(Disclaimer: I do not claim to own Torchwood in any way.)
He'd always told Jack how he loved that coat. He'd done it the first time they'd met during the Weevil attack before he really knew who Jack was. He'd know him only by repute.
What a certain Ianto Jones hadn't know was how absolutely dashing Jack looked. Especially in that coat.
Sure Ianto liked the coat for the way Jack looked in it. However, Jack looked just as dashing when he wasn't in the coat. It was the symbol of the coat that Ianto had fallen so in love with.
Jack was from the 51st century, the coat wasn't exactly that old, but it was old. It showed the hard years Jack had been through. It flaunted Jack's rank as a captain and frankly it smelled like him.
The coat was comfort and warmth. It was the age, but yet in perfect condition. The coat demanded power and authority, but wasn't strikingly violent.
It was so incredibly Jack.
Ianto never missed an opportunity to have the coat cleaned, pressed and tailored. He would feel Jack's smirk following him all the way out the door. They both knew Ianto would have nothing done to it, he just wanted the comfort of Jack nearby when he couldn't be.