Title: A Moment Like This
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Warnings/Spoilers: no spoilers, nothing too graphic, lots of kissing? :D
Rating: PG-13
Genre: fluff, schmoop~
Word Count: ~1,710

Notes: Written for the schmoop_bingo prompt dancing, and loosely inspired by a recent wedding I attended. ;) It is not, in fact, inspired by the Kelly Clarkson song of the same name, however, I have a strong suspicion that this may be the song playing while Jack and Ianto are dancing, and because of that, the title seemed to fit. ;) Comments are, as always, very much appreciated.

Ianto hasn't seen his cousin Brenna in over ten years.

To be honest, he's really not sure what he'd been thinking, replying to the neatly packaged wedding invitation with a 'plus-one'. Especially since at the time, he's not sure he and Jack were well, anything, really. He's not sure how he'd define things if she asked him right now either. Boyfriend, partner, boss-with-benefits, all of the above?-Ianto has no idea what to call this. He hopes no one asks, and thankfully, they don't.

Not that any of this matters when he's pressed up against Jack on the dimly lit dance floor, of course, the large disco ball above them casting light and shadows in patterned spots that float over their suits like oddly-shaped bubbles.

Ianto had wanted Jack in a suit, plain and simple. A proper suit, one that hung on his frame just so, tailored to Jack's broad shoulders, to the shape of his chest. If he were to be honest, this was a large part of his motivation for dragging Jack along with him tonight.

And now that his arms are wrapped around that suit, now that he's clinging onto Jack as if his life depends on it-sometimes it does, he reasons-while the majority of his remaining family members hang around the bar, or chat at the large tables decorated with flowers and confetti… Now that they're here, and he's gotten what he wanted, well, Ianto feels pretty damn good. His chest warms with affection, with contentment.

If he could, he'd probably float away, up past the disco ball, into the ceiling of the hall and then past it, into the night, into the stars.

He's a little drunk, sure. Not terribly so, but enough that he doesn't think twice before wrapping his fingers around Jack's neck, his thumbs brushing against Jack's ears as he brings their foreheads together and they move along to the music. He can feel Jack's breath against his nose, and as he presses a little closer, he thinks maybe he can feel Jack's eyelashes, fluttering against his skin, just for a second.

He doesn't care what this looks like, or how intimate it must appear to anyone watching—right now, he just wants to be close to Jack, wants nothing more than to feel his warmth, to feel Jack's arms around his back, just above his waist, supporting him. He wants this moment, wants to etch it permanently into his memory, just like this-just him and Jack on the dance floor, their bodies pressed together comfortably, Jack's arm snaking around his spine, pulling him closer.

Ianto brushes his lips against Jack's neck, not really a kiss, just breathing him in, holding on tight.

Jack never drinks when they're out in public, but tonight Ianto thinks he's had one, maybe two glasses of wine. It feels good, knowing that Jack has let go a little-he can feel the relaxation in Jack's muscles, can feel that the usual tension in his shoulders, his neck, is gone.

They sway to the music, but neither of them are really paying attention to the DJ. Ianto doesn't know the song that's playing, and he's sure Jack doesn't either. It doesn't matter. They hold each other close anyway, moving in synch with each other, and when the song ends and something fast, something with a bit of a beat comes on they don't realize it for a few seconds.

Finally Jack figures out that they're the only ones not moving. He laughs a little into Ianto's hair, and then he takes his hand, pulls him off to the side of the dance floor.

There's a moment where they stand there just watching each other, and then Jack kisses him-not too deep, not too intense, though to be fair, it is a little more involved than what they'd normally allow to be shared in polite company.

Ianto can taste wine on Jack's tongue.

The sensation is new and exciting, so he lingers there for a moment, trying to draw out the flavors one by one. Desire curls tight in his stomach, and suddenly Ianto is a little desperate to be alone with Jack, to be anywhere but here.

It's Jack who pulls away first, and puts a little distance between them.

Ianto just stares at him for a moment, just long enough to take it all in-Jack's flushed cheeks, his tie a little loose, the dark silk of his rented jacket shining a little as the lights play over his chest in patterns of gold and silver. Ianto's heart swells as he leans forward, Jack's body heat warming his skin, close enough to Jack's ear that his lips almost brush the soft skin there.

"Come home with me," he whispers, and Jack's hand is already in his pocket, reaching for the keys to the SUV.

They say their goodbyes quickly-Ianto's surprised to find that they've actually out-stayed a number of the other guests.

Jack's smile is bright and charming when he thanks Brenna's parents for a lovely evening, his arm around Ianto's waist. The warm contact distracts Ianto, makes his mind wander, makes it hard to concentrate on the faces of these people who've known him since long before Captain Jack Harkness ever entered his life.

Jack is kissing him before they even make it to the SUV, making him stumble almost as soon as they're outside the hall, as his hands wander over Ianto's body, and his lips claim portions of Ianto's neck, his chin, his earlobe.

And then Ianto is tugging at Jack's shirt, as Jack presses him up against the door of the SUV, and this is nothing like the dance floor, but at the same time it feels a little like there's music in his head, and he wonders if maybe Jack can hear it too, because their lips and their bodies are moving together in a sort of rhythm, back and forth, with Jack humming in the back of his throat, and Ianto moaning a little because he can't help it, because kissing Jack is so good, always so good.

Ianto is so comfortable in his skin like this too-as if this is where he's truly meant to be, has always been meant to be. As if this is the purpose of his body, of his skin and of his bones and of his heart.

Ianto sways a little—-he's getting carried away, forgetting where they are. The handle of the SUV door is pressing into his back too, and he shifts a little, breaking the contact with Jack as he straightens up, suddenly aware of the fact that they're still in public—away from the dance floor, sure, but there's nothing stopping anyone else from coming out here and seeing, well... Seeing Jack all but rip off Ianto's clothes before having his way with him in the back seat of the SUV.

And as brilliant an idea as this may seem to be right now, Ianto's not about to let it happen 20 meters from his cousin's wedding reception.

Jack is backing off a little now too, grinning at Ianto lasciviously as he straightens the front of his pants, and reaches for the door handle.

"Let's go home," he says.

Ianto couldn't agree more, and as Jack speeds out of the parking lot, he starts to wonder if maybe he couldn't find more opportunities like this to get Jack out of the hub, into a suit, onto the dance floor. Preferably minus the wedding and his family, if possible, but he'd take whatever he could get.

Jack is quiet, eyes focused on the road, but there's something else there too, something a little nostalgic, a little bittersweet.

Ianto reaches over and places his hand on Jack's knee as he slows to the upcoming red light. Jack turns to him, and covers Ianto's hand with his own, squeezing it a little.

"It means a lot to me that you came tonight," Ianto says softly, wishing that there wasn't so much space between them right now.

He wants to touch Jack, wants to feel the lines of his face under his fingers, wants to feel the curve of Jack's lips against his skin.

Instead, Ianto turns his hand over in Jack's, palm to palm, and squeezes Jack's hand until the light turns green, and Jack lets go.

"You know I don't usually care for weddings, but this..." Jack glances at Ianto for a second, before turning his eyes back to the road. "This was nice."

Ianto just nods, getting comfortable in his seat, leaning back a little, his eyes on Jack, who's gone back to watching the road.

"I haven't seen Brenna in years," Ianto says finally, breaking the silence. "If it weren't for you..." He pauses, smiling a little, and fixes Jack with an appraising look. "If it weren't for you looking so good in that suit, I may have skipped this altogether."

Jack grins. "I'm glad you didn't."

"So am I."

And then they're both quiet for a while, and somewhere in the back of Ianto's mind is the tune to a song he doesn't know, and the memory of Jack, pressed against him on the dance floor, moving to their own rhythm, oblivious to anything else. Like they're the only two people on the planet.

He tucks the memory away, filed somewhere between several fantasies involving Jack and a very expensive, very well-tailored tuxedo, and Jack's memories of his own wedding so many decades ago, which he'd shared with Ianto over a few beers at his flat a month or so back.

Ianto leans back into the seat of the SUV, and closes his eyes, a slight smile curling up at the corners of his mouth.

Jack looks over after a moment and laughs.


"You're looking pretty pleased with yourself, that's all."

"Maybe I am."

"And why is that?"

Ianto shrugs. "It's just been a good night, that's all."

"The night's still young, you know," Jack states, but Ianto's already halfway there.

"And here I thought you'd never ask," he says, his eyes shining a little with anticipation, as Jack pulls into the driveway in front of his flat.