Chapter 2 – Shave and a Haircut

Ianto carefully rolled out of bed around 5am. Carefully because it wasn't his bed and he didn't want to wake up his still sleeping bed partner. Jack might insist he didn't sleep, but Ianto knew he wasn't the one lightly snoring. He didn't usually stay so late in Jack's bedroom bunker. Usually they would have sex, maybe a post coitus cuddle, and Ianto would leave. Jack hadn't wanted him to leave.

Ianto didn't question it while he and Jack were kissing. He certainly didn't question it when Jack brought him off for a third time. Now he was thinking about it. This wasn't the first time Jack had shown him affection, but this was definitely a new record. Usually it was a lingering kiss on his cheek or a stolen caress. Usually it didn't lead to sex. Usually it was a moment then it was gone. This had been pre and post sex affection. It was puzzling.

"Come back to bed," Jack said squinting his eyes.

"I've got to go home and change," Ianto said sitting on the side on the bed. He tousled Jack's hair. "You look adorable when you first wake up."

"I don't sleep," Jack said yawning and grabbing Ianto's hand. He kissed his hand and held it to his chest. "I was resting my eyes."

"Your eyes need to talk to your soft palette then. You were snoring."

"I don't snore. I breathe vigorously while in deep meditation. You, on the hand, need sleep. Come back to bed. Just another 30 minutes."

"Stop trying to bargain with me, you demon hellspawn," Ianto joked. "If I climbed in next to your sinful body for 30 minutes I wouldn't get 30 minutes of sleep. I'd probably spend 30 minutes defending my virtue."

"I'd say 30 seconds of feigned resistance followed by 10 minutes of molestation, two minutes of you begging, 15 minutes of you screaming my name in ecstasy, and 150 seconds of you breathing heavy trying to recover." Jack looked at the clock. "That would leave you enough time to take a 30 minute post-orgasmic nap. It would be barely six!" He kissed Ianto's hand again. He licked a finger teasingly.

"You evil seducer," Ianto said snatching his hand back. He placed the hand on Jack's sheet covered thigh. "I don't want to run into the team as I do the walk of shame coming out of your manhole smelling of sex and looking like a vagrant."

"Walk of shame? You should think of it as a victory lap!" Jack's smile slipped. "Unless you are ashamed of our unholy union."

Was Jack fishing for something? If it was anybody else he would think so. He wished he knew what was going through his mind. First affection and now...insecurity? No, Ianto couldn't believe that.

"It's just an expression. I'm more embarrassed by my clothes. They really do look like I was raped by a Weevil."

"So I'll loan you some of my clothes."

Ianto laughed heartily until he saw the serious look on Jack's face.

"Don't you like my clothes? You always say you like my coat."

"I like your coat on you. I like your clothes on you. On me they would look like a farm boy who was just experiencing the joys of electricity for the first time."

"I think you'd look cute," Jack said with a crooked smile.

"You just hope I'd look enough like you in dim lighting you could pretend you were kissing yourself. Dream come true." He leaned over and placed a quick peck on Jack's lips. "Of course, if I looked like you I would probably do the same thing. Seriously, I need to go." Ianto stood up and Jack groaned.

"Okay, new plan. You go home, take a little nap, get gussied up, and go to a barber. When you come back, bring a change of clothes. No, bring two. Then you can stay all night and get up at a reasonable time."

The little ball of anger from the night before began to bubble up to the surface. Assumptions. That's what it was.

"Maybe I have plans tonight."

"Well, I didn't think of that. Do you have plans, Ianto? More importantly, do you have plans that are more important than spending time with me?"

"No, but it would be nice if you didn't assume I'm a friendless loser." Ianto stood arms akimbo well aware that he looked ridiculous with his broken fly, stained shirt, and rumpled, torn jacket.

"I know you aren't a friendless loser! You've got me. So," Jack said bounding out of bed, "the plan stands barring alien invasion." Jack wrapped his arms around Ianto's waist and plastered his naked body against him. "Wear that burgundy shirt. I think that's my favorite." He kissed Ianto's cheek. "And get that haircut, hippie."

Ianto nodded, disentangled himself from Jack, and left. He had driven the Vespa the day before and regretted it on the drive home. He was just glad it was still too dark and too early for anybody to see him. He really wished Jack hadn't destroyed his trousers. He didn't know what the locals thought of him, but he was pretty sure looking like a hobo would change that.

He took Jack's advice, he refused to think of it as an order, and took a nap. He woke up at 8, took a shower, and put on his burgundy shirt. He wore a dark grey suit with a lighter grey pinstripe and a purple and grey tie. He grabbed a charcoal grey suit, blue shirt, and blue and grey tie and put them in a suit bag. He picked up his travel case, always at the ready, and went to the car park trying not to think about how many times he did this when he was taking care of Lisa.

It was still early when he arrived at Dylan's. He'd never been there, but he had overheard a distinguished looking man he knew only as 'Mick' mention it positively once at the Fish. The area surrounding the Millennium Centre had a few shops that were staples of the neighborhood. The Fish was actually Ollie's Fish-n-Chips. It was next door to the Pizza which was actually Jubilee Pizza. Ianto made a point of knowing the neighbors, the employees, and the regulars. He believed in shopping locally, but he also believed in knowing his surroundings.

Dylan's was an old school barber shop, just as Jack had requested. Ianto walked in and was startled by the loudness of the bell attached to the door. Nobody was around. He walked to the counter and self-consciously adjusted his tie. Why was he here? He dressed to please Jack and now he was going to get his hair cut for the same reason? He wondered what Jack would say if he came back with a Mohawk.

He was about to leave when an older man came out of a back room. He was wearing a barber smock like Ianto imagined they wore in the 1950's. He had a black comb and a pair of scissors in his pocket. Ianto wondered if he'd walked onto a film set.

"How can I help you, lad," asked the older man approaching him. Up close he was older than Ianto had initial thought. He was probably 70. Ianto hoped his hair looked that good at 70. Of course, he expected to be a well preserved frozen corpse long before his 70th birthday rolled around, but it was still meant as a compliment.

"I heard this was a good place to get a haircut."

The man blinked at him then broke into a slow smile.

"I wondered when you'd find your way here." He gestured to a barber chair. Ianto's worry meter went off the chart.

"Sorry, have we met?" Ianto knew they hadn't. He prided himself on remembering faces.

"No, not as such, but I know you, Jaunty Jones." Ianto sat down with more than a touch of trepidation.

"Um, yes, Ianto Jones," he said holding out his hand. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance." The barber smiled again and took Ianto's hand.

"Dylan Humphreys, but they call me 'the Book', but you knew that."

"Actually, I didn't," Ianto said as a barber's cape was swept around him.

"You are a very cautious man," Dylan 'the Book' said.

"I like to think of myself as sagacious. It makes me sound more interesting than cautious does." Ianto smiled, but he was still on high alert. Dylan laughed.

"You like being underestimated, don't you? I bet you fool a lot of people with your flash clothes and vacant glances. People lower their guard then BANG!" Ianto jumped in the chair.

"I really don't know what you are talking about," Ianto said thinking about the gun in his trouser holster.

"Right," Dylan said looking at Ianto's head. "What are you doing here, then?"

"My boss sent me," Ianto said trying to sound more confident with that reasoning than he did.

"Your boss? What did he say?" Was that fear in Dylan's eyes? Ianto decided to tread carefully.

"He said I was looking shaggy and I needed to get a proper haircut, a razor cut. He told me to go to a proper barber." Ianto realized he was babbling, but he couldn't stop. "He's old school. Likes things done a certain way, not good with change, you know the type."

"Yeah? He a local boy?" Ianto couldn't think of anyone less local than Jack. In spite of living for more or less a hundred years by Ianto's count in Cardiff, Jack didn't seem to have a lot of local knowledge.

"Um, no, he's an American." Ianto knew Jack wasn't, but it was an assumption people made when they first met him so it was an easy lie to tell. Dylan clapped his surprisingly strong hands on Ianto's shoulders.

"American? I didn't know that. You know, that makes sense. I thought it had to be something. A Yank. Never would have happened in the old days."

Ianto realized his mistake. He needed to back pedal.

"Well, the tourism board is always looking for fresh perspectives." Dylan burst out laughing.

"You are one in a bloody million! But I've got to hand it to you. Whatever the hustle, you have a great blanket! I never would have come up with tourist information centre. Seriously, that bit is genius. Hold on. Don't move," Dylan said heading to the back room.

Ianto wondered if he ran out of the barber shop screaming if it would make him seem more or less cautious. He always hated making small talk while getting a haircut, but this was uncomfortable on a completely different level. On the other hand, he was really curious to know what Dylan was talking about.

Dylan returned with another man. He looked older than Dylan, but was just as spry. He had an old, long scar down his left cheek. The thing Ianto really noticed was his suit. It was a well-tailored, light-weight navy wool with a light pinstripe. His pocket square perfectly matched the glimmer of lining Ianto saw. That, Ianto thought, is class on toast.

"I really like that suit," he said before thinking. The new man opened his jacket and turned to show off his suit. Ianto noted the shoulder holster.

"Good eye, Jaunty! Always liked a bit of flash! Let's the punters know you're a professional."

Ianto, now terrified, smiled. He wondered if the senior citizens would kill him in the barber shop or take him out into the woods and make him dig his own shallow grave.

"Let's get down to business. Your boss, did he send you here to intimidate us 'cause I can tell you , boy-o, we've seen tougher than you."

"Absolutely not," Ianto said. "I'm not exactly the intimidating type. He, uhm, he honestly just wanted me to get a proper haircut. I know this guy, just in passing, named Mick and he's got nice hair. I heard him mention this place." They glared at him. "Seriously. Just wanted a trim."

The silence hung heavily in the shop. Finally the two elderly men began laughing.

"So what's the game, eh? Word on the quay is you're a bookmaker, but I ain't seen a drop in business so I reckon that doesn't make sense. The gangs got the drug trade and you don't look like you'd want to tangle with them. Whatever it is, you've come in quiet, under the radar, what's the hustle," Dylan asked a touch of menace in his voice.

"I'd decided you were up to some kind of sleeze until you got into that barney. Bruises like that don't normally come from the soft trade," the man who hadn't introduced himself said. Ianto's brain finally started working. He almost laughed at the confusion. It all came down to a bad day and a bit of gossip.