Disclaimer: Okay, honestly. If I owned Jack, Ianto, or anyone from Torchwood, would I really have to write fanfiction to give them the bloody date I wanted them to have? No. So it's kind of obvious that I don't own, so don't sue. xoxo.

Rating: T.

Note: I'm sorry this took forever. I worked on this every day for more than a week. I just had to make myself happy with it. I'm a perfectionist; I have to make sure everything is just so. That being said, if you still love me after I've made you wait so long, I'd love to hear what you think. Thank you, again, to everyone who has read it so far and has been following it since the beginning. All of you are amazing and I love you all. 3 Also, Jealous!Jack is a lot of fun to write. So is Nervous!Jack.

"Jack Harkness," he greeted with a smile. "We spoke on the phone; I made a reservation."

"This way," a tall man who appeared in his early 30s replied, gathering two menus and walking toward a dimly lit seat near a window.

Jack had shrugged off his coat and was carrying it over his arm. He followed the host to their table, Ianto close by his side. They weren't touching each other, though Jack made sure to graze his knuckles gently against Ianto's hand every so often. The two exchanged quick, tiny smiles with each other as they walked.

"Here you are," the host said with a warm smile.

Jack pulled Ianto's chair out for him just enough so he could sit, then pushed it gently to the table. The host placed the menus on the table and left as they settled themselves in. Jack smiled at his date, taking his seat across the table.

"Order whatever you want," he encouraged, watching Ianto's eyes move slowly across the words printed in pretty calligraphy. "Money isn't a factor."

"Arancini."

"Ara-what?"

Ianto laughed lightly. "Arancini. They're these little balls of risotto and they're coated and cooked to be crispy and they have cheese inside."

"I take it you've had them before?"

He nodded. "I have. And it says so in the menu."

Jack grinned at him, looking through his own menu. "Minestrone sounds good. What do you want for the main course?"

A waiter came to their table before Ianto could answer. According to the little metal strip on the front of his stark white shirt, his name was Zane. He was more than attractive, and Jack surmised he was in his mid-20s, around Ianto's age. He was tall and thin. His hair was a strange shade of blonde—it looked like there was some red in there, too—and slicked back neatly.

"Good evening. My name is Zane, and I'll be taking care of you tonight," he said smoothly, smile on his face as he allowed his moss-tinted eyes to look Ianto over. "Could I start you off with something to drink? Maybe some wine?" He smiled at Ianto, shifting his weight a bit closer to him, eyes still fixed on him—specifically, his eyes.

"Water," Jack answered gruffly, eyebrow raised. Zane looked him over and nodded, writing down his order.

"Being responsible, I see."

"Well," Ianto started, sensing Jack's discomfort. "It's just that we're not sure what we want just yet, and it would be kind of silly to order wine before we know what we'd like. After all, red wine goes well with certain foods, and I wouldn't want us to be out money for a wine that doesn't go with the food."

Zane smiled. "A connoisseur, I see?"

"Nope," Ianto replied humbly. "Just a man who knows his spirits."

The young man smiled and continued to make eyes at Ianto as he took down their orders. His hand scribbled quickly, making sure he hung on every word Ianto spoke, just in case he mentioned something special he wanted done to his appetizer. He gave Ianto another smile, told them their drinks would be out in just a moment, and walked away.

Ianto returned the smile, attempting to be polite, and returned his gaze to the menu on the table in front of him.

"...should we request another waiter?" Jack asked, his irritation cutting through the air—and Ianto's concentration—like a knife.

Ianto brought his eyes up from the menu to study Jack's face. "Do I detect jealousy?"

"No. I just don't think it's right for someone to be hitting on my date when I'm out with him."

He only laughed, resting his chin in his hand as he continued to scan the menu for something that sounded good. "Pollo mariano," he mused, reading the description. "That sounds really good."

"Were you missing for what just happened right now?" Jack asked, eyebrows still furrowed. "He was hitting on you."

"I know he was. I was ignoring it, though. C'mon, Jack, neither of us will see him again."

"But it's the fact that he was hitting on you. You're mine tonight."

Ianto blushed and looked back to the menu. "What are you gonna get?"

"Fuss..." Jack stumbled across the syllables. Italian wasn't a language he was particularly well-versed in. He had dated this opera singer once, who serenaded him every morning in Italian, but he never knew what any of it meant. He was always blissfully confused, and that was all right with him. He hadn't cared much for words; it was the sex that kept him around. It also helped that the singer was very easy on the eyes. "The chicken, bacon, peppers and tomato stuff."

"Fusilli alla Rusticana?" Ianto guessed. The words fell off his tongue, drenched in that thick accent. "Is that what you mean?"

"Yeah. That. That's what I mean. I mean, that's what I want." He breathed in deeply, trying to shake off the knots in his stomach. Where had his confidence gone? He'd been on dates before. He was around Ianto every day. They worked together. They shagged often. It wasn't like he was on one of those blind dates—if he had been, he'd just use some pick-up line to get his date in bed and that would be the end of it.

This was something different. He wanted everything to be absolutely perfect and in place. It had started off well, but he wasn't fond of this Zane character in the slightest. His crystal blues narrowed as their server came back with two glasses of water and another smile and look for Ianto.

He didn't order that... the voice in the back of his head mumbled. So stop bringing it. Poor service. A thousand thoughts were bouncing around in the folds of his brain. His stare was putting holes into Zane's body as he flirted with his date, leaning against the table and making cute little gestures, offering to make a special adjustment on Ianto's pasta because he hadn't wanted fusilli and wanted penne instead...

It made Jack sick.

"Sir?"

A voice broke him from his thoughts, which had been toying around with the idea of somehow getting RetCon into the waiter's body. His eyes shot up to see Zane looking down at him, friendly smile still on his face as he asked, "Have you decided what you'd like, or do you still need a minute?"

"The, uh, fussy rustic stuff."

Zane nodded in understanding as Ianto corrected it for him, just to be sure. Jack's mind wandered off again and he vaguely heard Zane complimenting Ianto on his Italian pronunciation.

Ianto only smiled and said that he'd had a lot of practice because he had a lot of free time, and Zane countered with a suggestion of finding someone to spend some of that free time with. Ianto replied with a soft glance to Jack and a smile, then verbalizing that someday it would happen, he just wasn't sure when.

"So what kind of wine would you like this evening?"

Ianto looked at Jack. "We'll have the chardonnay. Please. A bottle."

"Excellent choice," Zane replied, winking at Ianto as he walked away, pad in hand.

"Jack. Please snap out of it?" he asked when Zane was gone.

"I can't help it."

"Just don't think about it."

"I can't help it."

"Help it? For me?"

Jack sighed. "I'm sorry, Ianto. I just don't like it, that's all. It's not that you're getting attention. God knows you deserve it. It's that you're getting attention from someone who isn't me. And I'm not into that."

Again, Ianto's face flushed. He never did take compliments very well, especially not from Jack. Nevertheless, he smiled and folded his arms on the table in front of him, leaning toward Jack slightly. "You're very different outside of work. It's surprising, really." He moved his arm to rest his chin in his hand.

Jack grinned. "Why?" he asked, leaning forward as their wine and appetizers were presented.

"It just is." Ianto straightened as the plate of crispy risotto-and-cheese spheres was placed in front of him. "It's a good different, though. I like it."

The smile held as Jack poured two glasses of wine, sliding one to Ianto gently. Their fingers brushed as Ianto picked up the stem of the glass, clinking it lightly with Jack's.

"It tastes like peach," Jack said as he took a sip. "Wasn't expecting that."

"I like it." Ianto cut one of the arancini apart with his fork and held it out to Jack, who took it from the shiny utensil.

"I see why you like those things so much," Jack mused with a smile. "They're incredible."

"Told you."

It took them at least two hours to eat their meals, chatting about everything and anything they could think of between bites. Every so often, Jack would reach across with his fork and steal something off Ianto's plate—just a little something—and grin as he ate it. Sometimes Ianto would inch his hand forward just to graze one of Jack's fingers with his own. Their fingers linked for a moment, then retreated back to a wine glass or a napkin.

The two leaned slightly over the table, just to get a little closer to each other. Jack hung on every word that flowed off Ianto's tongue and vice versa.

They had already ordered their dessert—a vanilla pannacotta they would split, as Ianto wasn't exactly the most fond of sweets—and a second bottle of wine when Ianto had to get up. "I'll be back," he assured with a smile and a slight pat of Jack's hand.

Jack smiled back. "Don't be too long," he said softly as he watched Ianto's back growing further away from him as he made his way to the restrooms.

The restrooms were at the front of the restaurant, and Ianto had to walk past a small lounge area where Zane and another man were sitting and having a conversation. Well that's good, Ianto thought. Jack had nothing to be upset about. It wasn't me; he's just like that. I'll have to tell him that when I get back to the table.

"I think I'm gonna give the cute guy in the corner table my number on his bill. Should I?" Zane asked the other waiter, a man who looked quite a bit younger. He was a tall and slim brunette who wore rectangular wire glasses over blue eyes. His hair was short and cut close to his head, and some stubble grew in on his chin and upper lip. His accent was similar to Jack's, and Ianto assumed he was an American who had come to Wales for university. He must have worked at Prezzo to pay the bills.

"He's got these amazing eyes. They're like sapphires. And the way he places his orders is amazing. He actually knows what he's talking about."

Ianto blushed, slipping out of sight, yet still within an earshot. That was something he hadn't heard before. Were his eyes really that color, he wondered? He'd never noticed.

"Sounds like you found a catch," the other one replied, looking Zane over. "Wait. Which table did you say he was at again?"

"The one over in the corner. It's all dimly lit and everything. Nice atmosphere they have going on there."

Ianto raised an eyebrow as he heard a grunt and footsteps. It was Zane's coworker, peering over at Jack's table. "Oh. Zane, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but they're here together."

"Well, yeah, they're at the same table."

"No, I mean, they're here with each other for a reason." The waiter went back to his seat, the leather squeaking slightly as he placed his weight on it. "They're together."

"What? No way, Robert. No way."

Robert sighed. "Have you seen the way they've been looking at each other the entire night?" he asked. "They've got it bad for one another."

Ianto didn't pay attention to the rest of the conversation. Did that man—a complete stranger—really notice that? Did Jack really seem to have it that bad for him? He grinned to himself, shoving his hands in his pockets and continued to the restroom, his head swimming, his face lit in the truest happiness he'd ever possessed.