They had decided on dinner in the end.
And in the midst of all the paperwork, weevil-hunting, coffee-drinking and rift-monitoring, Jack had found the time to make dinner reservations. Ianto could not help but feel a little impressed.
It was difficult for Ianto to pick anything to wear on the night of their, for lack of a better word, date. Jack had already seen – perhaps even taken off – all of his suit-and-tie combinations. He set off at about eight o'clock.
When he met Jack at the restaurant, Ianto was rather surprised. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but it wasn't this. It was fancy and picturesque, with booths, and velvet covered menus, and intricate glass vases, and a single candle lit on each table, and multiple sets of cutlery. It was sparkling clean, filled with smartly-dressed waiters, and the obvious, courteous, etiquette. Ianto was quite impressed.
Jack himself was impressive… even more so than usual. He wore the usual clothes, spoke in the usual accent, made the same faces. But he was different. He acted differently, more relaxed. And at the same time, much less confidently. He seemed nervous, almost. Ianto was bemused. And a little impressed.
They ordered their dinner rather quickly, and surrendered the velvet menus to their waiter. Jack spoke in his usual mixture of absurd anecdotes, innuendo and cheerful chatter. Ianto added to the conversation occasionally, content to let Jack do the talking. He spent his time trying to work out what Jack was thinking, what was going on in a head that, really, he knew nothing about.
When the dinner did come, Jack picked up the correct set of cutlery and ate it with perfect table manners. Ianto hadn't known it was possible… was this really the same man that lead Torchwood? The one that stuffed bagels into his mouth whilst giving instructions, ate almost nothing but pizza and Chinese takeout, left fried egg stains on his collar for over a week without realising it?
Ianto was, needless to say, impressed.
They kept up the chit-chat during dinner, and during dessert it changed from awkward small talk to the conversation of two good friends. Suddenly they were talking about things much more personal and entertaining for each of them… what did the other think of Gwen getting married? Tommy was being unfrozen again next week, did Tosh still have that thing for him? How was Ianto while Jack had been away? Where had Jack been away to? How did he feel about coming back?
They left the restaurant soon after dessert. With the choking hold of the dinner music gone, Jack was a lot louder and boisterous again. They walked along the streets.
Ianto had become quiet again.
Jack asked him why.
Ianto wasn't sure himself, but answered Jack's question with a kiss. Jack smiled.
Ianto was all the more impressed.
They made their way around the Cardiff streets, Jack flirting, Ianto giving in to it. After a while, they made their way to the docks. It was quiet but for the wind, which had picked up considerably. It ruffled Ianto's hair, and sent Jack's coat flying around his legs and waist. They strolled up and down a lot, enjoying one another's company.
Ianto had not realised how little time he and Jack had simply talked to one another since they met. There had been the awkwardness of a new job, and just after he'd overcome that the rest of the team had discovered Lisa. From then on, he had been grieving, and had hardly noticed anything but his own suffering. Then, months later, when he and Jack had first started spending time alone together properly… well, there hadn't been much talking involved.
And now they were talking – really talking – as if they had for years. But somewhere in the light, friendly, flirtatious conversation Jack turned to Ianto, looked him in the eye, and said;
"So… I've never been to your place, Ianto. Do you know that?"
And things had lead themselves along from there.
And though it had happened more than once before… once again, something was different. Entirely different.
And Ianto had never been so impressed in his entire life.