wanda1969

Title: "Come Fly With Me"
Rating: PG- I don't think there's anything dodgy in here- at least not yet.

Spoilers/Disclaimers : Torchwood, belongs to the BBC and RTD, I’m just borrowing the characters- I own nothing here, nor do I make any money! So please don't prosecute!
Summary: Torchwood characters in a story set in the glamorous world of international travel! Fluffy, romantic and cheesy in the extreme, I suspect!

A/N: Thank you for reading – I’m getting quite confused by multiple posting and may not have thanked everybody! Also on lj. We’re getting there... PS In my experience I know no one who’s been turfed off a train on the way to Heathrow- it just served the story.

Chapter 1- dw: http://wanda1969.dreamwidth.org/284.html

Chapter 2- dw: http://wanda1969.dreamwidth.org/764.html

Chapter 3- dw: http://wanda1969.dreamwidth.org/808.html

Chapter 4- dw: http://wanda1969.dreamwidth.org/1148.html

Chapter 5-dw: http://wanda1969.dreamwidth.org/1357.html

“Come Fly With Me” Chapter 6

The nights were drawing in back in the UK, and Ianto could hardly believe he’d been working on Torchwood’s international routes for just over six months. The time had ‘flown’ by, helped along by the fact that he was working his maximum number of hours; without Lisa’s financial input into the flat, the bills had taken up a larger proportion of his wage. He was grateful he’d made the decision to take some time off from his OU degree, as frankly, he barely had time to recover from the long haul flights and do the laundry back home, never mind look at the recommended reading lists or write an essay.

He couldn’t complain about his job, though. He knew that compared with the average charter flight, he had little to gripe about. With the exception of the odd stroppy or demanding celebrity, life with Torchwood Airlines was a fairly easy ride; most passengers were seasoned, repeat travellers, and there was little in the way of ‘air-rage’ or drunkenness.

And his colleagues were supportive and professional to a fault. Gwen, who’d been the other ‘new starter’, had settled into the routine well, and loved the unobtrusive policies of the airline. The staff had more than enough time to deal with the passengers without the constant need to sell ‘duty-free’s. Over the last couple of months, though, Ianto had noticed that she’d started to arrive at the team briefings before flights at more or less the same time as Owen, the co-pilot- whether those meetings were at Gatwick, Heathrow, or at one of the overseas airports... Not that most of the crew seemed to notice; only Jack, Tosh and himself had appeared to catch on.

More recently, too, Owen and Gwen’s ‘friendship’ meant that Jack was often at a loose end when they arrived at their destination. This had led to more and more times where Jack and Ianto had spent evenings together. A meal or drink, here and there. Which was great- until Ianto started to think about his increasingly confused feelings about the man. Jack Harkness was larger than life; air hostesses and passengers alike positively swooned in his presence. Not that that should have affected Ianto. Apart from the fact that Jack seemed to be that little bit too attentive, those accidental touches slightly too intimate. The older man made him nervous, for a lot of reasons, some of which Ianto didn’t really want to think about. But what Ianto wasn’t prepared for was Jack’s constant appearances in his thoughts and dreams. He really was spending far too much of his time at work, and needed to expand his non- existent social life, he thought to himself.

***

It was a Wednesday night and they’d finished another hectic double run back and forth to Singapore and Hong Kong, and the crew were all due a week off. Part of Ianto wasn’t looking forward to the time he’d have to spend at home, alone, tidying his flat. Perhaps he really ought to make a start on the spare room, too. He’d been putting that off since Lisa left.

So the young man had spent a considerable amount of the Thursday and part of Friday, doing his laundry, and sorting through boxes in the dreaded spare room.

He was wondering exactly what to do about dinner (after a rather disappointing look through his kitchen cupboards), when his ‘phone rang. If he hadn’t called his sister, Rhiannon, the night before, he would have assumed it was her, rebuking him for his complete and utter uselessness at keeping in touch with his family.

A swift look at the screen of his mobile showed that it wasn’t Rhiannon. The name on the screen stated ‘Jack Harkness’. His initial enthusiasm was quickly replaced with worry. Was there some kind of emergency at Torchwood? An unexpected shift call?

He answered the ‘phone, putting a stop to the shrill ring tone.

“Hi Jack, what’s wrong? Have we been called in for extra shifts?”

He heard a slight laugh but noticed that Jack sounded uncertain. “No, nothing’s wrong. I’ve just found myself in possession of two tickets to the Comedy Store tonight. Just been visiting friends and their babysitter’s skipped out, so they can’t go. Rhod Gilbert’s on the bill, and I remembered you said you liked him. I was just wondering if you wanted to go, if you’re free? Maybe have a snack? I know you must be busy...”

“Yes...I mean no. Just tidying up. In fact, I was just looking at the rather woeful state of my kitchen supplies...”

Ianto hadn’t meant to imply he needed dinner but Jack quickly responded. “I know quite a good Italian round the corner from the comedy store... so if you fancy some food... tell you the truth, my cupboards are pretty much the same- bare. Never seems to be that much time for shopping...”

“Yeah...” Ianto was still a little surprised by the call.

“It’s OK Ianto, I was just given the tickets...No obligation- I’m sure you’ve got plans. I’ll leave you in peace.”

The Welshman immediately regretted his lack of enthusiasm. “I’m not doing anything, Jack. Well, I need a shower... there’s far too much dust in this flat! Where do you want to meet?”

***

Jack had been somewhat reluctant to call Ianto- for goodness’ sake they spent enough time together at work, but he’d been unable to pass up on the opportunity of seeing the other man when the two tickets had been pressed into his hand. His friends’ babysitter had called with a rather dubious excuse of having a ‘virus’ and he’d been visiting so had been in the right place at the right time to be eagerly chosen as the lucky recipient of the unwanted tickets.

In fact, Jack was starting to worry that his call was a step too far. Yes, he liked the other man’s company, and even though there was no use denying that it was based on his attraction to the man, he genuinely enjoyed Ianto’s company anyway. The last shift had finished less than two days ago and his thoughts had strayed rather far too often to the younger man in that time.

Like a considerable proportion of the airline’s staff, including himself, Jack knew that Ianto lived in West London, in Ealing to be precise. He remembered that they’d chatted about how Lisa had chosen a flat near the Piccadilly Line, for easy access to both Heathrow in one direction and Central London in the other. Ianto could hop onto the tube and be in Town in time for some food and the show.

He’d picked up the ‘phone, tried to ignore his nerves, and called Ianto.

***

For some reason Ianto was less than composed as he quickly washed and dressed. A quick scan through the clean clothes in his wardrobe resulted in a pair of dark jeans, a casual dark purple shirt and a black waistcoat. He looked down at the waistcoat and, for a moment, he wondered if he looked far too formal, almost as if he was back at work, but a look at his watch showed he was on the last minute. He grabbed a winter coat from the coat hooks in the hallway and set out to catch his train.

***

Ianto arrived outside Piccadilly Station and didn’t have too much trouble spotting Jack amongst the crowds. He was casually dressed but wearing a heavy, vintage great coat, which he later told Ianto he’d bought when he was in the RAF- ‘just for a bit of show’.

Jack led him to the small, old fashioned trattoria, incongruously situated in a tiny side street. Although it was just off Haymarket, it was as if it was miles away from the usual tourist traps of London, which had meant that Jack had been able to book a table at short notice.

***

The evening was perfect, Ianto thought. If it had been a romantic date.

But it wasn’t, yet Ianto found himself thinking that there was a distinctly ‘date-y’ feeling to the night.

Although the surroundings were comfortingly traditional, all red and white checked table cloths with wax covered Chianti bottles holding candles, the food had been exceptional. They’d shared bread and a Mozzarella and Tomato salad and then Jack had chosen a simple pizza, with artichokes, chilli and olives- which hadn’t stopped him from insisting on tasting some of Ianto’s Penne alla Vodka e Pepe Nero. Jack had been attentive in the extreme; he’d guided Ianto into his seat, a light touch to the Welshman’s back, after helping him out of his coat. He hadn’t failed to see the way that Jack’s eyes roamed over his shirt and waistcoat before settling briefly on the hip hugging dark denim, and he’d blushed. Thank God the lighting was low.

The Comedy Store had been one of those places that Lisa and Ianto had always meant to get to, but they had never quite made it. The venue was dark and packed, and Ianto had found himself sitting far too close to the older man, but at least the show had distracted him from the fact that he felt his breath catch every now and again, as his arm, or leg, would be pressed against Jack’s in the closely placed seats.

They had a drink at the bar after the show, and it was late and drizzly when they left to catch the tube. They were both going in the same direction; Jack’s home was also handy for Heathrow, just off the main line after Ianto’s stop.

They’d been chatting and laughing about the acts as they neared Ianto’s station, when a crackly announcement came over the carriage’s speakers.

“Transport for London would like to announce that this train will be terminating at South Ealing due to an incident further down the track. We hope to have trains running as soon as possible but would like to apologise for any inconvenience caused to passengers. For passengers with valid flight tickets travelling to all terminals at Heathrow, we will be arranging for overground transport as soon as possible...”

“Oh, bloody typical...” Jack moaned. “This would have to happen when we’re not even on the way to a flight- I can’t even flash my Torchwood ID and get a lift!”

“C’mon. You’re going to have to get off at my stop. There’s always the taxi rank there.” Ianto said as they got ready to get off the train.

Ianto was right to some extent- there usually was a full taxi rank there, but it was a busy Friday night, and they soon found that whatever taxis there had been left had been quickly hailed by other, quicker, passengers in the same predicament. The taxi rank was completely empty and a quick walk round the corner to a private hire firm’s office was fruitless. All cabs in the immediate area had been booked.

“Shit!”

Ianto looked around. It was starting to ‘drizzle’ more heavily now. “Come on. You can come back to mine to wait and call a taxi in a while... ”

“It’s OK...”

“Don’t be stupid, Jack. It’s raining, and it’s the least I can do after this evening- I’ve really enjoyed myself.”

***

To Be Continued...