Ianto was not looking forward to working the day after Gwen's wedding. Not only had he cleaned up the mess of the day before and had gotten a ridiculously small amount of sleep, but Jack had moped all throughout the evening and probably into the morning.
It was understandable, of course. Weddings—any wedding, really, but probably more so because it was Gwen's—made him nostalgic, and Ianto tried to respect that. Still, it was undeniably hard when his boss-friend-lover-boyfriend-something moped over someone else, even if Ianto had been told by Jack himself that there was nothing there.
It was one thing to hear a reassurance, and quite another to see a contradiction to that.
So even though Ianto was mentally confident, he felt emotionally shaken, not to mention physically exhausted. The Hub was the last place he wanted to be, not because he wanted to avoid Jack on a personal level, but because there would definitely be a Rift alert and a save-the-world-even-though-we're-understaffed situation.
So, yeah, maybe it was petty or cowardly or whatever other label his conscience decided to put on it, but Ianto had allowed himself a lie-in that morning, and when he was coming up to the tourist office, it was almost midday.
Ianto straightened his suit, adjusted his tie, and pressed the red button to open the Hub. Both Tosh and Owen were already there, but they were sitting and talking on the couch, clearly not working. Ianto waved a "Hello" at them and went to make coffee for himself and Jack—Tosh now got a coffee on the way in, courtesy of Owen.
As the coffee machine was brewing, Ianto leaned on the counter behind him and looked up at Jack's office. He couldn't see Jack clearly, but what he could see showed that Jack wasn't doing any work.
For a brief moment, Ianto dared to think that the Rift would behave and the day would be quiet.
With a small chuckle, Ianto shook his head and turned back to the coffee, pouring it into two cups and making his way up to Jack's office.
Jack looked up when he came in, flashing him a wide smile and beckoning him over. Ianto put the coffees on the desk, but didn't sit down; he didn't know if Jack was still moping, and Jack was always unpredictable when he was.
Jack took an appreciative sip of his drink, then noticed Ianto standing, and smiled once more. "Good morning, Ianto."
"Good morning, Jack."
He had been right in thinking that Jack had not been doing any work. Sure, there was paperwork in front of him, no doubt from the romantic fiasco that had been Gwen's wedding, but he hadn't even started filling it out.
Ianto knew that it would be hard—Jack had told him as much the previous night, when they'd agreed to spend the night separately to work through their individual issues—but that was no reason to keep avoiding it. He raised an eyebrow at Jack, who gave him a guilty grimace.
"I'll get to it, promise."
"I know." Ianto smiled at him. "Just don't keep it for too long; the sooner you get it over with, the better."
"Yeah, I know."
Ianto wasn't sure if he should stay. He and Jack usually drank coffee together in the morning, either working or talking, but he didn't know if Jack would want to sulk in solitude—if he should let him—or if he wanted to forget about the pain and nostalgia that Gwen's wedding had resurrected.
He took a careful sip of his coffee and waited for Jack to have the first word, unsure if it was a good idea to do so. He perched on the desk when Jack didn't say anything, watching him drink his coffee with orgasmic pleasure.
Ianto mildly took another sip of his own coffee. "Would—"
"Stay here?" Jack looked up at him. "Please? Like… like you usually do?" He chuckled lightly. "I might even get the paperwork done."
"Yeah, alright." Ianto grinned. "I'll just get my papers."
He turned to leave, but Jack yelled after him, "Your coffee's going to get cold!"
Ianto rolled his eyes. Behind him, he knew, Jack was pouting. "I suppose you want me to stay and finish it?"
"Yes."
He turned around. "Alright, then."
There were two seats in Jack's office for visitors: the chair across from his desk and his lap. The second was a seat only open to Ianto, and he only used it during downtime. As he walked over to the desk, Jack pushed the empty papers away and nodded towards his lap.
Ianto moved around the desk and lowered himself into Jack's lap, letting Jack put an arm around his waist as they continued drinking their coffee, exchanging slow kisses every few minutes.
They finished their coffees, and though it would have been nice to just sit there—or do something else, Ianto wasn't too picky—they needed to have the paperwork in triplicate: for the Torchwood Three Archives, for the Torchwood House Archives, and for the UNIT/Torchwood online Archive. It was a long and annoying job, especially because each team member needed to fill out separate paperwork and the first two forms were hard copies.
Doing paperwork was only a therapeutic task if the subject at hand wasn't emotionally difficult. As it was, there were only a few things about Gwen's wedding that Ianto had enjoyed, and he knew that Jack shared the sentiment.
He left Jack with a languid kiss and quickly walked out of the office, depositing the coffee cups in the kitchen sink, getting a stack of papers from his desk, and ignoring the knowing looks Tosh and Owen threw him when he walked back to Jack's office.
This time, he took his place across from Jack, putting his paperwork on the desk and starting to fill it in.
.oOo.
It was around three when Tosh knocked on one of the office windows. Jack looked up from his paperwork and nodded at her to come in. She walked closer to the desk, smiled at Ianto, and put down two folders.
Ianto raised an eyebrow. "Owen finished his report?"
"He's been known to." Tosh patted the papers down. "We're both done."
"Wow," Ianto said under his breath, exchanging an impressed smile with her. "So I assume you're here for food?"
"Yes, please."
Ianto stood up as Jack examined Tosh and Owen's papers. He grinned. "I come in late once and the masses are starving."
Tosh gave him a small smile, then beamed back at Jack as he gave her a thumbs-up. "You're a pivotal part of this organization, Ianto."
"I know."
She laughed and left the office. Ianto saw her sit on the couch next to Owen, then turned to Jack. "I know that look. What're you thinking for food?"
Jack made an innocent face, but it wasn't convincing. He put his hands together and gave Ianto his best begging face. "Donuts?"
Ianto rolled his eyes. "You'll spoil your dinner."
"That's assuming the Rift lets me have dinner." Jack looked at him. "Are you telling me you don't want donuts?"
Ianto wanted to resist. He really did. But after the day they'd had—and they'd been doing paperwork for the past few hours—he figured they deserved it. He nodded. "Alright. I'll go see what Tosh wants."
Jack grinned at him and made a shooing motion with his hands.
Ianto rolled his eyes. He left his papers on the desk, walked around it and gave Jack a small kiss on the cheek, and left the office the way Tosh had.
.oOo.
It was almost half an hour later when he returned to the Hub, carrying a box of donuts for himself and Jack, and a sandwich and soup for Tosh.
He hoped that Jack had, in his absence, finished his paperwork. It was an odd hope, but it would free up their evening, if they wanted to do something and if the Rift would let them, of course. Neither Tosh nor Owen were doing anything productive, either, non-discreetly playing Space Invaders when he passed them.
He left Tosh with her soup and sandwich and took the donuts up to Jack's office. He didn't know if they were going to all eat together in the boardroom, and given how busy Tosh and Owen were with their game, he doubted they would want to—and even if Owen was "fine" with his condition, that didn't mean he wanted to have it rubbed in.
So Ianto opened the door, walked over to the desk, and deposited the donuts in front of Jack, grinning when Jack's face lit up.
Jack was like a little kid when it came to donuts. He didn't often indulge, because even immortal heroes had to watch their figures, but when he did, Ianto was sure that the pastry shop would go out of business.
There were eight donuts and several assorted croissants in the box. Jack, just as Ianto had thought he would, reached for the biggest donut, the one covered in chocolate and sprinkles and with cream inside. He leered and proceeded to eat it in a way that probably counted as public indecency in ten countries.
Ianto rolled his eyes and took a much more humble croissant.
There were things that made him happy and things that made him laugh, just as there were things that made him cry and things that made him scream in frustration.
Sitting with Jack and watching him eat a donut fell into the first category. Memories of the previous night fell into both categories. No matter how hard he tried—and he tried very hard, because it had been Gwen's Special Day, and nothing should have gotten in the way of it—he wanted to stop moping about it, to be rid of the bitter memories, to be happy for her and Rhys.
But Jack, no matter what he was doing, managed to steal the show. Even when Ianto was watching him obscenely eat a donut, he felt a mix of emotions and remembered a mix of moments. It was annoying, to say the least, and it was with a reluctant pout that Ianto sat back into his seat.
"You okay?" Jack asked around a mouthfull of donut.
Damn, Ianto had hoped to keep his sullenness somewhat of a secret. "I'm fine."
Jack raised an eyebrow. Even with his mouth full and frosting and cream over half of his face, he managed to look imposing. He swallowed and fixed Ianto with a pointed look. "No, you're not."
Ianto felt a surge of anger. He'd had a hell of a night, getting home about an hour before sunrise, and that didn't even include his personal feelings about Jack and Gwen and Rhys and the wedding and—"No, I'm not." Ianto returned Jack's steely gaze. "But the moment I tell you about my feelings is the moment you tell me about yours."
Jack stared at him. Was he hurt? Surprised? Instead of the many things Ianto thought he'd do, Jack nodded. He was resigned. "That's fair."
"Oh." Ianto had nothing to say to that. He nodded. "I'm sorry?" he offered.
"No, it's fine." It was obviously not fine, but it seemed that the only way they'd talk to each other about feelings was if they were tied up and in danger of certain death. "It's fair."
"Yeah."
Ianto nibbled on his croissant—it suddenly didn't taste as good as before, but he couldn't do anything about that—and sat back further. Jack didn't say anything, either.
It was uncomfortable, despite the fact that silence was a frequent part of their relationship. The elephant in the room was stifling. Ianto wished it would go away. That was how they dealt with things, after all: they ignored them.
He finished his croissant and took another one. With how heavily Jack was attacking the donuts, he figured he'd allow himself this weakness, and tried not to think about going home and eating the rest of his feelings away, too.
He was getting maudlin, and Ianto never allowed that to happen before seven in the evening. He needed to cheer up, and fast, or the comfort he and Jack had recently found would go away. Ianto had never been one for settling—mostly—and he genuinely liked whatever he had with Jack, and the fact that they were both tight-lipped and too proud for their own good would probably be the end of them.
Ianto sat forward, took his pencil in hand, and continued filling in his report. Because that was how they did things: they ignored them, and eventually the problem would disappear.
When he looked up, Jack was doing the same thing, eating another donut and writing something or other.
.oOo.
Ianto rubbed his hands over his face. His watch showed it to be half past four. He'd been at the Hub for a mere five hours and he was exhausted, not to mention annoyed and hurt about the awkward silence between him and Jack.
He dared to look up over the desk, and met Jack's eyes. "Jack?"
"I'm sorry."
"Oh." It wasn't often Jack apologized; it wasn't often he did, either. Neither had much to be sorry for, but both had a lot to forgive. "I'm sorry, too."
Jack smiled warmly, then widened the smile into a lecherous grin, and the serious moment disappeared. He patted his lap. "Come here."
Ianto rolled his eyes, but stood up and sauntered over to Jack, sitting himself in his lap. When Jack went back to the paper he was reading—he hadn't been writing the report, but doing the crossword, not even looking for alien encounters—Ianto made himself comfortable.
"Hey, Ianto?" Jack said.
"Yeah?"
"What's 'god of the roses'? Four letters."
"Eros." Ianto waited for Jack to fill in the word. "Jack, why are you trying to solve the crossword?"
"There's nothing else to do."
"Nothing?" Ianto raised an eyebrow.
"Well, not nothing." Jack shrugged. He abandoned the crossword, picked up a donut from the box, and put his free arm around Ianto's waist. "But while you were out, Toshiko told me that today's going to be pretty quiet. I thought I'd brush up on my crossword skills."
Ianto nodded absently; nobody'd told him that it was going to be a 'quiet' day. He wondered what that meant. "That's nice."
"Hey, Ianto?" Jack said again after he'd filled in three more words. By then, Ianto had taken a croissant.
"Yeah?"
Jack pushed the half-finished crossword to the side, finished the donut, and leaned up to give Ianto a long kiss. It wasn't unexpected, but it was surprisingly tender, for all the strength Jack put into it.
"You know that new restaurant, Ianto?"
"Yeah." Jack only used his name so often in conversation when he wanted to be affectionate—not that he wasn't usually—and Ianto tried not to hope for too much. He nodded. "The Italian one."
"You do?"
"Yeah."
"Why?" Jack teased. "Planning on taking someone there?"
"Maybe."
"Well, tough." Jack gave him another quick kiss. "I'm taking you there. The Rift is going to be quiet for two days—Tosh told me earlier—and I'm planning on spending the day with you. What do you say we knock off and let the kids watch the Rift for the night?"
Ianto tried not to be flattered and couldn't control the warm feeling in his chest. He failed. "That's… that's actually not a bad idea. I'd like that very much, Jack."
"Alright, then." Jack gave him a light pat on the hip, telling him to stand up, before standing up as well. He snagged his coat off the stand and left the office, Ianto one pace behind him. He walked down the stairs. "Hey, kids!"
Tosh looked up from the couch. "Yes?"
"We're going out." He grabbed Ianto's coat off his chair and helped him put it on. "You're on Rift watch for the night. Go home if you want, just redirect alerts to your phones."
"Where are you going?" Owen called after them.
"Dinner!" Ianto called back.
The cog door closed behind them.
.oOo.
Jack led them to his SUV. They usually didn't use Ianto's more modest Audi in case they were unexpectedly called away—which, sadly, happened often—so when Jack stopped in his steps and Ianto almost walked into him, it was a surprise when Jack went over to Ianto's car.
"Really?" Ianto asked rhetorically; if Jack got an idea in his head, he probably wouldn't be convinced out of it. Still, it felt too much like tempting fate for his liking.
Jack turned around and put his hands on Ianto's shoulders. Flashing him a blinding grin, Jack placed a firm kiss on his forehead. "Really."
"But what if—"
"Nope."
"But—"
"Nope." Jack grinned when Ianto sighed. He kissed him again. "Nothing's going to happen. The Rift's not going to do anything. All that's going to happen is that I'm going to go to dinner with a gorgeous man that I care about."
And though he tried not to look into it too much, Ianto smiled and nodded, and allowed Jack to lead him to the car.
No matter what Owen had thought, they did do romance.
They went out to dinner, to the cinema, to the theatre. Jack spontaneously took him out for wining and dining, and Ianto did the same, although with slightly more planning. They'd even spent a weekend away once. It had been cut short by an invasion, but they'd taken an extra day off to make up for it.
They spent the night together more often than not, and even if they didn't give each other flowers or chocolate—although all bets were off for anniversaries—they were… dare he say it? In a relationship. He didn't know how to define it, but it was undeniably there.
Ianto started as Jack took a dramatic turn. The SUV might have been built for Jack's erratic driving, but Ianto's own car was used to a more gentle approach.
"Careful," he admonished, and Jack had the good grace to look sheepish.
"Sorry."
"Just… look at the road. And the traffic signs." He'd survived so much, it would be foolish to die in a car crash on the way to a romantic evening that he might be even convinced to call a date.
"Sorry."
"S'fine." Ianto couldn't believe he was falling back into his petulantness. It was hard not to, though. There was one thing he wanted, and that was to forget any difficulty that had risen between them. He'd understood that there was something between them, he had been fine with it! God, but his life was complicated sometimes.
"Hey, Ianto?"
"Eyes on the road."
"Right, sorry." A pause, and Ianto was sure he heard another car honk at them. "Ianto?"
"Yes?"
"Can you call the restaurant?" If he didn't know better, he'd say Jack was sheepish. "I think they might be booked for tonight."
Ianto rolled his eyes and tried not to be annoyed. It was always better to be prepared for dates, but this time he was almost prepared to abuse his Torchwood clearance and get them in for dinner. Thankfully, a quick call had told him that there was one free table and that it would be no problem to save it for them.
He shut his phone and grinned at Jack. "All set."
Jack let out a breath. "Good."
"Yeah."
Jack's driving got them to the restaurant in almost record time. Ianto made sure to give the car a comforting pat before letting Jack take his hand and lead him inside. There was a group of people near the entrance, talking about whether or not to have dinner there, but they passed them and went inside.
The restaurant was clearly new, with modern interior decorating that looked slightly unfinished, and Ianto felt his eyes involuntarily widen as he took in the tasteless decorations.
He didn't like it, but there was nothing he could do about it. Besides, the food was probably not going to be that bad. Ianto politely smiled at the hostess as she led them to their table, still taking in the new interior.
Jack ordered them both water and some wine—they didn't drink much when they went out, just in case they'd be called to work, save for a rare exception—which was nice, especially considering that the price of wine was considerably higher than at all the other places they'd gone to.
Then again, with several lifetimes' worth of savings, Jack could afford it; so could Ianto, but he chose to spend his money on other pleasures.
As it was, Ianto was pleased with the turn of events. They didn't often do romance, at least not in public—dancing together at Gwen's wedding had been the biggest display of affection they'd ever shown to each other, and it had been dampened by the cow eyes Jack and Gwen had been making at each other, no matter what they had actually been thinking; there was no mistaking what it had looked like—and it wasn't something Ianto had ever done. His dates with Lisa had been frequent but simple, and much less likely to be interrupted by aliens than his and Jack's.
Ianto let Jack pour them wine, and they drank to the success of Gwen's wedding. It was a slightly ironic toast, at least on Ianto's part, but he was happy for her and Rhys. When she wasn't making eyes at Jack, Gwen was a pleasant person to be around. Idealistic and myopic, yes, at times, but no less his friend because of that; they were different people, with different experiences, and Gwen cared, even if she did a bad job of showing it sometimes.
Jack nudged his foot under the table and leaned in conspiratorially when Ianto raised a questioning eyebrow. "I think they haven't finished making the menu."
"Why's that?" Ianto wondered.
"The only thing on it is pizza."
"Really?"
Jack nodded as Ianto opened his own menu. Jack was right.
The restaurant was Italian, but the pizza would have to be exceptional for it to be the only thing on the menu. And no matter how good it could be, Ianto had been looking forward to something different. There were many things they did at Torchwood, but the one that never changed was their diet: they always ordered from the many takeaway places near the Plass, and pizza was a common choice. Ianto liked pizza just as much as the next man, but that didn't mean he wanted it now.
Jack seemed to think the same thing, if the annoyed look on his face was any indication. "I didn't think it was this new."
"It's probably not permanent," Ianto said. "And what's one more pizza?"
"I wanted this to be more than just one more pizza."
"Oh." Ianto swallowed, and smiled encouragingly. "We can do that next time. And it's the thought that counts, isn't that what they say?"
"They're not always right."
"No, they're not," Ianto agreed. "But we're already here."
"Tomorrow, then," Jack promised. He so rarely promised anything, but this seemed to be something he wouldn't budge on, and Ianto found himself nodding. "Good. I promised a date, and—"
"This is a date."
"A proper date. I may not talk about it, but I do care for you. And I want to show that."
Ianto nodded, floored. Jack was right, he didn't talk. They'd talked after their first date, and after Tommy had gone back to 1918, but had both closed off after the fiasco with the space whale. They would have talked about it, in hindsight, but it had been easier to hide, and then they'd lost two days and Jack had become even more closed off.
Ianto'd been unsettled, too, but had felt the strange desire to talk, with the feeling that he and Jack shared things on a regular basis. He hated not being in control of his emotions, and wanting to talk—actually making a move towards doing so—was completely unnatural for him.
Ianto put down the wine glass and opened his mouth to reply to Jack—you're right, we don't talk, why don't we talk, you're important to me, and I—and promptly closed it.
Across from him, Jack looked alarmed. "Something's wrong."
Ianto nodded. He felt lightheaded.
Jack took his hand across the table, and leaned in again, as if about to say something sweet. "I think I recognize—"
"Are you ready to order, Sirs?" The waitress smiled at them, but now that Ianto looked carefully, he saw that it was fake.
"Just a pizza. No toppings, right, darling?"
Ianto nodded, smiling at both Jack and the waitress. They'd played happy couples before, once, undercover, and when she left, Ianto didn't break character. "What does it do?" he asked, because it couldn't be anything good; he still felt faint.
"It lowers inhibitions," Jack said quietly. "Supposed to, anyway. It's the closest humans have ever gotten to a truth serum. I just don't know if they got the dosage right, it's tricky with humans, but if they didn't—and I don't know, because the whole point is that it's sudden—it works like a—"
Sedative, Ianto's mind supplied, right before his eyes closed.
.oOo.
Awareness came back relatively quickly, which Ianto was thankful for; he wasn't a big fan of sedatives, but at least the headache was mild.
His hands were tied behind his back and his ankles were bound, but he wasn't gagged. Ianto hated being gagged.
Ianto turned his head and could see Jack, next to him, making the same observations, then heard his name being called.
"I'm okay."
"Good."
Ianto turned again so he could look at Jack. "What happened?"
"The doses were wrong."
"I gathered. But that doesn't explain why I'm tied up in a cellar, not passed out on a table."
"How'd you know it's a cellar?"
"It's always a cellar."
Jack nodded. "They brought us here."
"They?"
"The aliens, but I don't know anything else. I passed out right when they came to the table. My guess is that they're masquerading as the waitstaff and were trying to drug us into giving something up. I just don't know what."
Ianto grunted as he sat up. "So all we have to do is get out, find out what we're dealing with, stop it, and clean up before anyone catches on."
Jack nodded. "Don't try to get the ropes off. I'm almost out, and it takes less time for my thumb to heal than yours. Besides, they're frayed."
Ianto nodded. He didn't like sitting there while Jack was almost free, but he had a point: where Jack's thumb would be back to normal within the hour after dislocation, Ianto's would take days to fully heal. It took Jack less than a minute to get his hands free—he brandished the rope with a triumphant grin—and he untied his feet, commenting on the poor conditions of the knots and ropes.
Ianto's ropes were sturdier, however, and the knots tighter, as if someone else had tied him up. He had stayed true to his word and hadn't tried to get free, which hadn't been the best idea—just as Jack finished untying his hands, the door opened.
"Trying to get free, are you?"
Ianto rolled his eyes. Though the speaker was standing in the shadows, and Ianto couldn't see him clearly, he was certain of two things: the man was trying to be suave, and failing, and it wasn't a man at all.
"Blowfish," Jack whispered.
Ianto nodded.
"How nice of you to join us, Captain." The blowfish smiled.
Ianto rolled his eyes again, and Jack just sighed. With Ianto still tied up and knowing that the blowfish had backup, they couldn't do anything. They weren't complacent about it, but both knew how to pick battles. Besides, it would give them a chance to find out what was going on—if there was one good thing about blowfish, it was that they acted like fictional villains.
The blowfish made a courteous gesture, and said, "I hope you won't take it too hard that we're going to tie you up again?"
They were taken to a pair of chairs that stood back to back, and told to sit, then were promptly tied up again, their hands behind the backs of the chairs—probably because there wasn't a lot of rope—and their legs tied to the legs of the chairs. It was a harder position to escape from, but Ianto had no doubt that they would.
He felt Jack testing the ropes, but focused on the movement of the blowfish and the people it was ordering around. It said something about Cardiff, Ianto thought, that aliens didn't faze large groups of the general public anymore. The people didn't even look scared, just subservient, and the blowfish reveled in the attention it was receiving.
Ianto wasn't impressed, and not just because the blowfish's suit was clearly of low quality. He and Jack had been brought to the centre of operations. Now that he focused, Ianto could see several computers in the corner, next to crates of—he could tell from the conversation—the drug he and Jack had fallen victim to.
With his back to Jack, who was in no position to observe, Ianto couldn't tell what he was doing. Their only point of contact was the tips of their fingers. Jack tested the ropes again, and Ianto kept watching and listening—all the equipment, except the weapons, was out in the open, and the conversation wasn't hushed.
Jack again tried the ropes, but they were stronger than before, and Ianto felt him get nowhere. Part of him wondered if he should be trying to get free, too, but Jack had expressly told him not to—the subtle shake of the head when they'd been sat down.
Ianto couldn't disobey Jack's direct order, not in the field and not when it would probably do nothing. He challenged Jack back at the Hub—they all did—and strayed from orders when the situation called for it, but Jack was the first authority in any situation, and he was a good leader, for all his shortcomings.
Unarmed as they currently were, they couldn't outright attack. At best, Jack would be killed and Ianto would only get injured. In the worse scenario, they would both die.
Ianto watched the blowfish and its—he refused to call them henchmen, and they were all humans—left the room, and felt Jack double his efforts to get free.
"No luck?" Ianto asked needlessly.
Jack grunted. "They're too tight. At this rate, I should just cut my hand off, I've already lost circulation."
Ianto swore. "Can I try, then?"
"I can get them. I don't want you hurt."
"I still have circulation," Ianto pointed out. He did so calmly, since arguing with Jack made him either maudlin or aggressive. "Besides, what's a minor injury when—"
"Ianto." It was an order, one Ianto instantly obeyed. But when Jack spoke again, he was gentle: "Minor injuries add up. I can't have you getting hurt if it can easily be me. I can't lose you, Ianto—"
"You're not losing me! This can't just be about the semantics of… I don't even know." He exhaled quickly. "And me dislocating my thumb to get free has nothing to do with you losing me—"
"Yes, it does. You're important to me—very important to me—and I don't like it when you get hurt, especially when it's avoidable. And it's not only because you're a valuable asset in the field, it's because I—"
"Now's not the time, Jack."
"Well, when is the time, then?" He didn't raise his voice, just became more convicted. "You accused me of not talking, and you're right, it goes both ways. I think you understand me—you do—but I can't help but feel like sometimes you completely miss the mark, but it's actually just me."
"Jack—"
"Let me do this!" Jack sounded like he wanted to yell, but kept his voice down. "I know you all think that there's something going on with Gwen, but there's not, not anymore, not for a long time, and I know—"
"Jack, please!"
"I'm not just saying this because of the drug, either. The truth-forcing effect wears off after you pass out. Everything I'm saying, I'm saying because I want to, because I—"
"They can come back any minute." Ianto closed his eyes and tugged—and no matter how often he had to do it, dislocating his thumb hurt—and was happy for the distraction the pain provided.
"Ianto?"
"I'm fine. Just give me a second."
"I—"
"Less confessions, more escaping."
Ianto didn't dwell on the silence that followed his statement—confessions of what?—and let the rope fall from his hands before bending down to untie his feet.
He slipped off the chair and untied Jack, too, wincing when he felt how cold Jack's hands were. They waited a moment as Jack regained feeling and circulation in his hands, and Ianto tried to find his suit jacket and Jack's coat.
They had no weapons there—they were in Ianto's car, because they'd thought it would be safe—but Ianto knew Jack's coat was important to him. But they weren't in the room.
Meanwhile, Jack was looking through the crates, his earlier sentimentality forgotten in the face of danger.
"There's more of it in here," he said what they both knew. "And notes on dosage, too. Looks like they were off by three microliters."
"Good for us, then," Ianto said. He leaned over one of the computers—still turned on, amateurs—and opened several documents. "They didn't say much about the details when they were still here, but I heard the blowfish say that he smuggled the drug here and had the people recreate it."
"And because the blowfish are proud bastards, it thought that they got it right on the first try?" Jack guessed.
Ianto nodded. "They put it into play without testing it, and here we are."
"And here we are," Jack echoed. "But why? Why do they want or need to drug people with a truth serum?"
"Money."
"Money?"
"Yes." Ianto glanced over the document he had pulled up. "It's in the most expensive things—"
"Like the wine."
"Exactly." He straightened up. "The idea was to get bank account information out of very rich people."
"And because the serum doesn't work unless someone is provoked into answering, it was low-risk."
Ianto groaned in annoyance. "Why is it always money?"
Jack shrugged. "Greed is one of the few things time and space can't answer for."
"At least they left your wriststrap on. Can you get the door?"
Jack tried, then turned back and shook his head. "Disabled."
"That's why they left it with you." Ianto swore. "If they have tech to disable that, what else do they have?"
"I don't know." Jack shook his head. "Maybe nothing, maybe a whole cache of things. Do they have records?"
"None of tech, no. None of weapons, either, but they were talking about arming themselves earlier, so they must have some somewhere." In that respect, at least, they had managed to be secretive.
Jack was frowning, and went to examine the door. "We can try to kick it," he said dubiously.
"Wait," Ianto said. He'd helped Gwen with her hair at the wedding, he remembered, and had accidentally pocketed some of the unused hairpins. He'd planned on returning them to her desk that morning, but was pretty sure he'd forgotten, so maybe they would still be in his pocket. Victory. "Can you pick the lock?"
"Oh, yes!" Jack swooped in for the hairpin and quickly landed a kiss onto Ianto's lips.
Ianto wanted to say something about this not being the time or place—because it wasn't—but didn't. Instead, he made sure he had the few documents on the computer committed to memory, and joined Jack at the door.
"The other people are in the wine cellar," Ianto said quietly. "Unhurt. They had to put them somewhere, and apparently taking over upscale restaurants comes in handy when one needs many storage spaces."
"Unhurt?" Jack asked.
"For now. They said that the restaurant was so new, they couldn't afford bad publicity—I suppose that a ton of people disappearing counts as bad publicity—and were going to pressure them into promoting it."
"Great. So… free the people, get the blowfish, retcon everyone, report the henchmen to the police?"
Ianto cringed. "Why does it have to be henchmen?"
"Because our life is a bad spy movie."
Ianto sighed. "That's the plan, then. Weapons?"
"None."
"Preparation?"
"None."
"Chance of success?"
"With us doing it? Perfect."
"Great."
And Ianto followed Jack out of the room. He had complete faith in the Captain, what with his tendency to manipulate luck—that only sometimes went very wrong—so he was only mildly surprised when they almost immediately stumbled onto the blowfish and its henchmen.
They were in the main dining room, right near the entrance, so Jack and Ianto arranged themselves on either side of the doorway.
The blowfish was seated at the head of a large table in the middle of the room, the people in various positions around it. Most of them looked pleased to be there; a few looked scared. Ianto figured that they had been forced into being there. It happened sometimes, and Ianto knew what to do with them: keep them alive, then retcon. The others would be receiving various criminal charges and would be handed over to the police.
All of them, however, both victims and volunteers, were listening. And so was Ianto.
"Capture the Captain," the blowfish was saying. "He can't do anything without the Vortex Manipulator, and once we get him to talk, it will be a major asset. Think about it: the leader of Torchwood. It's a glorious opportunity. The dosage was, of course, wrong—" it broke off and glared at the people, who were properly chagrined, if not outright terrified—"but the Captain will provide a suitable lab rat."
Ianto heard Jack suck in a breath. It was a sound plan, he had to admit, if not for the initial dosage inaccuracy. The second mistake had been made the moment Jack had been threatened.
"Oh," the blowfish continued, "and kill the boy."
"Not on my watch, you aren't," Jack whispered.
Ianto rolled his eyes.
.oOo.
In the end, everything had happened to plan: a combination of quick thinking, good survival instincts, and sheer luck.
Ianto was on the phone with Kathy Swanson, who took a lot more pleasure in hearing from him than she did from Jack. Within minutes, Kathy herself was there, along with several police cars, and Ianto gladly handed over the human culprits and victims—all already retconned, of course.
They stayed for about ten more minutes for administrative purposes, then returned to Ianto's car. Jack had his coat back, now, and Ianto his suit jacket, both having been down in the wine cellar with the other prisoners.
It had been all too easy, and not only in hindsight. Jack hadn't bothered with anything dramatic, locking the doors of the dining room while the blowfish was monologuing, giving Ianto time to run to his car and get their guns.
There had been no casualties, or even a fight; despite their ineptness at being villains, the blowfish and his henchmen had known when they were beaten.
After Gwen's wedding, it was a refreshing victory.
Ianto got behind the wheel and started the drive back to his flat. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jack move.
"We didn't even get that pizza," Jack said regretfully.
"Order one, then."
Jack rummaged in his pockets for his phone. "You know, this isn't how I imagined the evening going."
Ianto laughed. "Really?"
Jack nodded. "I didn't think there would be pizza. I also didn't think it would be midnight."
Ianto nodded as he pulled the car to a stop next to the pizza place they usually ordered from. "At least it all worked out."
It had, and not like it had at Gwen's wedding, with the DJ dead and all the guests retconned. That was no wedding, not even for Torchwood; normal was relative and far from perfect, but Gwen and Rhys deserved their happiness.
Ianto listened to Jack order their pizza over the phone, watched him turn around and say, "It'll be twenty-five minutes," and didn't respond with anything but a nod.
The adrenaline of the evening's excitement had worn away, making Ianto realize how tired he was. Now that he thought about it, the excitement hadn't been substantial enough to warrant his exhaustion, and what he was really feeling was the previous night.
There was no escaping the feelings or memories—not that Ianto would want to, because the good outweighed the bad, in the end: Gwen got married, Tosh and Owen seemed to be finally getting somewhere, he and Jack had gotten to dance together.
Granted, it had just been awkward shuffling—and Jack had been moping—but it would still be filed under 'good', at least after the hurt would ebb away.
But for the moment, the hurt was still there—even if Jack had told him it wasn't about Gwen, his actions had been so much louder, and it wasn't just the one time, no matter how hard Ianto tried to believe him—and Ianto didn't know what to do about it.
He could try talking, he supposed. Leading by example, encouraging Jack to talk to him, too. But Jack had talked to him, back in the cellar, and now Ianto was hiding. What did one do with feelings? Why did they have to be so painful when they were harbingers of happiness?
"I meant what I said back there, you know," Jack said suddenly, startling him. "It may not have been the best time or place, but it was all truth."
Ianto nodded. "It wasn't. The best time or place, I mean. But I believe you."
"Good." Jack smiled hesitantly. "I want this to work, no matter how terrifying it is. And I admit that I…"
Ianto looked at him as he trailed off, but Jack made no move to say anything else. It was Ianto's turn then; it was an instinct to stay silent, and he knew he had to overcome that.
"We're not perfect," he said. Jack nodded. "And I agree. Nothing is going to happen without conscious effort on both our sides, not with our circumstances."
"I know that, too."
"Now we just need to actually do it."
"Which is easier said than done," Ianto agreed. "But It's not like we don't talk. We do, we just need to be better at it."
"I don't love her like that, you know," Jack said after a short pause. "Gwen. I'm not saying that you're jealous or anything, but Owen asked me once if I did, because it seemed that way. And I'm not. I told him, and I'm telling you. I need you to know that. I need you to know that I… well."
"I know that," Ianto said. "I know all of that, but it's sometimes hard to see it that way. And I hate that. I don't want anything to happen because of a problem that isn't there. But it's hard to see the contradiction between what you say and what you do. I know I'm not anywhere near perfect—"
"But—"
"I've betrayed you three times."
"But you've never made me doubt the sincerity of your feelings for me. I'll say it if you want, you know. I'll say it now, if you want me to, and mean it no less than I would at any other time."
Ianto shook his head. "You don't need to."
"So does that mean we're okay?" Jack asked quietly, like he was letting Ianto make the choice by himself; he probably was, given his martyr complex.
It would have been easy to blame Jack—but he didn't. He took a deep breath and let his hands drop into his lap, then faced Jack. "Yes. And you've said your bit; let me say mine?"
Jack nodded.
"I care about you, too," he said plainly, and watched Jack smile: it had been the truth. "A lot. More than I should, probably, but that's just how it is. I don't know what to say beyond that or anything we've already said."
"So we try, then?"
"Yes. And we succeed." Ianto took his hand with a smile.
It hadn't been a harrowing thought, instead surprisingly uplifting. Not for the first time, he felt secure about their relationship—but more secure, now, because he knew. They were far from perfect, but they were getting there.
Twenty-five minutes had passed, and they both left the car to get it, having nonverbally agreed to keep their hands linked.
Minutes later, with the pizza in the back of the car and having saved the world not an hour previously, they were again driving to Ianto's flat.
Together.