Work Text:
5 PM. Sunday. 1998. A fancy seafood restaurant by the docks.
A man's voice can be heard from a corner table. "You stupid, good for nothing little kid. What do you know? Nothing. I don't speak idiocy. I don't understand it. I don't understand you."
A teenager responds nonchalantly. "Then how do you understand any of your thoughts?"
The man looks pissed off. "What? Stop being dumb."
The child is undeterred. "I said, how can you understand your thoughts if you don't speak idiocy? That's all that ever comes out."
The man drops his utensils. His nostrils flare in anger. "You're a stupid kid, you know that? You have no real world experience. Get a job."
The teenager sighs as if he's had this exact conversation countless times and was getting sick of it. "I'm fifteen."
A woman's voice. Soft. Trying to diffuse the situation but making it worse. "Why won't you listen to us? We have more life experience than you."
The teenager is starting to get agitated. "It's not the fifties anymore. Times have changed. Your 'experience' is outdated."
The man's voice returns. "Then how are we so successful?"
"Society favors the old. Everything is changing fast and people are getting left behind in the past."
The man doesn't understand. "What does that even mean? That's stupid. You're stupid. You don't know anything."
A chair creaking. The teenager leans towards the man. "Please tell me what is so stupid about my generation."
The man leans forward as well, a holier than thou expression on his face. "Get jobs. Your people are useless, going on about not being able to get a job and- look at me when I speak." The teenager was looking at his drink, crushing the straw in his grip. "Don't tilt your head back, look at me when I speak." The teenager looks but continues to crush the straw. "Now, as I was sayi-"
The woman again. "Ianto, stop."
The teenager had taken the straw from his drink and flicked it at his father.
"Stupid kid. I know more than you. Listen to your elde-" The straw is flicked again. Spots appear on the man's dress shirt.
Splash.
The sound of ice cubes falling from a cup.
The teenager is covered in soft drink, ice cubes collected in his lap. He glances down. Glances up. Makes eye contact with the woman. Grins.
The woman whips towards the man. "Why did you do that?" She turns to the teenager. "Clean yourself up, Ianto."
"No." Ianto replies, crossing his arms over his chest, still grinning.
"Just do as she says, Ianto." A girl pipes up. She's been watching silently.
"No." Ianto says again, grin gone and sounding more sure than before.
"Why did you have to make a scene? This was supposed to be a nice family dinner."
'Nothing about this family is nice,' the teenager thinks.
The man scoffs. Whispers, "he had it coming."
Ianto stares at his hands under the table.
He doesn't see anything as he leaves the restaurant. His eyes are blank, unfocused, unnoticing. The staff give him odd looks which he only partially notices from the corner of his eye. They don't ask why his shirt is soaked or why he isn't as polite as he was when he'd first walked in. Gone is the smiling young man who bantered with the waitress and made sure to say thank you every chance he got.
The staff notice that something is wrong. They don't do anything about it. It isn't their place.
Then who's is it?
---
"Ianto?" A man's voice across from him. A pleasant one this time. Filled with good memories. The voice of Jack Harkness. Ianto tears his gaze away from the table in the corner. Jack speaks again. "Hey, are you okay?"
A slight grimace. "Just...remembering."
Jack looks worried. "Your father?"
Ianto nods. Chuckles darkly before he can stop himself. "The first time a drink was ever thrown at me and it was by my own father."
Jack looks concerned. He reaches his hand over the table, knitting his fingers with Ianto's and giving a small squeeze. "He's gone now. You're okay."
"I know. But this is the first time I've been back since that day. I'm trying not to think about it. I'm glad you're here with me. That makes it easier."
Jack beams.
Ianto looks to his menu, seeing it clearly for the first time since they'd entered the old restaurant. He takes a deep breath and changes the subject. "So, what are you ordering?"
Jack looks strangely at Ianto but doesn't pry. They have all night to talk. Right now, they were going to eat and talk about anything and everything that came to mind that doesn't trigger repressed memories for either of them. Later tonight Ianto would curl up next to Jack, place his head over Jack's heart, and tell him the full story. For now…
"Tosh says the salmon is good."