is anything more than it ever was.”
As Ianto started down the building hallway, Jack ran after him. “Ianto, wait, please! We need to talk about this!”
Jack was, understandably, surprised when he was thrown against the wall.
“No, Jack, we really don’t!” Ianto ground out. “You left. You fucking left. For a while I thought….that kiss…But I lied to myself about us. I’m sorry Gwen’s gone and I’m sorry you’re stuck with me, but don’t you dare lie to me about what’s going on with us. I can take your flirting and your jealousy, but don’t you dare lie!”
Jack swallowed audibly. Ianto didn’t relax his grip.
“I…I do care for Gwen, Ianto. But-“ Jack tried to say.
Ianto just shook his head and released Jack. Slumping his shoulders, he walked outside and got in his car, driving away.