Title: The Twenty-First Century Dating Ritual
Author:misslucyjane
Fandom: Torchwood
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Word Count:10,900
Spoilers: Set between “Greeks Bearing Gifts” and “They Keep Killing Suzie.”
Rating: Adult content: sex
Summary: Jack and Ianto explore the twenty-first century dating ritual. It involves reality tv, language lessons, alien pears, the five celebrities list and the merits of a Klingon dictionary.
Author’s Notes: A continuation of Lovers in a Dangerous Time and Everything Looks Perfect From Far Away. Yes, folks, it’s an actual series. A PWP with a soupcon of angst.

Ianto let Jack chose the film, not that it mattered since they spent most of it snogging. Jack had a slight exhibitionist streak, though he rarely pressed Ianto into accompanying him more than he was comfortable. This felt exciting enough for Ianto—like when Jack would corner him in the archives and part of the danger was knowing someone could turn on the CCTV or come down any moment.

But kissing in the dark wasn’t bad, and the theater was mostly empty so he wasn’t worried about people complaining to the management. He slid his hands over Jack’s chest, under his greatcoat, kissing and kissing him, happier than he could believe himself to be.

They decided to go for a drink afterwards. They didn’t hold hands as they walked but were close enough brush elbows, and Ianto couldn’t stop smiling at Jack. He’s beautiful, charismatic and brave, and he loves me, he thought proudly, and decided what the hell and took hold of Jack’s fingers. Jack squeezed his hand and grinned at him—and Ianto noticed his eyes sliding away from him as he watched another man walk past.

Ianto felt the smile fall from his face and he let go of Jack’s hand. “What?” Jack said.

“Nothing.”

Jack looked behind him at the man who’d caught his attention, then at Ianto and took his hand again. “Hey. I was just looking.”

“I know.”

“Ianto,” Jack said and stopped walking, and kissed him firmly, right there on the street. Somebody whistled at them and Jack chuckled against Ianto’s mouth. “You’re hotter, you know. And I’m coming home with you.”

Ianto nodded and touched Jack’s face. “It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

Ianto sighed, and nodded to the door up the street. “Let’s get into the pub. It’ll be easier to talk there.”

“Oh, God, do we need to talk?” Jack said but following him anyway. They both got drinks and sat at the end of the bar, and Ianto watched the foam settle on his Guinness, leaning his chin on his hand. Jack reached over and stroked his back.

“You have no reason to feel insecure,” he said gently.

“I have plenty of reasons. Look around this room, Jack,” Ianto said. “Count how many eyes are on you.”

“So let them look.” He gazed at Ianto steadily. “Count how many eyes are on you.”

Ianto looked around the pub. They both were getting looks; and one woman, her eyes locked on Ianto’s, ate an olive from a toothpick using a great deal of tongue. Ianto turned back at Jack, who was still watching him.

“They can tell, you know,” Jack said. “They can tell we’ve had more brilliant sex in the last twenty-four hours than most people do in half a year. They can also tell that we are going to go home and have more, and they only wish they had something so wonderful to look forward to.”

“There is more to life than sex, Jack,” Ianto said gloomily.

“Yes, there’s also making out while watching a mediocre movie and feeding each other alien pears.” He sipped his drink, eyes still on Ianto. “There are a lot of beautiful people everywhere, Ianto. But you’re the only person I want.” He leaned over to rest his chin on Ianto’s shoulder, and when the barkeep glowered at them Jack gave him his most dazzling smile. “Even though I know you don’t believe me.”

“I believe you.”

“Except when you think I’m on the pull.”

“You were the one who mentioned bringing somebody home to join us.”

“And yet, I haven’t actually brought anybody home. Not even that hot guy on the street, even though he’d probably come. He was looking at you pretty intently.” He lay his arm over Ianto’s back and held his mouth close enough to Ianto’s ear that Ianto could feel his breath. It made Ianto shiver but he didn’t look at Jack. “I don’t mind other people looking at you. I love it when they do. I love knowing other people think you’re as beautiful as I do. You know,” he added, “if you ever got bored and wanted to shake things up, I’d watch you make love to somebody else. I’d love to watch you seduce someone.”

Ianto twitched under Jack’s arm and moved his head a fraction closer to Jack’s mouth. “Oh, really.”

“Yes. Choose someone. Anyone. Claim them, make them yours. I want to watch you.”

Ianto looked over his shoulder, around the pub again. That man at the nearest table had amazing eyes, large and brown and emotive; that woman waiting at the bar had a tiny waist and round, firm buttocks like two halves of a peach; that man a few stools away had long, elegant fingers wrapped around his pilsner glass.

He turned back, his mouth as close to Jack’s as he could get without kissing him. “No.”

“Ah well,” Jack murmured, the words hardly more than a breath on Ianto’s lips. “But if the need ever arises . . .”

“I keep telling you,” Ianto said, not moving away, “I don’t want anyone but you. I’m not pulling, I don’t want to seduce anyone, I don’t feel the need to shake things up. I just want you, Jack.”

Jack smiled. “I think we should do it in the loo.”

“I think that will get us arrested.”

“I think you need to loosen up.”

“I think I should take you home. You can do anything you want to me there.”

“I think we should stay and do it in the loo.”

Ianto laughed and leaned his forehead against Jack’s. “God, I love you, Jack. Even though you are mad.”

“I love you too and I’m going to go even madder if I can’t have you in the next ten minutes.” His knee nudged Ianto’s.

Ianto suppressed a smile, turned away from Jack and sipped his drink as chastely as he could. “I’d like to enjoy this, if you don’t mind. You don’t rush Guinness.”

“Tease,” said Jack. He wrapped his arm around Ianto’s neck and whispered into his ear, “Would you rush your Guinness if you knew at the end I plan to push you into an alley and suck your cock?”

Ianto swallowed the beer too quickly and coughed, feeling heat rush not only to his face but all his extremities. “Er—”

“Sorry,” Jack said, not sorry at all. “You know I hate to upset your equilibrium.”

“Liar,” Ianto said and took another sip—the exact moment, of course, when Jack licked his ear. He shivered and nearly dropped his glass. “Stop it!”

“Why? It’s fun.”

“Are you bored, sir?” Ianto said.

“No, I just want to play a little. Since you won’t let me shag you in the loo.”

Ianto sighed and wished Jack would keep his voice down about his desires. He whispered, “If I let you shag me in the loo will you let me finish my drink in peace?”

“No,” Jack said.

“Then you’re not giving me much motivation to let you shag me in the loo.”

“Orgasms aren’t enough?”

“Surprisingly, no.”

“Pity.” He leaned close again, scooting his stool closer too. “Public sex is hot, is the thing.”

“It also leads to arrests for public indecency.”

“Only if we get caught. And we won’t get caught. I won’t let anything happen to you, Ianto.”

Ianto drank his Guinness. Jack obviously was not going to let this go, and Ianto supposed he’d never have a moment’s peace until he’d indulged him. He drank another gulp, sighed, and got to his feet. Jack arched an eyebrow at him. Ianto smiled and cocked his head towards the door of the loo. He walked—ambled, really, trying to be casual—to the small room and let himself in.

Two minutes passed and the door burst open to admit Jack, his greatcoat flapping behind him, and he grinned at Ianto like a wolf sighting Little Red and her picnic basket. “Hi,” he said and locked the door behind him.

“Hullo, Captain,” Ianto breathed and grabbed his lapels to yank him close enough to kiss. Jack made a muffled sound into Ianto’s mouth and pressed his hands against the wall behind Ianto’s head. They kissed each other fiercely, Ianto holding onto Jack’s lapels. Jack unbuttoned Ianto’s jeans and slid his hands inside, and Ianto groaned at the feeling of skin against skin.

He expected someone to start pounding on the door at any moment, telling them to get out, but he couldn’t hear a sound from the rest of the pub. That was good, he supposed: these old oak doors were thick.

Jack broke off the kiss and gave Ianto a wicked look, and got down onto his knees. Ianto tilted back his head, gasping, and wound his fingers into Jack’s hair as Jack began licking his hip bones. Jack braced his arms against the wall and gripped the back of Ianto’s jeans desperately as he gulped down Ianto’s prick. Ianto’s fingers scrabbled at the rough wood paneling: he felt a sting under his fingernail but didn’t care: Jack was sucking him and making “mmmm” sounds and Ianto wanted to shout that Jack could shag him in the middle of Piccadilly Circus if that’s what he wanted, just don’t ever leave.

He didn’t, of course. He breathed hard through his teeth and clutched at Jack’s hair and his eyes were wide open as he came. His head dropped and he watched Jack lick him clean, his eyes half closed. Jack’s face was flushed and his eyes were bright, and he pulled himself to his feet up Ianto’s body. He kissed Ianto hard—Ianto could taste himself in Jack’s mouth. He held Jack’s head to keep the kiss going and pushed his hand into Jack’s trousers to touch him, hard and hot. Jack’s hips jerked and he leaned blatantly into Ianto, gasping into Ianto’s mouth as his hand worked between them, slicked from Jack’s precome.

He turned Jack against the wall and fell to his knees, and pressed his face against Jack’s thigh. Jack stroked his hair and held his shoulder as Ianto worked his prick into his mouth. His fingers dug into Jack’s hips and he licked Jack’s cock, sucked him hard, moaned at the taste and heat of him.

Jack didn’t bother with keeping his voice down, but then he never did.

He sank down onto his knees between Ianto’s legs and touched his face. He looked gorgeous, his color high and his eyes glittering, completely dressed except for his open trousers, and Ianto sighed and folded himself in Jack’s arms. Jack held him, scrubbing fingertips through his hair and lightly kissing his neck.

Ianto looked at his hand, where his finger was still stinging: there was a small sliver under the skin. He tried to bite it out and scowled when nothing happened. “What’s wrong?” Jack murmured, amusement in his voice.

“I’ve got a splinter.” He showed Jack, who took hold of his hand and inspected it. “It’s that old wood.”

Jack smirked and said, “Let me,” and bit down on the tip of Ianto’s finger. Ianto hissed and looked away, and when he looked back Jack was picking the splinter from the tip of his tongue. “There. No harm done.”

“Thank you.” He sighed and leaned his head against Jack’s shoulder again. “We should go. Or rather you should go and then I should go, or however people do it to not attract attention.”

“We can leave together. Arm in arm, hands in each other’s back pockets, shit-eating grins on our faces . . .”

“I have never worn a shit-eating grin in my life,” Ianto said and buttoned up his jeans.

“I feel we need to change that.” Jack helped Ianto tuck in his shirt and kissed his mouth. “Smile big for me, Ianto,” he said and Ianto couldn’t help but smile even if it was a touch uncomfortable.

“Daft, you,” he muttered as he stood, and he held out a hand to Jack. Jack made a scornful noise and got to his feet without assistance. He redressed himself and adjusted his coat.

“Do I look decent?”

“You look like you just came,” Ianto said frankly.

Jack laughed, then kissed him and said, “Want to see something cool?” as he unlocked and opened the door, and Ianto saw why they hadn’t been interrupted. A small circle of metal was stuck to the door, which released a light blue shield of barely-noticeable light. It blocked all sound between the door and the rest of the pub, and Ianto supposed it blocked vision as well.

“Sir,” he said patiently, “we’re not supposed to take alien technology for our own personal use.”

Jack removed the circle deftly and tucked it in his coat, and the noise of the pub went back to its usual volume. He put his arm around Ianto’s shoulders and directed him out the door.

“It’s for the public good, Ianto.”

“It’s selfish. And rather childish, Jack.”

“Did you or did you not just have a fantastic orgasm?”

“I did,” Ianto admitted.

“Then let’s not worry so much about selfishness. Let’s justcall it . . . self-preservation.”

Ianto shook his head, then put his arm around Jack’s waist, not caring they were on the street and people might stare. It felt too good to be close to him. “It’s time we go home, sir.”

“That’s just what I was thinking,” Jack said in a pleased tone.

* * *

In the dream, Ianto was in the converter, the cleavers whirring and screaming above him. He was trying to scream but the only sounds that came from his mouth were tiny whimpers–he couldn’t be any louder through the filthy rag tied over his mouth.

“Ianto.”

Jack’s voice, cutting through the fog of fear and dread, silencing all the terrible noise.

“Ianto,” he said again and Ianto felt Jack’s hand on his forehead and his lips on his mouth. “Sh, you’re dreaming, Ianto.”

Ianto pressed his face against Jack’s neck. “Sorry.”

“For having bad dreams?” He kissed Ianto gently. “You’re allowed to feel things, you know.”

Ianto nodded and curled against Jack. Jack chuckled and wrapped his arms around him. “The things I’m learning about you . . . do you have these every night?”

“Only on nights when I sleep,” Ianto muttered, and Jack sighed.

“You sounded like you were in pain.”

“It’s all getting mixed up together,” Ianto said. “The Cybermen and the—the cannibals and Lisa. I think I’ve died a hundred times in my dreams.”

Jack made a soothing sound. “You don’t have nightmares when you stay with me at the Hub.”

“I know. I don’t know why.”

“You don’t feel safe here but there, you do,” Jack suggested in a soft voice.

“Perhaps.” Ianto sighed and lay his head on Jack’s chest.

“What do I need to do fix that?”

Ianto sighed and started tracing his fingertips over Jack’s stomach. “Maybe nothing. There are things you can’t make better.”

“I can try.” He tipped up Ianto’s face and kissed him, kissed him sweet and gentle and fierce.

Ianto thrust his fingers into Jack’s hair and gently pulled him back. “I’m exhausted, Jack,” he said, and Jack chuckled and nodded.

“Sorry. Of course you are. I’ve been pushing you a bit.”

“I love it, you know—I just need to rest.” He settled against Jack’s side. Jack kissed his forehead and kept one arm around him. Ianto said, after a few minutes of listening to Jack breathe, “Maybe I ought to move.”

“Maybe. Get a fresh start.”

The words came out in a rush. “Maybe we could find a place together.”

Jack breathed evenly. “Well. That’s something I hadn’t considered.”

“No, I didn’t think so.” He waited for Jack to say more, and when he didn’t, he said, “Well, it was just a thought.”

“No, no, it’s a good thought. It’s not something I expected you to suggest.”

“Why?”

“Because working together and living together isn’t easy. People need breathers from each other sometimes.”

“I’ve done it before,” Ianto said quietly, and Jack stroked his hair.

“I know,” he said, “but we’re a different situation.”

“Not that different,” Ianto muttered. “I’d like knowing I could expect you home at night.”

“Right,” Jack said with a slight sigh.

Ianto stared at the ceiling.

“Or you could just move into the Hub,” said Jack. “You’d save a lot on rent.”

“I do need to get out of there sometimes. It doesn’t really say ‘home’ to me.”

“That’s what hotels are for.”

Ianto huffed. “And what would convince you to spend a few nights a month away at a hotel?”

“Have you noticed yet how rarely I say no to you?”

Ianto played with the coverlet between his fingers. “No, I suppose I haven’t.”

“So it’s conceivable that all you’d have to do to convince me of anything is just ask.”

“Well.” He swallowed hard. “I’ll keep that possibility in mind.”

“That’s it? You’ll keep it in mind?”

“Well, we’re still in a very early stage of the dating ritual. I really don’t want to assume anything.”

Jack played with his ear. “Perhaps that’s wise. Things change so quickly in our lives.”

“You could fall out of love with me tomorrow,” Ianto said, trying for light and failing completely.

Jack’s finger stopped moving. “Is that what you think?”

“Well. Jack. I. Like I said, I don’t want to assume anything.”

“But you are assuming I fall out of love easily.”

“You do fall in love easily.”

“Is that what you think?” Jack said again, in a voice that Ianto would have described as hurt if it had come from any other person.

“Don’t you?” Ianto said quietly. “Didn’t you look at me one day and think, ‘Oo, I’ll have that’?”

Jack chuckled dryly and sat up, pulling up one knee. “I see. No, Ianto, that’s not quite what I thought.”

“What did you think?” Ianto said, and Jack turned to him just long enough to smile—a bit sadly, Ianto thought.

“There’s a difference between thinking ‘Oo, I’ll have that’ and realizing ‘This person makes me happy no matter what.’” He sighed. “I hope at some point you’ll accept that I’m not just in this for the sex.”

Ianto didn’t know what to say. He sat up and draped himself over Jack’s back, and kissed the back of his neck. He rested his cheek on Jack’s shoulder. He said quietly, “When I was at university I dated this girl called Gillian. She was . . . beautiful. Red-haired. She used to dye bits of it blue and yellow and purple. I loved it. She had big brown eyes, and she used to wear three or four t-shirts at a time every day, no matter the weather.

“She was my first girlfriend—my first everything. We were together about a month when I started hearing rumors that she wasn’t being entirely honest with me.” He took a deep breath. “When I confronted her about it she said, ‘Oh, Ianto, it’s just sex. I love you.’” Jack reached back to take his hand, weaving together their fingers, and Ianto said, “But it’s not just sex, Jack. It’s not for me.”

“I know, Ianto. I know it’s not.”

“I can’t shake the feeling that you’re going to break my heart the same way.”

Jack’s fingers tightened on his. “You know, if you go into a relationship envisioning how it’s going to end, the end is inevitable.” He turned to Ianto and kissed him, hard enough to push him back against the pillows. “Have a little faith, Ianto. Just a little.”

“I’m trying,” he whispered. “I’m trying.” He wrapped his arms tight around Jack, tangled together their legs, kissed him back.

* * *

Jack rose early Sunday morning to go into the Hub for a few hours. As soon as he was dressed he bent over Ianto and whispered, “Go back to sleep,” his hand warm on Ianto’s back. Ianto didn’t even open his eyes long enough to argue.

It was raining when he woke again. He opened the shade nearest the bed and watched the rain hit the window for a while before finally pushing himself out of bed to shower and dress. He felt sleepy and sore, his muscles well-used, as if he’d spent the previous day hiking. He supposed in a way he’d done the equivalent: how many calories did a person burn during an hour of sexual activity? Two hundred? Three?

No wonder he was ravenous, too. He scrambled a mess of eggs and cheese, toasted some bread and loaded it with strawberry jam, and poured himself a big cup of coffee. He’d done all his errands the day before and the flat was spotless, and unless he wanted to wash the sheets again, there was nothing he needed to do.

He wondered if he should call Jack.

He picked up a book, curled up in an armchair and started reading, his coffee within reach. After two pages he closed the book, sipped his coffee, and stared at the phone.

Obsessed, he thought. But I’m not going to call. I’m not going to tell him I want his tongue in my mouth and his hand on my dick. I’m not going to call him and beg him to come home because I miss him.

The phone rang and he leaped for it. “Ianto Jones,” he said in his calmest voice.

Jack said, “What’s the last novel you read?”

“The last novel? I think it was the latest Neil Gaiman. Why?”

“Because I,” said Jack, “am standing in front of a W H Smith and I am thinking about buying you a book.”

“Oh,” Ianto said. “Really.”

“Really. And you do have that big bookcase, so I know you read, but I didn’t notice what sort of books you have it and of course I don’t know what you’ve read and what you only have because they were gifts or because you intended to read them and never got around to it.”

“I’ve read every book I own,” Ianto said with no little pride. “Get me something unusual. A history of textiles, perhaps. Or a Klingon dictionary.”

“Klingon.” Jack snorted.

“You wanted suggestions.”

“If I got you a collection of poetry, would that be too mundane?”

“It sounds like a vital part of the dating ritual.”

Jack made a thoughtful sound. “Is that good or bad?”

“Get me anything but Sonnets from the Portuguese.” He picked up a copy from the bookcase but didn’t open it, knowing the inside still read, I love thee to the length and breadth of me–Lisa. “On second thought, don’t get me poetry, sir. I think the Klingon dictionary will be the best bet.”

“I’d rather listen to you speak Welsh than Klingon.”

Ianto put the book back on the shelf. “Would you, now?” he murmured.

“Mm-hmm.”

Ianto said in his most seductive tone, “Mae’r defaid wedi bwyta fy brechdanau,” and smiled to himself when Jack nearly moaned into the phone.

“Oh, that’s pretty. What does that mean? No, don’t tell me–it means, ‘Come home and shag me all night.’”

“No,” Ianto said, curling up in the armchair again. “But I would like it very much if you would come home. Though I don’t know about the shagging all night–maybe half the night. I have to sleep at some point.”

“I can handle half the night. It means . . . ‘the monkey sits on the branch’?”

“No,” Ianto said with a laugh.

“‘My hovercraft is full of eels’?”

“No, Jack. Come home. I’ll tell you when you get here.Os gwelwch yn dda,” he added and Jack nearly moaned again. “Dw i’n dy garu di.“

“Oh, God, I could listen to you say that all night.”

“Come home and I will. I will speak Welsh to you until your head explodes.”

“I will. As soon as I buy you a book. Not a Klingon dictionary, though.”

“I’ll contain my disappointment, sir,” Ianto said and rang off.

* * *

Jack knocked on the door when he reached Ianto’s flat, and once he was inside and had taken off his rain-specked coat he held out a copy of Jeeves and Wooster. “It seemed appropriate,” he said with a slightly embarrassed expression, and Ianto laughed and kissed him in thanks.

“Much better than a Klingon dictionary. Thank you.”

“In Welsh?” Jack said hopefully.

“Diolch,” Ianto said, “diolch yn fawr iawn,” and Jack kissed him, hard.

“Beautiful Welsh vowels,” he murmured.

“I believe you’re developing a fetish,” Ianto said serenely, arms around Jack’s neck.

“I believe I already had a fetish. As per the dating ritual, I am completely enthralled with every aspect of you, including your voice, your manner of pronouncing even the most common words, the way your mouth moves when you speak and all the interesting things your voice does during the course of the day.” He shook his head.

“Well, thank God for the dating ritual,” said Ianto, “or I wouldn’t know what to do with you.”

“Yes, you would.” Jack cupped Ianto’s face in his hand and ran a thumb over his cheekbone. “It’s in your nature.” He took a breath, then seemed to make a decision and said, “Ianto, I don’t want to break your heart. I don’t plan to. I’m trying to love you the way that you want me to and I think I’ve done a pretty good job so far.”

Ianto looked away a moment, then nodded and lay his head on Jack’s shoulder.

“So,” Jack said quietly. “What is it going to take for you to stop doubting me? That’s what I’d really like to know.”

Ianto swallowed. “I’ve never been much good at faith.”

“Oh, I don’t think that’s true. I think you’ve got a lot of faith–it’s just been battered a bit lately.” He kissed Ianto’s hair again. “You want to shield the people you love with that big heart of yours . . . of course it’s taken a few hits.”

Ianto raised his head and kissed Jack simply. “I believe I promised to speak Welsh to you for a while.”

He studied Ianto a moment, and then smiled his careless smile and said, “Yes, you did.”

“Come along, then,” Ianto said, tugging on his hands, and pulled him back to bed–where he undressed Jack and kissed him all over, whispering as he did so “You’re mine” in every language he knew.

* * *

Jack left early Monday morning, before sunrise, and Ianto supposed that was wise. Sleep eluded Jack no matter how physical he’d been, and Ianto needed some time to center himself before everything returned to normal. He buttoned himself into his suit, pulled up his shirt collar as high as he could to hide the love bites, made certain that from all angles he was just Ianto the secretary again. The others didn’t need to know about Jack and him any more than he wanted to know with whom they were dallying.

He had the coffee percolating and tea steeping when the others came in, Gwen looking happy and Tosh relaxed and Owen–like Owen. “And how was your weekend?” Tosh said, more out of politeness, Ianto thought, than genuine interest, but he smiled nonetheless.

“Educational,” he said, and went to his work station to begin taking down messages. There was an urgent one from a DCI Swanson, requesting the presence of Torchwood as soon as possible, and something about her tone made Ianto uneasy. He took the message to Jack.

“This could get interesting,” Jack said once he’d read it. “We don’t get requested like this often.”

“Shall I come as well, sir?”

“No–find out everything you can about this DCI Swanson for us. I ‘d like to know who we’re dealing with.” He rose from his desk, and Ianto helped him into his coat, running a hand down
his back once he was wrapped up in it. Jack paused and held Ianto’s face in his hand, and kissed him lightly.

“I had a good time with you,” he said, his eyes more serious than Ianto was accustomed to seeing them.

“So did I.”

“We’ll do it again,” Jack said. “Soon. Maybe this time we won’t even wait for an excuse.”

Ianto smiled and tilted his head towards the door. “Go save the world, Jack.”

Jack touched his cheek and left the office, calling to the others, “All right, kids, we have a field trip today,” as he descended the stairs. Ianto stood in the office, listening to them follow Jack out into the daylight, and wondered why he felt like everything had shifted again–like the world had shivered on its axis, like he was a few seconds ahead of or behind everyone else.

Something moving out there, he thought, and laughed quietly at himself. Nonsense. He poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down at his work station. He had research to do, not odd nameless dread to ponder. He would tell Jack about it later and they’d have a good laugh.

end

Mini-vocabulary:
Diolch thank you
Diolch yn fawr iawn thank you very much
Os gwelwch yn dda please
Dw i’n dy garu di I love you
Mae’r defaid wedi bwyta fy brechdanau The sheep have eaten my sandwiches

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