The three of them pulled into the Hub, saddened to see that the snow on the Plass had already been trampled through thoroughly.
The entered the HUB through the garage, Ianto going straight to Myfanwy's nest.
"Myfanwy! Here girl! I brought you a present, a treat for Christmas!"
He pulled a thick bundle of chocolate bars from his coat.
"Look! Chocolate, your favorite, yea. Here girl!"
He tossed the squawking pteranodon the bundle of candy, laughing as she caught it by the decorative ribbon.
"That's my girl!"
He chuckled to himself, while Jack stood in his office, gazing lovingly at the young man.
"Need help with the Weevil's?"
Tosh asked.
Ianto just shook his head.
"No, won't take but a few moments, thank you though Tosh."
He left then, down into the vaults to finish his chores.
"So, Tosh, tell me, what is that song about?"
Tosh stopped typing, minimizing the window before turning to Jack.
"I don't think that I should tell you."
Jack raised an eyebrow at her.
She spun the chair back around, hastily editing the rest of her digital scrap book.
"You will find out this evening Jack."
He perched on the edge of her desk.
"Is it that bad?"
"Let's just say that you may want to save your proposal until after that song."
Jack returned to his office, shutting the door softly behind him.
Ianto meandered about the archives, trying to process everything that had happened in the past day.
His relationship with Jack had taken a veritable leap into uncharted territories.
All of the little comments and extra touches that the immortal had been dropping on him had not been lost.
Indeed they had simply pulled him through the emotional ringer that he had fallen through so many times before.
He flopped into a chair, burying his head in his arms.
"Get it together Jones."
The Archivist pulled himself upright, snatching a stack of paperwork from the corner of his desk.
The mindless task of filling out the forms was soothing, and he allowed his mind to wonder over his current predicament.
Obviously Jack was hinting at something more than just shagging.
His little quips of "Maybe I want to be domestic" were evidence enough.
But was he doing it because he wanted it, or was it because he thought that it was what Ianto wanted.
Is that what I want?
The Welshman envisioned Jack puttering around his flat in his pants, a plate in one hand and a drink in the other, while Ianto cleaned the kitchen and admired the view.
He saw himself walking home with Jack after a night of Torchwood, and the two of them curled together in bed.
He saw promiscuous mornings and sultry nights, and Jack being their the entire time.
There was no doubt in his mind that he wanted a domestic life with Jack, or as domestic as one could get with Torchwood in the mix.
The question was then, is that what Jack's getting at?
The Welshman sent a silent prater to whatever deity existed that this was so, and set out finishing his stack of paperwork.
Jack paced around his office, nervous about his plans for the evening.
He knew it was a huge leap to go from basically casual sex, to proposing marriage, but he had always been a take-risks sort of guy.
Right?
But what if Ianto doesn't want that?
No, he had said explicitly that this is what he wanted.
The immortal sat down at his desk, wracking his brain of the key to how to proceed.
The song.
He fumbled in his desk drawers for his headphones, before plugging them into his computer.
A few quick searches and he had found the song.
The one Ianto had thought was perfect for the occasion.
Run, by Daughter.
Jack's eyes narrowed at the deceptively folksy intro cords, but the words were enough to break his heart and shatter his doubt.
He leaned back in his chair, shut his eyes, and let the song wash over him in waves.
