“I had the weirdest dream last night,” Ianto told Jack over coffee one morning.
Jack spoke over the rim of his mug, his voice echoing slightly. “Was I in it?”
“You were, quite prominently as I recall.” Ianto was frowning as he thought back over his dream.
“Oooh, do tell!”
Ianto rolled his eyes. “It wasn’t anything x-rated, so don’t get your hopes up.”
Jack looked disappointed. “It wasn’t? How is that possible? Oh well, never mind, tell me anyway.”
“We were out on a Rift retrieval, it was midsummer and it was very hot, the sun shining in a clear blue sky.”
“That’s not a dream; it’s an impossible fantasy.”
“I know, right? When do we ever get hot summer weather? But anyway, in my dream it was a hot and sunny summer’s day, and you had on your brand new summer coat. You were very proud of it, strutting about, showing it off.”
“Not my regular coat?”
“Nope, something completely different.” Ianto closed his yes the better to remember his dream. “It was cream coloured, ankle length, and crocheted in a very fine lacy floral design. You liked it because there were lots of holes in the pattern to let the breeze through.”
Jack grinned. “Crocheted? Sounds like something from the Sixties.”
“Might have been for all I know. You looked pretty good in it though.”
“I look good in anything,” Jack smirked. “Or in nothing.”
“I’ll grant you the last part, but there are some outfits from past decades that nobody would look good in, not even you. Leisure suits, for instance,” Ianto said, pulling a face.
Jack’s nose wrinkled too. “Mm, perhaps you’re right.”
“I usually am.” It was Ianto’s turn to smirk.
“So what happened next? In your dream?”
“That’s where things get a bit fuzzy; you know what dreams are like, jumping all over the shop. I remember you being so happy with your coat as we walked along a farm track in the country, all bare, dry, dusty earth, full of ruts, and then the next minute we were on the roof of an office building…”
“I am good on roofs.”
“That’s true. Anyway, there were lots of other people there, presumably the office workers, and we were all line dancing.”
“Line dancing? Seriously?”
“Yep. I said it was a weird dream,” Ianto reminded his lover.
“You did. Was I still wearing my summer coat?”
“You were, and it looked very fetching, twirling around your ankles, flaring out when you spun.”
“What were you wearing?”
“A suit of course.”
“You didn’t have a nice summer coat?”
“Not that I recall.”
“I wonder if I could get a coat like that…” Jack mused, staring into the distance.
“It wouldn’t last five minutes in our job.”
“True, but it would look lovely over a dress… Maybe I could find a pattern and make one myself.” Coffee mug in hand, Jack meandered off towards his office, deep in thought.
Ianto shook his head with a resigned sigh. What on earth had possessed him to tell Jack about his dream? Now Torchwood’s fearless leader would be scouring ebay all day looking for a vintage crochet coat pattern instead of doing his paperwork. In future maybe Ianto should keep his dreams to himself.