AN: Blah blah blah not mine. You all know the drill. God I wish it was though, if only so I could stare at Ianto's arse all day. Anyway, enjoy my angsting, I really felt the need to write this after seeing Something Borrowed.

Ianto had tried to be happy at the wedding, to let the infectious atmosphere of joy that had been fuelled by the retcon in the guests' champagne infuse into his own feelings. Despite his attempts, it was a relief to get home by the end of the night and let his facade of joy fall. It wasn't that he wasn't happy for Gwen and Rhys because, leaving aside the chaos of the day, he wanted them to be happy together. He supposed that it really came down to the simple fact that he was jealous. He was jealous of the way that Jack had seemed so sad because Gwen was getting married and he was annoyed that he had shown it so plainly for everyone around them to see. That was the reason Ianto hadn't invited Jack up to his flat. He could sense that tonight was not one of the nights when Jack would invite himself up, and if he felt that way then Ianto wouldn't force him.

It had hurt to see the way that Jack didn't seem to care how Ianto felt. It was obvious to Ianto and the rest of the team that Jack didn't want to let Gwen go, even though he now had Ianto.

But it wasn't just Jack that had made him upset; it was watching someone he knew get married and remembering back to the days when he and Lisa were planning their wedding. She had already bought her dress and although Ianto would never let anyone know, he had saved it in storage after Canary Wharf. At first he had told himself that it was because he was going to bring Lisa back, but after she had been killed and he had returned to Torchwood (after a large amount of drinking and wallowing) he had admitted to himself that he had kept the dress as a memory of her and what could have been.

He hadn't been to a wedding since she had died, couldn't stand the memories that overwhelmed him; of laughing while Lisa tried to distract him as he explained exactly what the difference between a velvet and a satin sheen on the invites would be. He had needed to phone around to the bakers and the hotel, cancelling the cake and the hall, after she had been converted, had to listen to their insincere condolences when his heart was still broken, getting torn apart every time he thought of her.

If Ianto was honest with himself he knew he couldn't stand being alone tonight, knew that eventually he would collect his keys from the hook he had hung them on next to the door and make his way through the empty streets to the Hub. He knew Jack would be waiting for him with a smile and an innuendo and that together they would forget what the day had brought them and focus on each other.