Just Another Heart In Need Of Rescue, a torchwood fanfic

Disclaimer #1- I do not have the pleasure of owning Torchwood. If I did, there would be less aliens and more beautiful Welsh vowels. As you can tell by the aliens, the BBC has the honour of owning the show.

Disclaimer #2- No vehicles were injured in the creation of this story.

Spoilers- None- for once this is absolutely, completely and utterly AU

Rating- T (for language)

General Notes- Yeah, so I have writer's block with 'Models and Musicians'. I think my muse was holding it hostage until I finished writing this. Inspired by a shop front in Nottingham and a line from Whitesnake's 'Here I Go Again'. Random, I know, but enjoy! (I know nothing about cars, so this is not necessarily 100% accurate. Apologies for any glaring technical mistakes.)

Warning- Do not try this at home! I will not be held responsible for any damage to vehicles that occur as a result of this fic.

Just Another Heart In Need Of Rescue

Ianto Jones scowled as his beloved Audi clanked, banged, jerked and ground to a stop. Fantastic. Fan-fucking-tastic. He was stranded in the middle of nowhere, in some remote spot in the Brecon Beacons, with very little hope of rescue from a passer-by. To improve matters, he was dressed in his favourite suit and knew next to nothing about cars. Clothes, he could mend. Cars were a little trickier to fix with a needle and thread. Growling obscenities, he fished in the glove compartment for the manual, hoping it would give him inspiration. Instead, he found a hot pink post-it note, slightly scrumpled. Snippets of conversation from the past week drifted back to him:

'Fantastic new rescue service… You really should try it… Gets to you so fast, and ever so efficient… Here, I'll give you the number…'

As he gazed down at the number in question, the Welshman rolled his eyes. Sod's Law, or the reverse of it or something: never once had he broken down, until his sister gave him the phone number of a new (and apparently fantastic) rescue service. For the briefest second he wondered if she hadn't sabotaged his car, just to ensure that he would call this rescue place, then dismissed the thought as folly. Rhiannon knew less about cars than he did- it was highly unlikely she would be able to sabotage it. She probably didn't even know how to open the bonnet.

Sighing to himself, Ianto concluded that there was nothing for it. He would have to call the number.

Thirty-three minutes later, the welcome sound of a car engine was music to his ears. Dropping the 'emergency' book he kept in the glove compartment on the back seat, he stepped out of the car in time to see an impressive black SUV with the word 'Torchwood' emblazoned down the side pull up behind his vehicle. His rescuers were here.

Well, make that rescuer, singular. As the sole occupant of the rescue vehicle leapt out and strolled towards him, Ianto's breath caught in his throat. The man was stunning- it was the only word for it. Bright blue eyes sparkled beneath messy brown hair, and the dazzling grin with which he was greeted made the Welshman's heart miss a beat and his mind start overdosing on clichés.

"Hey there!" American tones called out as the man reached the Audi, and Ianto found himself smiling goofily back.

"Um, hello."

"So, what seems to be the problem? Oh, Jack Harkness, by the way; founder and owner of Torchwood SYS."

"Ianto Jones." The Welshman extended his hand for all the world as if he were back in his tailor's shop in Cardiff greeting a customer. "SYS?"

The American chuckled. "Saving Your Skins. I wanted to have 'Saving Your Asses', but I wasn't sure it would be appropriate. So how can I help you, Mr Jones?"

"I don't know," Ianto confessed, blushing. "The car just kind of clanked and banged and jerked about a bit, then stopped. I'm pretty sure it's not the brakes though, otherwise I'd be pushing up the daisies at the bottom of that hill."

"Well, I for one am glad that you're not," Jack smirked, pulling on an oil-stained pair of gloves and opening the bonnet. "Let's have a look then, shall we?"

For the next twenty minutes, Ianto sat at the side of the road on a convenient rock enjoying the view as the American bent over to fiddle around under the bonnet. The Welshman had long since given up on trying to figure out what Jack was actually doing to the vehicle.

"Well, there we go, that should do it!"

The cheerful statement jerked Ianto out of his reverie, and he started up guiltily.

"Time to try her out," Jack winked. "Like to do the honours?"

"Alright." It crossed Ianto's mind briefly as he sat back down in the Audi's driving seat that he might be walking into a deathtrap, but he shrugged the thought away. For some reason he trusted the American implicitly. Apparently it was a good reason- the car worked perfectly.

"Well, that's either magic or alien technology," the Welshman commented as he wandered back towards the American, having parked up again some hundred metres or so away.

Jack grinned. "Now don't go asking for trade secrets before you've even paid me."

"Oh, right, yes; how do you want paying?"

"You're a Cardiff man, yes?" The American apparently evaded the question. Mutely Ianto nodded.

"Well then, this is my bill. You can drop by the office- the address is on there- and pay whenever you want. We take cash, credit card or cheque."

"Fantastic, thank you so much!" Ianto enthused as he took the sheet of paper Jack held out to him.

"No problem," the American laughed, willingly shaking the hand Ianto held out. "Pleasure to do business with you, Mr Jones. I would say that I hope we meet again, but I don't want to jinx your car."

Ianto chuckled. "Please don't."

The American opened his mouth to reply, but at that moment his phone rang. Checking the number, he grinned. "Well, I'd better go- just another car in need of rescue." He gestured to the mobile, and Ianto nodded, suddenly feeling like a candle had flickered out inside him. Frowning to himself, he walked back to his car, trying to work out when the candle had been lit in the first place. Ever since… Lisa (it still hurt just to think her name), the Welshman had felt consumed by darkness. The sudden (if brief) appearance of a light inside was a very unexpected development.

That night, try as he might, Ianto simply could not get to sleep. His mind was plagued by visions of a dazzling grin and impossibly blue eyes. As he tossed and turned through the night, he determined to follow the address on the bill Jack had given him first thing the following day. Maybe once he had paid his dues he would be able to get the dashing American out of his mind.

The office was a tiny premises tucked away down near Mermaid Quay. At first the place seemed deserted, but as Ianto's eyes adjusted to the dim light he caught the gleam of something metal on the counter- a small hand bell. 'Please ring for attention'.

As with the breakdown yesterday, the attention was prompt, with dancing blue eyes. No dazzling grin this time though; the impossibly perfect teeth were occupied in carrying the remnants of a slice of toast whilst the American's fingers fumbled with the last couple of buttons of his pale blue shirt.

"I'm not too early, am I?" Ianto asked anxiously, horrified to have apparently interrupted the man's breakfast.

Jack shook his head. "Nah, work all hours in this job," he responded, spraying the desk with crumbs. Ianto winced imperceptibly.

"Sorry," the American apologised absently, cramming the rest of the slice into his mouth and holding out his hand for the piece of paper Ianto clutched- his bill. Checking the amount, he swiftly tapped a few keys on the keyboard of the computer on his desk, then turned back to Ianto.

"And how would you like to pay, Mr Jones?"

"Um, coffee?" Ianto quipped, earning himself a laugh.

"Much as I love the good drink, I'm afraid it's not an acceptable form of currency here. I can only accept tips in coffee, not payment."

"Damn," Ianto deadpanned, fishing out his wallet. "MasterCard do?"

"MasterCard will do fine thanks," Jack smiled, fishing underneath the counter for the hand-held credit card machine. "If you could just follow the instructions on the screen…"

Obligingly Ianto did so, determinedly focusing his mind on the task instead of the man on the other side of the desk, in particular his lips. (Damn, those lips. Why hadn't he noticed how perfect they were yesterday?)

Somewhat shaken by the sudden train of thought, Ianto hurried through the transaction as fast as he could and left, not noticing the tiny glimpse of disappointment that flashed in Jack's eyes for the briefest moment. But as the Welshman left the cosy little office, another little candle flickered out.

By the time 2am the following morning rolled around, Ianto had come to the conclusion that paying his bill had nothing to do with chasing Jack out of his mind- the American was still there, the picture more vivid than ever; right down to the toast crumbs collecting at the corner of that perfect mouth. Half asleep, Ianto reached out to brush them away, moaning when his hand met with thin air. There had to be some way of getting the man out of his mind…

A week later, the Welshman felt like he was going insane. His nights were still plagued by memories of baby blue eyes and a dazzling smile, and increasingly these thoughts were beginning to creep into his days. The distraction was beginning to affect his work, and Ianto was at his wits' end. And so, he turned to Google.

Sabotaging one's own car might appear simple when one reads about it online, but Ianto found that it was something very different in practise. Having done extensive research on the subject, he had decided that the best way to do it would be to drive out somewhere remote and sever the battery lead. Now, stood in the middle of nowhere with his head in the bonnet, Ianto realised the flaw in his plan: he had no idea which cable was the battery lead. Still, as long as he made a single clean cut, he didn't suppose it mattered which cable he sliced- it ought to be repairable. Picking one up at random, he slid it between the jaws of his bolt cutters, breathed a silent prayer and snipped. Job completed, he closed the bonnet once more, slipped off his oily gloves and hid them in the boot, then pulled out his mobile and dialled a certain number.

Twenty minutes later, he was another chapter and a half through his emergency book when his patience was rewarded by the sound of a car engine. Tossing aside the novel, the Welshman tried to hide his smile as he stepped out of the car to greet Jack. Unfortunately, that proved impossible- the American was just as gorgeous as the tailor remembered, and looking maudlin just wasn't an option.

"Broken down again so soon, Mr Jones?" the American's silky tones were almost like a caress, and Ianto struggled to look fraught.

"Yes, and again I have no idea what's wrong!"

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Well, we'd best have a look then."

Without waiting for further comment, the American dived into the bonnet in search of the root of the problem. A few minutes later, he straightened up, frowning.

"Well, I have no idea how it happened, but you've managed to sever your battery lead."

It was all Ianto could do not to launch into a dance of celebration- evidently the gods of fate were on his side.

"Is that bad?" he asked neutrally, keeping his expression as deadpan as possible.

"Well it's not fantastic!" the American returned, reaching into the toolbox he had brought from the SUV. "I can patch it up so that you can get back to Cardiff, but you ought to take her in and get it replaced as soon as possible, just to be on the safe side."

"But it will be safe to drive back to Cardiff with it just 'patched up'?" Ianto had no need to fake his concern this time.

Jack treated him to one of those breathtaking grins. "Trust me." Leaning back into the bonnet, the American set to work. Ianto sat back and admired the view.

"There, all done!" The American straightened up with a grin. "That should get you home, but as I said, do try to get that cable replaced as soon as possible."

"I will," Ianto promised, suddenly feeling like a naughty schoolboy. "Do you need to watch me test it?" he enquired, hoping beyond hope that he didn't sound too hopeful.

Jack grinned. "It can't hurt," the American agreed, stepping out of the path of the car as Ianto got into it to drive a couple of hundred metres down the road.

"Yep, works fine," the Welshman concluded as he walked back to the SUV.

"Good. Well then, here's my bill…" Jack held out the piece of paper he had just finished scribbling on. "Drop by the office any time to settle your account." He winked, and Ianto's heart missed a beat.

"Of course; tomorrow, probably," he responded, deciding to go early again in the hope that he would find the American in. Idly he wondered who manned the office when Jack was out playing the hero.

"Oh, I have a secretary," the American commented, as if reading Ianto's mind. "But she doesn't start work until nine, so when people drop round at quarter past eight to offer money they get stuck with me, I'm afraid."

"I can't imagine that that's a hardship," the Welshman returned; disappointment surging through him as Jack's ringtone cut into the conversation.

"Oh, I don't know about that!" the American chuckled as he fished out his phone. "If you drop by after nine and meet my secretary, you might change your mind. Anyhow, must dash."

"Thanks for the assistance!" Ianto yelled after his retreating back, and Jack raised a hand.

"Anytime."

As the SUV disappeared in the distance, Ianto felt another couple of candles blow out. The funny thing was, there seemed to be more lit now than there had been before.

On his second trip to Mermaid Quay, Ianto noticed a shop front which he hadn't before. Some little distance away from Jack's premises was a small coffee shop- not one of the big chains like Starbucks or Costa, but a cosy little independent affair. The leather couches looked remarkably comfy, and Ianto filed this information away for further notice as he ordered two double espressos topped up with hot water to go.

The office itself was just as he remembered it, right down to the toast-munching American who appeared when he rang the bell for assistance.

"I might have known," Jack grinned as his expressive blue eyes took in the man leaning on the counter. "Are you ever going to let me finish breakfast?"

Ianto smiled back. "I heard you accept tips in the form of coffee, and I thought it would go better with breakfast than after it." He offered Jack one of the takeout cups, and the American's eyes lit up.

"Ianto Jones, you must be some kind of angel." He took a sip, and if possible his expression became even more blissed out. "No, screw that, you are definitely some kind of angel. Either that or you possess alien technology that enables you to read minds."

"Perhaps I just know coffee?" Ianto suggested with a grin.

"That would make you an angel," the American returned, scoffing his last bite of toast.

"And yet I'm not the saviour in this room." Inwardly, Ianto winced at how corny he sounded.

"Ah, but I do it for money- that makes me some kind of agent of the devil, probably."

"Well, they do say that cars are the invention of the devil," Ianto quipped, reaching for his wallet. "And speaking of money…"

"Ah yes, you're here to pay me, aren't you?" (Was Ianto mistaken, or was that a hint of disappointment in Jack's voice?)

"I am," the Welshman agreed, following the instructions on the card machine Jack handed him. "Well, I'd best leave you to finish your breakfast in peace," he commented reluctantly as the American passed his card back with a smile.

"Yeah, that's right, leave me alone with the coffee…" Jack smirked lasciviously at him, making the Welshman roll his eyes.

"Goodbye, Jack."

This time, Ianto was not surprised by the sensation of a light going out inside as the office door swung shut behind him.

Two weeks dragged past, in which Ianto saw Jack every night in his dreams but never once in the flesh. The Audi was fixed and running perfectly, but Ianto's concentration at work was another matter entirely. And so, he hatched another wily plan.

"We meet again, Mr Jones! What seems to be the problem this time?"

Ianto grinned at the vision of perfection striding towards him. "I can actually tell you that this time!" he declared proudly. "Flat tyre…s."

The American raised an eyebrow. "Accident-prone, are we?"

"I don't know what you mean." Ianto attempted to act nonchalant. Since nonchalant involved not staring at Jack's arse or lips, it was quite a difficult concept to pull off.

The American chuckled. "Well, I don't know anyone else who could manage to sever their battery lead and get not one but two flat tyres in the space of a fortnight. And this is the third time you've called me in as many weeks- are you trying to ruin my reputation or something?"

Ianto hadn't thought of that. He blushed. "Accident-prone sounds better."

"Accident-prone it is, then," Jack grinned, fishing out the stuff he needed from the SUV and setting to work. Once again, Ianto stood by like a lemon and admired the American's backside as he worked. (Ok, make that a horny lemon.)

"Ok, I don't reckon I need to see you test it this time; changing tyres is old hat," Jack commented some time later, scrambling up and brushing dirt off his knees.

"I beg to differ- hats I can do, tyres are another matter entirely," Ianto quipped as he waited for the inevitable bill.

Jack chuckled. "So what exactly do you do, Ianto? It must be something pretty exciting if you keep getting stranded in the Brecon Beacons National Park. The Audi, the suits and the complete lack of motoring knowledge tell me that you're not exactly a park ranger."

Ianto raised an eyebrow. "Correct; I'm not. I'm a tailor; I have a little shop in Cardiff."

The American echoed the gesture. "A little shop in Cardiff- hence the constant breakdowns miles outside of the city."

"I do home deliveries and fittings for a couple of valued customers who live a bit outside the city and don't drive," the Welshman explained, truthfully as it happened. That had after all been where he had been bound the first time Jack had repaired his car.

"Oh, I see. I wasn't wrong when I called you an angel after all."

"I bet you say that to all the people who keep you in business," Ianto deadpanned, gesturing to the bill in Jack's hand.

"Ah yes, that's for you. I'll be expecting you at quarter past eight tomorrow morning then?"

"Wouldn't want you to eat breakfast undisturbed," the Welshman quipped, echoing the American's grin.

"In that case, you're getting sloppy, Mr Jones. I've managed to eat breakfast in peace for the past sixteen days."

"You've been counting?" Ianto raised an eyebrow. He knew the statistic was correct because he'd been counting himself.

Jack smirked back. "I'm good at guessing."

Ianto had just opened his mouth to reply when the inevitable happened- Jack's mobile rang. Growling softly under his breath, he tried not to mind as he watched the American walk away from him, flipping open his phone. As usual, he found that he did mind- a little too much.

"You better have coffee or I'm going to start charging you for the interrupted breakfasts."

Ianto grinned- he hadn't even needed to ring for assistance that time: Jack had already been sat behind the desk, upon which reposed the card machine and the American's socked feet. Ianto winced, and Jack grinned, withdrawing the appendages and holding out his hand for the takeaway cup of coffee the Welshman wafted in front of him. Ianto held it back, echoing the grin.

"Do you usually beg for tips, Captain Harkness?"

The American grinned and frowned simultaneously. Bizarrely, the bizarre expression looked good on him.

"Only when the customers bring two cups to taunt me with. And how d'you know about the title?"

Ianto smirked. "You used to be my best friend's boyfriend's C.O.. Apparently."

"Huh. Small world." The American shrugged, then treated Ianto to that dazzling smile, picking up the card machine and pointing it at Ianto.

"Your money or your coffee, Jones."

The Welshman pretended to consider. "My money, naturally." Coffee won out over money any day. He placed one of the coffee cups on the counter in order to fish for his wallet. In a flash it disappeared, and by the time Ianto slid his MasterCard into the machine Jack was leaning back in his chair, sipping the hot strong beverage.

"Sneaky," the Welshman commented as he entered his pin, and Jack grinned.

"That's a little harsh- I prefer to think of myself as a criminal mastermind."

"Way to keep the customers, Captain."

"Damn, you're right; I scare you away and I've lost half, maybe two thirds of my business."

Ianto chuckled as he collected his card and receipt. "Okay, leaving now…"

Jack grinned at the Welshman's retreating back. "Thank you for your custom, Mr Jones! No doubt I'll be seeing you again soon."

'I'd bet my life on it,' Ianto chuckled to himself as the door swung shut behind him. It was time to admit the facts to himself- he was infatuated.

"What are the chances?!" Jack gasped theatrically as he leaned on the roof of the Audi, smirking at Ianto. "Every time I pass this way I run into you. Do you never break down anywhere else?"

It was a week later, and Ianto had a distinct feeling of déjà vu. He smirked back. "Of course I do- but when I break down in Cardiff I can grab a passer-by for help; I only need rescuing when I wind up stranded in the middle of nowhere."

The American clasped a hand to his heart. "I can't believe you're cheating on me with passers-by. But they must be damn good customers, these people who live outside the city."

"They are," the Welshman returned assertively. He was in fact on his way back from a home visit, hence the resolute tone- he felt less guilty about using old Mrs Cooper as an excuse to summon Jack. Not that he reckoned Gwen would mind- she'd probably be delighted to have played a role in the tailor's sneaky plans.

"So what is it this time?" Jack sighed, bringing Ianto abruptly back to the present. The Welshman had the grace to blush.

"Run out of petrol," he muttered. (He had taken Jack's words about ruining the American's reputation to heart, and had settled on this 'issue' as harmless all round.)

Jack suppressed a grin, with difficulty. "Ah, a nice quick job then."

Indeed, it did not take him long to fetch a spare can of petrol from the SUV and skilfully fill up Ianto's tank whilst the Welshman, as ever, admired the rear view.

"Well, if that's all, I'll be off then," Jack commented, dusting off his hands as he tossed the petrol can back into his vehicle. "You should have enough there to get you back to Cardiff, but get her to a petrol station as soon as possible and fill up your tank," he advised, perhaps unnecessarily.

"Why do you keep referring to my car as 'her'?" the Welshman enquired, stalling Jack in his journey to the driving seat.

"Well look at those sleek, clean lines!" The American gestured towards the Audi. "And that beautiful rich colour? Gotta be a girl." He grinned at Ianto, stroking his SUV tenderly. "This is Janet."

"Janet?" To say Ianto was astonished was an understatement.

The American smirked. "Janet. Well, good to see you again, Mr Jones." Without waiting for a reply, he swung himself up behind the wheel; and before the Welshman could react the SUV- Janet, apparently- was zooming off out of sight in the direction of the city.

"Great," Ianto muttered to himself, feeling a dozen tiny candles blow out. "You've really screwed up this time- he couldn't wait to see the back of you."

Dejectedly, he stalked back to his car and flung himself into the driving seat. It was only when he reached for the ignition that he realised something was… different. He was halfway back to the city when he realised what that difference was: he did not have a sheet of paper with the American's bill.

The following morning, Ianto hesitated outside the office door at Mermaid's Quay. What if his instincts were correct and Jack never wanted to see him again? But the thought of being in the American's debt indefinitely made Ianto shudder, and resolutely he stepped through the door. If Jack never wanted to see him again, so be it. At least he would have settled his debts.

As with his first two visits, the office was deserted, Swallowing his nerves with difficulty, Ianto picked up the hand bell and rang it determinedly. Almost instantly, the American appeared, half-eaten toast gripped in his teeth as usual.

"Morning!" he grinned, holding the toast in his left hand whilst his right attempted to fasten the top few buttons on his shirt.

"Here, let me," Ianto responded without thinking, laying down the two takeout cups of coffee he held and leaning over the counter, trained fingers deftly fastening the buttons and smoothing the American's collar. Jack held still, hoping that the Welshman hadn't noticed the slight hitch in his breath.

"Thanks," he murmured as Ianto withdrew his hands, and the Welshman blushed a little.

"Anytime."

"One of those for me?" Jack asked, reaching for the coffee even before Ianto had time to nod.

"Of course."

"My angel," the American grinned.

"My saviour," Ianto returned, 'clinking' cardboard cups. "How much do I owe you for yesterday, O agent of the devil?"

Jack smirked. "That one's on me; customer loyalty bonus or something."

"Are you sure?" Ianto could not hide his surprise.

The American's grin broadened. "Sure; if I keep charging you every time I come rescue you from the middle of nowhere, O damsel in distress, I'll be able to afford a new car by the end of the month."

Ianto flushed. "Yeah, well, accident-prone and all that," he muttered, backing out of the shop. In the doorway, he remembered something and turned back.

"Oh, I named her, by the way- the car."

"Oh?" Jack's blue eyes were alight with interest. (Was Ianto mistaken in his interpretation of the American's exit the previous day?)

"Myfanwy." As the office door swung shut behind the Welshman, it carried Jack's laughter out with it. Ianto flushed, hurriedly setting his path for work as the laughter echoing in his mind snuffed out several more flickering candles.

It was another month until Ianto saw Jack again. He had ended their last encounter determined to forget his silly crush and move on- the man was probably straight anyway, despite the mild flirtation which occurred whenever he and Ianto met. The Welshman still dreamed of floppy brown hair, amazing blue eyes, a dazzling grin and a delicious accent every night, but apart from that he reckoned he was doing ok with the whole 'forgive and forget' idea. Well, he still hadn't forgiven Jack his laughter and abrupt exit; and he was nowhere near forgetting the American, but apart from those tiny hitches he was definitely doing ok.

Ok, that was, until Toshiko dragged him out with her boyfriend Tommy. The Manchester-born Private soldier had mentioned over dinner that he had been to see his old commanding officer, who was enjoying his new business but missing his favourite customer.

Feeling the faintest butterfly wings of hope start fluttering in his stomach, Ianto made his fatal mistake. He asked Tommy why Jack had left the Army.

The young soldier's tale of Jack's devastation when his partner was killed by a roadside bomb and the American's subsequent crippling PTSD tore at Ianto's heart, and in a flash the 'forgiveness' part of his mission was accomplished. The only trouble was, now he had forgiven the Welshman had no desire to forget. And so he hatched one final plan.

The words of the novel danced on the page, and Ianto could not read a single one. Not that it really mattered: he had finished the emergency novel a month ago and forgotten to replace it with another. Panicking was far more entertaining for his mind than re-reading a book that hadn't been fabulous in the first place. The Welshman was determined that today he would finally ask Jack out, and live with the answer whether it was yea or nay. He just needed to get them on familiar, neutral ground first…

"I was beginning to think your luck had changed!" The American tones which greeted him held all of their usual warmth, and Ianto found himself grinning at Jack as his rescuer headed for the Audi.

"Yeah, well, I managed to stay in the city for a while," the Welshman returned.

"Cheating on me with passers-by again?" the American pouted, softly stroking the Audi's roof. "Hello again, Myfanwy; what's your silly master been doing to you now?" he cooed, and Ianto started. He'd had no idea that the American had remembered. Then the echo of laughter played through his mind, and he grimaced. Of course Jack remembered- he had found the name hilarious. With the emergence of the memory, all of Ianto's new-found confidence vanished.

"She won't start again," he muttered, trying his level best not to sound sulky and not noticing in his concentration that he was beginning to pick up the American's habits.

"Well, let's see what's wrong with her," Jack grinned. To Ianto's surprise, instead of heading for the bonnet as usual, the American slipped into the driver's seat and attempted to start the vehicle. As Ianto had proclaimed, it would not start.

Jack pursed his lips. "Well, Myfanwy reckons she's in gear." He eyed the Welshman suspiciously. "You've jammed the neutral safety switch, haven't you?"

Ianto frowned at him in innocent confusion. "I don't know what you mean."

Jack raised an eyebrow at him sceptically, then reached down and fiddled around. A few minutes later he straightened up, a triumphant grin on his face and a short length of wire in his hand. Dumping the wire on the dashboard, he tried the ignition. The starter engaged immediately, and the American smirked.

"Thought as much."

Ianto stared back in confusion, and Jack's grin grew lascivious as he rose out of the car and looked Ianto in the eye.

"You know, if you wanted to see me, you could just have called by the office and asked me out." He waited a beat. "I would've said 'yes' after the first time you broke down."

Ianto turned a peculiar shade of purple, and Jack laughed helplessly as he waited for the Welshman to compose himself.

"How did you know?" he spluttered at last.

Jack smirked again. He seemed to be doing a lot of that today. "Oh, come on, Ianto; it wasn't that difficult to figure out! Ok, I believe you genuinely had broken down that first time. But then you sever your battery lead- one clean snip, mind you- and puncture two tyres with brand new nails? Jamming the neutral safety switch was a stroke of genius, I'll give you that- you've evidently been doing your research. But I refuse to believe that a man who can turn up at my office at eight fifteen on the dot every morning I need paying, without fail; and who carries an emergency novel in their glove compartment, could forget to fill up on petrol."

Ianto spluttered. "Were you a detective in a past life by any chance?"

Jack chuckled. "I told you- I'm good at guessing."

The Welshman frowned. "But if you knew all along, why did you let me keep calling you out and paying you?"

The American grinned. "Ok, ok, I confess: you intrigued me. I wanted to know what you were going to do next. And to be honest, it was kinda flattering that you kept sabotaging your own car in order to see me. As for the payment, well for one thing it had to be authentic to keep up your pretence; and for another, I needed to cover the petrol costs somehow. Anyway, if you recall, I didn't exactly charge you for your last visit."

Ianto had one final question. "But if you knew all along that you weren't going to charge me, why didn't you tell me that when we were out here rather than making me go all the way to your office to be told that?"

Jack's eyes sparkled. "Well, I knew you'd show up, and I was hoping you'd bring coffee."

Ianto glared, and the American continued quickly.

"But more importantly, I wanted to see you."

Ianto smiled, and Jack found himself smiling goofily back.

"Let me apologise?" the American murmured; and Ianto barely had time to nod his consent before Jack swept him into a searing kiss, his tender yet passionate lips telling Ianto everything the Welshman needed to know. As they broke apart, Ianto felt something pushed into his hand.

"My bill," Jack smirked, and then he was gone, the SUV rapidly becoming a dot on the horizon.

Frowning in confusion, Ianto stared down at the piece of paper Jack had handed him. And then he understood. Instead of the usual letterheaded Torchwood SYS paper, what he held was a restaurant menu. Several dishes had been circled in red pen, and across the top was a single line of Jack's unmistakeable scrawl: 'Tuesday, 7:30pm.' A blissful smile crossed the Welshman's face as he pocketed the paper and slipped into the driving seat of his car; and as he turned the ignition a thousand tiny candles burst into flame inside him.

A/N- *does the happy dance* Yay, I actually completed a oneshot short story! (I have countless beginnings of them on my laptop.) I hope you all liked it.

Incidentally, for those that don't know 'C.O.' = 'Commanding Officer' and 'PTSD' = 'Post Traumatic Stress Disorder'