"Well…" Jack looked half-startled, half-amused. He thought for a moment, and then grinned. "Yeah, I guess so."
There was an odd air about that grin – a nostalgic, loving, in-joke sort of element to it that made Ianto incredibly irritated. It was there every time that this doctor was mentioned. Every. Single. Time.
It made Jack look as though he'd rather be somewhere else. As if Torchwood, as if Ianto, were just ways to pass the time until this 'doctor' – that apparently could only ever be spoken of in riddles – came back into his life.
Doctor, Ianto thought irritably, Doctor who?
It was like Jack had read his mind; something of what Ianto was thinking must have shown on his face. Jack's eyes danced for a moment as he looked at Ianto, and then he smiled.
"I didn't have to come back." Pause. "I wanted to."
There was a timid, contemplative silence… or perhaps it was just that words would have destroyed the moment of what it was. And then Jack kissed him, and everything – everything – was alright. Just for a second. And then they broke apart.
"Good pillow talk." Jack smiled. And then he rolled over again.
And they both fell asleep.