Jack stuck a fork in his own plate and carried it over to the table. It was nice to think back and compare this to the last time the three of them had sat down in Ianto's kitchen, but that's as far as the comparison ended. Because Jack had been the one sick that time, and truthfully that was just a cold. Just a community virus, something that they were guaranteed to get over in a couple of days at the most. This, though. This was something different. Because here there was no guarantee that things would work out the way that they had wanted them to. There was no guarantee that they couldn't just treat the symptoms and make sure Ianto was comfortable as he...
No. Jack shook himself. He couldn't think like that. This would work, and he'd get Ianto back for good...and then he'd most likely stick him in bubble wrap or something and never let him out into the world again. Certainly not into Torchwood. Of course, like hell Ianto would stand for that, but. He could try, at least. He would try, once Ianto got well enough that arguing with him wouldn't make him afraid of accidentally killing him, that is.
"Well, dig in," Jack said. "It's not nearly as nice once you've let it get cold." And true to form, Jack did exactly that, and tucked into the food, pleased with the fact that it'd come out as well as it had, considering the fact that he'd been more than a little distracted making it. It said something about how Jack was feeling that he wasn't shoveling it down like he normally did, but then Ianto supposed that maybe Sulu wouldn't know about Jack's normally questionable table manners anyway. Even if he had shared a meal with the man before, it certainly wouldn't have been a time when Jack was in full form, or anything even remotely close.
no subject
No. Jack shook himself. He couldn't think like that. This would work, and he'd get Ianto back for good...and then he'd most likely stick him in bubble wrap or something and never let him out into the world again. Certainly not into Torchwood. Of course, like hell Ianto would stand for that, but. He could try, at least. He would try, once Ianto got well enough that arguing with him wouldn't make him afraid of accidentally killing him, that is.
"Well, dig in," Jack said. "It's not nearly as nice once you've let it get cold." And true to form, Jack did exactly that, and tucked into the food, pleased with the fact that it'd come out as well as it had, considering the fact that he'd been more than a little distracted making it. It said something about how Jack was feeling that he wasn't shoveling it down like he normally did, but then Ianto supposed that maybe Sulu wouldn't know about Jack's normally questionable table manners anyway. Even if he had shared a meal with the man before, it certainly wouldn't have been a time when Jack was in full form, or anything even remotely close.