A/N:

May I start with a very humble "Hi"? It's been ages, I know, but honestly it was never my intention to keep things on hold for so long. Hands up all those who thought I'd abandoned the boys half way through their tale? … (pauses to insert sheepish, guilty smile)

Anyway, with himself and his persistent admirer back once again in the UK, at long last I'm set to continue our ride with West Hampstead's most favourite of Cherry Pickers …. "The one" …. (and thankfully?) …. "The only" … …..… "Mr Ianto Jones".

-o- -o-

As it's been so long, I've decided to start with a brief character recap for our man of the moment … so those of you out there with eidetic memories ….. please bear with me! :-

i - Generally misunderstood; thought by many to be not only arrogant, but also totally convinced of his own sexual self-importance, in reality Ianto often suffers from an overwhelming lack of self-worth and experiences anxiety attacks far more than he'd care to admit to.

-o-

ii- Following the sudden death of his parents, then being disowned by his only sister - aged just nineteen, Ianto found himself having to deal with the fact that he was now living in London on his own. Unfortunately; mostly for those friends closest to him, his idea of successfully dealing with things had been to use sex, drugs and alcohol to escape from this new reality of his – in fact, it was only the suggestion that he might want to move in with his best friend Els and her mum, that saved him from having to experience the inevitable stretch of relaxation at her majesty's pleasure, or worse, find his existence being curtailed though substance abuse.

-o-

iii- With them proving to be a very difficult time full stop, the following six years passed painfully slowly for Ianto, but, thankfully, come 1999, and aged twenty five, it seemed to those that mattered most, that he'd finally found his feet.

Well … ….. mostly …. …. kind of.

Owning the impressively spacious ground floor apartment of a converted warehouse and apathetically settled in the only job he'd ever managed to hold down for more than just two weeks, Ianto was pretty much convinced that he finally knew what to expect from life - - he had an ever increasing list of ardent admirers, and he still had his Els and the rest of his brilliant band of close friends who were always more than willing to help out if ever needed. Plus he had the reassuring safety net of the 'not to be sniffed at' monthly payment into his bank account which came as part of his overall inheritance.

-o- -o-

iiii- Our journey with him started on May seventh of that same year and we discovered that for roughly eighteen months he'd had a blue-eyed, blond Adonis of a lodger named Jason Cooper, who, from day one had been keen to share not only Ianto's apartment, but also his bed. It was just two days beyond that point, however; and in a selfish act following the thirtieth birthday bash thrown for him by Ianto himself, that that very same live in lover decided to walk out for good and move back in with his Latino good looks ex-boyfriend - - who just happened to already be vehemently despised by a certain Welshman.

-o-

iiiii- Becoming overly emotional to an embarrassing extent and admitting to himself that he'd started to think of Jason as much more than just a lodger with benefits, despite being aware that there was already a stunning new American admirer pursuing him, Ianto vowed he was sticking to the one night only scenario - as far as he was concerned he was once again a true free agent - he was going to get his life back on track …. and then bloody well start to enjoy himself.

-o-o-o-

Well that had been the plan anyway.

-o-

Famous last words an' all that ….

-o-o-o-

Just three months ago - : -

Before that pivotal weekend in May, Ianto Jones had been feeling relatively happy-ish; plodding from one day to the next as he continued to appreciate the fact that he and his ridiculously hot flat-share were able to co-exist without having to deal with the usual emotional baggage that came with having a live-in lover.

-o-

Just Three weeks ago - : -

With it being June already, and still convinced (inside his own head, at least) that he was a free agent, Ianto had agreed to go on a ten-day break to Ibiza with the most amazing ,the most attractive, and most persistent man he'd ever met.

-o-

Just three days ago - : -

Ianto had inadvertently referred to himself as being in a 'relationship' with his new American admirer – whom, admittedly, he'd also tentatively agreed to now start calling his boyfriend.

-o-

Approximately three hours ago - : -

In not having seen him for, 'wow', a whole sixty minutes, Ianto had begun to pine for a certain individual, which was worrying - not least because Ianto Jones didn't do, y'know, the whole pining type of thing an' all that … ..…. ….. well, not normally anyway.

-o-

And exactly three streets back -:-

He climbed aboard a big red bus …..

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Disclaimers :

i… The characters Jack Harkness and Ianto Jones were originally created by one Mr Russell T Davies for a very different purpose indeed.

ii…. Any content relating to London's Cambridge Theatre, the musical Grease (or any of its cast members) - is purely fictitious.

-o-o-

And so, without further ado …. let Part Two commence.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

River Deep - Mountain High

-o-

-o-

Chapter One - Hey Good Lookin' – Watcha Got Cookin'? -

-o-

-o-

A shop appeared, then disappeared, then another, then a house, then three more in a terraced formation. Next up was a phone box, then a post box; the post-office itself and then, 'quelle surprise', another shop.

Ianto sighed.

Having already decided that if the bus were to go any slower it'd be going in fucking reverse, West Hampstead's favourite son was feeling … …...

Actually, despite the joyous thumping of his heart, for days now Ianto hadn't had a clue how he was supposed to be feeling. One minute it was inescapably trapped - - the next: deliriously excited. One minute he was up - - the next: down. At times he felt in total control - - at others: not so.

In summary, he was feeling all out of sorts.

Or should that've been all sorts of emotional?

-o-

Dragging his gaze from the show of unexciting scenery he took in his current state of attire with yet another barely concealed sigh. The dreaded suit and tie combo was back with a vengeance, in fact, in having chosen to return to work a whole week earlier than originally scheduled, he was looking nothing but …

Oh, god, help him …. he'd never looked so …... so - so normal. He was blending seamlessly; had once more become one with everything he'd ever considered mundane. Yep, simply overnight he'd quite effortlessly managed to become run of the mill; just another forgettable commuter not worthy of a paltry second glance. And the fact was making him inconsolably moody. This had to be the worst holiday come down he'd ever experienced.

Rather ironically, if that 'terrified to upset the applecart' new boyfriend of his could see how largely invisible he'd suddenly become, the man would be performing happy dances all over the ruddy place. Not that Ianto could blame him of course - it was no secret that West Hampstead's 'yours truly', here, already had his fair share of back-logged dirt just begging to be dished and, with that in mind, the UK's entertainment industry was about to be introduced to one Mr 'Ianto Jones - Agent to the Stars'. Well, 'Star', actually, because for quite obvious reasons there was only one person on his books.

Not that he had any actual 'books' per se, of course. This new post had been created merely as a temporary measure, the hope being that it might provide a certain amount of protection for someone's newly spawned public image. With the words 'world' and 'oyster' being bandied about far more than was healthy, and Earlham Street's latest version of Danny Zuko still clinging on precariously to the first rung of his rickety career ladder, the young hopeful needed to be in a position where he could believably disassociate himself from all wrong doings. In other words, he needed to be able to dismiss any dubious issues with a well-rehearsed, 'Look folks, I'd really appreciate it if ya didn't judge me by the actions of others - and as Mr Jones is simply my agent, he's allowed to do whatever the hell he likes'.

All Ianto could hope for, was that in time neither his status nor propensity to create an unhealthy amount of gossip would be an issue.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

A commotion up front caught Ianto's attention and gazing up the middle aisle along with everybody else he focussed on the young family making good their escape out onto the pavement.

Becoming somewhat wistful, he studied the close-knit unit of four as they stumbled into each other; arms, legs and wheels colliding as they insisted on talking and setting up their pushchair as they walked along.

'Happy families'

Laughing quietly at the idea, Ianto had to concede that although the scenario seemed to be working fine for the four individuals outside, the concept itself was nothing but alien to him.

The bus finally pulled away, and with the taller of the two boys stopping abruptly to wave at the vehicle rolling past, Ianto was forced to block out some particularly unpleasant memories of his own childhood, painful memories, memories filled with resentment; memories that should have been graciously relinquished the day his parents had ceased to be his mam and tad.

He hated feeling so negatively about them and knew he should've let things go by now; with the highly successful couple no longer around to fight their own corner, feeling this way always made him feel so painfully guilty. But a sad fact, also, was that his history as their only son was set in stone, so regardless of how abrupt or devastating their tragic deaths might have been for him, nothing could ever change how miserable his life as a child had actually seemed.

-o-

With the next stop now in sight, a slow shuffling motion saw those eager to jump off stop-start their way along to the front of the bus. Smiling again, Ianto watched on, amused, as all five of them stood there lurching around in unison before finally bumping into one another as the vehicle juddered to a halt. Once more the doors hissed open and a heavy, despondent Welsh sigh sounded out in a show of sympathy for the vehicle's hydraulic system. The five passengers hopped off and one person clambered on to flash a pass at the driver before hurrying up the middle aisle; determined to find a seat before the bus could jolt its way through the automated gears.

Ianto pretended not to watch as, two seats ahead on the other side of the gangway, the new arrival swung himself into an empty space. A heavily creased copy of the Daily Express was pulled from a battered looking carrier then, elbow sticking inconsiderately out to block the way, the fifty-something proceeded to tut loudly at the contents of page two.

Busses were depressing, Ianto decided for the third time since alighting said vehicle. Rocking back and forth as the number139 lurched into life his gaze once more became fixed on the slow passing of suburban delights. It was weird, he concluded, how drastically your life could change so suddenly and without warning - How you could go from one minute feeling convinced you knew which path you'd end up treading, to experiencing something totally life-changing the next.

Take his situation, right now, for example. This time last week he'd been sitting on the underground making his way back from Gatwick with the man of everybody's dreams smiling contentedly at his side, and he'd been so happy himself he'd been fit to burst, but - and this was the confounding part - even with him currently having the most gorgeous guy on the planet (a soon to be star of the West End, no less) for a boyfriend, how was it that he still had a reason to be sitting on a number 139 bus, becoming only more and more mind-numbingly depressed?

And he was.

He was so fucking depressed

Actually, right up until today, he'd been just fine. Okay, no, cards on the table, he hadn't been just 'fine', he'd been 'stupidly over the moon and I think I might be embarrassing myself', fucking happy. And even though, admittedly, the holiday in Ibiza had proven to be just one big mass of ups and downs, the past five days, with them both residing at Jack's flat, had seen them getting on so well that, when it came to being in control of his emotions, West Hampstead's doubting Thomas had begun to let his guard down. He'd even chanced pushing aside a few of his deep-seated doubts because … well …. …. because, it did ….. it felt …. right, being with Jack.

Then, of course, after five days of bliss, it'd been himself that'd thoughtlessly managed to fuck up their moment of fun.

He'd started to feel guiltily, had convinced himself that he was keeping Jack from concentrating on what was important. There was still so much that the poor guy had to cram in before his big opening night that it just made loads of sense to remove the main distraction from his life and thereby allow him to concentrate wholly on his preparations for the coming Friday.

Jack, naturally, hadn't been impressed one little bit; his buoyant mood deflating in an instant. Plus also, and rather worryingly, to Ianto's surprise it soon became clear that his new boyfriend sincerely believed he'd fall to pieces if left to deal with things on his own. But already having decided it made more sense to go back to work one week earlier than scheduled - to bolster his suddenly wavering resolve Ianto had told Jack to buck his fucking ideas up and then asked how he planned to carve a successful career on the stage for himself if he didn't even have the guts to be on his own for a few days.

Unsurprisingly, Jack had sulked, which had instigated a quick demonstration of how effective the infamous Ianto Jones stubborn streak could be in response, and consequently the following morning the less talented amongst them had made his way back to West Hampstead, leaving Jack to mull over his own plans for the day.

Naturally, since having made his decision, the very same Mr Ianto, stubborn bastard, Jones had found many a reason to question the logic of his actions. He'd had a nightmare of a first day in work for a start and questioned more than once why he'd ever thought that having the heady world of retail as a career would be a good idea (aside from the obvious fact that his parents had once owned, or part owned, several retail outlets themselves, of course). By eleven a.m. he'd had many so many homicidal thoughts about his customers that he'd felt obliged to remind himself that he should just be grateful he had the fucking job in the first place.

Rather embarrassingly for him, his current employer had been the only one willing to entertain the idea of taking on a twenty two year old with a history of being more 'off' his head than 'on' it. But in making a genuine effort, that unreliable young lad had surprised everybody by getting himself promoted to 'Departmental Manager – Menswear' status within just three years of joining the store and consequently he could now afford to live the lifestyle he'd always dreamed of. He had his flash 'pulling' pad, wardrobes filled to the brim with designer label items that he'd probably never get around to wearing, and most importantly, he could afford to throw wild parties at the drop of a hat.

Okay, so maybe the term 'party' was stretching things a bit and, yes, these 'meets' were nothing more than a poorly disguised excuse for an orgy - but he hadn't had any complaints so far.

Of course, given the current situation with his new boyfriend, the orgies were now going to be a complete no-no, which was a shame - he was going to miss the orgies. Plus with him promising to keep his anger in check and behave himself in public, he knew he was also going to miss being referred to as 'Jones the Bastard'. This particular one of his many nicknames had always amused Ianto the most, and along with the - not used quite so much of late - phrase 'insanely rampant', it was probably the most accurate description of him that the locals had ever used; they knew that when he felt like playing, he was a joy to be around, but if they got on the wrong side of him he wasn't afraid to speak his mind, with him always refusing to take a single ounce of shit from anybody.

.

.

.

And then Jack Harkness happened.

.

.

.

Only, in dancing into his life a couple of months back, the American hadn't just 'happened'. Incredibly easy on the eye, plus oozing knee-weakening charm like it was going out of fashion, this particular late arrival to a certain lodger's thirtieth birthday party had managed to beguile his host without even trying – in fact, just the mere sight of the man had literally left Ianto totally speechless.

Over the course of what was left of the evening, the American had gone on to steal the wind from Ianto's sails, then had sidled and sidestepped around the Welshman until he'd completely won him over.

And the upshot to all of this?

West Hampstead's - 'Jones the Bastard' - hadn't stood an earthly. In fact, as Mr Jones did, indeed, put it himself on more than one occasion (but only ever in private, of course ) …

Hook …..

Line …

…. and fucking Sinker.

-o-

Still, rather gratifyingly, and despite his growing lack of resolve when it came to Jack Harkness, Ianto could genuinely claim that he hadn't just rolled over for the man, in fact, it was no secret that he'd tried his best to make life as awkward as he possibly could for his new admirer.

-o-o-o-

-o-o-o-

Another bus stop meant another delay.

Ianto checked his watch. It'd been almost five hours since they'd 'done' lunch, which meant, of course, that it was now almost five hours since they'd last seen each other and he could quite categorically say that he preferred being 'in' the man's company as to being 'out' of it - even if Jack was currently proving to be a worry of monumental proportions. Having stuck to his guns; still determined to take his leave of Jack early the previous morning, parting had proven to be particularly sorrowful for Ianto and he'd realised all too soon that there was nothing sweet whatsoever about having to leave that face and body behind. But with Jack out for most of each day, it wasn't like they'd managed to see a great deal of each other anyway. Ianto had made the most of his time alone by shopping, this had proven to be a good way to get to know Hammersmith, plus he'd tidy up the mess that Jack's flat always managed to become on a daily basis – even with the man being there for only a few hours each evening. It hadn't taken Ianto long to realise that Jack wasn't joking when he insisted he didn't do domestic.

Pleasing Ianto, he hadn't felt resentful towards Jack at all; hadn't experienced any abandonment issues or feelings of jealousy, in fact, he was quite happy to accept that, with the most important day of his life drawing ever closer, it was only natural that Jack would have things to attend to other than his new boyfriend.

To say that Jack hadn't reacted overly well to his decision to leave would be a vast understatement; he'd been down on his knees on the verge of begging at one point, but Ianto had taken it all in his stride; deciding that this might be good practice for how to deal with those many diva moments yet to come.

In the end, despite the hours spent arguing the toss, on Monday morning Ianto had re-packed his suitcase. Jack had tried going down the 'I'm going to feign indifference' route, distracting himself by taking a longer than usual look at his morning and afternoon rotas.

Amusing Ianto greatly, every morning to date, Jack had insisted on reading these rotas out to him, and whilst watching him neatly stow his holiday clothes in readiness, this time Jack had sullenly informed him that by ten o'clock he was expected to be in Jerry's office - From stories relayed back so far about the director; it seemed to Ianto that after surprising everybody by allowing him to accompany Jack on his enforced visit to Ibiza, the slime-ball boss was already back to being indirect and suspiciously sleazy.

Next on Jack's curriculum had been the unwelcome news that he was meant to be meeting up with everyone's least favourite choreographer. Of course, with Jack and 'that bastard' Tom already sharing 'history' in the physical sense, and with himself still harbouring the desire to cause the man a vast amount of intense physical pain, Ianto hadn't been overly impressed with this arrangement. Jack, however, had been desperately insistent that all they were doing each day was refine routines and nothing more.

-o-

-o-

Now barely noticing the view beyond the window, Ianto recalled that the rest of Jack's day had been set to consist of costume fittings, then scene and song rehearsals.

'Oh, fuck it!'

The irritating lyrics of one number in particular had reappeared to haunt him. Staring at the back of the person in front, a quick mental rendition of the first verse of Bread of Heaven proved fairly successful in distracting him, but also left him realising that he shouldn't be complaining about anything. Irritating lyrics aside, he and Jack had been getting on incredibly well and he'd be lying if he said that in between the time consuming, show related, stuff, they hadn't made the most of being in each other's company; though sex, surprisingly, had taken a back seat, and accepting that Jack's mind was elsewhere for now, Ianto had resigned himself to getting a snuggle at night and nothing more.

-o-

Looking out of the window again, the view quickly became hazy and he allowed another memory to return.

Insides warming with affection he could still see Jack now, looking gorgeous, leaning in the kitchen doorway whilst serenading his stop-at-home chef preparing their evening meal.

He normally hated Jack singing to him, it made him cringe and just feel so … silly. But for the sake of the success of his boyfriend's first night he'd been allowing himself to be used as an imaginary capacity crowd and had given his honest thoughts regarding issues such as delivery, tone and timing. He'd also lost count of the number of times he'd imagined Jack wearing a certain leather jacket. It was always at this point that he'd been forced to call a halt to whatever it was he'd been doing then drag Jack off to the nearest couch for a quick snog and a grope.

-o-o-

-o-o-

Sending him rocking back in his seat, the number 139 pulled away from a set of lights. He grinned as two young lads kerbside, mooned at both the bus and its occupants.

At least someone was having a good day, he decided, once more becoming maudlin over his own state of affairs and with a rush the same set of irritating lyrics as before invaded his brain.

This time even Bread of Heaven couldn't save him and losing the fight Ianto was left convinced that if he never heard another shoobop showadda wadda, yippity fucking boom de boom – or - chang chang, changity chang fucking shoobop in his whole fucking life, it still wouldn't save him – he was already scarred for life.

Chuckling at how ludicrous his thoughts were starting to become, he recalled one particular incident where he'd warned Jack that if the words 'we go together' were uttered just once more in his presence, he'd repeatedly stab the person responsible with a bread knife. The memory still amused him no end and creating a certain amount of assailant based satisfaction, on that particular evening Jack's face really had been a picture.

Looking back on that moment now, Ianto could only admit how different Jack's expression had been at that point compared to the one he'd been wearing yesterday morning. In truth, a very out of character Jack hadn't been dealing with their latest situation full stop and, unsurprisingly, it'd been Mr Showbiz himself who'd been the first to cave when it came to disobeying the, grudgingly agreed upon, 'zero contact/zero distractions' rule.

Mid-afternoon of only their first day apart, interrupting some, admittedly, not overly essential Jones related household chores, Jack had been on the other end of the phone. His initial queries into well-being and the 'what, when and where's' had been jovial enough, but beyond the words Ianto had picked up that all was not right, and with really very little prompting at all, he had him spilling the real beans.

It transpired that at the scheduled fitting that morning, the legendary jacket hadn't felt right, which had left Jack thinking that he must be hideously fat. Then a little later on, the photographer at the promo shoot had asked to see Jack from a different angle which had, apparently, made Jack feel ugly. Then after lunch and up on stage at the theatre, he'd forgotten nearly all of his lines and the lyrics 'and' the dance moves too, and finally, god help them all, the ultimate crime to end all ultimate crimes ….. …. he'd missed a top note.

Despite the rally of 'Jones style' reassurances being hushed down the line at him, Jack had gone very quiet before croaking out the admission that, only moments earlier, and being the real reason for his distressed call in the first place, Jerry had lost patience with him, had bellowed over the message that he'd over rehearsed, had tied himself up in knots and was therefore of no use to anybody - so to go lose himself for a couple of days and not return until Thursday morning when, hopefully, he'd be in a better frame of mind.

In being considerably less emotional than Jack, to the departmental manager of the two this had seemed very sound advice. But to an overly sensitive entertainer, however, this was him being told that his career had come to a premature end, his dream was over and the death knell was already ringing out to signify the tragic end of his entire world.

Ianto thought he'd shown great personal restraint in resisting the urge to use such words as 'drama' and 'queen'.

-o-

-o-

Pausing to check his watch, a new frown forming, Ianto came to the conclusion that they were most definitely going in reverse – then realising that stressing about the fact was just a waste of energy he went back to his daydreaming.

'Yan, why did you walk out on me this morning? It's all gone wrong - I can't do this without you, I need you, you know that … Now don't go anyplace; I'm comin' round to yours rrrrrrright now …'

That's what he remembered Jack gabbling down the line at him; deliberately thinking to leave the most significant part until last: 'Oh, and you won't mind if I stay over for a coupla days, will ya? I really can't face bein' on my own. Yan, please say it's okay …'

Still having something of a life to call his own, but not wanting Jack to think him uncaring, Ianto had made his reply with a heavy heart. 'But from tomorrow I'll be back at work. In other words, Jack, I won't be here during the day; what are you planning on doing with yourself while I'm not here to keep you occupied? Oh, and don't forget I have to be up early in the mornings, so I'll need to get some early nights'.

Even as he'd dealt the blow, Ianto knew he'd be welcoming the silly fool with open arms regardless.

Jack, for his part, had promised to let his boyfriend 'sleep' as much as he liked and to bolster his chances even further had gone on to arrange the very same lunchtime meet that they'd both enjoyed earlier today. His finishing parry had been to reveal his intention of doing a spot of food shopping. Apparently, despite him not being domesticated in the slightest, he was appointing himself as chief cook and bottle washer in repayment for being waited on hand and foot himself.

'Don't forget your toothbrush.' was all the gorgeous fool had been told with a soft laugh, then they'd hung up together on 'three'.

-o-

The bus pulled away again.

Ianto's stomach grumbled embarrassingly loudly considering how much lunch he'd eaten earlier. On meeting up at the bistro they'd jointly decided to go for the alfresco option, which would, of course, have enabled them to check out the passing talent, but pleasingly it'd taken just a few minutes of uninterrupted conversation for them to realise that, today, their subtle glances were going to be for each other only.

As expected, the time had gone far too quickly and before Ianto had known it his 'hours' lunch break had very cleverly become one hour and thirty. Even with Jack still subdued it'd been a very pleasant experience, though he'd have felt happier if Jack had eaten more than just a few mouthfuls of his food.

With them remaining fairly vigilant for the duration of their meal, they'd stood to go their separate ways and Ianto had hated not being able to go in for the now habitual kiss goodbye. With Jack's lips sitting there just waiting for him, it would have been so easy to conveniently forget that their relationship was supposed to be a secret. He'd laughed out loud as Jack had finally taken his leave to do the food shopping, and noted that, stumbling along in reverse to initially collide with other pedestrians, at least the fool had had the forethought to finally look all around himself before waving like mad.

Chancing a quick wave back, Ianto had been so engrossed in his boyfriend's antics that he hadn't seen the waitress make her return. Standing there, huge grin on her face, she'd held out his receipt and change. His apologetic look had seen her peering further along the road to where Jack was finally turning on the spot to face forward.

The tip Ianto offered just a second later had been duly accepted with a wink and whisper of, "lucky boy …."

'We really need to work harder on our 'just good friends' routine' - had been his last thought before making a move himself.

-o-

-o-

Staring ahead to peer out through the front screen for a change, it was with no small amount of relief that Ianto saw his own stop's imminent arrival and vowed right there and then that he'd never use this particular method of public transport ever again. The only reason he'd taken the bus in the first place was because he'd thought it might get him home to Jack just that little bit quicker.

In reality, time-wise there hadn't really been all that much in it; by the time they'd stopped at least eight times to allow folks on and off it would've been just as quick to do what he normally did of a summer's evening, which was to walk.

Weaving left then right as the bus slowed, he nodded at the driver, released the grab rail then made a leap for solid ground, and face aimed straight up to the sky he smiled as the evening sun enveloped him in a top to toe warmth that left him tingling all over.

That was his first day over and done with, thank fuck. Things had to start looking up from now on, surely?

Three strides on, his answer arrived in a noisy fashion and with a sigh he pulled his mobile free from his pocket.

"Yup?"

Smiling as he continued to walk, he listened with a resigned leaning of his head to one side. "Yeah, I know it's you- would you believe that seeing the name Jack can be a bit of a giveaway? Anyway … wassup? Yep. Nope. Nope. Yeah, but ….. … Oh, okay but … hmmm? No …. No … No! Oh, Jesus, no, don't do that! ….. Jack, listen …. But … But ….. What? Say 'gain - can't make out what you're … What? JACK! For fuck's sake calm down and start again, I haven't got a fucking clue what you're on about! Caaaaalm … caaaaalm … caaaaalm ….. riiiiiight ….okay? Now – shit! Nohhhh ….. nohhhhh … Jaaaaaaack …. c'mon, listen to my voice ….. caaaaalm ….. caaaaalm … that's it, come on now, yeah? ….. Aaaaand …. okay? Okay, good ….. ready? Aaaaand … Go! ... Huh? What red bean thingies? Oh, you mean kidney beans. Jack, are you seriously telling me you're having convulsions down the phone because you forgot to buy a tin of fucking kidney beans! Look, I appreciate that you're stressed right now but, trust me, forgetting to buy a tin of kidney beans is not the end of the fucking world! Okay, sorry, sorry. … …. Hey! Jack! I'm sorry, okay? …. Yes, I promise I'll stop shouting ….now come on….. just calm it down again. Jesus, what's happening to you? Do you always let yourself get like this when a new show's starting? Okay …, listen. Jack? Listening? Good …now just forget I mentioned the word show, okay? …. No, look, you're gonna be fine on the night ….., nothing's gonna go wrong ….. Oh shit! Oi! Harkness! Don't you dare go bloody hyper on me again! Hey, c'mon now, caaaaaalm … calm it down for me, Jack, come on … stop panicking … deep breaths for me, deep breaths. Hey, come on, yeah? Listen to my voice … take a deeeeep breath. Y'okay? Right, that's good, stay like that. And look, don't worry, I'm bound to have some of those red bean thingies, as you like to call them, somewhere indoors; probably third shelf down in the sliding larder if I'm not mista ….. What? NO! ….. Um, I mean ….look, don't worry. No, seriously, I'll dig them out for you myself when I get in. NO! I mean ….. listen, Jack, please don't touch any of my food cupboards, everything has its own special place and … ….. …. Okaaaaaay, you've gone very quiet. That means you've already been in my food cupboards, doesn't it. All of my cupboards? …. What do you mean you weren't sure where the pans … What? How many have you dragged out for fuck's sake? All of them! No, no, I'm not angry with you … So, um ….. which ones have you used then? All of them?! Oh, for fucks …. Huh? Say 'gain? What? Oh, you're in a really bad place right now, are you? Well give it five minutes and I'll be on hand to demonstrate what the word bad really means. Now don't touch anything else, okay? Okay, good man. … … We've got chilli, I take it? …. I …. I …no, I …. Oh for f ….. JACK! ….. Listen, it's okay ….. chilli's fine …. that wasn't a criticism, okay? … Right, good, and look, I'm sorry for shouting at you again, okay? Yes, I know, I know - bad point in your life and all that shit … but just promise me you won't do anything else until I get there, okay? I'll be another two minutes - three tops; I'm just coming along my road now, okay? Okay. … …. Yep, I've missed you too. … … Yes, lunch was very enjoyable. ….. …. Yes, Jack, we have had a nice few weeks. Okay, gotta ask - are you that bad that you need to keep me talking until I walk in the fucking door? …. Jesus, I thought as much. You're a hopeless case Jack Harkness. … …. Yeah, okay, that probably is what I like about you the most. Well, that and the size of your cock. Right, I'm here …. on my way in through the door aaaaaaand hanging up right now …. Byeeee."

Turning the key, Ianto pushed open his front door and was dragged into quite possibly the tightest hug he'd ever been given. "I'm so glad you're hohhhhhhhme." he was told as he was rocked on the spot.

"And it's nice to see you too." He peered over Jack's shoulder in the hope of getting a sneaky head's up on the state of his kitchen. "Oh, Jesus, Jack! …. What the fuck have you been doing?" Struggling, he freed himself of the man's clutches.

A strained voice accompanied Jack's guilty expression. "I just told you on the phone, didn't I? ….. I wasn't sure which pan to use."

"But …. But … But …. Oh, for crying out loud …. just look at the place!"

"Yan, hey c'mon don't get upset, I'll rinse them all, I promise!"

As one distressed homeowner stopped on the spot, his palms came together and his eyes were sent skyward.

"What are you praying for?" Jack made one desperate, lunging bid to get over to the disaster zone before Ianto.

"I'm not," already narrowed, icy eyes viewed Jack with contempt, "I'm simply offering up my grateful thanks to the bloke that invented the fucking dishwasher."

"Ah, yeah, about that," suddenly quiet, Jack's lips were drawing guiltily inward. "I think I was supposed to mention something about the dishwasher to you at lunchtime …"

Ianto tried to heave an annoyed sigh, but his shoulders slumping saw the noise come out as more of a pathetic whine of "Now what?" He was greeted by a somewhat terrified silence. "Okay, look, I appreciate that you're struggling with things right now, so how about you just tell me what it is you were supposed to mention, and then I'll let you know whether it would've been more advantageous to spring the news on me half way through my working day, rather than leave it 'til the moment I walk in through the door from an irritating, fuck of a ride home."

"Well … it's kinda like this."

Brows furrowed. "Okay, for the record, that might just be the worst start ever, but keep going, I'm becoming more and more intrigued by the second. Oh, and make sure you pronounce every word very slowly, because I'd like to be sure I'm breaking your legs for all the right reasons once I make a start on the job."

"Ah, heck, Yan! Look, I'm really sorry, okay?" Jack wrung his hands together, then wrung them a little bit more for full effect.

"Jack, for God's sake just tell me! What the fuck have you done?!"

"Well, after you left this morning ….."

"Yeaaaaaah?"

"I put the stuff we'd used for breakfast in the machine …."

"Aaaaaaaand?"

"And I pressed the little start button." Jack looked away and then down at his feet.

Ianto prayed that he wouldn't look up too soon, he didn't want him to pick up on his supressed smirk, "Aaaaaaand?"

"Nothing happened," Jack sighed, finally looking up to shrug hopelessly at his boyfriend, "No water, no noise - Nada, nuttin', zero activity ….. zilch."

"So, essentially, in your usual melodramatic way, what you're trying to tell me is that - along with wrecking my kitchen - you've also managed to bust my fucking dishwasher. Give us a hint ….. am I getting' warm at all, here?"

Jack tried a smile. "Yeah, um … very warm, in fact you're spot on, but honestly, Yan, I really don't know what happened …. an' I'm really, really sorry; an' I'll pay to get it fixed an' everythin'!"

Without another word, Ianto slowly walked over to his sliding larder, lazily reached all the way inside to pull free a can of kidney beans then grabbed Jack's wrist and with a loud slap of metal onto palm, he handed it over. "Okay, pay attention, 'cause this is how it's gonna work, right?" he growled, "'I ', am gonna go take a nice hot shower; see if I can't loosen up a few of these new knots I've just acquired, whilst 'you', Mr demolition man, will finish preparing my dinner, and you will not, I repeat NOT, burn the fucking place down whilst I'm gone. Understood?"

"Understood." Jack whispered - the word barely audible as he nodded shamefully. "And, Yan? I'm so sorry, I can't explain why I've gotten like this, I can't seem to get anything right lately." he gave another of his small shrugs, "And I really can't believe I forgot the lyrics yesterday; Jerry thinks I'm a complete moron …"

"No he doesn't, and he was right when he said you've been trying too hard," Ianto reached out for his forlorn looking boyfriend and giving him a reassuring hug winced as a tin of kidney beans dug him in the ribs, "Stop putting so much pressure on yourself, you know yoursel …."

"Yan, what if I let everybody down? What if the audience thinks I'm crap? What do I do if ….."

"Okay, that's enough."

Ianto pulled back to stare pointedly into Jack's eyes, "Just forget about that fucking show for the rest of the day. I mean it, Jack. Getting yourself into a state like this isn't helping matters. You're gonna be brilliant on Friday, no question. Now, I don't wanna hear another word about it, okay?"

Jack slowly nodded.

"Good. Now, come on …. put one right here."

As a finger was pointed at a pair of already pursed lips, Jack gently pecked them, and satisfied for the time being, Ianto turned to leave the room. "Right … domestic bitch," his grin briefly hidden from view, he sobered his expression to bark the rest of his order over his shoulder, "Off you go, then. Go on! Chop chop with the chilli!"

-o-o-o-o-

Suit back on its hanger and the remainder of his clothes now in with his holiday laundry, Ianto closed the bathroom door behind him. His smile had long slipped from view.

"Fuck …." One hand raking through his hair, his other reached in to set the water going. He'd felt justified at the time, in teasing Jack, but this really wasn't a joking matter at all, and that man out there in his kitchen certainly wasn't the Jack that he'd come to know and … care about.

Stepping under the still warming flow, he closed his eyes and allowed the water to pour over him; he needed to make sense of what was going on here.

Okay - he was forced to accept the view of the telling twist beginning to form inside his chest – the situation had thrown him more than he'd care to admit; he hadn't been expecting to see this side of Jack at all. Although never as confident as he really should be, given his profession, the man had not once suggested that he suffered from nerves to this extent. This was a different Jack … a new Jack.

A needy Jack.

Ianto reached blindly for the shower gel and began to soap himself down. It was true he'd been assuming that he'd be the individual needing a little coaxing; needing the reassurance that he wasn't out of his depth, but this was a complete role reversal, it was the man of his dreams that needed him; was needing him to become a stronger person also.

So what was he gonna do about it? Was he gonna react as he normally did; bottle out and pull the plug on Jack? That's what others would be expecting him to do right now. After all - Ianto bloody Jones was the last person qualified to give advice to anybody. Plus consoling and reassuring Jack to this extent would mean them stepping up to a new level of closeness – and such a situation would require a new degree of intimacy, one that he didn't feel comfortable with …. one that just wasn't …. him.

His hands stalling against his body, he allowed the torrent from above rinse the suds away.

Okay, this was bollocks. How fucking stupid would it be for him to give up on Jack right now? Of course he wasn't going to abandon the man when he was so obviously in need of his support; in such a short space of time Jack had managed to have such a profound effect on this useless Welshman's life; the very least he deserved in return was a little loyalty when the going got rough.

Aiming his face back up into the spray, eyes closed, Ianto sighed as the splash, then trickle of hot water began to calm him again, and just a few seconds later he knew he what he had to do.

Jack needed him, right? Was relying on him to get him through this first performance ….. and when it really came down to it, the only thing this useless Welshman really wanted to do himself was help him realise his dream.

Eyes widening, the truth hit him.

More than anything, all he wanted right now was to make the whole world right for Jack.

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So that's exactly what he was going to do.

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IJ JH IJ JH IJ JH IJ JH IJ JH IJ JH IJ JH IJ JH IJ JH IJ JH IJ JH IJ JH IJ JH IJ JH IJ JH IJ JH IJ

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tbc