You and the Night and the Music
Title: You and the Night and the Music
Author: crystalshard
Rating: PG
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Warnings: Spoilers for episode 2x01, "Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang".
Synopsis: When Jack picks a particular restaurant for his date with Ianto, it doesn't take Ianto long to figure out why.
Disclaimer: I do not own Torchwood or any of the characters, it all belongs to the BBC.
A/N: miss_zedem challenged me to write fluff - as fluffy as I can make it. I'm not one to turn down a challenge. Happy birthday, Z! Also, the restaurant and the film that I mention are entirely made up - if there's any resemblance to an actual Cardiff restaurant, it's entirely accidental!
Ianto nodded polite thanks as the dinner-jacket clad waiter handed him the menu. The warm wood, expensive candlelight and oldies music of this restaurant was a complete change of pace from the film that Jack had taken him to see, and truth be told, he liked the contrast.
The film had been a mystery-horror movie, and Ianto had been able to make Jack laugh halfway through by solving the case before the onscreen detective had. Ianto smiled with the memory. He liked being able to make Jack laugh, but the occasions when he could were rare enough. Though since Jack had come back from the Doctor, the other man had been more at ease with himself.
"Do you like it?" Jack's question had overtones of nervousness to Ianto's ear, and he looked up from the menu.
"Yes, I do. I'm guessing a Rat Pack theme?" Ianto asked, a question designed more to put Jack at ease than for confirmation. With a name like 'The Summit', the Sixties décor and the scatter of small tables set around a central dance floor and stage, it wasn't hard to figure out the era. Not to mention that every song so far had been from one of the Rat Pack.
"Yeah." Jack gave Ianto a strained smile in return, and Ianto suddenly realised why Jack had picked this particular place. He'd known for a while now that Jack had favourite decades. The Forties was the obvious one, with the Air Force greatcoat that he wore like a second skin - Ianto was almost surprised that Jack had turned up without it on this date - but he knew that Jack liked the Sixties as well. It was a familiar, safe place for Jack, something to offset his awkwardness about being on a date at all.
Ianto knew that the Jack of old would never have asked him on a date. It was almost a relief to understand that Jack hadn't changed as much as it had originally appeared. Here, Jack might not be entirely at ease, but this place was certainly further within his comfort zone. And, perhaps, it meant that Jack was opening up to him a little. This place was to Jack's own personal taste, and it was rare enough that the other man let anything personal slip.
Ianto belatedly noticed the uncomfortable silence that had crept up between them. "Did you ever meet the Rat Pack?" Ianto asked, grabbing the first question that came to mind. "You must have been around in that decade."
Jack smiled, properly this time. "Yeah, I was. You know, you'd be amazed at what goes on in Vegas. No-one ever blinks an eye, because they all think it's a trick, or make-up, or something."
Somehow, the revelation that there were aliens living and working in Las Vegas didn't astonish Ianto in the slightest. "I've never been there."
"You should go one day. Of course, it's all commercialised now. Back in the Sixties, it really swung." Jack fiddled with the empty wine glass in front of him. "You know, I think you'd have liked Frank. Fun guy. Bit of a hothead, but you were fine as long as he liked you. Very strong-willed."
Ianto suddenly had a mental vision of Jack, in a tailored dinner jacket, singing with the Rat Pack. The image was almost like a black and white photograph, it was so clear. "Did you ever get to sing with them?"
Jack chuckled. "Would have been fun, but no. Not in public, anyway. Can't change history."
At that moment, they noticed that the waiter was hovering discreetly to one side, out of earshot but within sight. Jack beckoned him over, and the two placed their orders. It wasn't long before the starter and the wine arrived, and the two were temporarily silenced as they ate.
Somehow, talking was easier after they'd had the starter. The conversation led naturally onto the film they'd seen, and before long they were both relaxed and laughing.
". . . and I swear, if they'd known what that symbol means in Paluseum, they'd never have shown it on screen," Jack chuckled.
"Oh?" Ianto raised an inquiring eyebrow at Jack. "And what does it mean, exactly?"
Jack grinned and beckoned Ianto to learn forward. He whispered something that made Ianto's eyes widen, and Ianto stared at the other man. "Really?"
"Oh, yes," Jack said blithely. "If you really want to be sure, you can look it up in the Archives."
"I'll take your word for it," Ianto said quickly, and was rewarded as Jack's eyes lit up. A moment later, Ianto realised that it wasn't his response alone that had prompted Jack's reaction. The track had switched to a Sinatra tune, a brassy, energetic number that had Jack's fingers tapping on the table.
Ianto just had time to detect the mischief sparkling in Jack's eyes before the older man grabbed his hand and tugged him in the direction of the dance floor. Ianto couldn't find it in himself to put up more than a momentary resistance, the wine and the company combining to push his barriers down just far enough to let his own playful streak out.
They were the only ones on the dance floor amid a number of tables that held diners, but Jack didn't seem to care. Ianto shrugged, letting himself succumb to the moment for once.
"You and the night and the music," Sinatra crooned as Jack pulled Ianto into his arms. Jack's body felt warm against Ianto's as they swayed together, Jack's muscular solidity reassuring and there. It had been so long since Jack had held him this way that Ianto had half-forgotten how the other man smelled, of soap and aftershave and shampoo and an undertone that he could only label as Jack. Ianto inhaled the scent greedily, his arms tugging Jack even closer as they danced. Jack's hands clutched at Ianto, one large hand on the back of his neck and one in the small of his back. Ianto smiled and closed his eyes momentarily, confident that Jack would stop them crashing into anything in that brief time. The world narrowed to him and Jack, the feel of the man in his arms and the sound of Jack's breathing in his ear.
The song was over too quickly, and a scattering of applause brought Ianto back to the present. Pulling back, his eyes met Jack's, and was momentarily startled. He'd never seen Jack looking so genuinely happy, without any taint of grief or anger. Jack must have seen the delight in Ianto's eyes, as he grinned cheekily and twined his arm into Ianto's as they walked back to their table.
Dinner had been served while they were dancing, Ianto noted as they sat down again. His gaze caught Jack's again, and he momentarily forgot to breathe at the promise in that look.
Ianto gave a tiny nod in response. Soon, Jack, he promised, hoping Jack could read his expression. Soon.
Author: crystalshard
Rating: PG
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Warnings: Spoilers for episode 2x01, "Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang".
Synopsis: When Jack picks a particular restaurant for his date with Ianto, it doesn't take Ianto long to figure out why.
Disclaimer: I do not own Torchwood or any of the characters, it all belongs to the BBC.
A/N: miss_zedem challenged me to write fluff - as fluffy as I can make it. I'm not one to turn down a challenge. Happy birthday, Z! Also, the restaurant and the film that I mention are entirely made up - if there's any resemblance to an actual Cardiff restaurant, it's entirely accidental!
Ianto nodded polite thanks as the dinner-jacket clad waiter handed him the menu. The warm wood, expensive candlelight and oldies music of this restaurant was a complete change of pace from the film that Jack had taken him to see, and truth be told, he liked the contrast.
The film had been a mystery-horror movie, and Ianto had been able to make Jack laugh halfway through by solving the case before the onscreen detective had. Ianto smiled with the memory. He liked being able to make Jack laugh, but the occasions when he could were rare enough. Though since Jack had come back from the Doctor, the other man had been more at ease with himself.
"Do you like it?" Jack's question had overtones of nervousness to Ianto's ear, and he looked up from the menu.
"Yes, I do. I'm guessing a Rat Pack theme?" Ianto asked, a question designed more to put Jack at ease than for confirmation. With a name like 'The Summit', the Sixties décor and the scatter of small tables set around a central dance floor and stage, it wasn't hard to figure out the era. Not to mention that every song so far had been from one of the Rat Pack.
"Yeah." Jack gave Ianto a strained smile in return, and Ianto suddenly realised why Jack had picked this particular place. He'd known for a while now that Jack had favourite decades. The Forties was the obvious one, with the Air Force greatcoat that he wore like a second skin - Ianto was almost surprised that Jack had turned up without it on this date - but he knew that Jack liked the Sixties as well. It was a familiar, safe place for Jack, something to offset his awkwardness about being on a date at all.
Ianto knew that the Jack of old would never have asked him on a date. It was almost a relief to understand that Jack hadn't changed as much as it had originally appeared. Here, Jack might not be entirely at ease, but this place was certainly further within his comfort zone. And, perhaps, it meant that Jack was opening up to him a little. This place was to Jack's own personal taste, and it was rare enough that the other man let anything personal slip.
Ianto belatedly noticed the uncomfortable silence that had crept up between them. "Did you ever meet the Rat Pack?" Ianto asked, grabbing the first question that came to mind. "You must have been around in that decade."
Jack smiled, properly this time. "Yeah, I was. You know, you'd be amazed at what goes on in Vegas. No-one ever blinks an eye, because they all think it's a trick, or make-up, or something."
Somehow, the revelation that there were aliens living and working in Las Vegas didn't astonish Ianto in the slightest. "I've never been there."
"You should go one day. Of course, it's all commercialised now. Back in the Sixties, it really swung." Jack fiddled with the empty wine glass in front of him. "You know, I think you'd have liked Frank. Fun guy. Bit of a hothead, but you were fine as long as he liked you. Very strong-willed."
Ianto suddenly had a mental vision of Jack, in a tailored dinner jacket, singing with the Rat Pack. The image was almost like a black and white photograph, it was so clear. "Did you ever get to sing with them?"
Jack chuckled. "Would have been fun, but no. Not in public, anyway. Can't change history."
At that moment, they noticed that the waiter was hovering discreetly to one side, out of earshot but within sight. Jack beckoned him over, and the two placed their orders. It wasn't long before the starter and the wine arrived, and the two were temporarily silenced as they ate.
Somehow, talking was easier after they'd had the starter. The conversation led naturally onto the film they'd seen, and before long they were both relaxed and laughing.
". . . and I swear, if they'd known what that symbol means in Paluseum, they'd never have shown it on screen," Jack chuckled.
"Oh?" Ianto raised an inquiring eyebrow at Jack. "And what does it mean, exactly?"
Jack grinned and beckoned Ianto to learn forward. He whispered something that made Ianto's eyes widen, and Ianto stared at the other man. "Really?"
"Oh, yes," Jack said blithely. "If you really want to be sure, you can look it up in the Archives."
"I'll take your word for it," Ianto said quickly, and was rewarded as Jack's eyes lit up. A moment later, Ianto realised that it wasn't his response alone that had prompted Jack's reaction. The track had switched to a Sinatra tune, a brassy, energetic number that had Jack's fingers tapping on the table.
Ianto just had time to detect the mischief sparkling in Jack's eyes before the older man grabbed his hand and tugged him in the direction of the dance floor. Ianto couldn't find it in himself to put up more than a momentary resistance, the wine and the company combining to push his barriers down just far enough to let his own playful streak out.
They were the only ones on the dance floor amid a number of tables that held diners, but Jack didn't seem to care. Ianto shrugged, letting himself succumb to the moment for once.
"You and the night and the music," Sinatra crooned as Jack pulled Ianto into his arms. Jack's body felt warm against Ianto's as they swayed together, Jack's muscular solidity reassuring and there. It had been so long since Jack had held him this way that Ianto had half-forgotten how the other man smelled, of soap and aftershave and shampoo and an undertone that he could only label as Jack. Ianto inhaled the scent greedily, his arms tugging Jack even closer as they danced. Jack's hands clutched at Ianto, one large hand on the back of his neck and one in the small of his back. Ianto smiled and closed his eyes momentarily, confident that Jack would stop them crashing into anything in that brief time. The world narrowed to him and Jack, the feel of the man in his arms and the sound of Jack's breathing in his ear.
The song was over too quickly, and a scattering of applause brought Ianto back to the present. Pulling back, his eyes met Jack's, and was momentarily startled. He'd never seen Jack looking so genuinely happy, without any taint of grief or anger. Jack must have seen the delight in Ianto's eyes, as he grinned cheekily and twined his arm into Ianto's as they walked back to their table.
Dinner had been served while they were dancing, Ianto noted as they sat down again. His gaze caught Jack's again, and he momentarily forgot to breathe at the promise in that look.
Ianto gave a tiny nod in response. Soon, Jack, he promised, hoping Jack could read his expression. Soon.