Jack wasn't without his own insecurities. No man was, he was sure. Some were worse, some were better, but they were all there. He considered himself to be fortunate: knowing what they were made them easier to fight. And fight he did.

The past two days had clearly revealed to him that Ianto wasn't perfect. By his own account, he had just stopped for months: stopped working, stopped paying for his flat, and that he'd only recently put attention into those things again, only to lose his job, and thus any way of paying for his flat.

He'd been apprehensive about sharing this much with Jack, but had eventually conceded and cleared everything up. Ianto even moved some of his things into the hotel room—which Jack was paying for as a long-term residence, no matter how Ianto argued—, namely the coffee machine.

Jack considered it a fair trade, really, even if Ianto didn't: living arrangements in exchange for the best coffee he'd ever had.

But after a few more days, things seemed to be completely back to normal, and Jack's old fears of abandonment—courtesy of the Doctor and Rose, and awoken by Ianto leaving that morning—were pushed back to where they belonged.

Jack didn't like dwelling on his insecurities, even if he was fully aware and accepting of them. There were other things to dwell on, anyway, like the ease with which he and Ianto had moved from strangers to friends to lovers to boyfriends to live-in boyfriends.

It was much more enjoyable to dwell on, and Jack focused his gaze on Ianto, who was furiously—or just energetically—typing something into his laptop. He contemplated interrupting and asking what he was doing, but Ianto looked so focused, Jack decided against it. Ianto would tell him in his own time if it was interesting, but for now, he'd drink his third coffee of the day—which, Jack knew, happened only if what he was doing was really important—and keep typing.

Ianto-watching was one of Jack's favorite hobbies, and he considered himself a professional already. When Ianto looked away from the laptop—not up or at Jack, but a momentary glance to the side—Jack knew that he was just about finished.

"You were staring," Ianto said mildly.

Jack shrugged as if to say Well, what can you do? And Ianto laughed softly.

They had dinner at the hotel again. It was interesting to Jack to know that the servers, when talking about them, now called Ianto either Ianto, or Mr. Jones, not just 1007's boyfriend.

Like everything else to do with his and Ianto's relationship, the thought made him swoon; Ianto was becoming his own person, a fixture in their routine, not just a one-time visitor.

He even caught Ianto's grin at the words.

They stayed up watching several Bond films, and fell asleep long after midnight, but when Jack woke up, it was after lunch and he was alone. Jack sighed and turned his attention to the note on the bedside table that he'd just noticed.

Off for errands. Back after lunch.

Love, Ianto

Jack didn't know what Ianto meant by "lunch", because it was nearly one, but they sometimes didn't eat until five and still jokingly called it lunch. So Jack made up his mind to get ready at his own pace and expect Ianto at anytime until six.

He was still only half-dressed when the door opened about an hour later, but instead of the handful of Ianto he'd been expecting, Jack found himself with a facefull of flowers. He couldn't even see Ianto's upper body, let alone his face.

"Ianto?" he asked, just in case, addressing the part of the bouquet where Ianto's face would have been.

"Of course." The voice was slightly muffled, but definitely his, and Ianto was thrusting the flowers forward, as if he was telling Jack to take them.

Jack did, barely managing to hold on to the floral mess of at least twenty different flowers. He let it down on the table, then turned around for his hello and good morning kiss, only to be handed a pineapple and a flower pot with an orchid in it.

Jack looked back at the bouquet, then at Ianto's smile, then at the two new gifts. He swallowed. "Ianto?"

"Yes?"

"Any reason you got these particular flowers?"

Ianto smiled. "I thought it obvious."

Jack nodded, and gestured to the bouquet. "And those, too?"

Ianto nodded in return. "Dwarf sunflower: admiration; tall sunflower: appreciation… amethyst: admiration, again. Lily: sweetness. Red tulip, blue violet… well. Orchid is beauty, pineapple is—"

"'You are perfect'," Jack interrupted.

Ianto nodded.

Jack laughed. "I thought it'd look stupid if I brought you a pineapple. How do you know all this? Did you look it up?"

"You didn't know I knew?"

Jack shook his head. It's not like people walk around using Victorian flower language on a daily basis. "I thought I'd be discreet, but apparently you knew exactly what I was trying to say with the roses."

Ianto gave a small laugh and nodded. "It was kind of hard not to when there was such a strange arrangement of colors. Also the bridal rose… happy love, isn't it?"

Jack nodded.

"The three yellow ones were affection, happiness, and joy. And the three pink were admiration, friendship, and new love," Ianto continued. "I'm right, aren't I?"

"Yeah."

Ianto laughed. "I appreciate it more, you know. More than I would have if I didn't know what the flowers meant."

"How do you know this?" Jack asked lightly. He was pleasantly surprised, if only because this new information made Ianto seem even more attractive.

"My gran had a garden," Ianto responded. "She was the one that kept it, of course, but she let me help sometimes. Water some flowers, plant some buds, that sort of thing. She let slip something about the language, and I just… read up on it. A lot. To be honest, I didn't think much of it until you decided to be romantic and give that bouquet."

Jack laughed. "You know, I'm not going to stop with the flowers."

"Really?"

"Really." He grinned. "Not often, of course, 'cause that just wouldn't be as fun, but sometimes. When you least expect it."

"Okay." Ianto nodded easily.

Jack set the pineapple and orchid pot on the table next to the bouquet, then moved away from Ianto and went towards one of the closets. There was a safe in the back of it, and an ironing board. The coffee and tea supplies had been there, too, until Jack and Ianto had liberated them. He found the vase, made a detour to the bathroom to fill it, then came back and put the bouquet into it.

"Think they'll survive?" he asked.

Ianto shrugged. "I'm not sure. Maybe. But it's been a while since I've done anything with flowers."

"Alright." Jack gave the bouquet a critical look. "I think it'll be fine. Ianto?"

"Yeah?"

"You know how to take care of an orchid?"

"I'll look it up."

They ate the pineapple after dinner, and watered the flowers the next morning, and Jack spent several minutes looking at the bouquet—which shouldn't have looked so good, because there was no way a red morning glory, a rhododendron, and a sprig of white jasmine were supposed to be next to each other.

Whatever florist Ianto had found, they'd been good.

(Ridiculous romance cliches? Me? Also, yes, I absolutely love flower language :P)