milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Ianto was on his way home when the door opened to Milliways.

(It was meant to be an Indian place. He wanted a kebab.)

He sighs, not really in the mood for socializing, but he has never refused an entry to Milliways when it's come and isn't going to start now.

He gets supper from the bar and sits in a booth near the back of the enormous room where he can eat and spread out his work.

He is not hiding. Perish the thought. He'd just rather not be noticed.

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"You would be surprised," Ianto says, lowering his hands to rest his chin on them, "how many people seem to think they can own me, and how surprised they are to find I have different ideas on the subject.

"Jack might sleep with me once because I'm pretty, but I'd rather give him reasons to come back."

"I'm sure he already has reasons to come back," Lorne says, seriously.

Ianto shrugs. "Maybe. He is my favorite person to talk to, outside of this place."

"Well, that's something, then," Lorne says. "It's a start, yeah?"

"Yeah . . . still don't know if it's enough, though. Jack's . . . not like other people."

Lorne nods. "But he's a friend, right? He cares about you?"

"Yeah," Ianto says quietly. "I think that's fair to say."

"Then at the very least he wouldn't do anything to hurt you," Lorne says.

"Maybe."

This is what is known as a Wall of Protection, or Not Daring To Hope.

Lorne is quite familiar with both. He also knows how lonely it can be on the other side of that Wall.

"Well, don't go planning the wedding yet or anything," Lorne teases.

"No fear," Ianto says, rolling his eyes.

"Good. God forbid you actually hope something good might happen."

"Clearly you're unfamiliar with the Welsh."

Lorne shrugs. "You're the only Welshman I know."

"Well, there you go. we do have a tendency to look at a pretty day and say 'Wait till it rains.'"

Lorne laughs. "Wow. That's a ringing endorsement to vacation in Wales if ever I heard it."

"Wales is lovely for a vacation. Just bring your umbrella and galoshes."

"And beware the negative inhabitants."

"Oh, we are dour," Ianto says, shaking his head. "It's a Celtic thing. It's in the bones."

"In your bones, huh?" Lorne asks, smirking.

Mun pleads end-of-the-day loopiness.

"Yes, in the bones. Bones last longer than blood."

Perfectly understandable.

"In your bones like a deep chill?"

"Yes! I am never warm and I hate it!"

"You need to get yourself out to Hawaii," Lorne says, smiling. "Or the Caribbean. Or the Mojave Desert in August. You'll never be cold again."

"Sounds brilliant," Ianto says with a sigh. "Someday." Frowning again, as he remembers Plans.

Damn Plans.