"Hey."

Ianto woke, marginally, snuggled in the big, cushy bed, surrounded by dove-grey, goose-down pillows and duvet. For a moment he wondered where he was. The old, upscale converted warehouse loft with exposed brick and ductwork and massive bare windows was nothing familiar.

Following the finger gently stroking his cheek back to the source of the sound that had woken him clarified things. The night before had been… exceptional. He guessed this was the 'time to go' part, though, and blinked his eyes, trying to force himself not to slide back into sleep in the comfort of the fluffy bed.

"Shh. Don't get up yet," Jack said quietly. "I just wanted to let you know that I have to run out for a few minutes. Sleep as long as you want, ok? There's a cup of tea on the kitchen counter for you whenever you get up. Kettle's all ready, just switch it on. I shouldn't be too long, but don't really know how long this is gonna take."

"Uh. Ok," Ianto said, trying to process whatever it was Jack was telling him. The main point he got was that he wasn't being kicked out yet, so that was useful. Letting his still sleepy eyes close, he missed Jack's smile.

Jack paused, then skirted around the end of the bed to reach into his closet. He draped his dressing gown over Ianto, covering his exposed arm and shoulder, then leaned in to kiss his cheek. "Rest well, Ianto Jones. If you're up before I'm back, anything you find edible in the fridge is all yours. And, uh… if you leave before I'm back, uh… just pull the door shut behind you. It'll lock itself."

"Ok," Ianto mumbled. Then something occurred to him. "Jack? Do you, um, would you prefer me to be gone before you're back?"

Jack shook his head. "No, I wouldn't prefer it. But I don't want to hold you up, either. Like I said… dunno how long this is gonna take. Work thing. Could be ten minutes, could be two hours." He snorted. "Hell, could be two days. But you can stay as long as you like, ok?"

"Ok."

Jack turned, again, to go but stopped in the doorway and glanced back. Goddesses, the man in his bed was beautiful! He wished to hell he didn't have to rush out first thing. An extra hour or so curled up around that warm body would do him a lot of good. "Ianto?"

"Yeah?" Ianto murmured, nearly asleep again.

"If you aren't here when I get back… would it be ok if I call you again some time?"

The warmth that spread through Ianto had nothing to do with goose-down. "Yeah. Anytime." Trying to hide his own grin, Ianto missed Jack's blinding smile.

"Ok, great. Gotta run! See you later!"

"Mm-hmm," Ianto hummed.

Jack certainly was… different. Americans tended to be like that, Ianto figured, but Jack seemed even more so. The actual 'date' last night had been almost indecently abbreviated. A couple of shared appetizers and a couple cocktails, and that was it. They wasted no time crossing the road to Jack's flat.

Jack was not only outlandishly good-looking, he also had a great personality, a wicked sense of humour, and could talk comfortably about any subject that came up. Ianto felt Jack had let him prattle on a bit too much about archiving and local history, but Jack had seemed genuinely fascinated and asked a lot of questions, which only contributed to Ianto's self-perceived wittering.

Jack had downplayed his own work, saying it was basically a lot of boring technical stuff and he was only a consultant anyway. A rather highly placed one, Ianto figured, after seeing Jack's flat. Maybe Jack just didn't want Ianto to think he was a name-dropper, though. Jack's flat was quite interesting. His eclectic mix of the latest tech toys and antique pieces that had at one time been cutting-edge gadgets sort of summed Jack up. Who would put Bluetooth speakers in an 1930s-vintage consol radio, and use it to play Cole Porter from a music streaming app on the Galaxy phone that Ianto was almost sure wasn't on the market until next week? Jack Harkness, that's who.

Ianto also found it interesting that Jack had no digital clocks in the house (apart from the ones on the cooker and microwave that read 00:00) but only used antique pocket watches displayed on end tables as his timepieces. Jack's coffee table books about old aeroplanes and historical photos on the walls at least cleared up why Jack hadn't minded listening to Ianto go on about working in museum archives.

Then there was the sex. Jack was passionate and gentle and innovative and energetic and kinky and attentive…. It was mind-blowing. And for as good as that was, the cuddling afterward was everything Ianto hadn't known he'd wanted all along. The way Jack snuggled up against his back and held Ianto close had been incredible. Jack hadn't said a word, but Ianto didn't feel awkward in the quiet. In fact, it had been really rather intimate and had made Ianto feel like much more than just Jack's latest shag. Not that he was about to get ahead of anything.

Jack asking, almost self-consciously (such a slice of masculine perfection could ever be self-conscious?), if it would be alright to call Ianto later was very encouraging, though.