The Ritz-Carlton Hotel 1951

Jack lay on the thin lumpy mattress of his prison cell camp bed, gazing up at the cold concrete ceiling above his head. It was chilly, and rainwater was leaking in under the gap in the little barred window, dribbling down the wall next to him; the whole cell smelt damp. It was grimy, even for the early fifties. They were supposed to be on holiday. A present for Ianto's birthday, just the two of them, and 1950's New York. But instead of spending the night at the Ritz-Carlton as he had planned, they were spending it in a jail cell. But it was definitely worth it. He grinned to himself. Ianto's face had been priceless when that bell boy had walked in on them. He loved that small, cheeky smile of his. Jack chuckled to himself as he remembered, as he remembered the feel of his soft skin beneath his fingertips, his sharp raged breathing, and the warmth of this breath against his ear, his neck. He heard Ianto's soft laugh echo through the empty hall.

"What are you laughing at?" he called through the bars.

"That man's face when you asked him if he would like to join us." Jack laughed. It had been hilarious. He didn't think he had every seen anyone look so horrified. They didn't really seem to appreciate the fun of naked hide and seek in the 1950's. But it had been worth every minute.