Title: Show Me, Don't Tell Me
By: amuly
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Word Count: 575
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Jack and Ianto's first date after YTNW.
Warnings: none
A/N: Written for kausingkayn over at my prompt fill. The prompt was: Jack/Ianto, of course. ^_^ Their first date, after John Hart. But can it be a complete disaster?

***

Jack was stabbing the tablecloth with his knife. Stabbing the tablecloth. With his steak knife. At a five-star restaurant.

Ianto glared. He continued to glare at the knife as he took a sip of his wine and set the glass back down. He continued to glare at the knife even as the waiter brought them their entrees, and both men let the food just sit in front of them. Jack was stab, stab, stabbing the table, refusing to meet Ianto's eyes. And Ianto was glaring.

“Ahem.” Ianto coughed none-too-delicately. Jack's head shot up, taking one look at Ianto's glare and following it to his knife. With a sheepish grin, Jack set the knife neatly down on the table.

Some semblance of manners achieved, Ianto set about trying to take full advantage of the date. Too soon, Ianto found that without the distraction Jack's stabbing at the table had offered the two of them, he had nothing to say. Their eyes skittered over each other's as they both poked half-heartedly at their food, before setting their utensils down entirely and staring blankly around the restaurant. Ianto took another swig of his wine. The waiter appeared at his elbow and refilled it.

“So...” Jack's eyes followed the waiter as he left, before turning back to Ianto. “So. Do...” he stopped, fiddled with his knife, set it down, stared at the ceiling, glanced at Ianto, then smiled crookedly. “I'm going to say this, but promise you won't storm out right away, okay?”

Ianto arched an eyebrow, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms. A nervous jolt went through him, but he nodded, keeping his face as stoic as he could.

“Wouldn't you just rather... er... fuck?”

Ianto counted to ten, and didn't walk out. He had nodded at Jack's request not to, after all. Giving himself thirty seconds to contemplate Jack's nervousness and examine his own feelings on the matter, Ianto finally found a response. “A bit,” he admitted. Though when Jack seemed ready to rise out of his seat, Ianto arched an eyebrow.

Jack slowly settled back down. “Well?” he questioned. “What are we doing?”

Ianto sighed, scrubbing a hand through his hair and looking around the restaurant. “I don't know, Jack,” he grumbled. “What are we doing?”

Jack frowned at that, obviously picking up on the double-meaning of Ianto's question. Before he could reply – surely to spout some nonsense about 51st century mores and the wave of the future – Ianto continued.

“I thought maybe you wanted to go on a date with me to show me that you... I dunno,” Ianto grumbled, “cared. God forbid.”

Jack frowned, eyes soft. “But I do. That's... that's why I asked. Because that's how you people show it, right? The dates, and food, and,” Jack glanced around the restaurant, “fancy waiters. All that.”

“That's...” Ianto paused, considering this. As he was thinking, Jack leaned across the table and covered Ianto's hand with his. Serious blue eyes stared across the table at Ianto as Jack spoke again.

“When I said I came back for you, Ianto, I meant you. All of you, sure. But you in particular.”

Ianto pulled his hand away from Jack's decisively, raising his hand for the waiter. “Prove it to me,” he challenged Jack. “How you would prove it,” he added at Jack's confusion, “not how you think I want you to prove it.”

With a grin, Jack slapped several hundred pounds down on the table and stood, offering his arm to Ianto. “Let me show you.”