Jack stood on the rooftop of the Hub, gazing out over Cardiff Bay. The cool night air was a welcome balm after the day's chaos—Serenity Plaza, with its endless corridors and the threat of madness lurking behind every corner, was finally behind them. The team had made it through, bruised but intact, and for once, no one had died. A small victory, but a victory nonetheless.
He drew in a deep breath, allowing himself a moment of peace. Below him, the Hub hummed with the quiet activity of its occupants. Gwen had gone home to Rhys, and Tosh and Owen were busying themselves with post-mission reports. Jack, however, was in no hurry to descend the stairs. His mind was elsewhere, on someone still inside. Someone who had quietly slipped out of the room while the others talked, likely to clean up or fetch some coffee, as he always did.
Ianto.
The thought of him stirred something deep inside Jack, something that had been quietly simmering for a long time now. Serenity Plaza had been a stark reminder of how fragile their lives were, how easily everything could be taken away in an instant. It wasn't the first time Jack had faced that reality, but today it hit a little harder. Perhaps because, despite all the alien threats and the madness of their world, the idea of a normal life—a domestic life—had crept into Jack's thoughts.
He smiled ruefully. Jack Harkness, a man who'd lived more lives than anyone should, thinking about settling down. It was almost laughable. But then again, ever since Ianto had wormed his way into his heart, things had started to shift in ways Jack couldn't ignore.
The door behind him creaked open, and Jack didn't have to turn around to know who it was. The soft, familiar footsteps on the gravel gave it away.
"You're brooding," Ianto said lightly, walking up beside him, two cups of steaming coffee in hand. He handed one to Jack without a word, the gesture smooth and practiced.
Jack glanced at him, taking the cup gratefully. "Just thinking," he said, taking a sip of the hot drink.
"Dangerous pastime," Ianto quipped, his lips quirking into a half-smile. He took a slow sip from his own cup, his eyes scanning the horizon. The silence between them was comfortable, as it often was. But Jack's mind, still circling the idea of what could be, refused to stay quiet.
"What would you think," Jack started, his voice careful, "if we weren't here? If we didn't do this?"
Ianto raised an eyebrow, not quite understanding. "You mean, if we didn't work for Torchwood?"
Jack nodded, turning to fully face him. "Yeah. If we could leave all of this behind—aliens, death, saving the world. What would you want? What would you do?"
Ianto considered the question, his expression softening as he weighed the possibilities. "I've never really thought about it," he admitted. "Does anyone in Torchwood think about that?"
Jack laughed, though there was little humor in it. "No, I suppose not. But humor me. If you could… live a normal life. What would it look like?"
Ianto was quiet for a moment, as if unsure whether to take the question seriously. When he finally spoke, his voice was measured. "I don't know. A flat somewhere nice, maybe. Quiet. No Weevils, no alien tech to sort through. Just… normal."
Jack felt a warmth in his chest at the image. "You think you could handle normal?"
Ianto shot him a sideways glance. "I'd make an attempt. It might take some getting used to."
Jack's gaze lingered on Ianto's profile, his sharp features softened in the moonlight. For a fleeting moment, he imagined it: waking up beside Ianto in the morning, the smell of coffee and breakfast in the air, no rushing off to handle the latest crisis. Just the two of them, living their lives like regular people. Jack, cooking something terrible in the kitchen, while Ianto watched with a smirk, teasing him about his culinary skills. Lazy Sunday mornings, evenings spent on the sofa with a bottle of wine, quiet conversations about anything but work. It was a picture Jack had never allowed himself to paint before, but now he could see it so clearly it made his chest ache.
"I think you'd like it," Jack said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.
Ianto tilted his head, his brow furrowing slightly. "You? Domestic? That's hard to imagine."
Jack grinned, a hint of playfulness in his eyes. "Hey, I can be domestic. I just need the right person to do it with."
That brought a laugh from Ianto. "I'm sure you'd get bored within a week. You'd be climbing the walls."
"Maybe," Jack conceded. "But maybe not. Maybe, if the company was good, I wouldn't mind so much."
Ianto didn't respond right away. He set his coffee cup down on the ledge, turning fully to face Jack. There was something in his expression, something thoughtful, that made Jack's heart beat a little faster.
"Do you really think you could do it?" Ianto asked, his voice quiet, serious. "Leave all of this behind?"
Jack hesitated. He had seen so much, lived through countless lifetimes. The thought of giving up the fight, of walking away from the responsibility he had carried for so long, seemed impossible. But standing here with Ianto, in the stillness of the night, the idea didn't seem so far-fetched.
"I don't know," Jack admitted, his voice dropping to a whisper. "But I think about it sometimes. Especially after a day like today."
Ianto's eyes softened, and for a moment, Jack thought he saw a flicker of something deeper in them, something he wasn't sure Ianto would ever say out loud.
"What would it be like?" Jack asked, stepping a little closer. "If we did this… if we had something normal."
Ianto's gaze didn't falter, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips. "I suppose you'd still be as insufferable as you are now, just without the aliens."
Jack chuckled softly. "And you'd still be cleaning up after me."
"That sounds about right."
They stood there in silence for a moment longer, the weight of Jack's question hanging between them. He hadn't expected Ianto to answer, not really. But the way Ianto was looking at him now, the way he hadn't pulled away from the thought of a life outside Torchwood, gave Jack a glimmer of hope. Perhaps, in another time, another place, they could have had something like that.
"I'd make you pancakes," Jack said, breaking the quiet.
Ianto blinked, clearly caught off guard. "What?"
"In the mornings," Jack continued, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "I'd make you pancakes. Burn them, probably. But I'd try."
Ianto laughed, the sound bright and genuine. "I'd like to see that."
"Someday," Jack said, his voice soft but laced with a promise. "We'll have to give it a try."
Ianto didn't reply, but the small, almost imperceptible nod he gave was enough for Jack. It was a quiet acknowledgment that maybe, just maybe, the idea wasn't so ridiculous after all.
As the night stretched on, they stood side by side, their shoulders brushing, the quiet companionship between them speaking louder than any words. And in that moment, Jack allowed himself to believe, if only for a little while, that domesticity with Ianto could be more than just a fleeting dream.
It could be real.
Jack started as he felt Ianto grasp his hand, a quiet understanding passing between them.
"Come on, Jack," Ianto said softly. "Let's go home."
Jack squeezed his hand in return, letting the warmth of the moment linger before they headed back inside.