Chapter Forty-One
Ack! I'm so sorry that this is a day late, but I had a flood of schoolwork and… :-/
Anyway, I hope you enjoy it! :-)
Disclaimer: Me no own. Got that?
The restaurant was a small, family-run one by the waterfront. It had numerous photographs of racing boats up on the red-brick walls, and was relatively quiet. The only other customers were a family of five seated at the largest table in the centre, laughing and chattering over a card game of some sort.
The waiter, a young man with curly black hair and an abundance of freckles sprayed across his olive skin, showed them to a small table in the corner.
Ianto sat down with a sigh, rolling his neck to ease the stiffness as he did so. Jack shrugged out of his coat and flopped into his chair.
"Can I get you any drinks, sirs?" the waiter asked, notepad and pen poised.
"Just still water, please," Ianto said, polite as ever.
"Same for me," Jack added.
"Very good, sirs," the waiter said. "Can I interest you in the special of the day, Mussels in a red wine sauce?"
"No, thanks," Ianto said, paling slightly.
"Can we have the normal menu?" Jack asked.
"Of course, sir." The waiter picked up a couple of faux-leather menus from a stack on a nearby shelf, and handed them to Jack. "Anything else I can get you?"
"Not at the moment, thanks," Ianto said.
"I'll be back shortly," the waiter promised, before heading back through a white swing-door that, presumably, led into the kitchens.
Ianto went to pick up one of the menus, only to realise that he couldn't. "Uh, Jack? I think I may have a bit of a problem."
Jack cocked an eyebrow, not understanding. Ianto held up his hand. "I can't use a knife and fork."
Jack grinned. "Looks like I'll just have to feed you, then," he said. "We can get a platter, or something."
Ianto didn't seem at all encouraged by this suggestion. "This is hopeless," he said, his face drawn and upset. "I can't do anything right, can I?"
"Hey, hey," Jack said reassuringly, "you can do plenty of things right. It's hardly your fault that you got hurt."
"But it is!" Ianto retorted, not at all pacified. "If I hadn't jumped off that cliff–"
"What?" Jack interrupted, frowning in surprise. "What d'you mean, 'jumped off that cliff'?"
Ianto froze, eyes widening. He hadn't meant to say that. "I…"
"Ianto?"
He licked his lips nervously, looking down at the table. "I jumped off the cliff so that you would wake up," he said softly. "I figured that if you were using up all your life energy to keep me alive, then if I—"
"Wait a minute – have I got this right? You tried to kill yourself so that I would wake up?"
Ianto swallowed. This was the tone of voice Jack used whenever he was trying not to shout. "Yeah."
Jack remained quiet for a moment. Then, "Why?"
Ianto kept his head down as he answered. "I'm meant to be dead. Not you. You've got to save the world. That's more important than keeping me alive."
Again, Jack didn't say anything. Cautiously, unsure of what he would see, Ianto lifted his head; he was startled to see tears glistening in the corners of Jack's eyes.
He was about to ask, then thought better of it. So he kept quiet, waiting for Jack to talk to him.
Jack shook his head, biting his lip hard in an attempt to stop the tears that were threatening to fall. A single, fat tear escaping and rolled down his cheek, leaving a wet trail in its wake. Ianto wanted nothing more than to reach out and wipe it away like he had done earlier, to hold Jack tight and comfort him like Jack did so often for him.
Jack dashed the tear away almost angrily. "God, Ianto. Why do you always have to do that?"
"Do what?" Ianto asked, bewildered.
Jack half-smiled. "Make me cry like a baby," he said thickly. "I never used to cry this much in a single day."
Unsure of what to say, Ianto just settled for an apology. "Sorry."
"Nothing to be sorry about." Jack chuckled, a wet-sounding attempt at amusement. "Have you decided what you want? To eat, I mean?"
"Maybe a pasta?" Ianto suggested.
"I thought that you wanted salad?"
Ianto shrugged as much as his sling would allow. "Changed my mind."
"Fickle boy," Jack teased. He opened the menu and quickly scanned the options. "Pasta carbonara suit you?"
"Penne, not tagliatele," Ianto reminded him.
Jack pulled a mock-sad face. "But tagliatele would be so much more fun," he objected.
"And messy."
Jack shrugged, an easy grin slipping over his face. "I like messy."
"I gathered," Ianto said dryly. "So carbonara it is?"
"Yep." Jack twisted around in his seat to scan the restaurant. "Where's the waiter got to?"
"Have you decided on your food yet, gentlemen?" the waiter said, suddenly standing beside their table, notepad and pen now tucked into his belt. He was balancing a round black tray with their drinks on, which he set down in front of them.
Ianto frowned at him. How had he got there so fast? "Penne carbonara, please," he said.
"That's a shared platter," Jack added.
The waiter nodded, scribbling down the order so fast he almost tore the paper. "Very good, sirs. Is there anything else I can get you?"
"I think that's it, thankyou," Jack said. He flashed a winning smile at the waiter.
"Very good, sirs," the waiter repeated, backing away and vanishing through the kitchen door again.
Ianto looked at Jack, who was frowning after the waiter. "Creepy kid," he commented.
"Yeah," Jack agreed. "Makes me wonder a bit, about the food."
"Give it a scan," Ianto said, nodding at Jack's wrist.
"How did—?" Jack started, then shook his head. "Never mind." He pulled up his shirt-sleeve, and flipped open his Vortex Manipulator.
He surreptitiously held it out in front of him, squinting at the read-out. "Seems okay…" he said, regarding the jug of water doubtfully.
"Then stop fussing," Ianto said pragmatically. "Just relax."
Jack chuckled and reached across the table to touch Ianto's face affectionately. "That's my Ianto."
Ianto blushed, ducking his head and staring at the table. "Stop it."
"What?" Jack sounded anxious. "Did I do something wrong?"
Ianto shook his head, peeping up at Jack through his lashes. "It's just a bit embarrassing," he said, "and makes me feel about five years old."
"That reminds me, I ought to get you an early birthday present," Jack said.
"There's no need—"
"It's just my excuse for spoiling you, okay?" Jack grinned. "I don't get to spoil you nearly often enough."
"I don't need to be spoiled," Ianto said. "It's unprofessional."
Jack quirked an eyebrow, amused. "And since when have I cared about being professional?"
"I care about being professional," Ianto said stubbornly.
Jack blinked, sitting back and folding his arms, his normal defense reaction. "Is that a way of saying that you're embarrassed by me?" he asked quietly.
Ianto's eyes widened in shock. "No! No, of course not. I just don't particularly like public shows of affection like that."
"You were fine with it on the bus."
"At first." Ianto shook his head. "It just isn't like me, Jack."
"Okay…" Jack unfolded his arms. "So when is it too much?"
"I…" Ianto cast around desperately. "It depends."
"Well, that helps."
"Sorry." Ianto glanced over at the family. The youngest girl, who couldn't have been more than six, was watching them with wide baby blues, a strand of ginger-blonde hair twisted around her fingers.
Beside her, her brother had his head down, concentrating intently on his Nintendo DS, and her sister was chatting away with their parents.
Ianto bit his lip as it finally came home to him that a family like that was another thing he wasn't going to have. He managed a small smile for the girl and looked away, back at Jack.
Jack smiled at him, trying to be as comforting as he could. "Cheer up," he said. "We've got time yet."
"Not that long."
Jack paused. "No," he acknowledged, "but it's still our time. That's why I want to make the most of it."
His eyes were over-bright, his smile too forced. It made something inside Ianto feel like it was tearing apart.
"Maybe we could watch a film back at the hospital?" Ianto suggested tentatively. "Just sit and watch something together. If you don't have to be anywhere else, that is," he amended quickly. "I understand if you need to–"
Jack's finger on his lips forestalled anything he might have been about to say. He removed it a millisecond later, but Ianto could still feel the tingle from his touch. "Ianto – today is your day. Nobody else's. It's just for you and me."
Ianto smiled. "So that's a yes?"
"And then a picnic at the castle this evening," Jack said.
"Maybe it would be better to ask Gwen if she'd help with the food," Ianto suggested.
"Are you saying that you doubt my skills in the food department?" Jack mock-frowned. "They are nothing less than exemplary, I'll have you know."
"Considering the fact that you'd probably pack all the wine and cake, forgetting all the fruit and juice, I think that my fears are reasonably founded," Ianto said, falling back easily into the light-hearted banter he enjoyed so much with Jack.
"Who needs healthy stuff?"
"People who wish to keep themselves healthy," Ianto responded. "Even immortal captains need to keep in shape."
"Are you suggesting that I'm putting on weight?" Jack's voice squeaked slightly in indignation.
"Well, all that take-away and pizza can't help," Ianto pointed out. "Nor the coffee."
"But I like your coffee!" Jack protested. "I'm not giving that up."
"I'm not suggesting that you do," Ianto said. "Can I have a drink of water, please?"
Jack carefully poured some of the ice-cold water into Ianto's glass, before holding it up to the Welshman's lips so he could take a sip.
"That's horribly demeaning," Ianto muttered as Jack wiped away a dribble of water that had escaping down his chin.
"Having an incredibly dashing and handsome captain like me help you drink?"
"Needing anybody to help me at all."
Jack poured himself a glass and took a casual swallow. "Think of it like an honour," he suggested. "You're so amazing that you get somebody to hand-feed you."
Ianto couldn't help but laugh at the earnest expression of Jack's face.
"I mean it," Jack said seriously, sitting forward on his seat. "Another sip?"
Ianto shrugged, this time managing to get all of the water in his mouth without mishap. "Thanks."
"It's my pleasure," Jack said in an attempt at a posh London accent.
"That's terrible," Ianto told him, though he was grinning like a Cheshire cat.
"What is?"
"That accent." Ianto shook his head. "Promise me that you'll never, ever become an actor."
"Hey, I'm a fantastic actor," Jack said.
"Modest, too."
"Why should I be modest when I have you?"
Ianto rolled his eyes. "Sappy, too."
"I was being romantic," Jack informed him haughtily.
Ianto snorted. "Please, spare me."
"You don't like me being romantic?" Jack looked hurt.
"I don't like you being sappy," Ianto corrected. "There's a difference."
"I don't see how there's a difference," Jack said, frowning into his drink.
Ianto was saved from having to attempt to explain romance to his confused lover by the arrival of the platter-bearing waiter.
"Penne carbonara platter," he announced, setting it down in the middle of the table. "Is there anything else I can get you?"
"No, thankyou," Ianto replied.
"Enjoy your meal, gentlemen," the waiter said, adding in a half-bow, before slipping off to the family's table.
"You wanna have the first mouthful?" Jack offered, holding it up.
Ianto shook his head. "You tell me what it's like."
Jack shrugged. "Your loss." He popped it in and almost immediately spat it out again, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand whilst glaring at the platter in disgust.
"What is it?" Ianto asked curiously.
"Salt," Jack announced. "Far too much salt – like chewing a mouthful of seaweed."
Ianto peered at it. "It looks fine."
"Believe me, it isn't." Jack pushed his chair back, making an ugly scraping noise on the brick floor. "Where's the waiter gone?"
"He was by the other table a second ago," Ianto said, frowning in confusion at the disappearance of the young man.
"Screw this," Jack growled, storming over to the white swing doors and throwing them open.
Only to stare in shock at the inside of an empty store-cupboard.
"Now that's a little freaky," Ianto said, getting up to stand by Jack. "Not many people can make a kitchen turn into a cleaning-cupboard."
"This stinks of a trap," Jack said softly, turning around to scan the restaurant.
And was confronted by a row of angry fish-people, the happy family now morphed into snarling, shark-toothed, scaly-skinned selkies.
Long one, this time. :-D
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