Torchwood Is My Home (A Janto Fanfic)

Chapter 9

Ianto's POV

~

I come back into our room to see Jack standing in the centre of the living room, a cocky smirk on his face. He's just come out of the shower, proven by the fact that his wet hair is flicked back in a very badass way and the fact that he is wearing nothing apart from the towel around his waist.

My breathing speeds up and my palms become slightly sweaty. I'm trying to resist the urge to do a 'Chariots of Fire'- style run towards him and kiss him. My mind turns to mush and all I can think about is him.

"Ianto," he asks me, his accent strong as always "I was wondering if you wanted to go out for dinner tonight?" he smiles, waiting for my reply.

A puzzled look spreads over my face. "But Jack, the world could be ending." I say quietly, even though I want nothing more to go. 

"The world's always ending." Jack says, stepping forward and kissing my lips before stepping back. He turns and retreats into the bathroom to get dressed "At least think about it?" he asks over his shoulder. He winks at me and then closes the door behind him. 

There are butterflies in the pit of my stomach. I now know what Lisa meant when she said she got pre-date nerves. I really want to go. Actually, screw that. Oh Ianto, now is not the time for innuendos! I NEED to go. 

I stride over to my wardrobe and open the door, looking for the perfect suit.

"Jack!" I call through the closed bathroom door "How formal is the place we're going to?"

There is a second's pause, and in my mind's eye I can see him smiling to himself about his victory. But I’ll allow him to gloat, as we don’t really go out that often, what with having to keep an eye on the Hub pretty much 24/7.

"Probably 8 out of 10 on the formal scale of McDonalds to Ascot." he replies, laughing "I see I have persuaded you to come."

I smile "Only just." I reply, laughing at how easily we can turn any conversation into a game of innuendo bingo.

I pluck a suit from the wardrobe and slide it off the hanger. I think it’s suitable, and he’s said before that he likes it: white shirt, silvery waistcoat, dark grey pinstripe suit, charcoal tie.

I take my shirt and tie off in anticipation of getting into the bathroom. I stretch my arms above my head and decide to take a quick nap while he’s getting ready. Sleep doesn’t fill my mind, happy thoughts about Jack occupy my mind instead.

That's another thing I like about my relationship with Jack. We still have the concept of personal space. We don't go into the bathroom at the same time, we have separate wardrobes and keep our stuff organised separately. Some people would say it's a bit strange, but it's just the way we like things. We don’t swap clothes like some couples either, due to having completely different fashion sense.

Jack unlocks the bathroom door and steps out. My jaw very nearly hits the floor. He looks stunning. He is wearing his usual RAF uniform, but there is a subtle difference that I can't quite place. He looks even hotter than usual and I find myself blushing as I try to stop my eyes from raking over him. Look at his eyes, Ianto! It’s rude to stare.

I grab my clothes and scuttle into the bathroom before I embarrass myself further. The air in here smells of him. His beautifully natural '51st century pheromones', smelling better than any aftershave invented past, present or probably future too. I decide not to have a long shower, just a quick splash to freshen up.

I undress and get into the shower, cranking the dial 360 degrees to get the hottest water possible. A warm rain patters down on my skin, soothing my tired face. I cup my hands to collect some water and then smash it into my face in an attempt to wake me up. It only half works.

As the glass shower cubicle starts to steam up, I start to draw. Nothing very artistic, just the usual childishsmiley faces and pictures of kittens and such.Only to annoy Jack, of course. He hates having to clean the drawings off the glass. I suddenly remember a rhyme to draw a dog from when I was a child.

There once was a stick-man with no arms and some bees. That does the dog's nose and lips, plus a couple of whisker spots on each side.

They chased him around the world twice.A small circle for the muzzle nestled inside a larger one for the head.

And all he had for breakfast was eggs and sausages. Two sausages on the top of the head for ears, eggs for eyes - the pupil being the yolk part.

There we go, a perfect Basset Hound. I laugh at my silliness and get out of the shower, grabbing a towel off the rail to get dry before getting dressed in my suit of choice. I don’t even want to think about how much this month’s dry-cleaning bill will be…