Chapter Nine

In which Jack and Ianto see each other in a new light outside of the workplace. A nice long chapter for you, partially out of guilt because I'll be away all next week and unable to write (though I'll be entirely able to reply to messages and reviews through my phone). Also by the time I'm home, the Word trial on my laptop will have run out and I refuse to pay for Office, so that might delay me, but I will spend some of my leisure time plotting new storylines.

Did anybody get the dual meaning behind the 'Anything Goes' reference? One gold star if you thought of John Barrowman's cover, a thousand gold stars if you knew that the 'book musical' of Anything Goes was part-written by P.G. Wodehouse. Tenuous, much?

Anyway, I am once again nervous of this chapter so let me know what works and what doesn't. Peace out, chums.


"Nice little spot, this" Jack declared as he took in the decidedly rustic décor of his surroundings, missing the dejected look on the barmaid's face as she slid by him. Ianto cast his eye over the somewhat dubious (though undeniably sharp) outfit choice of his employer, in particular the superfluous houndstooth scarf which he couldn't bring himself to make a comment about outside of work hours. There would be plenty of time for that tomorrow and besides, the abhorrent accessories were so much a part of Jack that it was becoming increasingly difficult to find the nerve to surreptitiously dispose of them.

"Feel free to take a seat, sir" Ianto offered, indicating the seat opposite him.

"Oh, err…" Jack shifted slightly awkwardly, shuffling only a little closer. "This is your night off Jones; I really don't want to disturb you when you have your hands full with me the rest of the time…"

Ianto smiled in the face of his employer's rarely-seen diffident side and took pity.

"I would be glad of some company that I already know as agreeable, sir" he said, nodding as an extra affirmation and Jack's grin re-affixed itself as he sank into the chair.

"You look different" he said to his valet, finally taking the time to acknowledge that Ianto was, whilst still dressed smartly, out of his waistcoat and bowler hat and into a soft maroon jumper over his shirt and tie. "Red is very much your colour, Jones. Somehow brightens your eyes."

Ianto fidgeted ever so slightly at the flirtatious wink Jack offered him, though he was well aware that the other man did such things for entirely that reason. However on the surface, his only response was to twitch a solitary eyebrow and say "I wish I could be so complimentary regarding your choice of headwear tonight, sir."

Jack cackled loudly, removing the offending garment and holding it lovingly in both hands.

"I chose this one with you in mind" he teased.

"You have stooped to buying items that you know will irritate me, sir?"

"Absolutely, Jones. Are you surprised by this development?"

"Not even vaguely, sir. Just a little wounded."

"I almost look forward to discovering that a much-loved item has disappeared and having to grill you over its whereabouts. I believe I'm beginning to see through those cracks now, Jones… I can tell when you're lying to me."

"Lying, sir?" Ianto tilted his head in a show of faux innocence that started Jack laughing again.

"Let me buy you a drink?" he grinned, and Ianto nodded his thanks.

"Bitter please, sir."

Ianto watched as Jack sauntered to the bar, managed to make the barmaid blush in less than ten seconds, and returned looking like the cock of the walk with two glasses in hand. Jack took one sip of his own and spluttered.

"Good lord, that's… potent!" he gasped. Ianto smirked and took a hearty mouthful of his own beverage.

"What did you order, sir?"

"I went with what you're drinking. What the hell is in this stuff?"

"The same as any other beer sir, but this bitter is stronger. Local brews are always more robust, and this was quite possibly prepared in somebody's bath."

Jack grimaced and Ianto glanced at the ceiling. His master could be rather snobbish sometimes, he thought. He preferred his whiskey from the last century and only imported Italian olives in his cocktail glass; he couldn't help but wonder why a man like Jack had stepped into a place like this in the first place.

"If you don't mind me asking sir, and I make no implications, but why are you here and not at the Torchwood Club?" he enquired. Jack clearly wasn't even tipsy yet, which meant that if he had seen the club at all tonight, it wasn't for long. Jack pulled another face, this one of disdain.

"Knobby was making me sick" he muttered. "The idiot is having a fling with Gwen Cooper."

Ianto raised his eyebrows. "Did I not read in the newspaper that Miss Cooper was engaged to Mr Williams, sir?"

"You did Jones, yes. Gwen is on the rebound from yours truly and Knobby is pining for Toshiko; somehow they've come together through mutual rejection. And as per usual, I'm stuck in the middle" Jack sulked. "Sometimes I wish I'd never met all of these people. Apparently I can't be trusted to make a sensible decision regarding a person's character."

"Sir, it's no bad thing to immediately see the good in any given individual" Ianto gently replied. Jack smiled warmly at him, quite sure that in contrast to his other friends, none of his feelings for the young man were misplaced.

"You know, you don't have to call me 'sir' outside of work hours" he explained. Ianto's eyes widened almost indiscernibly before he could reply.

"I… think it would be indecorous not to, sir."

"We're friends though, aren't we? We're… pals…" Jack trailed off, suddenly struck by uncertainty about whether Ianto felt the same. His valet looked startled again but he smiled what seemed like a genuine smile and replied "yes sir, we are friends. In truth, my argument lies more with the fact that calling you by a different name at varying times of the day would disrupt routine."

"God forbid I disrupt your routine" Jack smirked, and Ianto looked embarrassed. "Hey, don't worry" he soothed, "I just want you to know that should you ever let slip and call me 'Jack', I won't be docking your pay, or flogging you, or whatever is it you're supposed to do when your valet steps out of line."

"You would be lost without me, sir" Ianto replied, immediately taken aback by his own cheek.

Jack let out another of those carefree laughs and nodded. "I'm glad you're aware of that, Jones! You always know what I need. Don't think I didn't notice that you left the coffee pot bubbling away for me this morning."

Ianto shrugged just one shoulder, bringing to Jack's attention the difference in the young man's physical poise in this relaxed environment. He was slightly slouched in his seat, melted into it with his hands lying loosely on the arms, not perched ramrod straight with knotted fingers like he was at the flat, at least in front of Jack.

"I know how you are in the morning, sir" Ianto smiled.

"And how is that, Jones?" Jack prompted, one eyebrow raised in readiness to argue.

"American, sir."

"American? What's that supposed to mean?"

"Emotional, melodramatic and quite often rude, sir."

"I'll have you know Jones, that any slight on me is a slight upon yourself."

"Sir?"

Jack grinned smugly. "I'm British."

Had Ianto been sipping his beer at the time, he may well have spluttered unattractively into the foam.

"I'm from Scotland" Jack continued, "formative years spent in the States, developed the accent, then returned to the UK in time for university. So any character flaws of mine cannot, sadly, be blamed on Americanness."

Jack took a victorious sip of his drink, the flavour of which he was slowly learning to tolerate, and watched as Ianto's expression finally fell once more into his usual deadpan façade.

"I had no idea, sir. I apologise for all of the casual xenophobia during the last few weeks."

"You Welsh are so passive-aggressive."

"Touché, sir."

Jack leaned back in his chair, feeling immeasurably more tranquil than he had at the club. Possibly more than he ever had at the club.

"If you don't mind me asking Jones, why are you here?" he asked, thinking that if there was a good time to make the young man tell him anything about his life, this was the right circumstance.

Ianto finished his last mouthful of bitter with a satisfied smack of his lips, glancing around at the place.

"My father used to frequent this particular establishment, sir" he explained. "He quite often took me along as a child. We would take the train from Newport, and spend all day here. For some reason… this is the first time I have visited since returning to Cardiff."

"They sound like fine memories for you" Jack smiled, and Ianto's nostalgic expression faltered.

"Mostly, sir" he murmured, absently raising his glass to his lips before remembering that it was empty.

"Does your father still come here?"

Ianto's eyes met his. "He passed away some years ago, sir" he replied, his voice and expression so eerily even that Jack couldn't even begin to discern the young man's feelings about the subject. To hazard a guess, he would assume that it was a decidedly raw topic.

"I'm sorry" he whispered, reaching across the heavily stained little table to pat Ianto's hand. His valet forced a smile and gently pulled away from the touch, his natural detestation for being pitied overriding the welcome warmth of Jack's fingers.

"I think it may be time for me to retire to the flat now, sir. That" he pointed to his glass "was my fifth and even for a Welshman, such a volume of home-brewed alcohol is unwise."

"A fine idea Jones, I'll come along too" Jack said, standing first and whipping Ianto's heavy wool coat from the back of his companion's seat.

Ianto stared blankly up at him before standing too, and allowing his employer to help him in into the garment. It was completely alien, being on the receiving end of this; having Jack's hands running across his shoulders and down his arms mirroring the same actions Ianto used on him daily. When he turned, he found himself face to face with the gleaming Harkness grin and cleared his throat before trusting himself to speak.

"Sir, I've no wish to cut your evening short-"

"You're not, Jones" Jack cut him off, leading the way out of the pub. It occurred him to that perhaps Ianto wanted a little time to himself, but a little realisation like that wasn't enough to stop him insisting on keeping the young man company. He stopped as he went to open the door, turning his head to meet Ianto's eye.

"To be perfectly honest, I simply wish to be where you are" he said softly, chuckling when Ianto's rosy lips parted in surprise.


The taxi ride back to the flat was silent, but not uncomfortable. Ianto picked fluff distractedly from the cuffs of his coat, replaying fragments of conversation in his mind and finding it impossible to see the evening as anything other than resoundingly agreeable, despite the strange and perplexing air of the situation. He glanced subtly at Jack, who appeared to be smiling indiscriminately at everything and nothing through the window. How extraordinary it must be, Ianto thought, to have a place in your mind kept separate from all the strains and the loneliness, a 'happy place' to where Jack clearly retreated at regular intervals. Ianto's own version of that was, he suspected, far less of a self-built little fantasy world and more a place of blankness and white noise where he could find a little calm in a storm.

"Coming, Jones?" Jack grinned at him, signalling that the car had halted and the door opened without him even noticing. Mentally shaking himself as he stepped gracefully onto the pavement, Ianto resumed his position of ghosting his employer until they reached the flat, at which point Jack insisted on taking his coat and ignored the baffled expression on his valets face.

Ianto switched on the lights as Jack flicked through the post which the porter had kindly placed next to the telephone,gleefully grabbing a large envelope and a box that was address to Ianto.

"This one is for you, Jones" he said, passing the package to Ianto.

"Ahh yes, this is the new batch of coffee beans sir. I picked it up from the post office this morning and left it downstairs."

Jack placed his envelope down on the piano and rubbed his hands together.

"Wonderful!" he beamed. "But I didn't realise we were low already?"

Ianto shifted slightly, glad of having something to do with his hands in holding the box.

"We're not sir, this is a new type of bean which I have been longing to try for some time" he said.

"And you are so very wise when it comes to coffee" Jack declared. "Well, wise when it comes to everything, actually! To what do you attribute your vast intelligence, Jones?"

Ianto placed the package on the coffee table with the intention of opening it in the morning, and strolled towards the floor-to-ceiling window to stare out at the darkened city.

"Fish, sir" he replied. "My mother fed me a great deal of it when I was a boy, and my consumption of it has continued through adulthood. Many scientists have claimed it to be the ultimate brain food."

Jack looked at him with wonder as he sat in front of the ivories, ripping open his envelope.

"Is there anything you don't know, Jones?"

Ianto looked down at him and smiled. "I really don't know, sir."

Jack chuckled and turned his attention to the booklet in his hands, flicking delightedly through until he settled on a page and propped it open at eye level.

"The new sheet music I've been waiting for. Do you play, Jones?" he asked as he peered at the notes on the paper.

"Not for a long while sir."

"It's not something you ever forget though, is it?" Jack said, and patted the small leather bench next to him.

Ianto hesitated but finally acquiesced, perching himself almost impossibly snug against Jack as the bench was only made for one backside. He cleared his throat and focussed on the booklet.

"Do you know this one?" Jack asked, the extremely close proximity meaning that when he turned to face him, leaning in at all would have resulted in his nose pressed to the young man's ear.

Ianto peered at the title; The Very Thought of You by Ray Noble. "I do sir, yes" he replied, as surprised by the admission as Jack was. "I've heard it on the wireless. Very pleasant song, sir."

"Shall we give it a go?" Jack grinned.

"Provided you do the singing, sir" Ianto replied, laying his fingers lightly on the keys as he already began to memorise the harmony. Jack laughed and softly counted them in, music surrounding them instantaneously. Although Ianto had heard Jack sing around the flat (mostly in the bath), he wasn't quite prepared for the previously unheard gentle edge he applied to this particular song, perfectly suiting the delicate rise and fall of the tune.

"The very thought of you, and I forget to do,

Those little ordinary things that everyone ought to do,

I'm living in a kind of daydream,

I'm happy as a king,

And foolish though it may seem,

To me, that's everything…"

Ianto quickly turned the page, his desire to not interrupt the flow of Jack's voice far stronger than the need to continue playing. A tiny stutter in the music and Jack continued, clearly losing himself in the song. It was worlds away from the limericks and big band tunes that he normally sang in an obnoxiously loud baritone, something that would have been irritating were he not so talented. His voice, regardless of lyrics, seemed to soften Ianto's bones and calm his mind to little more than mush. His own fingers worked on autopilot, looking for all the world as if he was concentrating on nothing other than the sheet music whilst truly feeling a thousand miles away.

The music tapered off all too soon, Jack reluctantly coming down from the high he felt in singing. Despite being one of his greatest loves, he didn't feel he put enough time and energy into doing it justice, hence the buying of the sheet music. Real music, emotional and complex, that was his new project.

He felt a deep contentment as he and Ianto gently played out the last note together, the young man's skills having surprised him, though he didn't know why. He had expected Ianto to be able to play well – skilfully and fastidiously, the same way he undertook all tasks – but was unprepared for the passion in his playing, the way he knew exactly what pressure to use on the keys for which notes to bring out the finest in the song. He had an artists' fingers, Jack decided as he glanced down at Ianto's hands, watching them stilling on the keys and then linking elegantly together.

"Very nice" Jack affirmed softly, offering a staggeringly warm smile. Ianto swallowed hard as he drifted back into his own consciousness, the silence comparatively stifling within the dim room and his awareness heightened by the fact that the entire left side of his body remained pressed against Jack.

"A perfect demonstration of the healing power of music, sir" he replied, his voice faraway and roughened by emotion.

An overwhelming pause occurred, before Jack spoke again.

"If you ever need somebody to talk to…" he whispered, so close that his breath delicately brushed at the shortest hairs behind Ianto's ear.

"You'll be the first to know, sir" his valet replied, closing his eyes with a sigh.