Disclaimer- I do not have the pleasure of owning Torchwood. If I did, there would be less aliens and more beautiful Welsh vowels. As you can tell by the aliens, the BBC has the honour of owning the show.
Spoilers- None- for once this is absolutely, completely and utterly AU
Rating- T
General Notes- Sorry about the delay in posting, I've been having some trouble with my Document Manager. I hope this was worth the wait! For Ianto's appearance, think 'Sleeper'. For Jack's, think JB on 'Tonight's The Night'. A huge thank you to everyone who has reviewed, story alerted or favourited- it means so much to me that you're enjoying reading this as much as I'm enjoying writing it.
Chapter Notes- I'm not sure how much I like this chapter, so I would really love to know what you think of it.
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Second Chances
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As he stepped into the restaurant at twenty-five minutes past seven, Ianto felt his throat constrict. Despite the phone call, a tiny part of him still expected that Jack wouldn't show. Also, it was a very upmarket establishment; one he had never been to because he had never been lucky enough to possess that kind of money. To cap it all, he had no idea what name Gwen had made the booking under. Would she have automatically put it under her own name, or had she remembered to use his or Jack's? If so, whose?
"Alright, calm down, Jones, you can figure this out," he muttered to himself as the hostess greeted the couple in front. Gwen was a PR agent- she must book restaurants under other people's names all the time. It was unlikely then that she had used her name. Also, Ianto was a new client, and Jack apparently was her best friend. And thinking about it, why book a restaurant under the name of 'Jones' in Wales when the other party went by the name of Harkness? It would have created so many unnecessary problems.
"Good evening Sir, how may I help you?" the hostess beamed at him, and the Welshman gathered his nerves, told himself firmly that it was ok to be here, and smiled back.
"Um, yes, hello. There's a table booked, I think- name of Harkness?"
It was evident that the hostess sensed his nervousness, but she did not comment, instead turning to the glossy white leather ledger on the podium in front of her.
"Ah yes; table for two at seven thirty?"
"That's the one," Ianto agreed, and she smiled.
"Would you prefer to wait for the other party at the bar or at your table, sir?"
"Um, at the bar, please." Ianto made a snap decision. If Jack did stand him up, he'd look less conspicuous at the bar.
Seven thirty came and went, and with every passing second he felt his nerves increase. He'd been right- Jack was going to stand him up. He sipped his pint and tried not to look too abandoned, although he couldn't resist sneaking another glance at his watch. Seven thirty-nine. How long did one wait before one gave up on a date?
---
As the antique cuckoo clock in the lounge chimed the half-hour, Jack cursed. Damn it, why had Gwen only given him an hour to get ready? She knew he took longer than even she did before a night out! Lacing up his shoes in a regrettably slipshod manner, he grabbed his wallet and keys and tucked them into his jacket pockets. With one last glance around the apartment to check that he hadn't forgotten anything, he headed for the door and made a dash for the elevator, not daring to glance at his watch. He was going to be horrifically (if characteristically) late. As his frustratingly slow journey downwards continued, the American offered a silent prayer to whatever gods might happen to be listening that Ianto did not give up and go home. Still, at least he had the Welshman's number now, so he could send a text and let him know. Grinning at the realisation, Jack reached for his mobile… Only to discover that it wasn't there. Oh, of course not. It was bloody broken because he'd put it in the fucking fridge again, wasn't it? The American growled in frustration as he exited the lift, startling the couple waiting to step in.
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Once outside the building, Jack dared a second glance at his watch. Twenty-five to eight. Dear god, there had better be a taxi near! Not for the first time, the model briefly contemplated hiring a driver. Of course, he could always take the SUV, but there was never anywhere to park up near Ayesha's. It ought to be quicker to get a taxi…
For once, luck was on Jack's side and he managed to flag down a vacant vehicle almost immediately. Breathing a sigh of mingled relief and stress, he relaxed back on the seat, gave the driver the address and promptly fished out the money, ready to throw it and run. Now, if only his luck held and he arrived before Ianto left…
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Quarter to eight. Of course, why had he even expected Jack to show? Biting his lip hard to stop a sudden show of emotion, the Welshman pulled out his mobile to text Tosh his misery. However, he was immediately greeted with the 'You have one new text message' screen. Curious, he opened the message. From Gwen, sent at twenty-five past seven: 'Forgot 2 tell U- Jack is L8 4 EVERYTHING so don't panic 2 much, he will come xxx'
"If I ever get him into bed, I'll make damn sure of that…" Ianto muttered to himself, feeling a sudden flash of hope. Maybe this date wasn't a lost cause after all.
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"Oh my god, Ianto, I am so sorry!" The loud American accent drew Ianto abruptly from his daydream and back into the present, drawing his attention to the whirlwind in the shimmering blue suit and flattering black shirt who made his breath catch in his throat.
Grinning at his date with what he hoped was not too much relief, Ianto did his level best not to stutter as he responded.
"Don't worry about it, Jack; apparently by your standards you're early," he teased, and the American pouted.
"Ok, seriously, one of these days we need to sit down and go through exactly what Gwen has told you about me, because I bet half of it is lies."
"Now why would she lie to me?" Ianto enquired innocently, hopping down from his bar stool. "Shall we see if they held our table?"
Jack made no reply, transfixed by the Welshman's apparel. The simple, classic dark suit fitted him like a glove. The tie was incredibly tasteful, and matched perfectly. And as for the shirt… Well, there was just no other way to say it. Red absolutely was Ianto's colour.
It was also the colour of his face as the violinist flushed under the American's scrutiny.
"Um, Jack?" he prompted, flattered by the attention but more than a little uncomfortable with it.
"Oh, yeah, right…" The model drew his eyes back up to Ianto's face and grinned. "They will have held our table," he asserted confidently. "They know me."
"So you admit then that it's all true?" the Welshman teased as he followed his companion back to the hostess' station.
"I'm not usually this late," Jack assured him. "But Gwen didn't exactly give me sufficient time to get ready."
Ianto rolled his eyes. "Jack, I told you, you could have come in your underpants and I wouldn't have cared."
"Yeah, well I would!" the hostess interjected, the supremely polite façade with which she had greeted Ianto gone in the light of Jack's appearance.
"Hush, Nancy, you know you have my Calvin Klein ads taped to your fridge!" Jack retorted with a cheeky grin.
"That's not to say I want to lose my job over letting you in here inappropriately dressed," she shot back, picking up two menus and gliding in the direction of a table.
"And as I keep telling you, if you lose your job in here you can come work for me; you can be my PA's companion or something. She'd like you; I must bring her to lunch here sometime."
"That might be cool," Nancy beamed as she laid the menus carefully on the table. "Enjoy your meal, gentlemen. Carys will be along in a moment to take your drinks order."
"Thanks Nancy; give me a call if you reconsider," Jack grinned back, slipping her a fiver concealed in a handshake. She smiled again and disappeared; and the couple moved to sit down.
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It was a beautifully private and select table right in a secluded corner, and Ianto secretly wondered if Gwen had had to pull any strings to get it, or if the simple mention of Jack's name did the trick.
"You have a PA?" he asked incredulously as he picked up his menu, and Jack nodded.
"Yeah. Rose, lovely girl; a bit cheeky sometimes but she has this amazing spark and she's one half of the team of women who keep me sane."
"The other half being Gwen?" Ianto guessed hopefully.
"Yep. But that's all work, and-" The end of Jack's sentence went missing as the table was approached by another beautifully elegant waitress.
"Jack, I didn't know you were in tonight!" she beamed, and that confident, easy grin was back on the American's face in an instant.
"Oh, you only like me because I tip well, Carys," he teased, and she laughed.
"Hey, I get to wait on a supermodel, that's tips enough all by itself."
"Yeah, yeah, less of the super. It's just a job. A bit like waitressing, but for the lazy."
"I don't believe you; it's gotta take some motivation to keep in such good shape- I know you don't stay looking that hot through dieting."
"Gee, thanks."
"I'm only saying; I've served you enough times to know that six legions of cavalry would not be enough to keep you away from dessert."
"Ah, but you see, Carys, I get my necessary exercise from fighting off the six legions to get at the vanilla cheesecake."
"And it's all ready in the fridge waiting, sir, but can I get you a drink first?" With one final cheeky grin the banter was over and business began.
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Throughout the exchange, Ianto had been lost in his own thoughts, listening to the banter with half an ear whilst carrying on a heated debate with his worrying gene. Yes, he was over the moon that Jack actually had shown up; and also highly disbelieving that someone so good looking and even moderately famous could be out on a date with him. But all that was eclipsed by the worrying gene's sudden panic: 'I just assumed he was gay when he started flirting with me. What if he's actually bi, and he's slept with all these girls? Am I being a total fool thinking he'd be interested in me?' 'Probably,' his negative side whispered back, and he bit the inside of his lip again whilst in the background the waitress asked Jack what he would like to drink.
It came almost as a shock to find that Jack deferred to him, waving a hand in his general direction to indicate that Ianto should choose first.
"Um, pint of cobra?" He was relieved to note that even in the most upmarket of Indian restaurants, the selection of basic beers remained the same.
"Make that two," Jack added, and Carys nodded.
"Certainly, sir. Can I get you any poppadoms whilst you're looking at the menu?"
This time, the American did not even consult the Welshman before replying. "You know damn well that you can, Carys- two should be sufficient, I think."
"With extra raita, of course," the waitress grinned, making a note on her pad and then disappearing, leaving the two men alone once more.
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"So, I'm guessing you're a regular then?" Ianto guessed glibly, and the American grinned.
"Gee, how did you ever figure that one out?" he responded. "Was it the fact that all the waitresses shamelessly flirt with me in a totally unprofessional manner; the way they all know what I do for a living; or the fact that they can deliver my dessert order to the kitchen within thirty seconds of the table being booked?"
"No, your painfully evident worry about keeping up appearances," Ianto deadpanned.
"Yeah, I'm sorry about that. But Gwen did warn you that punctuality isn't my strong suit, right?"
Ianto smiled. "Yep, she warned me. But she didn't think to tell you that I'm neurotically early for everything?"
"Nope." Jack frowned. "Ok, from now on, when we arrange dates we'll have to tell you 'quarter to eight' and me 'quarter past seven'; and that way there's a chance we might end up in the same place at the same time."
"So there will be other dates?" Ianto asked, hope surging through him, though not quite enough to drown out his doubts about the waitresses.
"I hope so," Jack responded with a grin. "You have a pretty damn sexy DVD collection, Ianto Jones; and it's gonna take me more than one dinner to intimately explore your CD collection and the contents of your bookshelves."
"Play your cards right, and I might even let you see them first hand," Ianto murmured back.
Jack's grin widened. "Oh yeah, and that's the other thing- I seem to remember you promising to drag me into bed at some point after dinner: I'm looking forward to it. But life has made me cynical and cautious, and I don't sleep with guys before the seventh date. So yeah, there will be other dates, if you intend to keep that promise."
Ianto was thrown. Ok, so it wasn't in his character to sleep with guys on the first date, but still- there was so much chemistry between he and Jack that the Welshman had kind of expected them to be falling into bed sooner rather than later.
"Th-the seventh date?" he stuttered, and Jack nodded.
"That's not a problem, is it?"
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Before Ianto could reply, two pints of Cobra appeared on the table, accompanied by a plate of poppadoms and a tray of chutneys. The ensemble was completed by Carys' charismatic smile.
"Are you ready to order yet?" she enquired, and Ianto realised that he had not even thought to look at the menu.
"Could you give us a minute? Thanks, Carys." Jack dismissed the waitress with a disarming smile, then turned to Ianto.
"So, how are we doing this? I always find that the best way to do Indian is to order a selection to share."
"Um, sure." Ianto agreed; it was how he and Tosh usually dealt with takeaways. Not that they ate Indian all that often; they preferred Chinese or pizza, when they could afford it.
Jack smiled, as if sensing how lost Ianto felt amongst the myriad of options offered in the menu.
"So, do you have any particular preferences or do you trust me to order?"
"I trust you," the Welshman replied promptly, relieved that he would not have to try to get his head round the menu. It would be difficult enough at the best of times, never mind when there was an incredibly sexy American sat across the table from him. An incredibly sexy American who apparently was unwilling to take Ianto to his bed until the seventh date. Ianto had never waited that long for anything before.
"So, um, about that seventh date thing?" He had to ask.
Jack looked up from the menu with a frown. "Is that going to be a problem?"
"No!" Ianto reassured him hurriedly. "But it just seems like an awfully long time." (What was he saying?! It was totally unlike him to be this forward. But that was the odd thing about Jack- in the American's presence Ianto kept coming out with comments that usually he would never have dreamed of uttering aloud.)
"Yeah, well," Jack shrugged. "It's a way of sorting the humans from the gannets. I figure that seven dates takes what, two or three weeks? That's usually long enough to shake off the ones who are only interested in a one night stand or some quick cash from selling their story to the tabloids."
"And you think I'm like that?" Ianto was hurt by the implication.
"No!" Jack's reply was instant. "I don't think you're like that at all, Ianto." He smiled seductively, leaning over the table to murmur in the Welshman's ear: "But the anticipation heats it up like you wouldn't believe."
Rendered speechless for a second, all Ianto felt capable of doing was raising one eyebrow as Jack sat back and smiled lasciviously at him.
"Trust me, it's worth it," he assured as he helped himself to poppadom and mango chutney. Still slightly dazed from the intense snatch of Jack's intoxicating aftershave, Ianto followed suit. Dear god, he was out of his depth here!
"Oh, I believe you," he commented drily. "But please, next time we go out- don't wear that aftershave."
"Hmm?" Jack looked confused. "Never wear any."
"You smell like that naturally?!" Ianto was so astonished he didn't even notice mango chutney dribbling onto his fingers.
"It would seem so," the American responded equally drily, then Jack grinned. "You gonna eat that before the plate gets dive-bombed?"
"Oh, right, yeah." Feeling even more of a fool, Ianto popped the morsel he was holding into his mouth; then neatly sucked the chutney off the fingers that had been attacked. Across the table, Jack bit back a groan with difficulty. It was going to be a long seven dates.
