Warnign - fluff at levels likely to cause cavities. Set in S2, somewhere around Sleeper.
Jack rolled over, one arm reaching towards where he expected Ianto to be, then stilled to consider the novelty of it all.
Waking up with a sufficient sense of security that he didn't automatically snap into full awareness, for example. After a year in the Valiant, sleep had been light, when he slept at all.
Jack's immortal body seemed able to recharge without. Sleep was an indulgence, more a rest for the mind than the body. But given the paling of the darkness beyond the curtains, he'd not only slept, but slept the night through. And a comfortable sleep. That was a rarity, even since he'd been back.
Take the rolling over, for instance. There was no luxurious sleeping rollover to be had in the bunker. He'd either hit the wall, likely as not triggering a flashback at the impact of the hard surface against his back, or suffer the indignity of rolling off the bed altogether.
Jack's searching hand connected with smooth skin over firm muscle. Ianto muttered something which was probably in English, but with an accent so sleep-thickened as to be unintelligible. The hand which wrapped around Jack's however, delivered an unmistakable invitation as it drew Jack's arm over his ribs. Jack shuffled closer.
This was still kind of new, too – or at least, newly new, having another body in the bed to reach for. To snuggle with, even if that was a concept neither would admit to while fully conscious.
Current evidence, however, suggested that snuggling was in fact exactly what they doing. Close enough that Ianto's shoulders pressed against Jack's chest at each exhale. Kind of nice. Very nice. Jack hadn't realised how much he'd missed this type of thing.
One night stands usually involved more of the standing and less of the night – at least, not all night.
Jack lips bowed into a soft smile. All of that was behind him now. He wouldn't risk shattering Ianto's hard-won trust for a quick thrill in an alleyway. He'd had to wait for an invitation to this bed, even work for it, which only made his welcome here all the sweeter.
Not that he'd expected Ianto to fall back into his arms. Hadn't even wanted it, to be honest. Jack intended to do things right, this time. Ianto's version of right, whatever that entailed, though Jack was pretty sure 'the right way' involved abstinence in this part of the twenty-first century. Fine. He could do that. For a while.
He'd obviously been interested, though. Curious, even. All right, bordering on desperate. So he'd asked, with as much delicacy as possible considering Ianto's bedroom was just along that hallway - how long until…? Ianto's only answer was an eyebrow arching above an enigmatic smile, which was sufficiently enchanting that Jack hardly noticed the door close, leaving him on what had to be considered the wrong side. Especially after a good-night kiss of that magnitude.
And with the click of that latch, Jack had been reintroduced to the subtle joy of anticipation.
Ianto was, after all, worth waiting for. So Jack told himself, and so he believed. And so, Jack waited, to discover that he actually enjoyed dinners and movies and strolling around Cardiff for no reason other than to remind themselves that it was a nice place to stroll. All of which was even nicer with a companion – a date – who not only looked good enough to serve up alongside the artistically-plated dishes, but could hold an intelligent conversation, as well.
Not that Jack had ever considered Ianto less than intelligent, but bunker-based conversations lent themselves to a limited vocabulary.
Discreet enquiries indicated that there were mostly-established milestones in this dating business, which apparently everyone except Jack understood on a cellular level. Too deep to actually discuss, at least within Jack's hearing.
So Jack asked someone to explain it. He'd asked Gwen, in fact, on the basis that her engaged status meant she'd successfully navigated the whole dating process. Jack would later explain that it was a totally justifiable lapse of judgment, given the stresses to which he was currently being subjected, having ended yet another date on the wrong side of the door. After another brain-numbing good night, too.
Once Jack recovered from the earsplitting volume of something Owen informed him was 'squeeing', Tosh condescended to advise Jack that the third date was generally considered to be the charm. Her announcement was accompanied by the skittering of soft-soled leather shoes as Ianto made his escape into the archives.
Hiding from Jack's righteous indignation no doubt.
They'd already been on five dates!
-XXX-
Date six was takeaway on the coffee table with a DVD playing, to which they paid sporadic attention between enthusiastic attempts to snog each other's brains out. When the movie finished, Jack summoned every remaining shred of honor and voluntarily placed himself on the wrong side of the door.
Because Ianto was worth waiting for, and Jack intended to prove it. To Ianto, who evidently didn't believe it himself if he'd felt the need to resort to subterfuge.
Date six was last night. Apparently he'd already proved it. Which just goes to show how much you can achieve if you don't try quite so hard. Or something along those lines.
Jack wasn't sure exactly what it was he'd done right. Not that he'd given it – or anything else - much thought from the moment he'd felt Ianto's hands snag the back of his coat, preventing him from stepping into the lift. Maybe Ianto would explain it one day. Jack wasn't about to ask Gwen again. One round of squeeing was one too many.
Jack wrapped himself closer around the man sleeping within his arm, unashamedly snuggling. His nostrils filled with the scent of a shampoo which appeared to contain apple, and he drifted back into a sleep heavily laced with contentment and completely lacking in nightmares.
Safety smelled like apples. Odd, that.
Hope you liked. There's a companion chapter in the works. Thanks for reading.