[personal profile] wanda1969

Title: "Come Fly With Me"
Rating:  Adult concepts- but not explicit this chapter.

Spoilers/Disclaimers :  Torchwood, belongs to the BBC and RTD, I’m just borrowing the characters.

Summary: Torchwood characters in a story set in the glamorous world of international travel!

A/N:  I seem to be permanently either at work or asleep or (this last week) I have a cold, so yet again I must apologise for both the late posting and also my lack of replies to comments. It’s also been very hard for me to write the next couple of chapters, and I’m not sure I’m entirely happy with the results. Also, this is drawing to a close- but I have been working on another AU, although I’ll only posting when I return in late November from an internet-less holiday!

Chapter List:   http://wanda1969.dreamwidth.org/1863.html

 

Chapter  40

 

***

The smell of coffee pervaded Bethan’s nostrils as she slowly came to consciousness, accompanied by a faint thud deep inside her skull. It had been a late night- by the time that Rhiannon and Johnny had gently lifted a sleepy Mica from her grandmother’s bed where she’d been napping for the last couple of hours of the housewarming party, it had been the early hours of the morning. After seeing her daughter and family into a taxi, Beth had quickly said her ‘Goodnights’ and had slipped under the already warmed sheets and succumbed to sleep.

The aroma of the quality beverage had shaken her from her slumber, almost as if the caffeine was carried through the air. It had all the hallmarks of her son’s addiction and skills in the art of coffee preparation. She hauled herself out of bed, grabbed her cotton dressing gown and headed for the bathroom.

***

Beth negotiated the stairs and made her way towards the kitchen, following the almost visible vapour of roasted beans, a bit like one of the ‘Bisto kids’ she remembered from the old adverts. She pushed open the door, fully expecting to see Ianto busily working away like a bee, attending to the rather extravagant machine on the kitchen work top.

She walked through the door and was, instead, greeted by the sight of Jack, fussing over said machine, dressed only in a pair of pyjama bottoms.

He’d obviously heard the creak of the door and turned with a frustrated sigh, seemingly ready to ask advice on the complicated equipment in front of him. A surprised look crossed his features.

“Ah… I thought you were Ianto- ready to tell me how to work this damned thing properly…” He laughed before suddenly realising that he was topless. Jack looked around, almost desperately, before quickly dragging an unwashed and crumpled shirt out of the washing machine and slipping it on. Bethan muttered a ‘Morning’ and smiled at the man’s modesty- his half nakedness wouldn’t have turned a head in Benidorm. It was the first time she’d glimpsed what she now realised was something that Ianto saw on a daily basis- for his age, Jack was in good shape. Her mates at Bingo would have been cooing over him, pointing out how cute he was.

“Good morning, Bethan.” Apparently more confident now fully dressed in front of his ‘mother in law’, Jack continued. “I’ve been watching Ianto, but I’m still not sure I’ve got it right! ‘Just put the beans in and let the Gaggia do the rest,’ he said… I thought I’d surprise you both…”

“It smells great- I wouldn’t worry.”

“Well, that means you’re the guinea pig!” Jack poured a cup of the dark liquid and handed it to her and waved at the milk bottle and sugar bowl. “I’m not sure exactly how you like it…”

A quick splash of milk and a sparse sprinkling of sugar and Beth took a slurp. “It’s good- he’s taught you well!”

Jack looked ridiculously pleased. “I’ll tell him that- but we’ll still have to test the ‘expert’s’ reaction…”

Beth smiled. “I think he’ll be impressed…”

“Sit down and put the telly on- I’ll get some croissants on the go.”

***

News of yet more fighting in Tripoli quickly absorbed Bethan’s attentions as she sat on the sofa and sipped at Jack’s more than passable coffee.

“I’ve been there- it’s a beautiful country. I can only hope that they sort it all out…” Jack said seriously, leaning against the open double doors leading from the dining room into the sitting room. A bell ‘tinged’ in the kitchen. “Ah, the oven’s ready for the croissants…”

Moments later the sound of unsteady footsteps descending the stairs alerted her to what she knew must be her son sleepily making his way towards the kitchen and the smell of coffee. She drained her cup and stood, wrapping her dressing gown around her, and walked towards the kitchen, and the sound of muffled voices.

“… you should have stayed in bed. I was going to bring a cup up for you…”

“Well… I woke up… and I was lonely… And now I’m worried about whether that machine will ever be the same again…”

“Oh, ye of little faith,” Jack said, holding out a mug of coffee as Ianto,sloppily dressed in loose trousers and a baggy T shirt, almost stumbled towards him, dark hair sticking out in tufts. He sipped cautiously at the cup, letting the dark liquid roll around his mouth. He thought for a moment, before smiling widely. “Not bad.”

Bethan reached the wide entrance to the dining room and paused to look into the kitchen and over towards the hushed voices.

“I think I could get used to you bringing me breakfast in bed…” Ianto said, grinning and closing the distance between them. He set the mug down on the work top and looped an arm around Jack’s neck. They kissed greedily, eyes sliding shut, and for a moment it was obvious that they had both forgotten where they were.

Seconds later, Jack brought a hand up between them and placed it on Ianto’s chest. He reluctantly pushed himself away and cracked open an eye which darted briefly towards the doorway. “Your Mam’s up…”

“Oh…” Ianto looked towards the lounge to find his mother staring over. He gave a small, abashed grin, but didn’t remove his arm from Jack’s shoulder; sleepiness had made him weary- too weary to even feign too much embarrassment at being caught mid ‘snog’. He dropped his head as his hand slid away, down the older man’s body, before it fell to his side.

Bethan smiled at her son and gave a laugh. “Ianto… I did get out and about in the 70s before I had you and Rhiannon, you know! I’m not going to freak out if I see you two kissing. Quite frankly, I’d be more surprised- and worried- if you weren’t!”

Ianto looked up at her, head on one side and a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth, despite the pale pink tinge now colouring his cheeks.

However much she’d worried- and she had worried all those months ago- about whether her youngest was making the right decisions about his life, she found herself being reassured, time after time, that perhaps Jack might be the best decision Ianto had made yet. It might well be the twenty-first century, but her other worry had been that perhaps some people wouldn’t be quite so accepting of the two men as Rhiannon and her- but so far her fears were unfounded: the couple had supportive friends and colleagues. And the girls at the Labour Club had actually been impressed at the news that Ianto was seeing a pilot- especially when Beth had declared that she was off on a family holiday, courtesy of her son and Jack. Not that she was ‘bought’ with trips abroad- she was happy enough just to see more of her son than she had done for the last few years, when he’d been with Lisa. Another ‘ping’ of the oven’s timer brought her back to the present.

“Croissants are ready!” Jack said cheerfully, and grasped at a couple of spoons and two jars of jam which he’d got out of the ‘fridge and placed them on the dining table. Ianto reached for the butter dish and coffee pot without instruction, and set them down on the raffia table mats in the centre of the table.

Bethan and Ianto took their places at the table as Jack plated up the hot pastries to sounds of “Ooh… ouch!” before he joined them.

As she smothered a croissant in jam, Beth was sure that she really couldn’t be happier with the way that things had turned out. She was pretty sure that her son felt the same.

***

To Be Continued…


 
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