Author's Note:
This is my first attempt at writing a bit of Jack and Ianto in a non-Torchwood setting. It is shameless, indulgent fluff, so if you are expecting high art from me, know what you are getting into. And then sit back, have some coffee, and enjoy! Thank you for reading!

The first time the Welshman came into the bookshop was late on a Friday afternoon, and Jack was immediately struck by something indefinable yet immensely appealing about the man. The newcomer was several years younger than him, unassuming yet holding himself with confidence, attractive, and well-groomed. Dark brown hair was starting to curl, and he sported long sideburns with more than a hint of stubble after a long day at work. He was wearing a black three-piece suit, well-made and tailored to a slim yet muscular body. If Jack had a type, this man wasn't it…until that moment, and suddenly he was converted.

"Hi, Jack Harkness," he said with a broad smile, coming around the counter and extending his hand. The other man looked slightly surprised at the introduction, but he accepted the gesture with a smile of his own. He had a firm handshake and gazed at Jack with deep blue, intelligent eyes.

"Jones," he said. "Ianto Jones. Nice to meet you, Mr. Harkness."

Jack tried not to let his eyes widen at the delicious way the man said his name, broad Welsh vowels and clipped consonants rolling over him and warming him to his toes. Between the warm handshake, the piercing blue eyes, and the gorgeous accent, Jack found himself at a loss for words for a moment. It wasn't as if he hadn't had attractive people walk in before, but this man was clearly special.

"Nice to meet you, too," he finally got out. "What can I help you with today, Mr. Jones?"

"I thought I'd browse a bit," said Ianto, glancing around with his hands tucked into his pockets. "I'm early for an appointment across the street." He rubbed a hand over the stubble on his cheeks.

"The salon?" Jack asked, and the man nodded. Jack raised his eyebrows. The salon across the street was quite upscale. "Very posh. Important date this weekend?" The man nodded, though he looked reluctant.

"Wedding," said Ianto.

"Ah," said Jack, for some reason disappointed to find the man was not only busy that weekend but getting married. "Well, Gwen and Tosh will have you looking even more amazing in no time at all."

Ianto raised an eyebrow at the compliment, and Jack shrugged with a grin.

"What can I say?" he winked. "I like the suit."

Ianto mumbled his thanks, and Jack rather adored how flustered the man was by the compliment. He moved back behind the counter. "Would you care for some coffee while you browse?" he asked.

Ianto was eyeing him strangely. Jack imagined the man was probably wondering about his braces and rather old-fashioned sense of dress considering how modern the cut of his suit appeared, but he didn't say anything. "Yes, thank you."

"Feel free to look around. Maybe you'll find something, but don't feel obligated." He started the coffee and turned back. "We're a bit of a specialty shop—old, used, rare, out of print, that sort of thing."

"Oh, I love places like this," Ianto replied, running a hand over a stack of books piled on the floor because there was no room on the shelves. "Practically grew up in a bookshop like this, spent hours pouring over old comics and sci-fi serials."

"Brilliant!" Jack laughed. "Where's home? Wales, I assume?"

"Cardiff," the man nodded absently. "I live in Kensington now. There's a similar shop a few blocks away that I check out on my way home at least once a month to see what's new."

Jack pretended to pout as he poured them both a mug of coffee. "Hope you don't mind going out of your way every now and then to check out the competition."

Ianto turned and raised an eyebrow. "Depends on what I find," he murmured. Oh, Jack really liked him now. Very few men flirted back with him, and this one was not only flirting, but gorgeous and Welsh.

"So you're going to a wedding this weekend?" he asked as he handed Ianto a cup of coffee. Alex, the former shop owner, had used mugs, but Jack had quickly tired of washing them; when several customers had walked out with them, he had given up and started using recyclable cups. "Your own or someone else?"

"Not my own, god no." Ianto pretended to shudder. "Someone else, and it's quite the extravagant affair, so apparently I am required to look exceptionally presentable."

"You don't sound very enthusiastic. Do you have a date?" Jack asked. He told himself he wasn't fishing for information, but he wanted to know if this man was taken.

"My girlfriend, Lisa," said Ianto. "The bride is her sister." He paused. "It's been a bit intense lately."

"I can imagine," laughed Jack, hiding his disappointment as he took a sip of his drink. "Weddings—and brides—tend to be like that."

"So do brides' sisters," Ianto grumbled.

"It's one of the mysteries of the universe," said Jack. "The insanity inspired by such a simple thing as choosing to spend your life with the person you love."

"You sound like you speak from experience," said Ianto. He took a sip of coffee and nodded, though Jack thought the man was holding back a grimace. "Not bad. Thank you."

"You're welcome, even if you don't mean it. And I've watched enough people go through it to know better." Jack laughed again, though it felt forced and hollow. It wasn't that he was against marriage, but he had not met the right person to settle down with. From falling hard for Lucia in Italy to his positively torrid affair with John in Thailand, Jack had found that long-term relationships were generally not for him.

"Sometimes I think the same thing," said Ianto. "The out-dated traditions, the over-the-top party, the ridiculous amount of stress and money wasted on something that's supposed to be so easy. Seems an ominous way to start a new chapter in your life."

"As long as there's an open bar, you'll be fine," said Jack, trying to keep it light. He wondered at the man's unusual sentiments regarding marriage, even though he completely agreed. If he were to ever get married, he'd want a small affair, with only the closest friends and family.

He stayed behind the counter, where he had been sorting some paperwork before closing up for the night, but they continued to talk as Ianto wandered around. Usually people preferred silence as they browsed or sat down in one of the chairs up front to read, but Jack found that Ianto responded to his questions and comments, often with a clever quip of his own. He was tempted to ask the man out for a drink, but knowing that Ianto had a girlfriend stopped him.

Glancing at a watch he pulled from his pocket, Ianto sighed and walked up to the counter. "Time for my appointment. How much for the coffee then?"

Jack waved him off. "It's on the house."

"But I didn't purchase anything," Ianto protested.

"Guess you'll have to come back sometime," Jack replied, barely holding back a wink.

Ianto cocked his head with a grin and offered his hand. "Thank you, Mr. Harkness. I appreciate it."

Jack walked with the man toward the door and gallantly opened it for him, hoping it didn't look like he was shooing the man out instead. "Call me Jack. And you're welcome. Come back next time you're across the street, though."

Ianto glanced sideways at him. "I'd love to, but the salon is a bit of an indulgence, to be honest."

Jack put a hand on Ianto's shoulder. "Then indulge yourself every so often and stop by when you do. You deserve it."

Ianto's eyes wavered slightly, surprised by Jack's touch or his comment, Jack wasn't sure. "Right. Thanks again, Jack. Take care."

"You too, Mr. Jones," Jack replied. "I hope you survive the wedding."

Ianto groaned. "Don't remind me. At least it's not my own!"

Jack watched him leave and cross the street to the salon. He hoped the man saw Tosh, as Tosh seemed more his type; Gwen did good work, but would talk the man's ear off. He kept watching until someone behind him cleared his throat.

"You closing up or not, Jack?" asked Owen Harper, but there was laughter in his voice.

Jack turned on him. "When did you get here?"

The doctor smirked. "Too busy eyeing up that Welsh bloke to notice when someone walks in the back door, then?"

"I suppose so," Jack murmured, glancing back out the window.

"Didn't seem your type," Owen said. "Young, quiet, and innocent."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "I do not have a type. And besides, young and quiet isn't a bad thing, and who's to say he's innocent?"

"Did you flirt with him?"

Jack gave him a smirk as answer.

"Did he flirt back?" asked Owen, and Jack nodded slowly.

"Yeah, he did."

"Then god help him," muttered Owen. "Come on, are you ready? Katie and Martha are meeting us for dinner." He paused and sniggered. "Maybe next time you could bring the coffee boy."

"No, he's unavailable," said Jack. He moved quickly around the shop, closing it up for the night before leaving with his friend. They were meeting Katie, Owen's fiancé, and Martha, Jack's best friend, for dinner and drinks. "Going to a wedding with his girlfriend this weekend."

Owen looked up from an old edition of Mad Magazine he was flipping through. "Oh—sorry, Jack."

"Don't be," said Jack. "It was great while it lasted." He winked to show Owen he was fine, although deep down he was disappointed. He'd probably never see Ianto Jones again, and that seemed a damn shame. "So where to?"

"Somewhere up by Martha's, the latest hot spot according to her and Katie."

With one last glance across the street to where Ianto was getting cleaned up for the wedding that weekend, Jack turned off the lights and followed Owen through the back door, locking it behind him. Owen's comment about taking Ianto out to dinner stuck in his mind. He may have just met the man, but he'd give anything to see Ianto Jones again, even if he was straight and taken.

Three weeks later, the Welshman came back to the shop. Jack was thrilled to glance up and see Ianto walk through the door in another three-piece suit, this one a dark grey with a maroon shirt and black silk tie. It was dead sexy, and Jack literally had to stop himself from gasping or moaning as he held out his hand toward Ianto.

"Hello again, Mr. Jones. You came back to browse."

Ianto grinned. "Decided to take your advice and indulge myself."

"Not another wedding?" asked Jack, and Ianto shook his head.

"No, I have a business trip this weekend, and not only do I need a trim, but I need something to read."

"So you came all the way out here to check out my collection?" Jack teased, delighted when Ianto blushed, and even more thrilled when the man parried back.

"They are impressive stacks, Mr. Harkness," he murmured, then moved off to look around. Jack watched him, delighting in the view.

"Call me Jack. And I'm glad you decided to give us another try," he said. "Coffee?" The man gave him a thoughtful look before replying.

"I could make it if you like," he offered, hands tucked into his pockets. "I've been told I make a decent cuppa."

Jack motioned him behind the counter and watched the man set about preparing them two cups of coffee. He was immediately impressed with Ianto's thoroughness, and when the Welshman handed him a full cup of steaming black coffee, he inhaled the rich scent before sipping carefully.

"Wow!" he exclaimed. "More than decent—that's the best cup I've had in years!"

Ianto was standing close and looked quite pleased at Jack's reaction. "I try my best," he murmured. Jack met the man's eyes over his cup, and there was a charged silence between them for several heartbeats, until Ianto coughed and turned away.

"Time to browse."

Once more they chatted across the store. Jack asked about the wedding Ianto had been dreading the last time he had stopped in the shop, and was given a complete report on the outlandish festivities, complete with biting commentary that left no doubt in Jack's mind that Ianto was very much not the type to marry big.

Ianto in turn asked about Jack's own experiences with large weddings, and Jack found Ianto to be a willing listener for his lavish stories. Which wasn't necessarily a good thing: the man looked good, had a fabulous accent, and was a great listener with a smart sense of humour. He was, quite possibly, the most perfect man Jack had ever met. Oh, he was sure Ianto Jones had some negative qualities tucked away somewhere beneath that suit, but at that moment all Jack could think about was pressing the man against the biology section and…

"Jack?" asked Ianto, suddenly standing in front of the counter where Jack was daydreaming. "Is everything all right?"

Jack looked up into Ianto's eyes, tempted to brush his lips against the other man's to see what it would be like, what he would taste like. He shook his head, stood up straighter, and grinned.

"I'm good, just gathering wool. Find anything?"

"I think so," Ianto replied, placing a battered copy of a The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy on the counter. "Been a while since I read it, should be good for a boring weekend away, even if I'm not traveling offworld."

"Where are you heading?" Jack asked as he rung up the book.

"Edinburgh," said Ianto. He shrugged. "Could be worse, I suppose."

"I like Edinburgh," said Jack. "Although I like Glasgow better. Here you go. I hope it's not too boring—the trip, not the book. Douglas Adams is never boring."

"Thanks," said Ianto, pocketing his change. He once again pulled a watch—a battered old pocketwatch, or maybe a stopwatch—from his coat and glanced at it before finishing his drink in a hurry. "I enjoyed the coffee," he said.

"The pleasure was all mine," said Jack, and Ianto raised a curious eyebrow at that. It was true, though. Jack was ridiculously glad the Welshman had come back to see him. Or his shop, whichever. Maybe he should ask if Ianto wanted to get a drink. He could afford to close the shop for an hour or two on a Thursday night…

Then again, Ianto was only there for a book. He had a girlfriend. He was going out of town. It would probably be for the best if Ianto did not come back to the shop considering Jack's rather intense fantasies about the man, but Jack still hoped he did, even if he was straight, unavailable, and busy.

He did.

Jack tried not to let his excitement show when Ianto Jones walked through the door after another three weeks, but he had so thoroughly enjoyed their coffee and conversation last time that he couldn't help it. He'd been thinking about the Welshman constantly. This time Ianto was preparing for a big meeting the next day and had decided to "get himself looking respectable again" at the salon across the street.

Jack wasn't sure if he should phone Tosh and thank her, or if they should thank him. Either way, he felt like he owed the girls across the street; maybe he'd send them flowers.

"And what exactly do you do?" asked Jack. Although they'd talked the other two times Ianto had been in the shop, Jack had not asked about the man's job, nor had he said much about his own eclectic career.

Ianto shrugged. "I'm the personal assistant to the director of Torchwood and Company."

Jack was impressed. No wonder the man dressed so sharp. He idly wondered what a man like Ianto Jones, who seemed intelligent, organized, and reserved, might actually have in common with someone like him. Jack had only recently settled down in one place after what felt like a lifetime of traveling. In spite of owning his own business, he was spontaneous, disorganized, and kept unusual hours. He liked to fly, he was editing a book on top of running the bookshop he had half-inherited, and he enjoyed a man's company as much as a woman's.

Still, that didn't mean he couldn't enjoy talking with Ianto, getting to know him better. It was entirely possible that under the calm, collected PA persona was someone quite different. In fact, Jack not only sensed it, but he wanted it. There was something about him. Owen would probably offer a snarky comment about opposites attracting.

"Cup of coffee?" asked Jack. "Tell me your secret and I'll try my best to emulate that last cup you made."

The other man laughed. "I like my secrets, thank you very much."

"And I liked your coffee. Would you do the honors, then?"

"Of course." The conversation flowed easily as Ianto joined him behind the counter and prepared his special brew. He frowned when it was finished, glancing around as if searching for something.

"Cups?" he asked, and Jack stared at him blankly, until he remembered the box of recycled paper cups he'd tossed on top of the history section.

"Hang on, let me get some more." He headed over to the shelves and reached as high as he could, but shoving it up there had been much easier; there was no way he could reach the big box to pull it down.

"Need a hand?" asked Ianto, watching with amusement on his face.

"Nah, just a chair," said Jack, grinning at him. Ianto rolled his eyes. Jack thought it was quite possibly the most erotic thing he'd seen the man do yet, and had to shake himself out of another fantasy-driven daze when Ianto placed a chair in front of him.

"Thanks," he said, stepping up and reaching for the box. It was not heavy, and he turned to hop easily off the chair. Unfortunately, his foot caught on the edge, and instead of a graceful leap to the floor, he found himself flailing his arms to keep his balance. He barely managed to toss the box back up on the shelf before toppling over completely. . . right into Ianto, who was trying to help him stay upright.

They tumbled to the floor with a loud grunt of pain as Jack landed on top of Ianto, very much aware of the man beneath him. Yet before he could enjoy that wonderful feeling, Ianto swore and rolled them over, and the box came crashing down, spilling paper cups all over them.

Now Ianto was on top of him, and they both laughed as cups rolled over and around them. For a moment Jack let himself revel in the feeling of the gorgeous Welshman pressed against him, peering into the man's deep blue eyes. Ianto gazed back, their noses touched and god, Jack wanted to kiss him so much in that moment, he even parted his lips and tilted his chin up, willing the other man to make the first move. Ianto stared at Jack's lips, met his eyes again, then abruptly pulled away.

"I should go," he murmured, running a hand through his hair. Jack sighed as he rolled over and sat up. Ianto was already gathering cups.

"You can't go without your coffee," Jack pointed out. Ianto looked at him wide-eyed.

"Coffee? Right. Coffee. I'll finish up and be out of your way." He hurried behind the counter, poured their drinks, and handed Jack his cup. Though he did not meet Jack's eyes, their fingers touched, and Jack knew he was not imagining the spark he felt, especially when Ianto stepped back and covered his own reaction with such a deep sip of hot coffee that he started coughing.

"Sorry," he gasped. "I didn't mean to…for that…you know…"

"It's fine," said Jack, smiling a bit wistfully down into his own cup. He really liked this man, the feel of his body against Jack's notwithstanding. Yet it was fairly clear that even if Ianto had enjoyed it too, he was also scared by it. Which was when Jack reminded himself that Ianto was straight, had a girlfriend, and was supposed to be across the street for an appointment before his big presentation at Torchwood and Company the next day.

"I hope I'll still see you around," Jack offered as Ianto turned abruptly toward the door. The man paused, then glanced over his shoulder with an unreadable look before nodding.

"I hope so too. Good night, Jack."

"Good night, Mr. Jones," Jack murmured. He sipped his coffee as he watched Ianto dash across the street, then finished cleaning up the box of cups before texting Owen. He needed to go out and get a drink, or he'd wind up pining for Ianto Jones all night.

Jack didn't see Ianto for another six weeks after that, and though he tried not to think about the man, he often found himself wondering how the man's presentation had gone. He wondered how Ianto had got a job with Torchwood and how long he had worked there, whether he liked it or not. And he wondered why Ianto had not come back to the shop.

He thought about Ianto far too often, usually at rather inopportune times. If someone came into the shop in a suit, his head whipped up and he grinned even before seeing that it wasn't the Welshman. Owen was taking the piss every opportunity he had, to the point that Katie and Martha had started to feel bad for Jack and were talking about setting him up. Again.

To take his mind off the man and steer clear of his friends' matchmaking attempts, Jack returned to editing the book he had been working on for over two years with a zealous determination to finally get it published. He'd finished writing it over a year ago, while working part time at the shop his father's best friend owned. After a dozen rejections, he knew he needed to rework the manuscript, but then Alex had retired, leaving Jack the shop, and it took up so much more of his time that he tabled the book. Now he felt drawn back to it, for some reason. Maybe because it was something he could do, something he wanted and knew could have if he worked at it. Maybe it was simply a distraction from something he couldn't have.

When Ianto Jones came into the shop almost two months later, Jack found his crush had not abated at all, and he could only stare at the man before him, smartly dressed in a dark blue pinstripe with a light blue shirt and sharp red tie. Ianto raised an eyebrow.

"I like the suit," said Jack with a grin, and was rewarded with that gorgeous eye roll.

"I can't be the only man who wears a suit in here," he pointed out. "Do you say that to all your customers?"

"Just the good-looking Welsh ones," Jack replied. "So what brings you down this way today, Mr. Jones?" asked Jack.

"I'm looking for Orson Scott Card—Ender's Game."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "If I have it, it'll be with the science fiction, but you know that. Childhood favorite?"

Ianto nodded. "One of the best. I wore my copy out years ago. Would you…" He hesitated again, his hands falling to his pockets with a shrug. "I could make coffee, if you like."

Jack stepped back and let the man through. "You don't even have to ask, Mr. Jones. I acknowledge you as the coffee king."

Ianto gave him a smirk. "You hardly know me and you'll let me touch your equipment without permission?"

Jack tried not to choke on a gasp; the man was still flirting with him, even after running off the last time he had been in the shop. That was it; Jack was smitten. He leaned close and murmured against Ianto's ear. "You can roast my beans any time."

Ianto stiffened, then burst out laughing. "Seriously? That's your coffee related humour?"

"It wasn't that bad," Jack said, pretending to pout. Ianto raised an eyebrow, and Jack gave in and laughed with him. "Okay, it was terrible. I'll do better next time."

"Next time?" asked Ianto, stepping back and crossing his arms over his chest as they waited for their drinks.

"Well, you've been here four times already, Mr. Jones—"

"You're counting?" Ianto murmured.

"—and at this point I'd be disappointed if I didn't get to drink your coffee again and try to make up for my poor attempt at coffee related humour."

"Right," said Ianto as he poured them each a coffee. "You can call me Ianto, you know."

"Not when you're in my shop," Jack replied.

"So when I walk out I'm someone else?" Ianto asked, his eyes twinkling.

"I wouldn't know," said Jack. "In here it seems more proper."

"And you're a proper sort of bloke?" asked Ianto. His skepticism was obvious, as was the teasing lilt to his voice.

"Not usually, no," said Jack, laughing and offering a wink. "You've caught me on a good day."

"Call me Ianto," the other man said as he left the counter area and walked toward the shelves. "Mr. Jones was my father."

Jack wanted to ask about the man's father, noting the use of the past tense, but an older woman Jack recognized came in at that moment, and Jack found himself talking with Sarah Jane instead of Ianto. He and Sarah had both worked with the Doctor and had struck up a friendship upon meeting in London when Jack had finally settled down.

He wasn't sure if the Welshman was disappointed or not when he found what he was looking for and checked out, but Jack made sure that the other man knew that Jack was sorry to have missed their usual conversation.

"I'm sorry I couldn't talk more. I hope to see you soon, Mr. Jones," he said as the Welshman headed toward the door. "Thanks for the coffee."

"You're welcome, Jack. I'll see you around." He paused at the door and smiled. Jack smiled back, and then Ianto was gone, and Jack turned to find Sarah Jane watching him with a very knowing look on her face.

"So tell me about him…" she began.

Ianto returned early one Sunday afternoon two weeks later. He looked a bit worse for wear, dressed casually in khakis and a button down with several days worth of stubble and messy hair. The casual look was just as gorgeous as the suits, though Jack thought maybe the man had been ill and wondered why he was out.

"How are you, Mr. Jones?"

"Finally feeling human," he said with a sigh as he sat down in one of the chairs Jack had scattered about the front of the shop for readers.

"So you thought you'd pop into a bookstore to celebrate?" asked Jack. Ianto raised an eyebrow.

"I'm heading across the street," he said. "I'm getting the works, right down to a clean shave."

"If you've been sick, you deserve it," said Jack. "What's it been, three days?"

"On the nose," said Ianto. "But I haven't been sick."

"You look exhausted," Jack pointed out.

"I am," said Ianto. "Because I spent the weekend watching my niece and nephew."

"Ah ha!" said Jack. "That explains everything. Well, ask for the doting uncle package, then. Tell Tosh that I said you deserve it."

"I don't need all that," Ianto protested. "I just want to relax and not think about anything. I have a work function tonight."

"And what sort of work function drags a man out on a Sunday night after watching his niece and nephew all weekend?"

"The wrong kind," Ianto laughed, and Jack loved the sound of it. "Actually, it's a dinner party with a potential client. Posh restaurant, private room, that sort of thing." He sighed as he leaned back into the chair. "Almost as bad as a wedding, only with less people."

Jack was quiet for a moment, wanting to ask a question, not sure if he should, but needing to know and throwing caution to the wind. "Are you bringing anyone?" he asked as casually as he could.

Ianto gazed at him, his expression unreadable. "No, not this time."

"Girlfriend busy?" asked Jack, hoping he didn't sound curious. Ianto gazed down with a sad smile.

"No, we broke up about two months ago."

Jack wasn't sure whether he should feel bad for the man or thrilled that Ianto was available. "I'm sorry," he offered, then managed a cheeky grin. "I'd offer to be your escort if I didn't already have a date with my DVR and a large pile of forms and requisitions."

Ianto looked startled at that and glanced away. Jack was slightly surprised that the Welshman hadn't parried back; instead, he cleared his throat and changed the subject. He asked about Jack's work at the shop—how had he started, what did he enjoy about it, those kinds of things. He listened intently as Jack told his tales. Jack almost hated how easy it was to talk to this man, though he told himself that Ianto was simply being polite by listening. The man couldn't possibly be that interested, after all. Not in him.

Ianto came into the shop twice over the next fortnight. It was fairly obvious he wasn't going to the salon, especially since the second time he walked in right before closing. Jack offered coffee, Ianto went behind the counter and made them two cups, and they sat and talked in the chairs for over an hour. If Jack didn't know better, he'd swear it felt like a date, but even if Ianto was single again, that didn't mean he was interested in Jack. Not like Jack was interested in him.

Jack was disappointed not to see Ianto for a month after that. He worked on his book and tried not to think about the man too much, but he was starting to worry. When Ianto did come back in, Jack was almost shocked at the man's appearance: tired and haggard, it could not possibly be from running around after his niece and nephew for a weekend. He was thin and pale and distinctly unhappy. Something had happened to the man, and it was not good.

Jack shook Ianto's hand, wrapping his other hand around it and meeting Ianto's eyes. "Everything all right, Mr. Jones?"

"It will be," Ianto replied.

"What can I do for you today?" Jack asked. "Coffee, tea, massage?"

Ianto raised an eyebrow. "You do massages at a bookshop?" he asked, the hint of a smile pulling at his lips.

"No, but I'd try it for you," said Jack. He motioned Ianto into the comfortable red chair he seemed to favor and sat down across from him. "I know I don't know you that well and have no right to pry, but you seem upset."

Ianto's eyes fell to his lap, before he glanced up again. "I'm going to a funeral this week," he murmured. Jack leaned forward, laying a hand on the man's knee.

"I'm so sorry, Ianto," he said, slipping into the familiar. "What happened?"

"My mum passed," he said with a wan smile. "She'd been ill, but it's still been hard, you know? That's both my parents, now."

Jack sighed as sat back. "I know it's hard. I've lost both my parents as well."

"It's awful," Ianto said. "I thought they'd be around to watch me get married, to meet their grandchildren, to see me do more, be—" He stopped and shook his head. "Well, you know. So many memories we can't make now."

"Yeah, I understand," said Jack quietly. "And I know it's so hard now, but it does get easier."

"I know," said Ianto, eyes slipping closed. "I remember how it was when my dad passed." He was quiet for a moment. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to unload on you," he said.

Jack shook his head with an understanding smile. "No, it's fine. Part of the job. How about some tea? It's usually better than my coffee."

"Sure," said Ianto. "Thanks, Jack."

Jack went behind the counter and began heating some water on the hot plate he kept back there. Ianto sat in the chair, staring out the window of the shop, and though Jack wanted to keep talking, he wasn't sure what to say.

"Do you have any other family?" Ianto asked, opening the conversation. Jack placed two tea bags in the recyclable cups and brought them over to the chairs.

"Not immediate family, no. My dad and brother died in a plane crash when I was young. My mum passed a few years ago."

Ianto looked completely devastated. "I'm so sorry, Jack," he whispered. "That's…it's…"

"It is what it is," said Jack. "It was all a long time ago. I've moved on."

Ianto hesitated a moment. "Where are you from originally? Your accent…"

"Is American, yeah," laughed Jack. "But I was born here, actually. When my dad and my brother died, my mum moved us back to New York, where she grew up. My dad was English."

"And you came back?" asked Ianto. "I should think New York is no contest compared to London."

"Oh no," Jack said, earnest passion in his voice. "I love it here. I traveled around the UK and Ireland quite a bit when I came back for university. Then I joined the Peace Corps and traveled around the world, but I always wanted to come back here and settle."

Ianto was smiling. "You were in the Peace Corps?" he asked, and Jack nodded. "That's where you got so many of your stories, traveling around the world."

"Yep," said Jack. "I spent several years with the Doctor, one of the Corps best men, helping people on every continent. I've got stories about anything and everything. Must be part of the reason I like books so much."

"You should write them down," said Ianto. "Write your own book. I've enjoyed the stories you've shared." He offered a crooked grin. "Even if I wondered whether you were making them up at times."

"Not one," said Jack, a warm feeling spreading through his chest at the initial compliment. "But thanks. And I have written them down, so maybe someday you'll be able to buy the collection in hardcover." He paused, then offered the man a rakish grin. "Well, I'll autograph a free copy for you, since you're my favorite customer and all."

"Really?" asked Ianto, ignoring the comment about being Jack's favorite customer. "You've written a book?"

Jack nodded and hummed.

"But that's brilliant!" exclaimed Ianto. "I would love to read it."

"I'm trying to get it published," said Jack, which was true. "It's a bit more difficult than I'd thought it would be."

Ianto gazed at him very intensely. "Don't give up, Jack. You'll get it published. You've got amazing stories to tell. I want my autographed copy."

"Thanks," said Jack, somewhat flustered by Ianto's faith and confidence. "I'm still working on it."

"Let me know if anything happens with it," said Ianto, and he sounded like he meant it.

"I will," laughed Jack.

Ianto leaned back in the chair. "Thank you, Jack," he murmured, closing his eyes.

"You haven't even tried your tea," teased Jack.

"Thank you for the distraction," Ianto replied.

Jack nodded even though Ianto couldn't see him. "Anytime," he murmured.

Ianto hummed a noncommittal response, then asked for a story, something wild and unbelievable, and Jack talked while Ianto listened, looking as if he enjoyed it. He sipped his tea, but didn't browse the shelves at all. When Jack was finished, Ianto shook his hand, and Jack told himself the other man was certainly not holding tight, or grasping longer, or letting his thumb run along the top of Jack's thumb.

Ianto returned three times that month, and each time he made coffee and sat talking with Jack. His hair hadn't grown much and one visit was first thing in the morning when he was quite clean-shaven, so it was once again obvious that he wasn't going to the salon across the street. Jack told himself that Ianto was grieving and probably looking for things to do to take his mind off his loss.

And so they talked. Jack shared more about his past traveling with the Doctor in the Peace Corps, and Ianto shared a bit of his life growing up in Wales, then moving to London and working for Torchwood. Jack desperately wanted to ask the man if he was interested in having a drink together, yet something held him back, and each time Ianto left, offering a smile and a wave at the door, Jack felt a bit more unsure, wondering if he was making a big mistake.

Gwen and Tosh came over and wondered if Ianto was ever coming back to see them, but Jack was happy to keep the man all to himself.

Ianto Jones showed up for lunch after that, and in the middle of a rainstorm to boot. Slamming the door behind him, he shook the water from his coat and shivered.

"Afternoon, Jack!" he called into the shop, and Jack left off the reorganization of the fantasy section he'd started that morning and hurried to great him with a handshake.

"You're freezing!" he exclaimed. "How about some hot chocolate?"

"Coffee's fine," Ianto replied, his teeth chattering.

"Why are you out in the rain?" asked Jack. He slipped into his back office, found a towel, and offered it to the soaking wet man before him. If Ianto Jones looked good in a suit, Ianto Jones in a dripping wet looked positively sinful.

"Lunch break," Ianto replied, as if it were obvious. Jack raised an eyebrow.

"And you always go swimming at lunch?"

Ianto laughed. "No, I thought I'd take a look at that autographed copy of Foundation you acquired while I ate."

"Did you bring a lunch?" asked Jack, then noticed the large sack the man was holding.

"I hope you don't mind. You could join me, if you wanted? It's just takeaway, but there's more than enough for two." Jack could not read the look on Ianto's face; he was fairly sure his own was quite flabbergasted.

"Yeah, sure—er, let me grab some plates and napkins from the back."

Slightly in shock that he was going to have lunch with the man he was falling for a little bit more every time Ianto came into the shop, Jack hurried to the back room, grabbed the plates and napkins Alex had left and Jack never used, and went back out front to find Ianto in front of the coffee machine. The poor man was still shivering, and it was all Jack could do to stop himself from wrapping his arms around the Welshman and rubbing him warm.

Instead, they sat and had lunch in the chairs upfront together, sharing the cartons of Chinese food Ianto had brought. Ianto had officially adopted the red chair, shooing Jack out of it last time they'd sat and talked, so Jack had the blue. Jack shared his news that a major publisher had taken a serious look at his book. He was hopeful this was the one. Ianto was thrilled and asked for more details. They also talked about the weather, about the girls in the salon across the street, and the latest rugby scores. Once more Jack was struck by the date-like feel of it, but too soon Ianto pulled his watch from his pocket with a sigh.

"Family heirloom?" Jack asked as Ianto stood, clearly reluctant to leave. Jack hoped it had to do with him, but suspected it had more to do with the weather.

"It was my father's," the man replied. He held it out for Jack to see. To Jack's surprise, it wasn't a pocketwatch, but a battered old stopwatch.

"How do you tell time with it?" he asked. It was antique, solid and dependable and beautiful silver with an intricately carved back.

Ianto looked slightly embarrassed. "I set it whenever I'm going somewhere so I know how long I have."

Jack didn't understand, but handed it back with a smile. "It's beautiful. Old-fashioned."

"Says the man wearing braces and a belt and selling old books," Ianto pointed out. He took the watch from Jack, their fingers brushing slowly. Jack was fairly certain the Welshman smirked.

"Yes, well. It's my style."

"So is this," Ianto replied, pocketing the timepiece. "Lots of things you can do with a stopwatch."

Jack cocked an eyebrow, and Ianto answered with one of his own as if challenging him. Yes, this was flirting, then. Flirting with a pocketwatch. Which made Jack fall a little bit harder for the man.

"I can think of a few," said Jack, hoping for a blushing reaction to his innuendo-laced tone. Ianto simply nodded as if he agreed.

"There's quite a list."

Jack bit back a groan as his own list started writing itself in his head, starting with Kiss him now! There was no way this man wasn't flirting with him, and in such a delightfully unique way. Owen and the girls would never believe him.

Ianto stood and headed toward the door. "Thanks for letting me eat here, Jack."

"Thank you for the unexpected lunch," murmured Jack. He adjusted his trousers before standing. "I enjoyed the company."

Ianto smiled, opened his mouth as if to say something, then shook his head and waved as he left. Jack watched him go, feeling like a moony-eyed school boy again. He really needed to work up the balls and ask the man for a drink.

It wasn't until he returned to the counter that Jack realized Ianto had never even looked at the old copy of Isaac Asimov's classic novel.

When Ianto Jones came back three weeks later, Jack literally felt his heart flip. He had been worried that maybe he wasn't going to see the Welshman anymore. It was early on a Saturday morning, and he was sitting in the front finishing breakfast, dreading the weekend while waiting to open the shop, when Ianto knocked at the door. Jack grinned broadly as he set down the literary magazine he was reading (and not particularly enjoying) and jumped up to let him in.

"Mr. Jones!" he exclaimed, reverting to the formal address he was still finding it hard to drop even after so many months of talking with Ianto. "So good to see you. What can I do for you?"

The man looked extremely nervous, and Jack almost frowned and asked him what was the matter, only the man seemed to snap out of it and smiled back, warm and open.

"Just browsing, as usual," he replied. "If you're not too busy?"

Jack glanced around at the empty shop. Leaning forward he whispered, "I think I can squeeze you in," and punctuated it with a wink. "Especially since I'm not officially open yet." Ianto stopped and stared.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize it was so early…" He trailed off uncertainly again.

Jack smiled and patted the man's shoulder. "No worries. I'm always open for my favorite customer." Jack realized how blatantly sexual that sounded and sort of grimaced, but Ianto laughed softly, shaking his head as if in fond exasperation. Jack tossed his head toward the coffee machine behind him. "Ready to teach me yet?"

"Nope," replied the Welshman. "Because then I'd have to kill you."

Jack gave a mock gasp. "Are you a spy?"

"I actually work for Costa," Ianto whispered. "I infiltrate bookshops and cafes to rate the quality of their beverages."

Jack bit back a comment about being infiltrated, figuring another fairly strong innuendo in such short order might actually scare the man away. He smiled, instead, getting the cups for their drinks as Ianto moved to make the coffee.

"So what are your plans for this weekend?" Jack asked. He was acutely aware of the Welshman beside him and felt the man's eyes boring into his neck, making him warm and uncomfortable. He turned with a forced smile. "Hitting the pub, taking in a match, any more horrid weddings?"

Ianto laughed and shook his head. "No, no more weddings." His eyes clouded over for a moment, as if he was thinking about something, then he shook it away. "And no other plans, although I'm hoping to make some for later."

"And what are you hoping to plan?" asked Jack, trying to hide his disappointment. Just because he didn't have any plans for the weekend didn't mean Ianto couldn't go out. He was a young, intelligent, attractive man, he should be going out. Jack only wished Ianto was going out with him, and not someone else.

"I don't know…maybe dinner, a movie…" Ianto was watching Jack as he handed him his cup, which meant he probably saw Jack freeze, then force a smile and meet his eyes.

"So where's dinner?" he asked, trying not to imagine an intimate table for two, candles glowing around them, soft music playing in the background, a bottle of wine to share with the amazing man standing before him...

"I don't know," said Ianto. "It's sort of a first date, what do you think?"

Jack almost dropped his drink. First date? "So you're seeing someone new?"

"That's why they call it a first date," Ianto replied dryly.

"Do you know them well?" he asked. He wasn't going to hide his curiosity; he wanted to know who had managed to snare this wonderful man.

"Not all that well, but it's very comfortable, you know?" Ianto was once again watching Jack closely, but Jack did not meet his eyes this time, trying to concentrate on anything else but the feel of his heart breaking within him.

"Been a while, but yeah, I know what you mean," he murmured. He sighed, thinking that was exactly how he felt about Ianto, then continued. "You could do something casual, like a pub, but if you're comfortable together, maybe you should go for something nicer. A quiet restaurant, independent, upscale."

Ianto nodded. "Toujours, perhaps?"

"Toujours is a great choice," said Jack. It was a small French restaurant not far from the shop. He'd enjoyed a few meals there, though never a real date. "Not too intimate, not too expensive, but more than fish and chips on a bench."

"I don't know, I like fish and chips," said Ianto.

"Me too," said Jack. "That could be your second date, a walk along the river or something. Toujours sounds good for someone you're comfortable with and want to know better. Nice first impression."

They were silent for a moment as they sipped their coffee. Jack wanted to ask more questions, personal questions, but decided to stay general.

"What movie?" he asked, and Ianto glanced up in surprise.

"I'm not sure, what do you like?" he asked, then slammed his mouth shut. "For first dates, I mean?"

Jack shrugged. "I like anything that sounds interesting—action, adventure, romance, drama. I like musicals and superhero flicks and even a good documentary. But a movie doesn't lend itself to much talking, you know."

"That's what dinner is for," Ianto pointed out.

"But what if you want to keep talking?" Jack asked. "A dark theater kills that."

"True," said Ianto, nodding his head. "So what then? Quiet pub for a drink, perhaps?"

"Could work," said Jack. He was growing uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was heading. It was one thing to be friends with the man; it was quite another to suddenly be his dating consultant. He stood and began moving around the shop, straightening things that didn't actually need to be straightened. "Might be best to have a few suggestions. You could find a quiet café for coffee if you want to talk more, or a nice pub for a pint and a game of pool, or you could go to a club for some dancing. All a bit more interaction than a movie."

"What's your favorite?" Ianto asked again. Jack moved toward the counter and began cleaning it off, his back to the Welshman. "Jack? What do you think would be best?"

"Why are you asking me?" Jack said, letting his head hang down for a moment as defeat washed over him. He wanted to be the one going out with Ianto. He wanted to be the one having dinner with a glass of wine at Toujours. "I'm not…I'm not a dating service," he said, turning around and waving an arm. "I enjoy talking to you, but I'm—"

"You're what?" asked Ianto, standing slowly and walking toward him. "Are you seeing someone?"

Jack felt his mouth literally fall open. "What?" he asked, completely confused.

"Do you have plans for tonight, Jack?"

"What? No."

Ianto smiled, a small and almost sly smile that Jack adored. "Good. Because I have reservations for Toujours at 7pm." Jack stared at him, still somewhat speechless. Ianto looked uncertain again. "And I'm hoping you'll join me."

"Are you…are you asking me out on a date?" Jack was stunned.

"Interested?" asked Ianto, looking even more nervous.

Jack wanted to grab him and kiss him right there. He must have conveyed something of that desire in his body language, because Ianto ran his tongue over his lower lip as he stepped forward.

"Say yes," he murmured, and Jack found himself watching Ianto's lips and nodding.

"Yes," he whispered, then cleared his throat. "Yes."

Ianto breathed out a sigh of relief. "Good. I didn't want to eat alone."

"You planned all this?" asked Jack, and the man bounced on his toes and looked a bit sheepish.

"I wasn't certain what you'd say," he replied. "It's been a while since I've asked anyone out."

Jack grinned. "Well, it was brilliant."

"Are you sure? You seemed upset for a moment there," said Ianto. Jack let his head fall with a laugh.

"That's because I hated that you were asking me about going out with someone else. I wanted to be the one!"

Ianto stepped closer, glanced down, and took Jack's hand, slim fingers sliding perfectly into Jack's own callused hand. "You are."

Jack inched even closer and raised a hand to Ianto's face. "This is amazing," he murmured. "I didn't think you were interested in..." He trailed off as he leaned forward, his intent clear enough for Ianto to pull away if he wasn't ready. But the Welshman was gazing into his eyes with a look Jack had longed to see for weeks, and so he closed the distance between them and placed his lips gently against Ianto's lips.

It was everything he had hoped for and more as the other man accepted the kiss, pressing back with no hesitation and even cautiously opening his mouth to Jack. When Jack slid his tongue inside Ianto's mouth, the other man gasped and wrapped his arms around Jack's waist, pulling them flush against one another. Jack groaned into Ianto's mouth and the kiss deepened, both of them exploring one another with tongues along teeth, and hands across spine and shoulders, and fingers through hair, until Ianto stepped back with a gasp and a grin.

"I should have asked you to lunch," he said with a laugh. "I don't want to wait until dinner."

"I know a café right around the corner," Jack said. "I can close the shop for an hour, or we can get something and eat here, although I'm not sure I'd be able to control myself very well," he added in a low voice, wrapping an arm around Ianto's waist and pulling him close again.

"Me neither," Ianto whispered before plunging in for another breathtaking kiss. "Which is probably why we should wait until dinner." This time he stepped away and actually straightened his clothes. "Although it is going to be a long afternoon with at least one cold shower."

Jack laughed and nodded in agreement. "But totally worth it. Did you want to meet there?"

"I can pick you up here if you like?" Ianto suggested.

"That depends, are you going to bring me flowers?" Jack teased.

Ianto gave him a broad smile. "I can if you like. Brighten up the place," he said, glancing around with a critical eye.

"Hey! You're the one who's been coming into my shop for the last several months. You must like it."

"I like you," Ianto murmured. He gave Jack a short kiss, so short that Jack almost tried to follow Ianto with his lips when the man stepped back again. "And I'm really looking forward to tonight."

"Me too," Jack murmured. He still couldn't believe it. He'd wanted to ask Ianto out for a drink since the first time the man had walked in the shop; instead, Ianto had asked him to dinner. Jack almost felt like he was in one of the soppy romantic films Martha made him watch every so often, usually when she'd had a bad day.

Ianto nodded before turning toward the door. "Got to pick up some flowers," he said, and Jack almost melted when Ianto winked—actually winked—at him. "Although, you never answered my question. If not a movie, what would you like to do after?"

"Have some suggestions, we'll go from there," said Jack.

"Well, we drink a lot of coffee here, and we'll probably have wine at dinner, and I'm not a big fan of clubs, at least not for a first date." He appeared to frown, although Jack was fairly certain the man was thinking along the exact same lines as Jack. He sauntered up to the door, enjoying the look on Ianto's face as he swung his hips a bit.

"Play your cards right, Mr. Jones, and maybe I'll invite you up to mine." He whispered the words in Ianto's ear and punctuated it with a little nibble. Ianto actually groaned.

"I'll pick up a bottle of Scotch, perhaps?" Ianto replied.

"And flowers," Jack reminded him.

"And flowers. Right." He crashed his lips to Jack's once more—god, these last kisses with Ianto had been some of the best Jack had ever experienced. He could kiss this man for hours. Unfortunately, Ianto opened the door behind him, sucked Jack's lower lip into his mouth one last time, then turned and walked out. "See you tonight."

"Right," said Jack, unable to do anything but parrot back Ianto's words. He stood at the door and stared, and even waved like a teenager when Ianto turned around and smiled. He saw Tosh and Gwen in the window across the street and gave them a thumbs up. Then he raced to his phone to text Owen and reschedule their plans for another night. Owen would understand, considering how much Jack had talked about Ianto over the last several months. In fact, Owen would delight in pointing out that Ianto had been the one to make the first move, and not Jack, but Jack didn't care.

He finally had a date with Ianto Jones, and he couldn't be happier. In fact, he was already planning for a second one: fish and chips along the river, or maybe coffee at a bookshop.

FINIS