After a couple of hours, Ianto’s still nursing the last drops of his pint, quite put off finishing it by Rhys and Jack’s unspoken competition. He’s lost count of how many drinks they’ve had, matching each other sip for sip, now trying to outdo each other with jokes and anecdotes. Jack, of course, has risen to this new challenge with all the arrogance of a stage performer, and all the taste of late night TV.
Rhys is holding his own, though. And the more they drink, the louder and longer they’re laughing at each other’s jokes.
Gwen’s been drawing patterns in the drips on the table for the last twenty minutes.
In perfect unison, Rhys and Jack down the last of their current pints and slam the empty glasses onto the table. This sets Jack giggling for a minute, then he slaps his hands to the table and manages to stand up, declaring, “Next round’s mine! Gwen, Ianto, what’ll you have?”
“Oh, no thanks, Jack,” Gwen says, waving one hand, and Ianto raises his glass, making his own excuses with a quick, “Haven’t finished this yet.”
“Just you and me, then,” Jack tells Rhys, with a leer and a wink, and saunters off to the bar.
To Gwen and Ianto’s surprise, Rhys laughs.
“Rhys, pet, do you think you’ve had enough yet?” Gwen asks him, as he sits back with a smile.
“Oh, I’m fine, I am,” Rhys says airily. “Anyway, I haven’t told Jack about that time with Daf and the nuns yet. You remember?”
“I’ve done my best to forget,” Gwen tells him, giving Ianto desperate looks.
“Be back in a bit,” Rhys says, struggling to his feet and weaving off towards the toilets, pausing to express comradeship with the rugby supporters watching some small-time match on the big screen.
“Ianto,” Gwen says pleadingly, “we’ve got to get them out of here. They won’t be able to walk if they take much more.”
Ianto nods, and gets up to head over to the bar. Jack’s there, with two more pints, putting his wallet away on the second or third attempt.
“Jack,” Ianto says, “I think –”
“Ianto!” Jack declares, delightedly. “Great! You can take the drinks back to the table. I gotta pee. Thanks.”
He grabs Ianto and kisses him clumsily, then lets go, grinning widely, and strolls off to the toilets.
Ianto grabs the drinks and shoves his way back to the table, face burning.
“Drink some of this?” he asks Gwen, handing her one of the pints. “They’ll never leave if they think there’s work still to be done.”
Gwen blinks at him for a second, then gets up and goes to the next table, tapping the nearest man on the shoulder. She offers him the drink, and he brightens up, a sudden gleam in his eyes, until she tells him, “Take this, would you? My husband’s had more than enough.”
Drink disposed of, she turns back, takes the second, and donates that to another happy customer.
“What’s taking Rhys so long?” she asks when she gets back, and though it’s probably rhetorical, Ianto has a sudden horrible thought.
“I’ll be right back,” he tells Gwen, and slips through the crowd to get to the pub toilets.
He walks in and stops dead, and the door swings shut behind him, cutting off the noise of the pub. After only a beat he has to stop himself from laughing, and pulls his phone out of his pocket.
He sends Gwen a photo, with the message Found Rhys attached, and opens the door just wide enough to hear her shriek when she gets it. With no regard for propriety or convention, she comes barrelling across the pub and bursts in, by which point Ianto has managed to separate Jack and Rhys, and has Jack mumbling nonsense as he clings to Ianto’s waist, while Rhys has launched into a surprisingly good rendition of Hymns and Arias.
“That’s it, we’re going home,” Gwen tells Rhys, in a decidedly no-nonsense tone, and practically drags him out of the toilets.
“We should do this more often,” Jack decides happily, and Gwen casts a look back, in perfect agreement with Ianto on this one.
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Rhys is holding his own, though. And the more they drink, the louder and longer they’re laughing at each other’s jokes.
Gwen’s been drawing patterns in the drips on the table for the last twenty minutes.
In perfect unison, Rhys and Jack down the last of their current pints and slam the empty glasses onto the table. This sets Jack giggling for a minute, then he slaps his hands to the table and manages to stand up, declaring, “Next round’s mine! Gwen, Ianto, what’ll you have?”
“Oh, no thanks, Jack,” Gwen says, waving one hand, and Ianto raises his glass, making his own excuses with a quick, “Haven’t finished this yet.”
“Just you and me, then,” Jack tells Rhys, with a leer and a wink, and saunters off to the bar.
To Gwen and Ianto’s surprise, Rhys laughs.
“Rhys, pet, do you think you’ve had enough yet?” Gwen asks him, as he sits back with a smile.
“Oh, I’m fine, I am,” Rhys says airily. “Anyway, I haven’t told Jack about that time with Daf and the nuns yet. You remember?”
“I’ve done my best to forget,” Gwen tells him, giving Ianto desperate looks.
“Be back in a bit,” Rhys says, struggling to his feet and weaving off towards the toilets, pausing to express comradeship with the rugby supporters watching some small-time match on the big screen.
“Ianto,” Gwen says pleadingly, “we’ve got to get them out of here. They won’t be able to walk if they take much more.”
Ianto nods, and gets up to head over to the bar. Jack’s there, with two more pints, putting his wallet away on the second or third attempt.
“Jack,” Ianto says, “I think –”
“Ianto!” Jack declares, delightedly. “Great! You can take the drinks back to the table. I gotta pee. Thanks.”
He grabs Ianto and kisses him clumsily, then lets go, grinning widely, and strolls off to the toilets.
Ianto grabs the drinks and shoves his way back to the table, face burning.
“Drink some of this?” he asks Gwen, handing her one of the pints. “They’ll never leave if they think there’s work still to be done.”
Gwen blinks at him for a second, then gets up and goes to the next table, tapping the nearest man on the shoulder. She offers him the drink, and he brightens up, a sudden gleam in his eyes, until she tells him, “Take this, would you? My husband’s had more than enough.”
Drink disposed of, she turns back, takes the second, and donates that to another happy customer.
“What’s taking Rhys so long?” she asks when she gets back, and though it’s probably rhetorical, Ianto has a sudden horrible thought.
“I’ll be right back,” he tells Gwen, and slips through the crowd to get to the pub toilets.
He walks in and stops dead, and the door swings shut behind him, cutting off the noise of the pub. After only a beat he has to stop himself from laughing, and pulls his phone out of his pocket.
He sends Gwen a photo, with the message Found Rhys attached, and opens the door just wide enough to hear her shriek when she gets it. With no regard for propriety or convention, she comes barrelling across the pub and bursts in, by which point Ianto has managed to separate Jack and Rhys, and has Jack mumbling nonsense as he clings to Ianto’s waist, while Rhys has launched into a surprisingly good rendition of Hymns and Arias.
“That’s it, we’re going home,” Gwen tells Rhys, in a decidedly no-nonsense tone, and practically drags him out of the toilets.
“We should do this more often,” Jack decides happily, and Gwen casts a look back, in perfect agreement with Ianto on this one.
Never, ever again.