Small spoiler from "Something Borrowed."

"Can you fix it?"

Huw turned the coat over in his hands, his fingers lightly stroking the strong wool, lingering over the barely attached buttons. There were large gashes running down its sides and back. The left sleeve was nearly torn off at the seam while the right sleeve was practically shredded by what looked suspiciously like teeth marks. Large teeth marks. There were stains on the collar and the torn lapels that had to be blood. Lifting a lapel closer to his face, Huw studied it before glancing up, an eyebrow quirked.

"It's a long story," said the customer, putting on a smile that just belied the worry he'd exhibited earlier when he'd entered Huw's shop, holding the coat like it was a dying loved one.

Despite the damage, Huw could tell the coat was gorgeous. And authentic. It was a true RAF greatcoat, complete with the original epaulettes that showed the wearer to be the rank of captain. Huw looked at his customer again with a skeptical eye. The man was maybe a year or so older than Huw himself. There was no chance he could have been old enough to serve during the second World War.

"I've taken it to three different tailors already and they all said it was a lost cause," the man continued. "One of them said I should just get a new one, but that's not an option."

"Yes, it's an original," Huw agreed. The idiot who'd given that advice was probably Davies. He could repair clothing with the speed of a machine, but the man had little respect for certain aspects. If something wasn't new enough to Davies, it might as well be in the bin.

"It belonged to my father," the customer explained, answering Huw's earlier, unasked question.

Turning the coat over again in his hands, Huw ran his fingers over the gashes. Those would be difficult to mend, but the shredded right sleeve would be the biggest challenge. The left sleeve and blood stains would be comparatively easier.

"It's taken quite a battering," said Huw. "Were you wearing this in a pub brawl?" he couldn't help asking. Possibly one involving lions?

He looked up in time to see an amused, almost proud expression. "Something like that," the customer answered.

"I doubt your father would have appreciated it."

A look of surprise shot across the customer's face at the reprimand. It looked like he was about to argue back before something in Huw's stern eye seemed to deflate him a little. "Yeah. You're right," he conceded.

Huw mildly cleared his throat and carefully refolded the coat. "I'll see what I can do, sir," he said. "But I'll need to inquire about getting the proper fabric for this sleeve. If you'll wait a moment, I can make the call now and let you know how long it'll take."

A large smile split the other man's face and for a second, Huw was a little stunned by how that seemed to transform his look entirely. "Thank you," he said, sincerely with relief.

Taking the coat with him, Huw pushed back the curtains splitting the storefront from the back. He phoned a Mr. Meredith Hughes who did wonders in locating the most difficult types of cloth and placed the order to arrive tomorrow. It was after he'd put the phone back on the cradle that he noticed a shoe poking out from underneath his desk. Carefully, he slung the greatcoat on his desk and crouched down to peer underneath. His son's small face peered back at him, guiltily holding a map unfolded on his lap. To his credit, Huw didn't let any of the shock he felt show up on his features.

"Ianto? What are you doing down there? Or for that matter, what are you doing here?"

"I'm off to London, Dad," he announced as confidently as befitting a six year old.

"London? Why?" Huw inquired.

"I'm going to have an adventure."

"Are you now?" said Huw, mildly. He reached over and gently took his son under his arms to pull him out from the confines of the desk. "Off to London before you've had your tea?"

Ianto made a face. "Aunt Winn's cooking tea," he said by way of explanation.

Huw tried to hide his own grimace and failed. His sister was a horrible cook, though she did make exceptionally good coffee.

"Your mam'll be worried sick when she finds you gone," said Huw, absently brushing at the dust that clung to his son's jumper. "This isn't like our old place, Ianto. She won't know who to call if you go missing."

"But I'm not missing," Ianto argued. "I'm going to London."

Huw noticed the map Ianto still clutched in his hand. "You finding your route, then?"

He saw a long squiggly pencil mark that Ianto had drawn from Cardiff to London. He could also make out an erased, but still vaguely visible line Ianto had drawn from Cardiff to Newport. Huw sighed. He knew how much Ianto hated the fact that they'd moved. Granted, Newport was only a 30 minute car ride from Cardiff, but it was still a change, which had bothered his son a lot more than he'd visibly let on. A reprimand rested on the tip of Huw's tongue for his son who knew he wasn't allowed to walk around outside without an adult. But Huw knew the change in house, which was smaller and constantly being overrun by his sister, who often insisted on helping them settle in, had been hard on his son along with the change in schools. And he hadn't even been able to spend all that much time with his family at their new home now that he had a new shop to take care of. Ianto was his only child and somehow he still felt like he was neglecting him, which wouldn't do. He lightly set Ianto down on his desk, next to the greatcoat, until they were more or less eye to eye.

"How old are you now?" he asked, knowing full well.

"Six and a half."

"As old as that?" Huw feigned surprise, though he noted Ianto looking a little skeptical at his performance. "Well, in that case, you're definitely old enough to learn a thing or two about how the shop is run."

That got a sudden spark to light up in Ianto's eyes before he quelled it with a serious frown. "But, you said I couldn't help until I was tall enough to see over the counter," he pointed out. "It's a rule." Though it was a half-hearted argument as his intense desire to work with his father warred with his general belief that one had to follow the rules.

"We'll make an exception for today," said Huw. Picking up the greatcoat, he presented the non-bloodied side of it to his son. "Look at this, Ianto," he said, reverently. "This is an original. Do you know what that means?"

Ianto tentatively reached out a small hand to touch the coat, looking at his father first, who nodded his permission. "It means it's like your watch," he replied, giving the blue-grey fabric a soft pat. "It's really old."

Huw nodded. "Yes, exactly."

"It's all torn. But you're going to fix it, right?"

He'd been a father for six and half years now and still Huw sometimes found the utter trust and faith his son had in him a little frightening. But he gave his son a fond smile. "Of course I am. When I'm done it'll be right as rain. Now, I need to tell the gentleman outside that his coat is in good hands. Call mam and let her know where you are."

When Huw returned to the storefront, he found the customer idly admiring a suit Huw had hung up to work on before he'd been interrupted.

"I like this suit," said the customer, fingering one of the buttons.

"I'm afraid it's not for sale," Huw replied.

"I'm not really a suit wearing kind of guy, actually," he said. "But I do appreciate a guy who can." There was a certain suggestive leer on the man's face as his blue eyes seemed to rake over Huw and the suit he wore. Huw bit back an amused laugh.

"The wool I'll need to mend the sleeve will be in tomorrow," Huw informed. "If you come the day after that, your coat should be ready. I'll just write you out a receipt."

For the rest of the afternoon, Ianto sat quietly in the desk chair Huw wheeled into the storefront and watched his father work. Customers walked in with the odd shirt in need of mending or trousers needing to be measured for. It was all work Huw needed, but he found himself slightly annoyed at the interruptions as he wanted to go back to working on the greatcoat. There was a sense of excitement running through his fingers as he carefully mended the gashes. It had been a long time since he'd been given a task that truly required some deft artistry and skill. By closing hour, Huw all but slammed the curtains down so he could go back to the coat, uninterrupted.

By his work bench, he'd laid out a pile of receipts for Ianto to organize by month to keep his son busy. With studied concentration, the boy carefully wrote down each receipt's total on a piece of paper he'd been given to tally up in surprisingly neat handwriting.

"You're very good at that," Huw remarked from his spot. "Anyone ever tell you you'd make a good accountant?" he asked, teasingly.

"I don't want to be an accountant," Ianto answered, seriously.

"Do you know what an accountant does?" asked Huw.

Ianto shook his head, setting down a receipt in its appropriate pile. "But I don't want to be one. I want to be a tailor, like you."

Huw smiled, though privately he hoped his son would choose something else to do with his life. It wasn't that Huw didn't find great happiness in his work, but like all parents, he wanted his child to become something more, accomplish more, than himself. "You'll have plenty of time to decide what you want to do. You're only six."

"And a half," reminded Ianto.

"And a half."

"And you said that was plenty old," Ianto added.

"Right, anyone ever tell you you'd make a good solicitor?" Huw grinned. Looking over, Ianto saw his father was joking and smiled back, though he wasn't entirely sure what a solicitor did either.

"I'm done," Ianto announced, capping his pen. "Is the coat fixed yet?"

Keeping his hold on the needle and thread, Huw flipped the coat over, the front now free of any blood stains and its sleeve re-attached. "It's still on the mend. What do you think?"

Ianto moved closer to his father's work bench and looked at the coat. It looked even nicer with the sleeve on. "It's old. But it looks new."

"The key is to pull the stitches lightly like this," Huw demonstrated. "You put in enough and they'll hold as well as without leaving as much of a mark."

Ianto watched his father's fingers nimbly weave in a stitch and deftly close another section of the slash he was fixing. "It's going to look great," he stated, confident in his father's skills.

"It looks great!" praised the satisfied customer, seeing the finished product. "You can't even tell it was damaged."

Huw held the coat open. "Would you like to try it on, Mr. Harkness?"

Grinning happily, the man slipped into the readied coat, almost sighing when the familiar folds closed around him. Huw couldn't help but fussily brush at the shoulders. After spending two days with it, he found he was going to miss the coat already. He watched Harkness admire himself in the three way mirror, twisting around to see the back and sides.

"It does fit you quite well," said Huw. And it did. In fact, Harkness looked so much at home in the coat that Huw couldn't believe Harkness' father would have looked any more at ease in it.

Turning to him, Harkness grabbed his hand and gave it an appreciative shake. "You're a marvel, Mr. Jones."

Huw smiled. "I do my best, sir."

THE END