Jack was in the doghouse, and no mistake.
All the way through the delicious roast dinner Ianto had cooked, he made a point of chatting with their guests while completely ignoring Jack.
Martha and Tom kept throwing little glances Jack’s way, but whether that was out of sympathy, amusement, or disapproval he wasn’t entirely sure; their expressions were unreadable. He supposed he should just be thankful Ianto had deigned to feed him, not even withholding the Yorkshire puds.
One thing was for sure; Jack had learned his lesson. Never again would he make dinner arrangements without talking to Ianto first.