a/n:

Here's another (mostly) fluff-filled chapter that doesn't exactly advance the plotline… but it's either fluff or I write the next 'bittersweet' piece that I've got lodged in my head but am not ready to write yet… as always, reviews are love and keep the muses fed and happy! The next chapter does pick up the pace a bit, promise.

Chapter Eleven

26 April, 2010

"I don't pretend to know what love is for everyone, but I can tell you what it is for me; love is knowing all about someone, and still wanting to be with them more than any other person, love is trusting them enough to tell them everything about yourself, including the things you might be ashamed of, love is feeling comfortable and safe with someone, but still getting weak knees when they walk into a room and smile at you."

Author Unknown

Ianto rolled over and glanced at the clock on the bedside table. He was more than a little relieved to realize he'd only been asleep for a few minutes—just long enough for Jack to have gotten out of bed and, judging by the sound of water running in the bathroom, get into to the shower. He knew he shouldn't feel so good about doing something so completely irresponsible, but he smiled anyway. Jack was singing in the shower. The young Welshman didn't know the song—he didn't even know the language—but he loved the rich full sound of his partner's voice. Usually Jack only sang to the kids.

Ianto remembere the first time he'd chanced upon the immortal singing softly to Jason after he and Ella had moved in with them; the memory brought a surge of warmth. Of hurt. That first year had been so incredibly difficult, especially in the very beginning when he'd felt as if he was living in the shadow of the ghost of a man who hadn't even been born yet. Roan. Jack's first partner. Husband. He was a little fuzzy on the details, he just knew that they'd been together and that Jack had loved Roan enough to father a child with him—and that given the circumstances, it hadn't been an accidental pregnancy. That, at least, was still biologically impossible in the fifty-first century.

But regardless of what had happened—how, when—Jack had still walked out on Roan and Jason. Knowing that had made Ianto wonder if he would walk out on him someday, too. After all, Jack would live forever, who was to say he wouldn't wake up one morning and realize he was bored, or that he felt stifled. Someday he might decide he didn't mean all of the wonderful things he'd promised the younger man, not any more. He might always remember him, but could he really always love him?

Even Jack's offer of a child together hadn't eased his fear…not that it mattered. By the time Jack brought it up, Ianto knew that it didn't matter if—when—Jack left him. He was sure it was inevitable, he would get bored, he would leave, but it didn't matter. He would always love Captain Jack Harkness. He would wait for him. He would hope that someday he'd come back.

It hurt loving somebody that much; it hurt so much that sometimes Ianto questioned his own sanity. There were other people in the world, people who would love him… want him. Want only him. But all he wanted was Jack.

The night when he crept out of bed, however (he'd no idea what had woken him from a dead sleep), and found Jack sitting in Jason's room, crooning softly to him in some alien language, he realized he was seeing a side of his husband the immortal man kept hidden, even from him. He'd watched for a long while from the doorway, unobserved by either. Jason was clinging to his father, looking so small, so afraid… so lost out of his own time. The way Jack spoke to him… Ianto didn't have to understand the words to understand what he was telling his son. He loved him. Everything would be all right, he'd see, he just had to give it time.

In that moment Ianto decided that despite his fears—fears that were still overwhelming, even after his holiday away—he wanted to accept Jack's proposal of having a child together, because it was in that moment that he realized—he knew—that Jack was wrong. He was a fantastic father. He loved Jason. He always had done. And he would love their child just as fiercely. In that moment Ianto's fears began to fade; he began to really look at Jack, listen to him. Believe him. Believe in him and everything he said in a way he'd been afraid to because believing that somebody could love him as much he knew Jack did was every bit as scary as loving somebody as much he loved his immortal, impetuous, impossible husband.

Ianto stretched and hauled himself from the comfort of the bed. Maybe if things stayed quiet in Cardiff, he could stick out the rest of the field mission… it sounded as if they had things well in hand. There wasn't much more to be done until they had the artefact back to the Hub, anyway. He padded softly towards the bathroom; Jack was still in the shower, but he stopped singing as soon the door creaked open. He stuck his head out from around the shower curtain displaying a coy smile. "Hope I didn't wake you."

"Nope," the Welshman answered simply, casting a wry little half grin in his husband's direction as he stepped into the shower behind him. He remembered with chagrin the first time Jack had caught him singing in the shower… he supposed it was a silly thing to be 'in the closet' about, but he had been forced to admit that yes, he was a bit of a closet Doors fan. Jack hadn't seemed to mind.

The immortal turned and captured him up in another one of those demanding, almost needy, kisses, the kind that made Ianto's knees go weak while other parts stiffened to attention…

On the counter Jack's wrist strap beeped loudly for attention. There was only one person it could be; in fact, that was how this whole thing had started, with Jack and Ianto in the shower and Jack's wrist strap beeping. The Welshman only barely stifled a groan. "I swear if all he's doing is checking up on you…" he grumbled.

Jack grinned. "If he is, he's about to get an eyeful." He stepped out of the shower and picked up the beeping device. A moment later, a holograph image of the other Captain was all but standing on the counter.

"What—playing hookie?" John cajoled. Then Ianto stepped out of the shower. "Nice package, Eye Candy," he leered appreciatively.

The younger man grabbed a towel off the rack with such force that the entire stack of clean white towels fell to the floor, causing his husband's former partner to chuckle.

"He's got a lot of pent up frustration, j'emora'et," John said to Jack in a snide tone, "you must be losing your touch in your old age. Too bad have to interrupt—or that I'm not there to pick up your slack," he leered at Ianto again.

The immortal scowled.

"On the other hand, this isn't exactly a social call," John went on. "Unless of course you'd like me to assume command of your little band of Bikini Cops in your absence—"

"Cut the crap, John. What happened?"

"There's been," he hesitated, "an 'incident' with that little bit of 'space junk' we found."

Jack's scowl deepened, shifting from mere annoyance to genuine concern.

"Relax, Jackie, nobody's been hurt," the sudden soberness of his tone surprised (shocked) Jack's partner. His mood was short-lived however. "But you'd best get that sexy ass of yours back here. The nice scientist types…what did that FBI agent call them—oh yeah, 'squints'," he grinned. "Anyway, the 'squints' have some questions for you. Bring Eye Candy," he added with a wink. "We wouldn't want him to miss out on all the fun, now would we?" he taunted. He turned to Ianto. "I hope Jack's gotten 'round to tell you about the 'sights' here at the Jeffersonian. Especially this pretty little—oops—sorry boys, that's my cue—" he looked over his shoulder. "Wouldn't want to frighten the natives with fifty-first century technology—that's your job."

Before either Jack or Ianto could respond, the other man cut the transmission—it sounded like somebody was calling for him in the background, just before he disappeared from sight.

"Should I even ask?" Ianto inquired of his partner.

Jack swallowed hard; he looked uncomfortable with the entire conversation. He cast the younger man an apologetic look, clearly expecting to at least hear 'I told you so' out of him. However, all Ianto did was ask if he'd like him to accompany him back to the museum or not.

"Are you sure you want to?" it was no secret that he disliked John Hart.

"It sounds like it might actually be a real emergency, Jack."

He nodded. It did at that. As the younger man turned towards the other room to get himself dressed, Jack caught his arm. "Ianto, I—you were right. About me being irresponsible," he admitted. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have dragged you off like that."

The soft smile his husband favoured him with came as a surprise. "The world is always ending Jack—or at least it seems that way. We have to take what we can when we can. I'm not angry about that. Or about anything," he amended. "I love you. Besides, I'm certain that whatever happened, it's not actually life threatening. If it were, I doubt even John would have taken the time to call you. I don't like the man Cariad, but…I give him some credit," he admitted begrudgingly. After the way John had helped them when Jack started haemorrhaging during his pregnancy, he had no choice but to acknowledge that although he and John would never, ever be friends, that the other former Time Agent genuinely had Jack's best interest at heart—at least in as much as he was able to put anyone else's interests above his own. He leant in and pressed his lips to his partner's mouth before heading to get his clothes, hoping they were still presentable. "Just the same," he said over his shoulder as he began his inspection, "I'd like to know what he called you." His tone was carefully neutral.

Jack blinked. "Jackie? That's short for…"

"I know what it's short for—although technically it isn't short," he added; his tone was dry. He knew Jack's real name and could easily see someone like John coming up with 'Jackie' as a familiar form of it (not that he ever would.) However, "I meant the other word, j'emor-something?" he said—whatever the language was, the accent was difficult. He turned back to the task at hand: his suit was unsullied by Jack's boots—the coat was a bit dusty, but that was easily remedied. And his husband was conspicuously silent as he got dressed himself. Ianto waited.

He didn't have long to wait, although it was obvious Jack was uncomfortable with the question he was being asked to answer. "Yeah. J'emora'et. It… doesn't really translate into English."

The other regarded him.

Jack squirmed.

"I know he's just trying to get under my skin. Under both our skin's," he handed the other man his shirt.

"Yeah. I erm… it's… difficult to translate." He dressed quickly, seemingly making a point of not looking his husband directly in the face, as if he could somehow keep him from figuring out what John had actually said to him.

Ianto nodded; he accepted him at his word. He had guessed for himself that j'emora'et was some sort of endearment. Exactly what it meant didn't matter so much as the fact that he knew John was only trying to bait him. Bait them both. For his part, the Welshman refused to be baited. There had been a time… but that was then.

"I think there's something maybe I oughtta tell you about on our way back to the museum," his husband told him, then.

Ianto quirked an eyebrow in his direction. "Something about the 'sights' at the Jeffersonian, I take it?" his tone remained neutral.

The immortal cleared his throat. "Maybe I'd better start from the beginning—"

"I've the feeling we don't have time for 'from the beginning', Cariad," he used that word specifically—emphatically—as he helped him into his coat, smoothing the shoulders gently into place. Presentable, he thought…then he smiled. More than presentable. Jack looked every bit the part of the dashing hero ready to go swanning into action. "Why don't you just tell me whatever it is you think you need to tell me and let me decide for myself how much of a history lesson I actually need," he suggested in an earnest tone.

Jack nodded. Hesitated. Then began, "I ran into this girl I used to know…"