"So…," Jack said, silently appearing at the door to the coffee room. "I've got some errands to run. Thought you'd like to come along. I'm told there's air and sunlight up there. Though, being Wales, I'm not sure I believe it."
"Don't believe it," Ianto said, pouring a cup of coffee and automatically taking a second mug to fill for Jack. "Someone's either having you on or trying to get you out of here long enough to ransack your office."
"But who would want to do that?"
"My guess? Janet. She's looking for that love poem she's convinced you've written her."
Jack chuckled and shook his head, gratefully taking the coffee Ianto offered. "You're a sick, sick man, Ianto Jones."
"Would you have me any other way, sir?"
"Oh, I'd have you lots of ways. In fact, I'd have you any way, wouldn't matter."
"Now who's in the gutter?"
"Well, as Oscar said after a particularly old bottle of wine – and a particularly pretty sommelier – 'we are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.'"
"You only ever seem to mention writers. I don't think you've ever mentioned knowing any composers or painters."
"I get along better with writers. So, errands?"
"Maybe. If my boss says I can leave early."
Jack pouted. "That guy is such a jerk."
"Oh yes, he most assuredly is that. World's worst ego, as well. He is good-looking, though. And very interesting in bed."
"Interesting?" Jack hummed, stepping close to Ianto and slipping a finger under his tie. "Define interesting," Jack said, pulling Ianto's tie free from his waistcoat.
"You have errands, if you recall," Ianto said, tucking his tie back in.
Jack sighed. "Spoil-sport."
"Undoubtedly."
"Come with? Your boss says it's ok."
"You are a bit like a puppy when you want to be," Ianto said, finishing off his coffee. "Alright, I'll come along. Someone's got to keep you out of trouble."
"Good. I thought we could stop for a drink or two on the way back while we're out. What do you think?"
"I think this 'errands' bullocks is a sneaky way to ask me on a date without it actually being a 'date,' that's what I think."
"Now do you seriously think I'd resort to that?"
"I think you're a man who considers all the options," Ianto said, slipping his coat on.
"Alright, so maybe I took some things to be cleaned just to have the excuse of picking them up," Jack confessed.
"The cleaners are going to think we've had a tiff if you're taking your own clothes in," Ianto said, holding Jack's greatcoat for him.
Jack grinned. He decided not to mention that the girl at the cleaners had asked if everything was "alright" with him and Mr. Jones when he'd dropped his shirts off. It was kind of nice having random people ask after their relationship. Instead, Jack just turned and settled his hands on Ianto's hips. "Does that mean we get to 'make-up' later?"
"No. There was nothing to 'make-up' about."
"We could always pretend."
"Or you could annoy me for real so that you've got something to make up for. Shouldn't take much doing on your part," Ianto smirked.
"I always manage to go for the smart-asses," Jack said, heading toward the elevator. "Well, cute asses, anyway."
"Behave yourself," Ianto said dryly, not really expecting much. "We'll be back in a bit. Don't you kids have any wild parties while we're gone," he called to the rest of the team.
…
"Right, so, we've reassured the cleaners that I haven't been driven round the bend by you… yet, dropped off mysterious post halfway across town, had the oil changed, and had donuts delivered to the local constabulary – which they may or may not take the wrong way. Have you satisfied your pretense so that this isn't a 'date' yet?"
Jack smiled. "I don't know, I think it's kinda cozy, doing little errands together."
"Cozy, yes. Efficient? Not so much."
"You're a tough nut to crack, Ianto."
Ianto nodded. "Habit of a lifetime, Jack."
"Just one last thing I've got to do, but it coincides with that drink I promised, so let's go."
"Where to?" Ianto asked hopping up into the passenger side.
"Charles Street."
"Isn't that -"
"Yep," Jack grinned.
Five minutes later Jack and Ianto were walking into one of Cardiff's top gay bars, half full with the after-work crowd.
"Get us a couple drinks," Jack said. "I need to arrange something with the owner."
Ianto gave him a cautious look. "Is it something I want to know about?"
"I don't know. You told me to keep my office fetish to myself," Jack winked.
"Couldn't it be something normal like a leather bar or bondage dungeon with you? Most earthlings want out of the office as quickly as possible and find nothing remotely exotic about it."
"That's what makes it a fetish, my dear Mr. Jones. Actually, it's for Gwen's hen night. But I'll take you up on that dungeon idea later," Jack said, heading off toward the owner's office.
Ianto sighed, wondering what he'd gotten himself into. "We work in a dungeon every bloody day," he muttered. "Maybe that explains it…."
Ianto sat himself at the bar and debated ordering for Jack.
"What ya havin', gorgeous?" the twink in painted-on leather behind the bar asked.
Ianto smiled politely and resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Tanqueray and tonic, please. And a double Laphroaig 18 year."
A man sat down beside Ianto and for a second time Ianto fought not to roll his eyes or give a disapproving glare. There was plenty of room at the bar, no need for sitting beside strangers. The only thing worse was people who double-up on an empty train carriage.
The fellow beside Ianto complimented his suit and Ianto politely – but not too politely – thanked him. He asked Ianto what he was drinking and Ianto informed him without taking his eyes from the whisky menu. He asked what kind of work Ianto was in and Ianto muttered, "civil service."
The man beside him laughed and said, "Is that what they're calling it these days?" The next thing Ianto knew, there was a hand massaging his knee. Ianto's eye twitched and his hand was reflexively itching to reach for the gun he wasn't wearing. Ianto took a deep breath, ready to explain calmly and politely that if the gentleman didn't remove his hand from Ianto's person he would be in need of physiotherapy for some while in the very near future.
Before Ianto could open his mouth, however, he heard a low but clear American voice say, "Hands. Off."
In half a second the man who'd sat beside Ianto had made himself quite scarce and been replaced by Jack.
"I could have handled that," Ianto pouted.
"I know you could have. But I didn't feel like explaining to the medics and I left the retcon at home."
"I've always got a few tablets on me. You never know when an awkward encounter is going to arise that you just want the other person to forget about."
Jack wasn't entirely sure if Ianto was joking.
"Although… it was cute that you were jealous."
"I wasn't jealous!"
"You were. In fact, I'm a bit surprised. You're the last person I'd have expected to go all 'caveman.' If anything I'd think you'd have extended an invitation."
Jack pulled a face. "Did you see that guy? I'd rather have a threesome with Janet. And anyway, it was more cowboy than caveman."
"Actually, I didn't. I avoid eye contact with weirdoes at bars. Is cowboy another fetish? Because I might start avoiding eye contact with you as well."
"Oh, remind me not to invite you over to watch Bareback Mountain."
"Brokeback."
"Not the one I watched," Jack grinned.
"That's highly irresponsible and a bit -"
"It doesn't have to be."
Ianto looked at Jack with a mixture of curiosity and uncertainty. Did that mean Jack wanted to…? Ianto decided it best to change the subject as quickly as possible. "Everything sorted for Gwen's hen night?"
Jack smiled, just a bit sadly. Maybe Ianto wasn't quite ready for that discussion, then. "Yep. Almost wish I was going."
"You will not. It's her night and fuck knows you can't go anywhere without drawing all the attention in a room."
"Yes, sir," Jack mumbled teasingly.
"Drink your drink," Ianto said. "And you were so jealous."