Firstly, a note on my other ongoing Torchwood fics- I fully intend to finish both 'A Marriage of Convenience' and 'Models and Musicians: Matchmaking', but the inspiration for them just isn't there at the moment so I cannot say when they will be finished, just that eventually they will be. Thanks for bearing with me.

Secondly, let me reassure you that this story is already finished, so you'll be getting a chapter a day from start to finish, no interruptions or long breaks. You see, I'm learning from my mistakes… XD

Thirdly, I will write a short request fic (any plotline, any pairing, within reason) for the first person to correctly figure out the significance of the chapter titles.

Fourthly, a disclaimer: In case it isn't obvious from the fact that I'm a poor student rather than a TV executive, I don't own anything. The lyrics included with this chapter belong, I believe, to Danny Whitten, though probably the best-known version of the song was by Rod Stewart.

Finally, massive thanks to my super-awesome beta Amethystbutterflys, who interrupted the writing of a kissing scene to bring you this just a tad earlier. This one's dedicated to you, Cariad. Cara'ch! x


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Mr Jones & I

Chapter 1

I Don't Want To Talk About It

(I don't wanna talk about it, how you broke my heart…)


"You still use his name to book restaurants?" Toshiko Sato asked incredulously as her best friend hung up the phone.

Ianto rolled his eyes. "Well you try booking a restaurant in Wales under the name 'Jones'," he defended himself, and she laughed.

"You could have used my name- as far as I know I'm the only 'Sato' in Cardiff."

The Welshman sighed. "Yeah, well. Force of habit, I guess."

"So remind me again why you broke up with him?" Tosh enquired. The last thing she wanted was to upset her friend, but she could not understand why he had called time on an eleven month relationship that had seemed to be going so well.

Ianto sighed again. "I thought I told you why, Tosh- he never ever would have meant to hurt me deliberately; the problem was he was just too damn good at doing it accidentally. I just had to get out before the first anniversary- if we made it past one year I would have risked ending up settling for a relationship I wasn't one hundred percent happy in. I'm twenty-six, Tosh- I'm too young to settle."

"But…" Tosh started, then dropped it. Something told her Ianto would probably rather discus something else over coffee- her own hopeless love life, perhaps.


"Can I make a booking for 7:30pm tonight, please? Table for two, name of Harkness…" Jack idly twirled a pen between his fingers as he made the dinner reservation. The next second, it went clattering to the floor as the American struggled to process the host's answer:

'I already have a table for two booked in that name for that time, Sir- is it possible that your companion has already made a reservation?'

"No, I am quite sure she hasn't," he responded quickly, almost failing in his attempt not to sound too sharp. "So I would still like to make the reservation, please. I could put it in the name 'Jones', but I doubt that would make matters any simpler for you," he commented lightly.

'No Sir, I'm afraid it wouldn't,' the host replied with a hint of a smile in his voice. 'A table for two at 7:30pm in the name of Harkness it is then.'

"Thank you. I don't suppose you could do me a favour? If it's at all possible, I don't suppose you could ensure that the two tables booked under the name Harkness are as far apart as possible? Thank you so much. I'll see you tonight."

Hanging up the phone, the American cursed under his breath. As far as he was aware, there were only two other people in Cardiff who might make reservations under the name 'Harkness', and neither was a man he particularly wanted to see.


As usual, Ianto Jones arrived at Sorontino's right on time. Knowing her friend's propensity for punctuality, Toshiko had been ready five minutes before time, earning an extra dose of pleasure in the appreciative look Ianto shot her. As they followed the host to their table, he could not help but admire her figure as she moved. Owen Harper must be blind not to notice the beauty that was before him.

"Could we have a bottle of house white, please?" the Welshman enquired politely as he took his seat, and the host instantly replied in the affirmative, moving away just in time to give Ianto a clear view to the entrance of the restaurant. His hand froze half-way to his menu and for a second he forgot to breathe.

"Ianto? What's the matter?" Tosh demanded anxiously, turning in her seat to see what had him so spooked. It was an unnecessary movement- she had not even turned halfway when a voice rang through the restaurant. She would know that American accent anywhere.


Jack had to confess that he felt more than a little nervous as he stepped into Sorontino's at 7:35pm that evening, late both by force of habit and a desire not to run directly into the overly punctual man he suspected was behind the second table booked in his name. However, ever good at hiding his feelings, he concealed his trepidation easily; though perhaps his voice was a decibel or two louder than usual as he greeted the host. His date did not appear to notice, fortunately; and neither did she notice the fact that he resolutely kept his gaze away from the other side of the restaurant as he followed the host to the table.

"Glass of red wine?" he asked as he pulled his date's chair out for her, and Martha Jones smiled winningly back at him.

"Was that a lucky guess or need I beware your psychic powers, Captain Harkness?"

"Lucky guess," he confessed with a wink as he took his own seat, then leaned forward confidentially. "But if you intend to address me as 'Captain', Miss Jones, next time I take you to dinner it will be in the Officers' Mess."

Martha leant forward too, echoing Jack's smile. "Actually, it's Doctor Jones."

The American chuckled. "Well yes, I know that Doc. I was momentarily confused by my brain's decision to serenade itself with the soundtrack of Bridget Jones' Diary."

"Yeah, right. Not that I'd mind a date in the Officers' Mess, Captain- you gotta love a man in uniform."

"I see, you're looking for a relationship with my uniform? Such a pity you didn't tell me before, I could have sent it out to dinner and put my feet up in front of the TV."

"So tell me, Captain, what do uniforms eat?"

Jack laughed- god it felt good. He could not remember laughing at all in the last month or so, even when Gwen had marched round armed with Monty Python in an attempt to cheer him up.

"I don't know, Doctor- I've never taken my uniform out to dinner before."

"Can I just say that I'm more than a little relieved by that fact?"


"What the hell is he doing here?" Ianto muttered under his breath as he unfroze and hid behind his menu. Tosh diplomatically refrained from suggesting that Jack was there having dinner, something against which there was no law.

"Do you think he's on a date?" she mused instead, and Ianto glared.

"God, I hope not. It's bad enough to run into him, never mind his new girlfriend as well."

"Well, if we just sit tight hopefully they'll miss seeing us- they are right on the other side of the restaurant, after all," Toshiko consoled him, biting her lip to stop herself from reminding Ianto that he had dumped Jack, not vice versa. She had liked the brash American.


Determinedly ignoring the table on the other side of the restaurant which he was sure housed his ex, Jack's date was going astonishingly well, under the circumstances. Martha was gorgeous, bright and funny, and he found himself having a really good time with her- at least up until the moment he decided to visit the bathroom whilst waiting for dessert. The first thing the American spotted upon entering the room was Ianto leaning over the sink.

"Hey," he started, inwardly cursing his timing. But open though he might be about some things, Jack just wasn't comfortable answering nature's call in front of the man who had unceremoniously dumped him a month and a half previously with no apparent concrete reason.


If Ianto's evening had started badly, his decision to use the facilities after the main course made it much, much worse. He was washing his hands when the door to the toilets opened and someone walked in. Ianto didn't really pay attention until a painfully familiar voice hesitantly said 'Hey.' Startled, he turned the tap the wrong way, causing the water to flow faster and splash out of the sink into a rather unfortunate pattern in a rather unfortunate location on his trousers.

"Cachu!" he swore vehemently, leaping backwards.

"Want a hand?" The lazy American drawl riled him, and he could not keep from snapping back.

"I'm fine!"

"Are you?" Jack asked, leaning against the wall by the hand dryers.

"Yes," the Welshman insisted, resolutely avoiding his ex's eye as he wrestled the tap into submission with little further damage to his dignity. "What about you- are you on a date?" He didn't know where the question had come from, just that he suddenly needed to know the answer.

"Yeah," the American replied with a shrug. "No law against it, is there? Seeing as you're no longer interested…"

"Yeah, about that…" Ianto started awkwardly.

Jack shook his head. "Forget it."

"No, really… I'm sorry, Jack."

"I said forget it. It's over now, finito, in the past. Time to move on." Jack's tone was final. Ianto nodded in defeat.

"Well, I should be getting back to my table; my dessert has probably arrived and I don't want to keep Tosh waiting."

"Tiramisu?" Jack guessed, and the Welshman nodded in surprise.

"Yeah."

The American grinned. "Lucky guess. So. It was good to see you, Ianto. Enjoy the dessert."

"Thanks," Ianto murmured, not knowing what else to say as he quit the room, noting as the door swung shut that in a bizarre stroke of poetic justice he and Jack had been conversing against the background of 'I Don't Want To Talk About It.' He also noted that Jack had not asked if he was on a date. And for some reason, that hurt.


"Everything ok?" Martha enquired anxiously as Jack arrived back at the table to see that the desserts had beaten him there.

"Yeah, why wouldn't it be?" the American forced a grin as he slipped into his seat.

"Oh; it's just… you were an awfully long time in there," Martha stuttered in response.

"Oh, yeah; I ran into somebody I used to know and stopped to say hello," Jack explained glibly, picking up his fork and attacking his tiramisu. Nodding in understanding, Martha began on her profiteroles with no further comment on the matter. The rest of the evening passed wonderfully smoothly; and though the sharp flavour of the coffee dessert left a lasting bitter aftertaste in his mouth, Jack asked Martha on a second date. His smile was genuine when she acquiesced.