Thanks as always for the reviews, and my eternal gratitude, as ever, to my brilliant beta riftintime.

Chapter 38

It was just over a week later when Ianto pulled the SUV up in front of Jack's flat promptly at 7:30pm for the promised date. He'd considered going home after work to change his clothing, shedding his suit for a more casual look, but decided at the last minute to forgo the idea. He was who he was, after all, and he was always most confident in a well-fitting suit. He didn't want to pretend to be anyone else around Jack.

Instead he'd showered at the Hub, shaved, and changed into a new suit that he hadn't yet worn, having only picked it up from his tailor the previous day. It was a soft charcoal grey three-piece with an almost imperceptible pinstripe. The fine fabric had added to the already exorbitant cost, but he had to admit, his tailor had outdone himself, and he'd decided it was worth every penny. It hugged him in all the right places, and even he had lifted an eyebrow when he'd seen how it flattered his arse. He paired it with a deep purple shirt that brought out the color of his eyes, and a dark blue silk tie with a subtle pattern in silver. His black leather shoes were polished to a perfect shine, and not a hair was out of place. He had controlled every aspect of his appearance, but he couldn't, however, control his emotions. He was so nervous that his hands were shaking.

He and Jack had not been alone together since Ianto had agreed to the date. Jack had gone back to his flat after their conversation, and an endless stream of Rift activity had kept them busy. Finally Jack had walked into his office that afternoon, after they'd succeeded in rounding up a gang of Judoon selling alien technology on the black market, and asked him if he was free that evening. For a brief moment, Ianto contemplated making up an excuse. The thought of going out on a real date with Jack terrified him in more ways than he was willing to acknowledge. He'd opened his mouth to offer a polite apology, but nothing came to him. Instead he'd found himself admitting that he had nothing planned.

Jack had beamed at him. "Great. Pick me up at 7:30." And with those fatal words, he'd sauntered out of the Hub.

Now he was sitting in the SUV, gripping the steering wheel to keep his hands still and praying he didn't break out into a sweat. He'd had to admit that working at close quarters with Jack all week had been trying in more ways than one, and their usual banter had became so laced with innuendo that even Gwen had noticed the tension between them. "Bloody hell, will you two get a room?" she'd exclaimed a couple of days earlier.

"Please, for fuck sake," Owen had chimed in. "We all need cold showers after hanging around with you."

Even Tosh had nodded adamantly.

Ianto sighed as he replayed the scene in his mind. Is it that obvious? he thought as the seconds ticked by. There are no secrets at Torchwood. Everyone will know, and will they still respect me as their boss? Maybe this is a bad idea… He was just about to put the SUV into gear and drive away when the door of the building swung open and the familiar form of Jack Harkness strolled out, greatcoat billowing as usual. "Bugger," Ianto mumbled under his breath.

The passenger door opened and Jack climbed into the seat next to him. "Hey."

"Hi," Ianto replied, glancing at Jack and then quickly averting his eyes. He was relieved to see the other man was still wearing his military greatcoat. Somehow it would seem wrong if Jack showed up wearing something modern. "Where to?" he asked, hoping Jack had somewhere in mind.

Jack gave him directions to a small village on the outskirts of the city. They parked the SUV in the village center outside a stone building that had obviously been there for decades, perhaps centuries. Several other cars were parked nearby. "This is the most haunted pub in Wales," Jack said, grinning at him.

Ianto raised an eyebrow. "Hoping I'll get scared and want to hold your hand?"

Jack sighed dramatically. "A man can dream."

Ianto rolled his eyes. "I don't scare easily."

"I know." Jack gazed admiringly at Ianto, knowing full well how courageous he was. "Actually, it's become a bit of a tourist spot because of its reputation for ghosts, but the food is fantastic…" He paused and looked uncertain. "Or at least it used to be. I was sent here by Torchwood before you took over to check for Rift activity. Didn't see any ghosts, but had a good meal. I've kept in touch with the owners over the years. I look in on them occasionally, making sure that the ghosts are behaving themselves." He emphasized the word 'ghosts.'

"No aliens?" Ianto asked with a suspicious glance.

"Not so far," Jack reassured him.

They got out of the SUV and walked across a cobblestone road to the pub's entrance. The wooden door creaked as it swung open, and a delicious aroma wafted out, mixed with the din of chatter and conversation. Ianto felt like all of his senses were being assaulted at once as he stepped into the dimly lit interior. It was a traditional looking British pub with a wood-paneled bar, a stone hearth with a roaring fire, and chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. The place was nearly full, and Ianto glanced nervously at Jack, wondering if they'd have to wait ages for a table.

A handsome older man approached, impeccably dressed in dark trousers, a crisp white button-down shirt, open at the top, and a well-fitting blazer, holding out his hands. His silver hair was elegantly and fashionably styled, and he was clean-shaven, showing off his chiseled bone structure. "Captain Harkness," he greeted Jack, kissing him on each cheek. "So good to see you again." Although his English was good, there was an unmistakable French accent.

"Armand," Jack returned the greeting. "How is everything?"

"Business is booming, as you see." Armand smiled, waving his hand around the room.

"You serve French food in a British pub?" Ianto blurted out before he was able to stop himself.

Armand laughed. "My partner Dafydd does the cooking. I assure you, we serve traditional Welsh fare." He eyed Ianto appraisingly. "Armand Baudin," he said, holding out his hand.

Ianto shook his hand. "Ianto Jones."

"Ianto, croeso cynnes iawn," Armand greeted him in proper but heavily accented Welsh.

Ianto smiled. "Diolch yn fawr. Ydych chi'n siarad Cymraeg?" Ianto politely thanked him and asked if he spoke Welsh.

"I'm afraid my Welsh is limited," Armand replied regretfully. "You'll have to talk to Dafydd. He inherited this pub from his family, who go back for centuries." He smiled genially. "Your table is ready. Right this way."

Jack had watched the exchange with a look of utter astonishment. "I didn't know you spoke Welsh," he whispered as they followed Armand to a table tucked away in a more secluded corner of the pub.

"I'm full of surprises," Ianto replied as they took their seats and were handed menus.

Ianto gazed down at the list of food, all traditional Welsh and British fare – cawl, welsh rarebit, glamorgan sausage, cockles, shepherd's pie, and several other choices that he hadn't had in ages. He glanced up at Jack and caught the other man staring at him with an unreadable expression on his face. "Is this where you take all your dates?"

Jack laughed. "I haven't been on a date in decades. Not since the seventies I think, and then it was all discos and roller rinks. You should have seen me in my platforms, bell-bottoms, and mutton chops. I was hot!"

"Dear god, spare me the details," Ianto feigned horror, though he was slightly intrigued by the image. He had half a mind to ask if there were any lingering photographs from that time period.

"How did a French man end up in partnership with a bloke from an old Welsh family who owns the most haunted pub in Wales?" Ianto asked, intrigued.

"Dafydd was in Paris studying the culinary arts when he met Armand." Jack shrugged. "They fell in love, and when Dafydd's father died and left him the pub, Armand followed him back to Wales. They've been together for over twenty years."

Ianto's mouth fell open. "Oh," he stammered. "I didn't realize… I mean, I just thought they were business partners." He looked around the pub, expecting to see only male couples, but the place was filled with all sorts of customers. Nothing out of the ordinary. There were even some children dining with their parents. He turned his attention back to the man sitting across from him. "But there are normal couples here." His inflection gave the sentence the feeling of a question.

"Normal couples?" Jack raised his eyebrows. "What's that supposed to mean?" His tone had a sharp edge to it.

"I just mean… well, if the owners are two gay men…" Ianto stopped uncertainly.

"Then they would naturally attract an all gay crowd?" Jack eyebrows rose even higher. "Ianto, I'm surprised at you. How could the leader of Torchwood be so narrow minded?"

Ianto felt his hackles rising. "This isn't the 51st century, Jack."

"It's not the 19th either," Jack retorted, feeling exasperated.

A pretty, petite, young woman dressed in all black, wearing a starched, white apron, interrupted them. "Are you ready to order, gentlemen?"

Ianto, feeling flustered, dropped his eyes to the menu in his hands and quickly scanned it again. Jack beamed at her. "Have Armand choose a bottle of red for us. We're still deciding."

Ianto saw her move away out of the corner of his eye, but he kept his gaze fixed firmly on the menu in front of him, too embarrassed to look at Jack. He's right. I'm being narrow-minded. He read the menu for what must have been the tenth time, but the words weren't registering. Is that why he brought me here? To show me that two men can have a normal life together? But we could never be normal…

"I brought you a Malbec."

Ianto looked up to see Armand standing at their table, proffering a bottle of wine. "It's one of my favorites," the Frenchman added.

Jack nodded in approval and Armand began the ritual of opening the bottle. "So, how do you know the Captain, Ianto?" Armand asked as he skillfully sliced the foil with his wine key and peeled it off the top of the bottle.

"We work together. Ianto's my boss," Jack said with a cheeky grin, hoping to save Ianto from any embarrassment.

"Your boss?" Armand asked with a hint of amusement. He pulled out the cork and set it in front of Jack.

Ianto stared hard at Jack. "This is our first date, actually," he said, not taking his eyes from Jack's. "He's trying to be polite and guard my sensibilities."

Armand smiled knowingly as he poured a splash of wine into Jack's glass. "Ah. I understand. Dafydd was the same way when we met - old Welsh family, traditional views. He struggled with it as well."

Jack sipped the wine and murmured, "Perfect."

"What happened?" Ianto asked, unable to contain his curiosity as Armand filled first his glass and then Jack's.

Armand eyed him thoughtfully. "Love," he said simply. "We loved each other. That was all that mattered in the end. Everything else we could handle as long as we were together." He pulled up a chair and sat down. "When we first moved here, we pretended that we were only business partners. This was over twenty years ago, you understand. Things were different then. But as time went on, we became less and less guarded. The people around here knew, you see, and most of them didn't care. Our true friends accept us for who we are." He shrugged. "There will always be those who don't understand, who are afraid, who condemn us… but are those the type of people you'd really want to know anyway?"

"No, I suppose not," Ianto said slowly.

Armand looked between the two of them contemplatively. "Seems like there's more history here than only a first date."

"It's complicated," Jack said, but there was humor in his voice.

Armand laughed. "It always is."

A man wearing a white chef's jacket and black and white checkered pants approached the table and put his hand on Armand's shoulder. He was also handsome, but in a different way. His face was rounder and he had more of a stocky build compared to Armand's slender form. His thick, black, somewhat unruly hair was sprinkled with grey. "Captain! Armand told me you were here."

Jack rose from his chair and greeted the man with a kiss on both cheeks as Armand had greeted him. "Dafydd, good to see you again." He turned to Ianto, who had also risen to his feet. "Dafydd Vaughn, this is Ianto Jones."

Dafydd greeted Ianto in Welsh as they shook hands, and Ianto returned the greeting, courteously praising the pub.

"The Captain has been keeping an eye on our ghosts for years." Dafydd had switched to English. "And how is it that you manage to stay looking so young by the way?"

"I moisturize," Jack said with his mega-watt smile.

"Armand insists on mud masks every night, but still the wrinkles appear," Dafydd sighed dramatically. "Have you decided on food?"

Jack tossed the menu aside. "Why don't you surprise us? If that's okay with my date?" He winked at Ianto.

"Agreed." Ianto nodded eagerly.

"We'll leave you to enjoy your meal then," Armand said, rising to his feet and collecting their menus before walking away.

Ianto looked at Jack, who was staring back at him with amusement. "Why did you bring me here, Jack?" he asked pointedly.