Jack hung their coats on the coat-rack near the door, then pulled out Ianto's chair for him. He smiled at Ianto's raised eyebrow; he could be ridiculously gallant at the most random times. He'd brought a flower once, too, to put in Ianto's buttonhole, only to learn that the particular suit jacket didn't have a buttonhole.
He'd made sure that the restaurant had a fireplace—he had the strangest obsession with them during the holidays, seeking a sort of comfort from the warmth—and had gotten a table near it.
"This is really nice, Jack," Ianto said as they began looking at the menus.
"I'm glad." Jack beamed. "Now… I'm thinking traditional dinner, followed by some cake—no, pie, they do a really good apple pie—and hot chocolate."
"Sounds good to me."
