This is set during the flight home after the radio play SubMission. If you haven't heard that, all you really need to know for the purposes of this chapter is they met an old girlfriend of Ianto's called Carlie. There's also a reference to a character in the play The Golden Age, who is an ex of Jack's.
It began on the flight home. Gwen thought it was amusing to begin with, but that didn't last.
They'd been allocated one of those three-seaters across the centre of the plane. Ianto was in the middle, which Gwen approved of. It saved her hours of either being ignored by Jack as he groped Ianto under the scanty cover of an airline blanket or being squashed by Jack leaning across her to get to Ianto. Neither of which did much for her ego.
It didn't save Ianto from being groped, but sacrifices must be made in the interests of peace within Torchwood. And Ianto occasionally detached the hand, returned it to its owner, and talked to Gwen instead. Sometimes he even talked to her …er…during. He was very good at multitasking after all.
"Carlie seems nice," Gwen commented, in one of the windows of discussion. One where Ianto's eyes were still focused.
"Oh she is," Ianto agreed, then went on to expand on all things 'Carlie' with an enthusiasm Gwen was pretty certain was genuine, rather than an attempt to extend the grope-free interval. Not that he'd been objecting very strenuously, but he had overheard one of the stewards offer Gwen a bucket of cold water less than an hour ago. Gwen thought the steward was quite likely jealous, only she wasn't sure which one of them he wanted. Then again, Jack did seem to be overdoing it this trip, even for him.
"Yet you've never mentioned her," Jack said. Gwen considered the tone too much of an effort at casual, and had to hide a smile. Was Jack possibly…..? No, not Jack. Then again….
Ianto blinked. "Just like you never mentioned John," he pointed out.
"You met him before I even asked you out," Jack said defensively.
"Or the Duchess," Ianto continued, voice and face a study in innocence. "Eleanor, wasn't it?"
"Didn't think you'd ever meet her," Jack mumbled.
"And I didn't think you'd ever meet Carlie," Ianto said.
Jack started poking through the seat pockets.
"So she's American, by the voice," Gwen continued, in an effort both to break the silence and contain the giggles. She found it hard to believe she was actually witnessing a jealous Jack. And equally difficult to accept that Ianto was as oblivious as he appeared, but you never knew with Ianto.
Ianto gave Jack a sideways glance. "I've always had a bit of a weakness for the accent," he admitted.
"So it's not just me then," Jack said, before immersing himself in the in-flight magazine. "It wasn't even me first."
Gwen hid her smiles behind her own magazine. Maybe Jack wasn't really jealous, she mused. Maybe he'd overheard the steward, too. Or perhaps he'd realised he was embarrassing Ianto with his demonstrations of affection. Regardless, Jack behaved with perfect propriety for the rest of the trip.
Gwen laughed when the steward slipped Ianto his phone number with a packet of complimentary peanuts.
Jack didn't laugh. He didn't even smile. Didn't even say anything about threesomes.
Gwen finally believed it. She had to, given the overwhelming evidence. She was seeing a jealous Jack, and Ianto was oblivious.
Gwen thought it was cute. She didn't think that for long.
-XXX-
Gwen was making her way out via the tourism office, having decided to have lunch in the real world for a change, not to mention taking a break from the atmosphere surrounding a perpetually brooding Jack. She paused at the counter to ask Ianto to join her and was confronted by the sight of the Welshman glaring at a floral arrangement.
"They're lovely!" Gwen exclaimed.
"They're from Jack," Ianto responded, brow creasing until his hairline nearly met his eyebrows. Most things looked good on Ianto, but not that.
"You say that as if it's a bad thing," Gwen said cautiously.
"It usually means he's feeling guilty about something," Ianto explained. He gave the bouquet a last suspicious once-over, and then ducked through the bead curtain in search of a vase.
Gwen chuckled. He still couldn't see it. "He's feeling insecure," she called in explanation.
Ianto re-emerged, frown gone, but looking inexplicably sad for someone being showered with gifts. "That explains it," he said morosely, before deciding the vase wasn't big enough and returning to the back room for a different one.
Gwen watched him disappear and concluded she'd be better off having lunch alone than sharing it with someone who couldn't even produce a smile at having gotten the immortal flirt hooked enough to be jealous. Maybe, she thought optimistically, just maybe the boys will sort it out while I'm gone.
"Gwen?" Ianto said, to what he didn't realize was an empty office, given that the rattle of the bead curtain drowned out the tinkle as the outer door closed behind Gwen. "I know it's none of my business, really, but….who was it you said he's been feeling?"
-XXX-
It didn't become unbearable until the incident with the mirror ball.
They'd retrieved some debris from one of the seedier parts of town. Jack found the mirror ball beneath the wreckage of an empty cargo pod, and bore it back to the Hub in triumph. Later that evening, Gwen and Ianto suffered through an impromptu performance of something called 'the hustle'.
"A bit like a line dance," Gwen commented.
"A bit like a seizure," Ianto added. Gwen didn't slap him across the back of the head. She was quite proud of her restraint, actually.
Jack pouted. "The seventies, guys! You gotta love the seventies!"
"The decade that taste forgot," Ianto mused. "Flared trousers." He shuddered. Gwen laughed. "And platform shoes," she added.
"You didn't like the seventies?" Jack demanded.
Ianto rolled his eyes. "Jack, I wasn't even alive for the seventies."
Jack ceased the performance and slumped down onto the couch, placing Gwen between himself and Ianto, both physically and metaphorically. She began to reconsider the head-slap.
"Sometimes," Jack told Gwen, "I forget the issues inherent in dating someone who was a teenager less than a decade ago. Then I get these reminders."
"I, on the other hand, can never quite forget I'm dating someone who was a teenager over a century ago," Ianto countered. "Because the reminders tend to be constant."
Forget the head-slapping. Gwen was going to bang their heads together. Repeatedly.
-XXX-
Rhys stood in front of an array of open cupboard doors, scratching his head. He'd used it just yesterday, he was sure.
"Gwen, love, have you seen the cooking sherry?"
"I drank it."
Rhys' mouth opened.
"Don't ask, Rhys darling. Just don't."
-XXX-
"It's somewhere inside," Gwen said into the comms. "I've hacked into their booking system and gotten you a table. Go and pretend to be customers."
Gwen wasn't lying, if you interpreted 'it' to be their table, and 'hacking' to mean that she'd used the restaurant's on-line booking system to reserve said table. Admittedly, most people wouldn't interpret either term quite that way, but Gwen was getting desperate. If either man's face got any longer, they'd be tripping over their noses. Interference was now no longer a possibly interesting pastime and more a method by which Gwen would retain her sanity. Besides, she was only giving them a nudge. Oh, all right, maybe she'd asked a friend who worked there – well, the friend's daughter, technically - to flirt with Ianto a bit. Which was hardly going to be a hardship.
Gwen really hoped this would work. She didn't want to be forced into more desperate measures. Locking them both in the Hub for a week was a last resort.
"Can't see anything out of the ordinary," Ianto reported. "Just people having dinner. No signs of unrest."
"Really?" Gwen asked, with well-simulated surprise.
"There's some very big hair over in the corner," Jack said. "Could be concealing anything. Perhaps we ought to check it out."
"It might just be someone we've resettled having a night out," Gwen said hastily. She was trying not to panic, but she could just picture Jack ripping some poor woman's hairpiece off while Ianto apologized to the management and hopefully got them out without police involvement. But she didn't want to let them leave, either.
"It wouldn't be fair to interrupt them if they aren't doing any harm," Gwen added. "Perhaps it would be best if you just hung about for a while. You know, just to observe. Check how well they've integrated."
Jack eyed the man sitting across the table from him. Wearing that pink shirt. There were much worse ways to spend an evening. And with the way beautiful young people were throwing themselves at Ianto lately, Jack wasn't going to waste this opportunity that fate - or Gwen - had chosen to shove his way.
"You okay with that?" Jack asked.
Ianto nodded. "Maybe we ought to order something," he suggested, eyes fixed on the tablecloth. "We might raise suspicions otherwise."
"Good idea," Jack said. "So Gwen, you might as well go home. If anything blows up, we'll call you."
Gwen was glad the comms didn't have visual. The happy dance would have been a dead give away. "Thanks boys," she said. "Have fun."
Jack crumbled his bread, Ianto shredded his napkin.
"Been a while since we've been on a date," Jack said.
Ianto nodded, arranged his napkin shards into a neat pile, then looked up with a sigh.
"We've been busy," he offered.
Jack inhaled deeply and leaped bravely into the fray.
"That shouldn't really be an excuse, should it?" he said softly. "I'm never too busy for you, Ianto. Or I shouldn't be."
The sadness in his voice made Ianto look up sharply. "I thought….." at which he blushed and reached for a new napkin.
Jack intercepted the hand, grasping it firmly within his own. "What did you think?"
Ianto began to blush. Jack couldn't help noticing how nicely his cheeks complimented the shirt. "I thought you were getting bored," Ianto admitted. "That you'd…." His spare hand twitched towards the napkin.
"Tell me…" Jack insisted.
"That you were seeing someone else," Ianto blurted.
Jack gave an incredulous laugh. "Me? I'm not the one with old girlfriends popping out of the woodwork and trolley dollies shoving their phone numbers into my nuts."
Ianto smiled at him even as his cheeks burned brighter. "Singular, Jack, not plural. One ex, one steward."
"That I know of," Jack replied darkly. "And it's still one too many."
Jack released Ianto's hand reluctantly as the waitress delivered their meals. A pretty, young, dark-haired waitress, who smiled brightly at Ianto while offering to refill his wineglass. Jack thought the uniforms ought to be a bit more modest. If she bent any further towards Ianto, something was going to fall into his glass. Maybe two somethings.
"He's taken," Jack told the woman, whereupon he snatched the wine bottle from its place on the table and filled Ianto's glass himself.
"Sorry," Ianto said, blushing redder than the wine in his glass.
The young woman winked. "Can't blame him for hanging on tight when he's caught a good one," she said. After which she scampered away, intent on sending Gwen a victory text.
Jack frowned as he watched the waitress sashay off. Ianto looked at him suspiciously from beneath ridiculously long lashes. "Aren't you getting a bit possessive, Jack?"
Jack reached for Ianto's hand again, playing with the fingers attached to it so he didn't have to look at Ianto's face. "I guess I am," he confessed. "Is….Is that okay?"
Ianto smiled down at their joined hands. "Works for me."
Thanks for reading.