Promises, Promises

She was blonde and lovely, and had quite the infectious laugh. Her blue eyes were slightly darker than Ianto's, although they suited her face very nicely. Jack smiled charmingly at the court lady whose name he'd forgotten and passed her a drink.

"I'm not sure I believe you're a captain," she flirted with an attractive quirk of her lips. Daintily, she sipped the wine he'd given to her.

"Yeah, well, you can believe what you like," Jack winked, taking a sip of his own drink, which was water. "But the papers say I'm a captain."

The Midsummer ball was in full swing. Jack had missed both Equinoxes and the Midwinter ones because he had been out weevil hunting, and he was starting to regret it now. This was sort of fun. He glanced back, once, at the table where Ianto was sitting, chatting with Numair. The mage had his head bent close to Ianto - they seemed to be arguing a point – and Daine, often close to Numair's side, was nowhere to be seen. Jack frowned a little to himself, wondering where she was.

"Jack—" purred the woman, and he looked back at her with a sunny smile. In the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of brown curls. Ah. Okay, Daine was—well, actually, she looked like she was—

A hand clamped on his shoulder. "Jack Harkness," Daine hissed furiously. Jack blinked down at her. Alright, she was here. And angry. What?

"Be right back, doll—" Jack told the court lady with whom he'd been flirting as Daine dragged him away.

"What in Mithros' name do you think you're doing?" she snarled, pulling him by the sleeve around the dance floor to the other side of the ball room. Crowds parted gracefully for the irate wildmage and Jack followed her, vaguely bemused. The orchestra, stationed in the back of the hall, briefly reached a crescendo as a dance ended. There was a round of applause.

Jack stared down at her, perplexed at her fury. "What did it look like I was doing?" he asked wryly, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. "She's—"

"—not Ianto," Daine hissed. Jack blinked.

"What?" he asked, thrown.

She stopped walking at a column in the great ball room. "Look," she growled, gesturing to the other side of the marble structure. Jack followed her hand.

Through the active crowd of the ball, he could see Ianto Jones sitting tensely in his seat, still arguing with Numair. But even from this distance, Jack could tell his heart wasn't in it; he kept glancing back, to somewhere in the ballroom. Had he seen something? Jack frowned.

"I don't understand," Jack told Daine. Ianto was upset, he thought in concern, looking him up and down through the crowds. He wanted to go to him – had Numair inadvertently said something cruel?

"What do you mean you don't understand?" Daine demanded, shaking his arm. "You were doing it right in front of him!"

"Doing what?" Jack asked, alarmed. "Daine, you really have to explain better. I have no idea what you're talking about."

"That woman, you dolt," she hissed furiously, shaking his arm again. "Jack, I thought you loved him!"

Jack's heart clenched. He hadn't yet told Ianto that he loved him, although it was painfully obvious to all of the friends he'd made here. But why would—

Oh.

Oh.

Jack swore very quietly as comprehension dawned. "He's really upset about—?" he started incredulously.

"Wouldn't you be?" Daine exploded. A few people around then glanced their way, but Jack smiled charmingly and Daine waved them off.

"No," Jack growled back at her, frustration and sudden, harsh guilt coursing through him. He hadn't meant—Ianto knew better than to take it personally, didn't he—? "I'm not from a monogamous culture. Dammit. He never seemed to..." His heart twisted unexpectedly. Jack leaned back against the column.

"What?" Daine demanded furiously. "Jack—"

"But I can't do monogamous," Jack interrupted her, pushing away from the column to grasp her shoulders and shake her gently. "It's all well and good for the twenty-first century or whatever year it is here, but I'm terrible at it."

"You're terrible at it?" Daine demanded, voice cold. She stilled his hands. "Jack, this is the same man you raged at the gods about. This is the same man the Hag tried to use as a bargaining piece. If you don't love him, then what do you love?"

"Of course I love him," Jack hissed, a lump forming in his throat at the admission. "Of course I do. I'd—" he swallowed. Anything, he thought — "I'm not from a monogamous culture," he repeated, defeated. "It's always seemed silly to me, even after years and years on Earth. It's so - restricting. I've tried it before. It never works out."

"This is a conversation for Ianto, not me," Daine told him firmly. "Although you're going to need a better excuse, because if Numair ever told me that, frankly I would kill him." She released his arm and gestured back to Ianto, who had leaned forward now and was still talking animatedly with Numair. "Go to him."

Jack's shoulders slumped. He glanced at Ianto, Daine, then back to the woman standing across the dance floor. She fluttered at him.

"Oh, hell," he mumbled, and strode off to Ianto's table, leaving Daine by the column.

"—really none of your business," Jack heard Ianto telling Numair in a heated undertone as he approached. Jack felt a surge of fondness for him; he knew exactly what this conversation was about.

"Ianto," he started. Ianto rolled his eyes.

"Oh, good," Numair muttered. Jack gave him a rather confused look, and the mage went back to eating his dinner, clearly eavesdropping.

"Jack," Ianto sighed, voice exasperated. He kept his eyes fixed on his plate, where he started furiously cutting the main course with a steak knife. "Jack, you—"

"Ianto," Jack blurted, pulling out the seat on the other side of Ianto and sitting down. "I didn't mean—"

"Stop." Ianto looked up and glared at him. Jack stopped. "I'm not having this conversation in the middle of a crowded ballroom. Go back to her, Jack. Have fun."

Jack frowned. He glanced back at the woman – lady something-or-other, from a fief Jack couldn't name – and then looked at Ianto. "She doesn't matter," he told him in an undertone, and despite Ianto's rolled eyes and red face, he continued. "You must know that, Ianto. She doesn't matter."

"Jack, you can no more help who you are than I can help who I am," Ianto said, eyes averted. "Go. It's alright."

"Ianto Jones," Numair scolded softly from Ianto's other side. Ianto glared at him.

"This," he growled, "is really none of your business."

"It's my business if my friends are hurting," the mage replied evenly, dark eyes moving from Ianto to Jack and back again. "And you're both even more foolish than Daine and I. For Mithros' sake, please speak with each other."

"We are talking," Jack said, hopelessly confused.

"We don't need to talk!" Ianto snapped. "It's fine. Jack's Jack. I'd be an idiot if I thought anything otherwise."

Numair mumbled something about already being an idiot, and Ianto glared.

Jack frowned and searched Ianto's face and finally caught his eyes. They were pale and gloomy and tugged at his heart. "It's not okay if it upsets you," Jack said softly, eyebrows drawn in concern. Ianto shook his head.

"I'm fine," he lied. It was pretty unconvincing. Jack stood.

"Come on, Ianto," he sighed. Ianto looked at him quizzically.

"What?"

"Come on. We're going back to our rooms."

"There we go," Numair muttered to himself. Absurdly, Jack wanted to either kick the back of his chair or pull the mage's long hair in irritation, but he refrained.

"Jack," Ianto complained, exasperated, but Jack tugged him out of his chair and shooed him across the room.

The two of them wove in and out of the moving crowd of ladies in their stunning dresses and men in their finest clothing. The hose was oddly flattering, Jack thought idly to himself, even if it did itch like none other. Still, it was worth it; all those legs toned from horseback riding were a sight to see. The crowd parted for them and eventually he and Ianto reached the huge, double doors that led out of the ballroom.

"I'm going to kill the both of them," Ianto growled as Jack pushed open one of doors. Jack chuckled, a little anxious.

They made their way back to their adjoining rooms in silence. One of the reasons he adored Ianto so was his ability for silence, Jack thought ruefully, glancing over at him. He and Ianto could spend hours together in perfect silence and for someone like Jack, constantly moving and talking and deceiving, it felt honest, somehow, and relaxing. No one could lie, sitting in comfortable silence like that.

This silence tasted different, though. Both men were uncomfortable, but Jack knew that this was a conversation they needed to have. Like Jack, Ianto wouldn't mention if anything was wrong unless forced.

They reached their rooms. Ianto opened the door with a wave of his hand, and Jack smiled.

"Lazy," he teased softly as the door opened with a blue twinkle and a creaking noise.

"I don't see you opening the door, sir," Ianto replied wryly, the old formality a nickname that was almost tender. Jack smiled softly and shooed Ianto inside. The door closed.

The silence turned awkward and Jack cringed internally. "Tell me what's wrong," he said after a moment.

"Nothing," Ianto muttered, going over to sit on the sofa. Jack followed him, only he crouched in front of Ianto.

"I don't believe that," he said flatly. "Daine's right, you know. You are from a monogamous culture."

Ianto rolled his eyes. "Daine and Numair ought to mind their own business," he complained. Jack smiled ruefully.

"They're not as bad as Alanna," he said wryly. "Just be glad she hasn't decided to meddle. There's a reason they call her Lioness. But you're avoiding the subject."

Ianto sighed. He looked down and away from Jack's eyes. "Yes, Jack," he said awkwardly after a moment. "I am from a monogamous culture. But I know you're not. And I understand. Besides, you haven't promised me anything," he added in an undertone.

Jack stared at him, floored. "But I sleep with you, Ianto," he murmured, and to his mind, that was good as a promise. Damned twenty-first century. Ianto raised an eyebrow, and Jack shook his head. "No, no, not euphemistically," he corrected, waving a hand as though waving the thought away. "Literally. You are the one I rest with. Do you know how long it's been since I literally shared a bed with—" he paused and realized. "This doesn't translate," he muttered.

Ianto's eyebrow did not go down. "I don't understand," he said flatly.

"Sex," Jack explained frankly, "It's an act, it's—it's nice and it's fun for everyone involved. But it's not—sleep. Sleep's—personal. You're vulnerable when you sleep. I'm not explaining this well," he sighed. Ianto opened his mouth to say something, but Jack cut him off.

"Okay, we're going to go about this differently. The human species," he said clinically, recalling a lesson from his training, long ago at the Time Agency, "The human species is sentient, and as such uses sex socially as a method of communication. It strengthens the bond between two or more individuals. You follow?"

Ianto nodded slowly. "I'm not sure where you're going with this," he muttered, looking uncomfortable. Jack laid a hand on his knee.

"Just listen. That's what's listed under mating behavior in some encyclopedia I can't remember," he said. "And that's what it is: mating behavior. The instinct to pass our genes on, et cetera, et cetera. But it doesn't mean trust and it certainly doesn't mean—love." Jack forced the last bit out. Ianto watched him keenly, although his eyes widened just a fraction at the mention of love.

"But—sleeping does," he said slowly.

"Yes," Jack told him urgently. It was hard to explain something so fundamental to his worldview. It was like trying to explain the meaning and significance of an engagement ring, something that had been foreign to him when he'd first come to Earth. There was so little his own culture left over in his heart, after so many years away from home—but this was something he'd kept, especially after he'd been killed in his sleep for the first time. "You can have sex with whoever, but… but you really only sleep with someone you trust."

Ianto looked down. There was a short pause. Jack took a breath.

"S-someone you love," he added in a whisper, and Ianto's eyes snapped back to Jack's. "You see the difference? I'll do whatever with anyone… but you're the one I rest with. It's—my time—we didn't really do monogamy, not in the literal sense, anyway. But we still fell in love." He looked at Ianto earnestly. Ianto quirked a small, shy smile and took Jack's hand from his knee. He held it carefully and traced along Jack's lifeline.

"You can't get away with hints forever, you know," he muttered, watching Jack's palm. Jack gave a nervous laugh.

"I can try," he replied. Ianto rolled his eyes, and Jack took another breath and then gathered himself.

"I do love you," he said, too quickly. "Really. You have to know that by now. I'd do—anything—"

Ianto sighed and closed his eyes. He squeezed Jack's hand, and Jack quieted. "That was all I needed to hear," he said softly. "Don't make promises you can't keep, Jack."

"Can I promise to try?" Jack whispered.

"No," Ianto said, opening his eyes and looking down at Jack. "No, not even that. Because in my culture, Jack, monogamy is it. There aren't exceptions. I don't want empty promises; in fact I don't even want promises that you mean. Because I won't cage you like that. You're Jack bloody Harkness," he smiled sadly. "There are probably ballads somewhere about all the people you've shagged. I—I love you the way you are," he said quietly, and Jack's heart turned over with sheer, irrational joy. "I wouldn't try to change you like that. Just—if you're going to—not in front of me, okay?" he finished weakly.

"I can promise that," Jack said earnestly, standing so he could clamber onto the couch and take Ianto into his arms. "Absolutely."

And, in his mind, Jack made another promise, one he meant this time. It may have been as old fashioned, stupid and restricting as a corset, but he hadn't liked the hurt expression on Ianto's face at the ball tonight. Jack Harkness was going to hang up his condom, he thought with wry humor. He was going to try for monogamy, if only to keep the pain out of Ianto's eyes.

And then, if he could do it, Jack swore to himself that he would make a real promise to Ianto one day, and keep it.

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