X. What Are You Doing New Year's Eve?
Jack and Ianto sat at the modern bar of the Park Plaza, sipping the most expensive scotch that Ianto had ever tasted and quite possibly ever would. It was like smoky honey that burned in the best of ways—and it was strong. Perhaps that was why, when the clock struck eight and the doors to the ballroom opened for the New Year's Eve banquet, Ianto gallantly offered his arm to Jack, who whimsically accepted it, and together they made their way toward the table they had been assigned at check-in.
The rich wood-paneled ballroom was stunning—dozens of tables surrounded a large dance floor, each set with stark white china on black tablecloths, intricate centerpieces proclaiming the new year with flowers and candles. The chairs were covered and ribboned, the chandelier turned low, and as Ianto led the way past a low stage set up at one end of the dance floor toward their table, he felt Jack lean in closer and whisper in his ear, "There's going to be a live band."
"Apparently," Ianto replied dryly.
"A big band," Jack continued excitedly.
Ianto pretended to study the stage. "Yes, it does look like it's going to be a rather large ensemble," he replied. Currently a jazz trio was playing soft dinner music as the guests entered.
"No, a swing band, with real instruments," Jack replied, either ignoring or completely missing Ianto's dry remark. "Not some loud rock band with six guitars and an amp."
Ianto held back a laugh; sometimes Jack was not just old fashioned in looks and dress.
"What's wrong with a rock band?" he asked.
"It's crap. This will be real music." They arrived at their table, where Jack pulled out Ianto's chair for him. "The last time I heard a live big band, I was stuck in 1941 with Tosh."
"From what I heard, that was a good time for you," Ianto replied, lowering his voice as a hint. 'Stuck in 1941' was not something for a table of strangers to overhear.
"It was," Jack admitted, "but now I get to experience it with you. I couldn't ask for anything better." He sat down and squeezed Ianto's hand under the table, and Ianto felt a rush of fondness for Jack's excitement, as well as an incredible gratitude to Tosh and the others; they really knew how to plan the perfect night for him and Jack.
Although the other tables were set for ten, there were only nine people at their own. Three young women about Ianto's age were already sitting and talking animatedly, cocktails in hand. They were obviously good friends celebrating New Year's Eve together, dressed in high style. Two other couples joined them soon after, and judging from their tired but enthusiastic manner, Ianto would bet money that they all had young children at home whom they were thrilled to leave behind with the grandparents for the evening.
Introductions were made all around. Both couples were friendly and polite, though they talked mostly between themselves at first, and mostly about their children; hopefully they would get over that once they started enjoying their night. The three women immediately started flirting with both Jack and Ianto, in spite of the fact that they were obviously there together. Ianto found he didn't mind. In fact, one girl, Catrin, reminded him very much of an old girlfriend from university he'd been fond of, and he enjoyed talking with her.
Appetizers were shared around the table and wine was poured; dinner was served slowly with even more wine while the jazz trio continued to play on stage. The five-course meal was exquisite down to the smallest detail, and the final course featured the most decadent chocolate torte Ianto had ever tasted, topped with caramel sauce and finely ground sea salt. Ianto couldn't remember the last time he had dined so well.
Three glasses of wine had him feeling quite relaxed, so when Jack leaned over and whispered '210' in his ear, he understood immediately, and it was all Ianto could do to keep himself from jumping up and following as Jack excused himself. He waited several minutes, continuing his conversation with Catrin—she was a PA with a local law firm, and he found their jobs were at least similar enough to complain about—before he too excused himself. Catrin's friend Megan raised an eyebrow at that, obviously understanding his exit while Catrin herself was quite clueless, and he simply gave her an innocent look in return before stepping out. He stopped at the loo in the lobby and hurried up to Jack's room. Either the wine or the perhaps the chocolate cake had got to Jack as well, because he met Ianto immediately at the door, and both their splashy dinner suits were quickly shed to great effect before they even reached the bed.
After cleaning up and dressing once more (Ianto was certain this was exactly why Tosh had booked Jack's room so close to the ballroom, though he wasn't sure whether to thank her or curse her), they returned to the party to find that dinner was officially cleared and the big band had moved onto the stage so that the dancing could begin.
They were playing an old standard, something Ianto recognized from hearing it around the hub during night's spent working (among other things) with Jack after the others had left. Cole Porter, perhaps, or Glenn Miller, one of Jack's favorites. Jack was grinning at the band, eyeing the dance floor with obvious excitement. Ianto couldn't help but feel both nervous and excited himself.
"They sound good," he said casually, hands in his pockets.
"Excellent," Jack agreed.
"Looks like it might even be fun."
Jack glanced at him in surprise. "Really?"
Ianto shrugged out of his jacket; it was already growing warm and would probably only increase as the crowd continued to drink and dance. He returned to their table, laid his jacket carefully over his chair, and poured himself a glass of water (more wine later) before turning to Jack.
"Really."
"Our last was a bit awkward," Jack pointed out. Which was unfortunately true, but it was also, Ianto hoped, behind them now, both literally and figuratively.
"That was just shuffling," Ianto replied. "Although I would have liked to practice for something like this if we had known."
Jack shed his coat as well and finished his wine. "But we didn't know, and we'll be fine. It's just dancing. Listen to the music, feel it, and it'll be perfect."
"Who leads?" asked Ianto pointedly. "I've only ever danced with a woman except for Gwen's wedding."
"I've danced with both, so I could lead," Jack said slowly. "But I'd prefer it to be more mutual—we lead together, follow one another's instincts. We do that anyway out in the field, why not on the dance floor?"
"Because there are no guns and aliens?" Ianto offered.
"Should be easy, then," Jack laughed, and Ianto smiled. Jack was right, and it made some sense even if it did go against everything he had learned and experienced about dancing growing up. As the next song started, Jack held out his hand, and Ianto accepted.
"We'll try it that way then, even if we end up stumbling around like idiots."
"At least we're good-looking idiots." Jack winked and walked them to the dance floor. It wasn't quite as crowded as Ianto suspected it would be later as more wine flowed and the band undoubtedly played more modern music.
The band had struck up a faster tune this time—Ellington, Jack said—and they took one another's hands, fumbling a bit where to place the other as equal partners. Finally Jack laughed and said, "Look, I know this music. Let me start, at least. We can take turns once you get the hang of it."
Ianto sighed and grumbled good-naturedly, trying not to feel like a stumbling idiot after all. Yet as Jack placed his hand on Ianto's waist and guided them around the dance floor, he slowly relaxed, beginning to enjoy not only the music, but also the feeling of yet another connection with Jack. If there were a few stares from some of the more conservative partygoers, he'd apparently had enough wine to mostly ignore them.
The next song was a ballad. "Gershwin," Ianto murmured, and Jack nodded in impressed approval that Ianto recognized the tune. He moved Ianto's hand to his waist and took the other to hold against his chest while placing his own free hand on Ianto's shoulder. So they would take turns, that worked—even if Ianto ended up with all the slow tunes. He pulled his partner close, Jack laid his head alongside Ianto's, and together they swayed to the delicate beauty of 'Embraceable You.' Ianto was fairly sure Jack was singing softly.
And he knew without a doubt it was one of the best dances of his life.
They danced a bit more before deciding to take a break. It had definitely grown quite warm in the room, and Ianto loosened his tie as they headed outside to the hotel bar for cooler air and a drink.
"What would you like?" asked Jack.
"Surprise me," said Ianto as they entered. "Something from the era." Jack grinned at him and motioned to one of the bartenders. The girls from their table were sitting at nearby, and Ianto headed over to join them, striking up a conversation while Jack waited for their drinks. Glancing over, Jack noticed that once again Catrin seemed most interested in Ianto, who couldn't help but exchange a subtle grin with her friends; they apparently hadn't had the heart to tell her what was really going on between him and Jack.
Jack joined them, slipping easily into the conversation and handing Ianto his drink. He took a small sip and grimaced slightly before nodding in surprise at the more pleasant aftertaste. "What is it then?" he asked.
"Dirty Shirley," Jack winked, sipping at something different, something he'd enjoyed at the time.
"And yours?"
"Sidecar," said Jack. He sighed happily as he took another sip. Ianto reached out for his glass.
"May I?" he asked, and Jack nodded. The Sidecar was apparently much more to Ianto's taste, and he reluctantly handed it back.
"I want that next time," he said.
"There will be champagne later," Jack pointed out.
"Brilliant," said Ianto. "Then we'll have both." Jack loved when Ianto was so relaxed.
The girls giggled as they sipped their Cosmopolitans. They chatted some more before Megan, a bold dark-haired beauty, suggested they all return to the party together. Finishing their drinks, Jack and Ianto followed, Catrin still by Ianto's side. Jack gave him a highly amused look that Ianto returned with a roll of his eyes. When they got to the dance floor, Catrin immediately claimed Ianto as her partner, while Jack danced with Megan and then Anna, the third friend. He and Ianto stayed close, however, exchanging small grins and winks that Catrin continued to miss.
The music had moved from the forties into the fifties and sixties; Ianto begged out when the disco tunes started and headed back to their table. One of the couples was sitting close together, watching the party and sipping wine, obviously content to simply relax and observe, and Ianto joined them, helping himself to another glass of wine. Jack continued dancing with the girls, though he was torn between wanting to stay and wanting to just sit and be with Ianto.
Glancing toward the table after a rousing rendition of a classic ABBA song, he noticed that Ianto had left. Frowning, he glanced around the room, trying to find his date, until he saw Ianto return from a desert table with a plate piled high enough with sweets for both him and Jack. Ianto flagged him down from the dance floor with a wave of the plate, and Jack joined him back at the table immediately, leaving the girls on their own with the apparently timeless yet eternally annoying 'YMCA.'
Jack popped a canoli into his mouth before he even sat down. "That's perfect," he said. "I needed a sugar rush to keep me going." The band started in on the eighties, and Ianto groaned before he stopped and suddenly sat up straighter, a small smirk pulling at his lips.
"Maybe we should take our private sugar rush back to your room for a while."
Jack glanced sideways at him then back at the band. "You don't like eighties music, do you?"
Ianto shrugged. "I was a kid, I had to listen to Rhi's play cassettes all the time and hated it. I do, however, like the thought of sharing that macaroon with you. In bed. Preferably naked."
"Ooooooh," said Jack, as if he had not really understood Ianto's unspoken intent, which of course was hardly the case; he just loved it when Ianto was the one to suggest something unconventional. Ianto rolled his eyes, picked up the plate, took Jack by the hand, and began to lead him out. Megan met them just as they were passing the dance floor.
"Again?" she laughed, and Ianto couldn't help but wink at her.
"We've got biscuits this time," he whispered conspiratorially.
"You'll be back, though?" she asked. "Catrin would be disappointed if you didn't come back."
"We'll be back," Ianto nodded. "Midnight toast and all that."
"Just find your friend someone else to kiss at midnight," said Jack, wrapping an arm around Ianto's waist. "This one's taken."
Megan grinned and shooed them away, and they somehow managed to sneak the entire plate of dessert up to Jack's room, where they took turns feeding it to one another in creative ways…among other things, of course.
Returning to the ballroom forty minutes later sans ties this time, they found the band in the middle of a blaring set of songs Ianto apparently remembered from his university years. Helping himself to another glass of wine, he took several sips before pulling Jack back onto the dance floor. This time neither one of them needed to lead, as the music flowed through them and they simply moved with it, sometimes grinding their hips together, sometimes dancing with the girls from their table, and always leaning in for frequent sloppy kisses until they were hot and breathless and laughing at the sheer ridiculous joy of it all.
It was a night of blissful abandon that Jack would remember for a long time—forever, because he could.
The band took a break before the set that would take them to the midnight toast. Jack and Ianto collapsed in their seats, waiting it out with a glass of water and catching their breath. The girls had gone back to the bar, and at least one of the couples appeared to have retired for the night, either exhausted or simply enjoying an uninterrupted night of spousal activity. The other couple was at the dessert table, feeding one another from the chocolate fountain. And so it was just them, and Jack pulled his chair closer to Ianto, and Ianto leaned against his shoulder, feeling pleasantly drunk on the wine and the music and the dancing. Jack wrapped an arm around him and kissed his temple as he was so often given to doing in those rare moments they shared alone.
"This has been one of the best dates I've had in a long time," he murmured, and Ianto glanced up at him and smiled.
"Me too. And to think that neither one of us planned it," he pointed out.
"I know. I wonder what that says about our dating skills."
"That they barely exist?" replied Ianto, holding back a sarcastic snort.
"I don't know," said Jack thoughtfully. "We could do this, come up with these sorts of things on our own."
"What sort of things?" asked Ianto.
"Dates—you know, actually going out." Jack laughed, shaking his head at the dubious look Ianto knew he was wearing. "And not just to the restaurant down the street or your flat. Movies, concerts, a rugby match?" Ianto stared at him.
"You want to go to a game?" he asked.
Jack shrugged. "I would, with you. Or, I don't know, a museum, an art gallery? Do you like art?"
"Sometimes," said Ianto, still slightly in shock at Jack's words. For months he had seemed content to simply do what they did: work at Torchwood and go out when they could. Moore often than not that was exactly as Jack had described it: a nearby restaurant, Ianto's flat, or even more rarely, a film they both wanted to see.
Jack pulled him closer, as if doing so would convince Ianto of his sincerity. "Maybe we could go away for a weekend—start local, of course, just in case we need to save the world, but then perhaps we could go to Paris, like Gwen and Rhys. Maybe Venice or Rome if the Rift really threw us a bone someday."
"Not going to happen," Ianto laughed.
"What, us traveling or the Rift letting us?" Jack sounded slightly disappointed by the skeptical amusement in Ianto's voice, so he tempered it with his reply.
"The latter, of course. But if the Rift ever does stay quiet for more than a weekend, I'd love to do all that with you, and more." He leaned forward to kiss Jack as convincingly as he could, so that Jack would know how much Ianto appreciated the fact that Jack was even thinking about a future together, yet alone making plans for it. He doubted it would ever happen, for too many reasons to think about about without despairing; they would have to be content with rare nights like this. They could always hope and dream and plan, but they both knew the reality of their lives at Torchwood.
"More, huh?" said Jack. He offered that half grin, half, leer that said Jack was definitely thinking something dirty, if not illegal, even in the middle of a rather serious conversation. So Ianto threw it back at him.
"As long as you can keep up," he murmured, and then pulled Jack to his feet as the band returned to the stage and began to play. They had gone back to the music they'd started the evening with, so that another Glen Miller tune started just as they reached the dance floor.
"About damn time they played this one," Jack muttered. Ianto tried to follow as best as he could, but he was getting tired, he'd had a lot to drink (not to mention a hell of a blowjob back in the room earlier), and he found himself thinking more about the future than the present until he hardly noticed the song had ended and Jack was laughing at him.
"Who's keeping up with who?" he teased. "I think someone is danced out." Ianto shrugged. It was true, but he didn't care. There were other things he'd rather be doing, after all, even if they should probably wait until after midnight. Then he had an idea, something he hoped would make Jack's night even more special.
"Toast is in a few minutes, how about pouring us some champagne?" Ianto suggested. "I promise you the next ballad, I think I can manage that."
Jack nodded and went back to their table, where several bottles of champagne and a tray of flutes sat waiting for the midnight toast. Ianto headed toward the band, hoping to catch them before the next song started. He made a quick request, which the pianist assured him was no problem once the toast was over and they began to close out the night. Ianto smiled to himself and went back to the table.
They watched the dancers silently as the clock ticked toward midnight. The band pulled up one last song before the countdown, and Jack dragged Ianto out for the ballad he had promised, not knowing there was a special one for later.
The sultry strains of "What Are You Doing New Year's Eve?" brought just about everyone to the dance floor. Jack murmured the words against Ianto's cheek as they danced, and Ianto let his eyes slip closed, content to simply sway against Jack's warm body.
"What are you doing New Year's—New Year's Eve?" he sang into Ianto's ear.
Ianto hummed a wordless response, prompting Jack to squeeze him a bit tighter. "What about next year?" Jack asked.
Ianto opened his eyes and gave Jack a raised eyebrow. "I'm serious," said Jack.
He considered it, then pressed a kiss to Jack's lips. "Maybe we can try St. David's next year. Or we make this a tradition."
Jack's smile could have lit up the room, and the fact that Ianto had done that would never fail to both frighten and amaze him. That Jack would dare to feel anything for him knowing how fleeting their relationship truly was—because it was a fleeting thing in Jack's long life, Ianto knew that perfectly well—was sometimes a miraculous thing to Ianto. As well as a tremendous responsibility: one day he would break Jack's heart, and he hated knowing that as well.
The song finished with a soft flourish, and the band sent everyone back to their tables for their champagne glasses before returning to the dance floor for the countdown. Ianto hated New Year's Eve countdowns, which was odd considering his affinity for the stopwatch in his pocket. They just felt so contrived, so forced. Yet he had to admit that, unlike last year, at least this year he had something to look forward to at midnight; he even had something to look forward to next year.
The crowd shouted down to zero, and Ianto stepped closer to Jack, raising his glass. Out of nowhere confetti fell around them and balloons filled the air. The band struck up 'Auld Lang Syne,' and after toasting (and occasionally kissing) everyone around them, Jack snaked a possessive arm around Ianto's neck and pulled him close for a kiss to start the new year.
It was a hell of a kiss, and Ianto was dimly aware of the girls from their table whistling and giggling nearby. Yet at that moment, nothing else mattered but Jack and that kiss.
Jack wished it would last forever, it was that perfect.
For the first time since Alex had destroyed Torchwood Three, Jack wasn't afraid of New Year's Eve. He had something to look forward to—someone to look forward to. He tried not to think of the possibility that he and Ianto would not be around or together to celebrate the next year, because right then he just wanted to revel in the perfect moment and pretend that it really could last forever—the kiss, the night, their relationship, everything. Forever.
Yet all too soon the song ended, and the band struck up an upbeat beat tune that sent most of the crowd back to their tables. For a moment, Jack stood there gazing into Ianto's eyes, until Ianto nodded at some silent understanding that passed between them, and hand-in-hand they returned to their table.
The other couple immediately said good night and left. The three girls poured themselves more champagne and returned to the dance floor, officially three sheets to the wind by now. Once again Jack and Ianto had the table to themselves, but this time they were quiet as they finished their champagne, each wrapped up in their own thoughts.
And then to Jack's surprise the band began one of his favorite songs, and Ianto stood, holding out his hand for one last dance. It had been over one hundred and thirty years since Jack had stood on a clock tower in London and danced with the girl who would lead him to the man who changed his life. Yet as he danced with Ianto, he felt his life changing once more, the soft sounds of 'Moonlight Serenade' flowing through his skin and into his heart until he buried his face in Ianto's shoulder so that the other man could not see his face as he struggled with so many emotions he thought he might burst.
Closing his eyes, he let the music sweep away old memories and replace them with new ones he would cherish just as much for as long as he lived.
"Thank you for the request," Jack murmured hoarsely as the song ended and a Gershwin tune filled the air. The irony of 'Someone To Watch Over Me' was not lost on Ianto, and he forced back any melancholy the song inspired. Jack had been very quiet during the Glenn Miller tune, and Ianto knew it had affected him deeply, so he didn't want to make it any worse; they were supposed to be celebrating after all.
"You're welcome," he said softly. "I know it's your favorite."
"Happy New Year," Jack hummed against his cheek as they continued dancing.
"You said that already."
"I know, but I really want it to be a happy new year for you."
"And for you, I hope."
"And for me. And…well, for us."
"For us." Ianto was barely moving now, unsure where Jack was going this time with his unusually candid sentiment; it was the second time that evening, and he'd barely made it through the first with his composure intact.
"Yeah, for us. Ianto?"
"Yes, Jack?" His heart was thumping wildly in his chest. No, not that, Jack couldn't possibly be thinking about…
"Are you happy?"
Ianto stepped back a bit and placed his forehead against Jack's as they danced, a wave of both relief and disappointment flowing through him. "Very much, Jack."
Jack pulled him close once more, pressed tightly against him, and Ianto could feel the other man's heart racing against his own. "Then please don't ever leave me," Jack whispered.
And even though Ianto wanted to say something like 'I'll try my best, sir', he could only swallow hard and offer a watery smile as he felt tears prick at his eyes. Jack wasn't just talking about their relationship now, he was talking about much more, and there wasn't anything Ianto could do or say that would really make a difference in what they both knew to be the truth of it.
"I won't, Jack," he finally replied, his voice now hoarse as well. "I promise that I'll always be here." He placed his hand on Jack's heart, and Jack simply nodded as he held it, eyes bright. Ianto's words held a double meaning that they both understood perfectly well. And they both accepted it, as hard as it was during moments like this—moments Ianto wished he could share with Jack forever, moments he knew Jack would have to carry with him forever, no matter how much pain they caused him when the moment was over.
The band continued to play, but Jack and Ianto were barely moving now, wrapped closely against one another but lost in their own thoughts once more. In some ways, Ianto felt as if the night had come to a sudden, crashing end, worse than if a Weevil had run through the ballroom grunting and growling. He was determined to rescue it for them both.
Stepping away before the end of the song, he took Jack's hand and led them back to the table to pick up their jackets. He started singing quietly under his breath, somehow not surprised to find he remembered the words.
"There's a somebody I'm longing to see," he started, and heard Jack's breath catch in his throat.
"I hope that he…turns out to be…someone who'll watch over me." They left the ballroom to the strains of the band playing behind them.
"I'll watch over you," Jack whispered. "As best and as long as I can."
Ianto nodded and continued, his throat tight as he leaned close to Jack and they walked arm-in-arm toward the lift. "Won't you tell him please to put on some speed…follow my lead..,oh, how I need…someone to watch over me." And though it was a very serious moment, a very beautiful song, Ianto winked, hoping to bring Jack out of his melancholy with the implication behind it.
"Your lead?" asked Jack, glancing up as if pretending to consider it. "As long as you lead me to your suite, Mr. Jones."
"Care to grab your gear first, Mr. Harkness?" Ianto asked, forcing the light tone. Jack grinned and nodded, and they stopped at Jack's room to collect his things before they made their way up to the suite that Tosh had reserved for them. There was no rush, no sense of the hurried desperation to be together from earlier, just the pleasant sense of anticipation of more to come. This would not be the quick shag from earlier in the night, or the rather kinky bit with the plate of dessert…this would be slower, more deliberate, more tender. Worth the wait.
As they entered the suite, Ianto noticed immediately that there was an envelope on the wet bar. Jack walked straight to the bedroom with his bag, but Ianto went to the counter, fingering the envelope curiously.
Inside he found a single photograph, obviously taken earlier in the evening in the ballroom. It was a picture of him and Jack, leaving the dance floor hand in hand, laughing and smiling and looking as if they didn't have a care in the world. And for a few hours that night, they'd had no cares but for each other: Ianto hadn't thought about the Rift, or the hub, or Torchwood once all night, until the very end, when the reality of their lives had unfortunately but inevitably clouded their celebration.
Turning the photograph over, Ianto found a simple message written in handwriting he recognized.
A memory for you both, with many happy New Years to come.
Ianto shook his head and smiled to himself. Brilliant Tosh, offering one last gift for them after all she had done. Though he already cherished the incredible evening, now he could forever gaze at the joy they'd experienced, so rarely captured on film. The photograph stirred deep emotions within him, and Jack came out from the bedroom to find him still standing there, gazing down at the photograph, his mind whirling and his heart full. He passed it to the other man silently.
Jack stared down at the scene in his hands, a grin pulling at his lips before he set it down with the envelope and turned toward Ianto, taking his hand and wordlessly leading him to the bedroom. Ianto stopped just before entering.
"Jack, I—" He faltered, uncertain what he wanted to say, what he could say after all they had shared that night.
And yet as always, Jack seemed to understand, to somehow read Ianto's mind, if not his heart as well. Jack nodded, his voice thick when he finally spoke.
"I know," he said softly.
What it was exactly Jack knew, Ianto wasn't sure. Did he know how much Ianto cared, how much he treasured each and every moment with Jack? Did he know how much it frightened him sometimes, to feel so much for Jack when it could only end in heartbreak for them both? Did he know how guilty Ianto felt, carrying the burden of knowing he would leave Jack one day to deal with the heartbreak on his own?
Did Jack know what a strong, caring, amazing man he was, how lucky Ianto felt to have found him, regained his trust, earned his respect, shared even the smallest part of his long life with him in such an intimate way?
Did he know how much he was loved?
Ianto closed his eyes, shook his head, and smiled. He took a deep breath before opening his eyes again. "I hope so," he replied.
The look on Jack's face told him, without a doubt, that Jack did know—he knew without Ianto saying it, because saying it was not something they had done or would do—because saying it made it too real.
Yet to his forever surprise, Jack pulled him close and whispered three words in his ear, three words that Ianto never thought to hear, hardly dared to think, and would remember for the rest of his life. Three words that changed his world forever.
Another nod, a passionate kiss, an inviting grin.
"Happy New Year, Jack."
"Happy New Year, Ianto."
And it would be, because they were starting it together.
Author's Note:
The End. Really.
I suppose an epilogue with the entire team would be fun, but not after all this. I really, truly, honestly did not expect this story to run so long, nor to end quite like this. Which just goes to show that the characters dictate the story, not the author. Jack and Ianto deserved more from RTD, so I'm glad I was able to give them this night, this celebration of the love they clearly shared yet found it so hard to acknowledge and express.
The New Year's Eve party at the Plaza was all my own; I have no idea if they even have one, let alone what it might really be like, though I would dearly love to dance to Gershwin with a swing band someday.
Thank you so much for reading this. I really wish I'd finished it by New Year's Eve, but I do hope you enjoyed this a bit of post-holiday warmth. Let a girl know, yeah?
And those three words? Up to you, dear readers. Up to you. I know exactly what they are.