A loud throat clear woke Donovan from a sound sleep and a pleasant dream. He rolled and blinked, wiping the crust from his eyes. He coughed a few times to clear his throat and half sat up. Jack was standing in the room. Donovan immediately grabbed the blanket, yanking it up over himself.
"Jack?" his voice was still rough from sleep.
"Morning, Ethan," he said.
Donovan looked around and saw he was alone in the bed.
"She's upstairs," Jack said, putting his hands into his pockets.
Donovan couldn't believe Jack's gall, just walking in here like this. These were Miranda's rooms. The last time he'd knocked and waited for permission to enter. Now, he was standing there, in the middle of Miranda's bedroom. Donovan didn't have a stitch on him and the blanket was the only thing protecting his modesty. He was more than a little annoyed.
Jack wandered over to Miranda's dresser. He picked up a silver picture frame and set it down on the bedside table, turning it so Donovan got a clear look at the picture. He leaned against the dresser. He crossed his arms over his chest.
"Sorry to just walk in, but I thought you and I should talk."
Donovan blinked as the picture came into focus. The black and white wedding photograph was very old but in good condition. A beautiful bride was standing behind her groom, a bouquet of flowers in her gloved hands. Donovan saw almond shaped eyes and pale, alabaster skin. Miranda… She looked beautiful and happy. There was a lightness in her eyes that Donovan didn't think her capable of. His gaze settled on the handsome groom seated in front of her dressed in an old fashioned suit and ascot. Oh shit…
"I want to know what's going on with you and Will," Jack said, plainly.
Donovan gestured at the bed. "What do you think's going on, Jack? You mad I'm schtupping your wife?"
Jack was regularly bending over for Ianto Jones and Miranda lived alone in her rooms. Clearly, whatever was going on between Jack and Miranda wasn't the traditional concept of marriage. Whatever the situation or circumstances surrounding them gave Donovan the impression that Jack didn't have any right to stake a claim on Miranda Ryan. In fact, he thought the idea of any man trying to do so would be nothing short of suicidal. Squashing back his modesty and embarrassment, Donovan threw back the blanket and swung his legs out of bed. He reached for his boxers. He wasn't going to have this discussion laying down - literally or figuratively.
"Ex-wife," Jack corrected. "Technically, late wife."
"What?" Donovan blurted, confused.
"Never mind," Jack said, waving off the question. "I've known Will a long time, Ethan."
Donovan still felt a bit idiotic having this discussion in his pants but he said, hotly, "Look, I've already gotten this from Ianto and Joe-"
"Let me guess," Jack said without looking up, "they're both worried you're leading Will on and that you're going to break her heart?"
"Pretty much," Donovan confirmed. "You know, if she really is your ex-wife, Jack, then what we're doing is none of your goddamned business."
"You're right, who Will sleeps with isn't my business," Jack said, not looking up. "I'm not worried about her, Ethan. I'm worried about you."
Donovan's jaw dropped and he gaped at Jack. "Me? Why the fuck are you worried about me?"
Jack pushed off the dresser. He leaned into Donovan's personal space so he could turn the wedding picture to face them.
"Because I know how easy it is to fall in love with her," Jack said, softly, looking down at the picture. "She's… intense. She's all fire and ice and nothing in between. She's provocative and not the way a beautiful woman is usually provocative. There's mystery around her - it's exotic and unique… like a moment in time that will never come again."
Jack put the picture back on the dresser and then turned around to face him. "No offence, Ethan? But you're not her type. When you go back to America, she's not going to lose any sleep over it. Will might like the brainiac sort of woman but she's got this terminal case of bad boy when it comes to men."
And what the fuck does that say about you, Jack? Donovan wondered.
Miranda was exactly like Jack described. She was this mad juxtaposition of sexy and demure, lethal cunning and comforting warmth… Jack was right. She was unique. It was why he was so drawn to her but he wasn't in love with her.
"I'm not in love with her," Donovan said, honestly. "She's great, don't get me wrong, she's great… but I'm not in love with her."
Jack seemed to accept this with a nod.
"You watch yourself, Ethan. It's easy to get swept up in her." He waved at the bed, "And I don't just mean the sex. Don't forget that. I'll see you upstairs in twenty."