Opportunities or One door closes...and a window opens (1/?)

[madbottoms]

Title: Opportunities/One door closes...and a window opens (1/?)

Rating: Adult (overall)

Genre: AU! No aliens but some familiar names may still be used

Characters: Jack, Ianto, Estelle, OCs as the story moves on

Summary: The holiday season is coming up and Ianto Jones is stuck without a job, with very little money and not too many prospects. So when he is offered a job for two weeks, he readily accepts. But this new job may become complicated when he realises that the man who broke his heart years before is the grandson of his new employer.

A/N: Yes, another AU! This one may not be as cracky as the last but probably just as smarmy. It’s once again another adaptation shamelessly pilfered M&B style romance. Love it or leave it...that’s up to you. This is just something to pass the time until I can start posting my Long Live Ianto challenge. At the end of this chapter you will also get to make a choice. Enjoy. Oh and I really have no idea what to call this story...the current title pretty much sux!

 

*~*

Chapter One

 

Long before the banquet was over, Jack was feeling restless. Why couldn’t people just say thank you and leave it at that? If he hadn’t wanted to donate all the equipment he wouldn’t have done. So why should he be required to sit at the head table and smile for what seemed like hours while everyone from the university’s president on down expressed their appreciation.

 

As if she’d read his mind, his grandmother, leaned toward him and whispered, ‘Most people who donate things enjoy the public recognition. You look as if you have a toothache.’ She gave an approving nod toward the podium and applauded politely.

 

Jack, who hadn’t noticed until then that yet another speaker had finally wound to his interminable conclusion. He rose, made the obligatory half-bow toward the speaker, gave the audience another half-deprecating smile, and hoped that they were done.

 

Apparently, they were—or else the audience had finally had enough too, for most of them were on their feet. ‘At last,’ he said under his breath.

 

‘It’s only been an hour,’ his grandmother said. ‘You really must learn some patience.’

 

Now that it was almost finished he could begin to see some humour in the situation. ‘I didn’t hear you saying anything about the need to be patient while I was getting myself established in business, Gran. In fact, I seem to remember you cheering me on by saying you wanted me to hurry up and get rich enough to buy you a mink coat.’

 

‘What I said,’ she reminded him crisply, ‘was that I wanted a mink coat and a great-grandchild before I died, and since I was perfectly able to buy my own mink coat you should concentrate in the great-grandchild.’

 

He suppressed a grin at how easily she’d stepped into the trap. ‘Well, these people have been telling you all evening how great your grandchild is. So the way I see it, now that you know I’m perfect you have nothing to complain about.’

 

She smiled. ‘And here I thought you brought me tonight only because you couldn’t decide which of the young men or women on your long list deserved the pleasure of your company this evening.’

 

She wasn’t far wrong about that, Jack admitted. He could think of a dozen people who would have been pleased to attend this event with him—unexciting as it had turned out to be. But that was part of the problem, of course. Invite someone to a party and they understand it’s just a date. Invite them to an event and they start to think you must be serious. I

 

His grandmother was looking behind him. ‘Don’t look now, but here comes another one.’

 

And if you take your grandmother to an event instead, the hopefuls start coming out of the walls.

 

From the corner of his eye, he spotted a woman coming toward them. This one was blonde—but only the hair colour seemed to change; they were all young, sleek, improbably curvy, with perfect pert noses. It was as if someone had put a Barbie doll on the copy machine and hit the enlarge button. At least the men had some differences about them, which he liked. In fact he preferred a hard body of a man more these days than not.

 

There had been two of them before they’d even sat down to dinner—fluttering over to enthuse about how wonderful he was to make such a big contribution, obviously thinking that the way to any man’s heart is through is ego. If Jack started the evening with any inclination to think himself special—which he hadn’t—that would have been enough to cure him.

 

‘Time to get out of here.’ He offered his arm to his grandmother.

 

Outside the banquet room, a few people were milling about, buttoning winter coats and wrapping scarves before leaving the warm student union for the wintry outdoors.

 

‘There’s a chair,’ Jack said. ‘And isn’t that your friend, Mary? You can talk to her while I get your coat.’

 

The cloakroom counter was busy, and only one attendant was on duty. When they’d arrived the crowd had been trickling in and there had been two people manning the cloakroom. Now that everyone wanted to leave at once there was just one. Bad planning, Jack thought.

 

Several young men and women were clustered around the end of the counter. Jack recognised some of them as the volunteers who had helped demonstrate or explain about the equipment he had donated to the university before all the dignitaries had trooped up to start the congratulations. Jack looked past them and saw why they were hanging around—the attendant on duty was young, male and not at all hard on the eyes.

 

He fidgeted with his claim ticket as he waited his turn, and he watched the young man. The anonymous uniform of a server—black trousers, boxy white tuxedo shirt, bow tie—he wore, did little for his slim figure but he was still stunning, the sort of man that drew gazes, and attention, and interest.

 

A couple of the hangers-on were certainly interested. Every time he came back to the counter with another coat, comments were made. Some of the comments he ignored, some he smiled at, some he offered a quip in return.

 

He’s leading them on. Not that Jack cared if he flirted with the customers, as long as he continued to work efficiently through the crowd. Before long the foyer was emptying out, but the eager suitors were still hanging around. ‘When do you get off duty?’ one of them asked the attendant.

 

‘Hard to say,’ the young man said. ‘With all these people to take care of, it might be another hour.’

 

‘I’ll hang around for a while,’ the young suitor said. ‘You’ll need a ride home because it’s snowing.’

 

‘No thanks. I like snow. Besides—’ He checked the number on a ticket and went and came back with another coat.

 

By the time he’d got back the suitor had come to a conclusion. ‘I know. You’ve got a boyfriend or girlfriend coming to get you.’

 

He flashed a smile. ‘What do you think?’

 

‘I’ll save them the trouble,’ the suitor offered.

 

The attendant held out his hand for Jack’s claim ticket, but he didn’t look at him because he was still studying the suitor. ‘Tell you what,’ he said. ‘I’ll give you a phone number. Call in an hour—just in case he hasn’t shown up.’

 

The suitor was practically salivating and grabbed a discarded napkin on the counter and thrust it at the attendant. He scribbled something and pushed it back.

 

‘Is this your mobile?’ the suitor asked picking it up. ‘Are you from around here?’

 

He didn’t seem to hear. He looked up from the ticket he held and smiled at Jack. ‘Be right back.’

 

Now Jack understood what had drawn their attention. That smile, coupled with that lovely Welsh accent was quite mesmerising. Even if the polite smile of acknowledgment was almost meaningless, the room instantly grew ten degrees warmer. Or maybe it wasn’t the entire room which heated up but just the people in his general vicinity. That would certainly explain why the athletes’ tongues were all hanging out.

 

There was something almost familiar about that smile...

 

But then, practically everything Jack had seen in the last few days had given him a sensation of déjà vu. It was because he was back on campus, that was all. It had been a long time since graduation. And there were a lot of memories—good and bad—to dredge up...

 

He was gone for quite a while, and Jack started to wonder if he was ever coming back. Jack leaned against the counter and crossed his arms, and the young people, after a few glances in his direction, moved away.

 

The attendant returned with his grandmother’s coat and his own dark cashmere overcoat. ‘Sorry to take so long, sir. I had the mink tucked away in the back, where it would be safer.  It’s too beautiful to risk.’ He ran his hand over the fur before he passed it across the counter.

 

Jack laid the mink don and put on his own overcoat. ‘I seem to have driven away your admirers.’

 

‘Oh that’s alright,’ he said lightly. ‘If they’d hung around here too much longer they’d have gotten in trouble with the boss.’

 

‘I hope I didn’t discourage the young man from calling.’

 

‘Probably not.’ He didn’t sound excited at the possibility. ‘I hope he likes listening to the time and temperature recording.’

 

Jack wasn’t surprised that it hadn’t really been his number he’d handed out. But why had he admitted it to him—a complete stranger?

 

Three guesses, Harkness. Because he’s after bigger game, so he’s making sure you know the other one is not important.

 

No wonder Jack had had that flash of thinking he looked familiar. One predatory gaze was pretty much like any other in his experience.

 

The attendant’s fingertips went out to caress the fur, still draped on the counter. ‘Careful where you leave that. We get soft drink spilled every now and then around here, and I’d hate to see it get sticky.’ He looked up at him through his lashes, with something like speculation in his eyes.

 

He’s debating what kind of approach will be most effective. Well, maybe he’d make it easy for him.

 

He picked up the mink, and then turned back as if struck by an afterthought. ‘I wonder...’ He did his best to sound naive. ‘If I asked for your number, would you pass me off with a wrong number?’

 

The young man looked at him for a long moment and his eyes seemed to get even bigger.

 

Calculating my bank balance, no doubt.

 

‘Wouldn’t dream of it.’ He reached for his claim ticket, which was still lying on the counter, flipped it over, pulled a felt-tipped marker form his pocket and wrote a number down. ‘Here you go.’

 

Jack was certain the number wasn’t for the time and temperature. Not that he’d expect anything else. Now he had connected him with the expensive coat, there was no doubt in his mind that he had given him a real number.

 

Still, he had to admit a trickle of disappointment, because he’d somehow expected more subtlety from this young man.

 

So much for subtlety.  He wondered how long he’d wait for him to call. Too bad that he’d never get to find out.

 

He dropped a substantial tip into a glass jar, and didn’t look back as he crossed the foyer to where his grandmother was talking to a white-haired woman. ‘I’ll meet you here for lunch tomorrow, Mary,’ his grandmother said. ‘And perhaps you can tell bring that young friend of yours to tea sometime in the next few days?’ Jack’s staying with me through Christmas, you know.’

 

Jack held his tongue until they were outside, protected from the falling snow by the awning as they waited for the valet to bring his car around. The street was already covered, with soft ruts, starting to form in the traffic lanes. Large flakes were falling slowly and almost silently. ‘Mary’s young friend is single, of course,’ he said.

 

‘Now what would make you say that, dear?’ His grandmother looked meditatively at the street. ‘Falling snow is almost hypnotic, really. It is such a relief in weather like this to be in the hands of an exceptionally good driver.’

 

‘What big fibs you tell, Granny,’ Jack said dryly.

 

His Jaguar pulled up under the awning. As he reached into his pocket for a tip for the valet his fingers brushed the claim ticket. Maybe he should give that to the valet, too, he thought. No—the kid might think he’d been handed a reward, and no inexperienced young guy deserved the kind of trouble that the attendant represented.

 

Jack decided he’d tear the ticket up and throw it away when he got home. Or maybe he’d keep it for a while, just as a reminder how careful a guy needed to be these days. Not because he’d ever be tempted to use it.

 

The ticket slid from his fingers and drifted downward like a snowflake. The small card was warm from his pocket, and the first huge flake which collided with it melted instantly and blurred the ink. He dived after it, and his dress shoe slipped on an icy pot, almost sending him headfirst onto the icy cement.

 

Even as he was scrambling to keep his balance in the snow he told himself it was stupid to care whether her could still read a number he had no intention of calling. But it burned itself into his brain anyway, as he picked up the ticket and carefully blotted the snowflake away. The handwriting was strong, clear, and neat, each number precisely formed. And there was a nice sequence to the numbers, too. A memorable sequence.

 

An odd sequence, he thought as he slid behind the wheel. Maybe it was even a little too rhythmic. Five-six-seven-eight....Wasn’t that just a little too handy a combination to be real? It sounded more like an intro to a beat than a phone number.

 

‘Was there something you needed to go back for, dear?’ his grandmother asked. ‘Or are you just planning to sit here and block traffic for the rest of the evening?’

 

Jack stared at the ticket still cupped in his hand, and then he reached for his mobile, angling it in the light from the canopied entrance so he could compare the keypad to the number sequence the attendant had given him. When the corresponding letters leaped out at him he started to laugh.

 

It looked like a phone number, alright, but he’d bet it led to only to a mis-dialling recording. Because no phone company would give a customer that particular sequence of numbers.

 

The ones which corresponded to the words GET LOST.

*~* 

So what do you think? Yes? No? If you want to keep reading, let me know.

And now the choice - Jack owns a business - what kind of business is it? Keep in mind that it is a franchise and he is in town to open a new store and whatever it is he has donated some equipment to the University.

Maybe you guys can suggest a story name, too!

Cheers!