Chapter Nine

Jack took a swig of beer and started loading up his plate from the containers of food they'd spread out on Ianto's coffee table. "We'll watch your pick first. Which one is it going to be?"

Ianto paused from spooning fried rice onto his plate and looked up. "From Russia with Love. It's always been one of my favourites."

"Ah, a classic." Jack nodded in approval. "Good choice. I thought you'd go for one of the early Bonds. Mine's a little more controversial. I went with a more modern Bond. It's not quite on my short-list of all time favourites, but I've always liked it." He paused for dramatic effect. "The Living Daylights."

If Ianto was shocked or outraged, he managed not to show it. His neatly groomed eyebrows twitched upwards. "Actually, I like that one too. I always wished we'd gotten another film or two with Dalton as Bond."

"Yeah, that would have been great." Jack watched as Ianto stood up to start the movie and sat down again with a remote control in hand. Like Jack, Ianto owned the box set of all twenty-three Bond movies.

Ianto gestured at the compact flat-screen and looked apologetic. "Not quite what you're used to I'm afraid."

That was true enough given that Ianto's television was only about a quarter of the size of Jack's eighty-inch behemoth. Much as he loved Bond and was generally a proponent of the bigger is better philosophy, tonight he was far more interested in his companion than whatever action was happening on the television screen. In fact, he decided that a less immersive experience would actually be to his advantage.

"I don't mind." He gave Ianto a reassuring smile, hoping to put him at ease. "I've got Bond, beer, food, and most importantly, fantastic company. What more could a guy want?" He refrained from adding that the icing on the cake would be if this was an actual date, with the prospect of at least some kissing before the night was over. But a guy took what he could get and spending another evening with Ianto was a victory in itself.

Ianto responded with a doubtful frown, as if he was wondering how in the world this brash, quasi-American had pushed his way into his life. Nudging Ianto's shoulder, Jack gestured at the food. "Come on, dig in before it gets cold."

Following Ianto's lead, Jack tucked a napkin into his collar, not wanting to spill anything on his expensive sweater. Between them, they soon managed to make a serious dent in the food, which Jack had bought from his and Owen's favourite Chinese restaurant and tasted as good as ever.

He watched Ianto surreptitiously, dividing his attention between the Welshman, dinner and the movie. Ianto didn't eat with quite as much gusto, and he was fussier too – he passed on the dishes with prawns or pork, and various pieces of vegetables got pushed disdainfully to the side of his plate. Fortunately, the dishes with chicken or beef were met with approval, as was the fried rice. As he'd done previously, Jack filed away every little detail he could learn about Ianto's likes and dislikes for future reference.

Ianto put down his plate, reached for his beer, drained the remainder of the bottle, then put it down too. He reclined back on the sofa and exhaled a soft sigh, his attention focused on the movie. They were about forty-five minutes in, and just up to the scene where Bond and the Istanbul station chief were about to enact revenge for the attack on the gypsy village.

"Full?" Jack put down his own empty plate and swallowed his last mouthful of food.

"Yep." Ianto turned to him, smiling self-consciously as he patted his stomach. "Couldn't eat another bite."

"Great, glad you enjoyed it." Smiling with satisfaction, Jack sat forward and started tidying up, putting lids on the containers which still had food in them and dumping the rest into the bag for the rubbish. "Okay if I get us another round of beers?"

Ianto nodded and started to stand up, but Jack put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. "Stay put and enjoy the movie. I've got it. Back in a sec."

To his surprise, Ianto didn't protest. Jack quickly cleaned up, putting the leftovers in the refrigerator. Taking advantage of the opportunity, he scrutinised the contents, finding a neat but sparse selection of items – little more than a few basic staples – and a freezer compartment full of frozen dinners. Only barely resisting the urge to linger and take a peek into Ianto's kitchen cupboards, he retrieved a pair of cold beers, popped them open, and returned to the other room.

They watched the rest of the movie mostly in companionable silence, one or the other of them occasionally commenting on something noteworthy. Ianto demonstrated an impressive knowledge of all things Bond, but Jack wasn't too shabby in that department either and managed to interject some fun facts and trivia of his own along the way.

Acutely aware of the Welshman's presence beside him, he found that it wasn't easy to keep his hands to himself and maintain a respectable distance between them. Several times he had to shove his hands beneath his legs or clench them in his lap to avoid fidgeting. Again, he found himself marvelling at the unprecedented effect this unassuming and mild-mannered man had over him. It was with some effort that he eventually managed to relax enough to enjoy the rest of the movie.

Ianto turned to him as the credits began to roll up the screen. "Coffee, Jack? And I made us some dessert if you feel like it?"

Jack's interest was immediately piqued, and he couldn't resist giving Ianto a sly smirk. "Trust me, I'm always up for dessert."

Ianto flashed him a reproachful look, but Jack didn't think that he'd imagined the hint of amusement in those expressive blue eyes.

He used the bathroom while Ianto got the coffee and dessert ready, and this time he didn't hesitate to examine the contents of Ianto's bathroom cabinet. Everything was impeccably neat, and other than the absence of anything electric – Ianto was clearly old-school when it came to shaving and oral hygiene – there wasn't anything too remarkable.

He found the expected assortment of male grooming products for someone who obviously took pride in his appearance, including facial scrub, moisturiser and hair gel. But what caught Jack's attention was the bottle of Hugo Boss aftershave. Being a former model and someone who took care with not only the way he looked but also the way he smelled, Jack considered himself to be pretty well-versed in the world of male fragrances. Ianto's scent, however, had continued to elude him. Carefully opening the glass bottle, he brought it up to his nose and breathed in the classic, masculine fragrance with its warm, woody base complemented by an understated hint of spice, pleased to have solved that little mystery at last. Even so, the aftershave smelled so much better on Ianto than it did on its own.

A ping came from the kitchen as he exited the bathroom, and he found Ianto extracting a dish from the microwave, just as the smell of apple and cinnamon reached his nose. "Mmm. Something smells good."

"Apple and blueberry crumble." Ianto proceeded to spoon generous servings of the dessert into a pair of white bowls, then drizzled thick, smooth custard from a jug over each one. "Nothing fancy, but I hope it's all right. The custard's home-made too."

"It looks delicious." Jack smiled, delighted that Ianto had gone to the trouble of making dessert for them. At the same time, he tried not to read too much into it, suspecting that Ianto was just being a courteous host. Unable to resist, he dipped a finger into the custard and licked it clean, enthusiastically voicing his approval of the creamy vanilla flavour.

They returned to the other room and settled down to watch The Living Daylights while they enjoyed the coffee and dessert. Like everything Ianto made, the crumble was heavenly and Jack devoured his serving, then asked for seconds, giving little thought to his waistline. Since discovering Ianto's bakery and gorging himself regularly on the irresistible offerings, he'd increased the intensity of his cardio workouts to compensate. Thus far, he'd managed to maintain the status quo, despair at the thought of a flabby stomach, or even worse, love handles, providing all the incentive he needed.

They paused the movie at the halfway mark when Ianto excused himself to use the bathroom, and Jack took the opportunity to stretch his legs and peruse Ianto's bookshelves. He found an extensive and eclectic mixture of genres and authors, both classics and more contemporary titles, with spy novels and murder mysteries being the most predominant.

After examining the collection of alphabetised Ian Fleming novels, Jack turned his attention to the photographs on the shelf above, one in particular catching his eye. It depicted an attractive woman with wavy, shoulder-length dark hair, probably in her mid-thirties, standing in a modest kitchen and wearing a colourful, flowery apron. She was smiling down at a small dark-haired boy with blue eyes and a serious expression on his young face, a hand placed on his shoulder as she watched him roll out some kind of pastry or biscuit dough. The little boy couldn't have been more than about eight or nine years old, but the resemblance was unmistakeable, as was the likeness between the woman and child. The photo was clearly of a young Ianto and his beloved mother.

He was just beginning to look at the other photographs when Ianto reappeared beside him. Jack looked up and smiled. "You obviously read a lot."

"Yeah. Always have. It's an escape, I suppose." Ianto gave a self-deprecating chuckle, but there was a hint of what seemed like wistfulness in his eyes. "Always had my head in a book when I was growing up."

Jack's mind conjured up an image of a lonely young man, grieving the loss of his mother and finding solace in the fictional stories of dashing spies and clever detectives. Even though he'd had the support of his sister and Rhys, something about Ianto's quiet demeanour and reserved nature suggested a lonely, reclusive existence. The thought of Ianto being unhappy, his only real joy found in the pages of books, caused Jack's heart to ache. Ianto was strong and resilient, yet there was a sense of vulnerability, even fragility about him that Jack found every bit as appealing. So much so that an irrational part of him wanted to wrap this beautiful man in his arms and protect him from the world. A part of him wanted to take hold of Ianto and never let him go.

Ianto was watching him with a curious expression, and Jack shrugged, feeling oddly self-conscious, as if his thoughts were written on his face. "I like to read, but I've always been more of a visual kind of guy. Movies, television, photographs." He stepped back and gave Ianto another smile. "Hey, we should draw for our third Bond movie."

Ianto obliged by providing paper, a pen and a bowl. Jack tore off strips of paper, writing the year of a Bond movie on each piece and folding it in half, excluding the two movies they'd already chosen. He shuffled the bowl of twenty-one pieces of paper and held it up in front of Ianto. "You do the honours."

Ianto reached into the bowl. As he unfolded the piece of paper he'd removed, his face scrunched up in a way that Jack could only describe as completely and utterly adorable. With a sigh, Ianto held it up, revealing the year of 1979. "Moonraker."

Jack laughed out loud, unable to hold back his amusement at Ianto's reaction. "Bond in space. Not a fan, I take it?"

"Er... no." Ianto shuddered, obviously to emphasise his opinion. "It was ridiculous."

"I have to admit the gondola hovercraft was a bit over-the-top." Jack shrugged. "Still, it's not the worst Bond movie of all time. But we can draw again if you like?"

"That would be cheating, Jack." Ianto appeared morally outraged by the suggestion.

Jack laughed again. "I won't tell anyone if you don't. It can be our little secret."

Ianto seemed to consider that for a moment, but then he sighed again and shook his head. "No, that's all right. We'll watch it."

However, the choice of movie, at least from Ianto's perspective, turned out to be mostly a moot point. They finished watching The Living Daylights and then started on Moonraker, but twenty minutes in, Jack realised that Ianto had fallen asleep.

Unable to resist, he shifted closer. With his face relaxed in slumber, Ianto looked even younger than usual and almost boyishly innocent. The shadow of a day's growth of dark stubble contrasted against his pale skin, and Jack found himself staring at the sensual curve of Ianto's slightly down-turned lips, imagining how good it would be to feel their warmth and softness against his own. He couldn't remember a time when he'd experienced such deep longing to share nothing more than a kiss with someone.

It was a kind of sweet torture. On one hand, he relished this chance to be close to Ianto and study him while he remained blissfully unaware of the unwanted attention. On the other, it was frustrating to have Ianto so close, but at the same time beyond his reach. In truth, he wasn't sure if Ianto even liked him very much, despite the enjoyable evening they'd spent together. He wasn't used to having to work so hard just to get someone to like him, but good-humour, easy smiles and superficial charm would never be enough to win over Ianto Jones. There was no doubt that he had his work cut out for him, and the odds were firmly stacked against him. Even so, he couldn't deny that some masochistic part of his psyche revelled in the challenge.

Ianto made a soft snuffling sound, then snored loudly, and Jack couldn't help but smile with affection. Turning towards Jack, Ianto curled his legs up against his body, but he didn't wake.

After another minute or two of indulging in the admiration of Ianto's peaceful features, Jack reluctantly forced his attention back to the television and settled back to watch the rest of the movie. And it occurred to him that the feelings he had for the man sleeping beside him could quite possibly be a lot like love.

###

Ianto woke with a start, the weight of a hand on his shoulder and Jack's handsome, smiling face peering at him, mere inches from his own. Disoriented, he blinked and then frowned in confusion when he noticed the blank television screen.

Jack's smile widened. "Hey, sleepyhead."

"Jack?" Acutely aware of how close they were, Ianto uncurled himself and shifted upright. "What happened to the film?"

Jack shrugged while remaining unnervingly close. "It just finished. You fell asleep about twenty minutes in." He grinned. "I know you're not the biggest fan of Moonraker, but you didn't have to go to sleep on me."

Mortified that he'd fallen asleep on his guest, and Jack in particular, Ianto felt a rush of heat warm his face. "I'm sorry, Jack. I didn't mean to fall asleep."

"I'm just kidding." Jack squeezed his shoulder and let go, then eased back, putting some space between them. "You must get exhausted with all those early mornings. Besides, I've had worse Saturday night dates." A devilish gleam appeared in his eyes. "You snore by the way."

"I bloody well do not!" Ianto glared at the man, who was grinning shamelessly back at him.

"Yeah, you do." Jack chuckled. Then, patting Ianto on the knee, he began to stand up. "Well, it's getting late. I should probably head home and let you get some more beauty sleep."

Still indignant, Ianto followed Jack to the door and watched as he knelt down and put on his shoes. He'd been wary about having Jack in his home and spending another evening together, but he'd actually had a good time. Jack had been a polite and considerate guest, and other than for a couple of innuendo-laced remarks, very well-behaved. More so, Jack was good company and possessed a knowledge and love of James Bond films to rival his own. As strange as it still seemed, it looked like they were actually becoming friends.

Jack straightened up. "Thanks for having me over. I had a great time. We should do this again soon." A smile softened his features. "Still plenty more Bond movies."

"Yeah, ah... I'd like that." The words slipped from Ianto's mouth before he could stop himself, but he was surprised to realise that the sentiment was genuine. "Um... thanks for buying dinner."

"Anytime." Jack remained standing in place, his gaze locked on Ianto's, an uncharacteristic hint of uncertainty clouding his features.

The moment seemed to stretch out, and Ianto found himself unable to look away. But then Jack grinned that self-assured, disarming grin of his and turned, reaching for the door. He opened it and looked back. "Goodnight, Ianto. Sleep well."

Ianto smiled and nodded in reply. "Night, Jack. See you at the bakery next week?"

"Of course. Can't keep me away." Jack crossed the threshold. Then, with one final look back, he smiled again and made his exit.

Ianto watched from the doorway until Jack reached the stairs and disappeared from sight, confused by the odd little pang of disappointment that the evening had come to an end.

Later, stretched out in bed and staring up at the ceiling, he replayed the events of the last several hours. Specifically, he recalled the moment when he'd woken to find Jack looking down at him with that intent blue-eyed gaze of his. Despite his befuddlement from having been asleep, he'd noticed something in Jack's eyes. Thinking about it now, he couldn't help wondering if Jack had been wanting to kiss him. Jack hadn't hidden the fact that he found him attractive, and he was pretty sure that what he'd seen in Jack's eyes had been desire.

Which led him to wonder how he might have reacted if Jack had actually tried to initiate a kiss. The most obvious response was indignation and a retaliatory punch to Jack's perfect jawline. After all, Jack was a bloke, and he didn't find blokes attractive in that way. He'd made that clear to Jack. He'd never had any interest in kissing or being kissed by a man, let alone anything else of an intimate nature. He'd never even thought about it until now. He'd seen men kissing both on the telly and in real life. It didn't bother him, but he'd never imagined being in that scenario himself.

He blamed Jack and Rhys with all their talk about sexual experimentation. The problem was that he'd always had a curious nature. He liked to know and understand things. Knowledge helped him to feel secure and in control. He'd had a good sex life with Lisa, unimaginative perhaps, but satisfying enough, even though there had been some things he might have enjoyed that Lisa hadn't been keen about. Whereas someone like Jack... well, he was pretty sure that Jack would be up for just about anything and love every moment. He also suspected that Jack would be as generous and confident when it came to sex as he was with his other endeavours. Intellectually, he could even see the appeal. After all, who better to know how to give pleasure than someone with the same basic anatomy? And, beyond the physical similarities, perhaps it was easier being with someone who shared the same gender and mindset.

Plus, there was something about Jack... something beyond the looks, charm and confidence – not that those attributes weren't without their appeal. Jack was different somehow. He wasn't just some random bloke. Try as he might to deny it, he was intrigued by Jack, even fascinated by him.

As sleep proved elusive, he continued to consider what it might have been like if Jack had decided to kiss him. And a small, taunting whisper at the back of his mind wondered if there was a possibility that he might have actually enjoyed it.