Title: Gwil's Guide to Growing Up Torchwood: Year 2
By: amuly
Pairing: Jack/Ianto, Gwil
Rating: PG-13
Summary: When a seven-year-old boy falls through the Rift, Ianto and Jack decide to adopt him. This is the story of his life at Torchwood.
Series: 1) Unconditional, 2) Gwil's Guide to Growing Up Torchwood: Year One, 3) PWP
Warnings: none
A/N: Year 3 starts a day early on Sunday, since I'm traveling to Pittsburgh for a few days (to visit CMU. WHERE I GOT INTO GRAD SCHOOL *dance party forever*) and won't be able to update Monday. So you get Gwil a day early: lucky you guys!

Ianto's lip was raw from gnawing on it all day, as Jack had continuously tried to convince him that this wasn't a terrible, ridiculous, bad idea. He was, as of yet, entirely unconvinced.

And yet here the three of them were – Jack, Ianto, and Gwil – standing in the firing range with two different BB guns on the table.

Jack was carefully leading Gwil through the safety instructions: always wear goggles, always wear ear protection, never point a gun at anyone, even if it's not loaded. Jack had glanced up and winked at Ianto at that, most likely thinking of the few times the two men had gotten creative with Jack's Webley. Honestly, Ianto didn't much want to think about that right now. All his mind had room for was worry over Gwil handling a gun. Even if it was just a BB gun.

“This is the rifle. Okay, now where do you point it?”

Dutifully Gwil pointed the gun down-range, keeping the barrel steady even as he glanced up at Jack for reassurance. He still looked so tiny, even after a year of nutritious eating forced upon him by Ianto's mother hen routine. The BB rifle was practically bigger than him, when all was said and done. Still, Gwil carefully positioned the butt of the rife on his shoulder, one hand on the pump and one on the trigger guard. Jack squatted next to him in order to continue with his instructions.

“You have to pump the rifle between each shot. So give it a try...” There was a moment of awkward fumbling as Jack tried to help Gwil grip the rifle securely while simultaneously pulling the pump down, then pushing it back up. Gwil's face was screwed up in concentration, blue eyes shining determinedly as he pumped the rifle once, then twice.

Taking the gun from him, Jack fired a quick round down-range before handing it back to Gwil. “Okay, try pumping it again.” Gwil did, waiting patiently as Jack took the rifle from him again and fired off a round. They repeated this process a dozen or more times, until Jack seemed satisfied that Gwil had the pumping motion down.

Ianto, meanwhile, wasn't the least bit satisfied. Every time Gwil handled the rifle, a dozen terrible scenarios flashed through his mind: Gwil's hands slipping as he pumped, dropping the rifle and it firing off in his face; Gwil passing the rifle to Jack but then dropping it, again firing the rifle off in his face. Some rational part of Ianto's mind knew that even if the rifle did manage to misfire – which was actually quite unlikely, given that they were designed for children in the States to be able to handle safely – Gwil would at the worst suffer a flesh wound. A single pump on a BB rifle was hardly enough to break the skin, much less cause serious injury.

Ianto's mind was not eased. This was Torchwood, after all. The worst had a tendency to happen. Of course, it had been that same logic Jack had used to convince Ianto that this needed to happen.

“It's just a BB rifle, Ianto. Look: shoot me in the hand with it. It won't even draw blood.”

“I don't care, Jack!” Ianto slammed his coffee mug on their tiny kitchen counter, back to Jack. He didn't want the other man to see the fear in his eyes. “I don't want him handling guns – any sorts of guns.”

“He's going to have to learn, Ianto. He is Torchwood.”

“No, Jack!” Ianto spun around, ignoring the way his eyes felt wet and vision was blurred. Jack appeared bewildered, holding the BB rifle casually in one hand. “He is not Torchwood. He should not have to learn how to use a gun, or how to defend the Earth, or...”

Ianto found himself shaking a moment before Jack's arms enveloped him, surrounding him with their secure warmth. “You're right. Of course you're right,” Jack continued ruefully. “He's not Torchwood. But while he's young, and here, I want to make sure he's safe. Okay?” Ianto refused to look up, keeping his face pressed securely into Jack's neck. “What if...” Jack pulled Ianto away to look him in the eye. “What if I promise that he's not allowed to do any Torchwood work until he's sixteen? Except for staying alive in emergency situations, Gwil doesn't get to do more than file or serve coffee – maybe work in the tourist office on weekends. Deal?”

Ianto considered Jack carefully, fear ever-so-slightly lessening. “Eighteen,” he finally countered.

“Deal.”

Jack's arms were wrapped securely around Gwil as he taught him how to look down the sight, past it to the target down-range. Ianto's entire body tensed as Jack slowly edged Gwil's finger from the trigger guard to the trigger itself, other hand secure on Gwil's tiny hip.

Ianto thought his heart might stop in the seconds between that and Gwil pulling the trigger.

A tinny ping of the BB striking the back of the range was the only real sound from the gun going off, besides the faintest puff of air from the gun itself. Jack shouted something positive about Gwil's marksmanship, but Ianto's eyes weren't on the target: they were entirely focused on Gwil's face.

His mouth had broken into a gap-toothed grin, a wave of excitement visibly passing through his body.

No.

Ianto could only watch little Gwil slip through his fingers as Jack and Gwil chattered animatedly between shots, carefully adjusting grip, stance, and aim until Gwil was as accurate as he could be with a toy BB rifle. They switched to the pistol next, Jack showing Gwil how to load the CO₂ canister and the BBs into the pseudo-magazine in the grip of the pistol.

When the guns were carefully unloaded and packed away, Gwil rushed over to Ianto, ripping off his protective goggles and ear-wear. “Tad! Tad! Did you see?”

Swallowing his insecurities, Ianto managed a weak smile. “Very good. You're turning into an excellent shot.”

Tiny arms wrapped around Ianto's legs, gripping his thighs tightly. “I just wanna be as good as you! Dad told me stories 'bout how you beat him on the range once, and how you shot Uncle Owen in the shoulder. But I'm not supposed to do stuff like that.”

Ianto's eyes widened and he shot Jack a look, who only grinned unapologetically back at him. “Did you...” Ianto cleared his throat. “Did you like shooting?”

Gwil shrugged one shoulder as the two men and boy started to walk back up to the main area of the Hub. “It was okay. I liked getting bulls-eyes. It's like when Auntie Tosh gives me a good grade on the test.”

The odd comparison soothed Ianto immensely, and he looked to Jack for reassurance.

“So you don't want to shoot aliens?” Jack asked.

Without a moment's hesitation Gwil was shaking his head fiercely. Ianto almost melted with relief. “It's too scary!” Gwil's eyebrows furrowed and lower lip stuck out as he frowned. “Like those games Uncle Owen likes to play with me on the Wii. I can't ever play because the monsters scare me too much. But I like watching Uncle Owen play.”

“I'm sure Uncle Owen appreciates you letting him play with your Wii,” Ianto grumbled. Indeed, they had found Owen hiding out downstairs with Gwil on more than one occasion when he was supposed to be working, alien corpses in the process of spoiling on his autopsy table.

Auntie Tosh was waiting for Gwil when they reached the main Hub, and Ianto let him run to her, chatting animatedly about his newly-acquired marksmanship. Ianto felt a warm, large hand sliding around his waist, and he leaned into Jack, letting him place a kiss to the top of his head.

“See? Nothing to worry about.”

Ianto snorted, pulling away from Jack slightly. “Sure. Another few years, and the video games won't seem so scary anymore. What do we do then?”

Jack shrugged. “Tell him he has to wait until he's eighteen.”

“I'm starting to realize eighteen is going to come a great deal sooner than I thought it would,” Ianto murmured. “Is there anyway we can make him wait until he's twenty? Twenty-five, perhaps?”

“How old were you when you joined Torchwood One?”

Ianto's lips pressed into a thin line as he glared at Jack. “Too young,” he finally managed. “But he has me to steer him away from making the same mistakes.”

The two men walked slowly to Jack's office, settling in as Jack cycled his computer screens through various programs, including the Rift predictor, and Ianto began sorting through a pile of papers he needed Jack's signature on. He passed them over to Jack, index finger carefully pointing out the spots Jack needed to sign on each page as he flipped to it.

“Remember your first training session on the shooting range?”

Ianto's collar suddenly felt tight, his face hot. Jack's method of training on the firing range wasn't exactly orthodox back then. Ianto shifted in his seat, trousers growing tight. “After the Beacons?”

Jack's fingers dropped his pen, snaking across the desk until they wrapped themselves around Ianto's wrist. Against his better judgement, Ianto found himself smiling.

“Want to go back down to the range? For old times' sake?”

Glancing at the Rift monitor himself, Ianto slipped his wrist out of Jack's hand before standing. Straightening his suit professionally, he arched an eyebrow down at Jack. “Suppose it's a good idea to stay in practice, sir.”

Jack's laugh was practically a giggle as they sneaked out the back of Jack's office and down to the firing range.

***

Ianto tried to ignore Tosh, to push past her and move onto the coffee machine. But she was standing in his way, hands on her hips and a determined look on her face. “If you don't tell Jack, I will.”

Ianto's eyes flickered back to Jack's office in a panic, before he managed to smooth his countenance back into placidity. “We'll discuss it tonight. But I still think another year-”

“Tad.” Ianto looked down at the little figure tugging at his jacket. Big, blue eyes stared up at him from waist-level. “Can I make the coffee?”

Ianto sighed. There went his only excuse to delay the conversation with Jack. “Go ahead, cariad.” As Gwil scampered off to the coffee machine, grabbing his stool and setting to work, Ianto tried, unsuccessfully, to avoid eye contact with Tosh.

“I'm going in there right now, Ianto Jones, if you don't.”

Ianto's stomach plummeted as he stared over at Gwil, who was diligently placing mugs under nozzles and pulling handles. “But he's so small,” he whispered.

Tosh's hand was reassuring on his shoulder. “So is everyone at that age. And Owen says that he's catching up to his age group in height and weight. He's only barely below the average as it is.”

“But he might discuss Torchwood. He's only eight: he might not understand that he has to keep it secret.”

Glancing over Ianto's shoulder, Tosh held up two fingers. “One: at his age, I had all sorts of secrets. Silly stuff, like journals and false bottoms in drawers, but still secrets. Every child is an expert at that. And two,” Tosh's hand squeezed Ianto's arm lightly before dropping away, “I think this is something you should discuss with Gwil's dad, not me.”

Ianto jumped as he heard Jack's feet on the metal grate behind him. “Discuss? Discuss what?”

When he turned around, Tosh was already back at her station, reading glasses on and seemingly absorbed in her work. Ianto sighed, turning back to Jack. He was frowning at Ianto, arms crossed across his chest, sleeves rolled halfway up so his forearms stood bare. Ianto briefly entertained the possibility of distracting Jack with sex, but one look at Jack's stoney expression told him that wouldn't be possible.

“Ianto...” Jack's voice had a warning note in it. “Office. Now.”

The two men returned to Jack's office, Ianto doing his best not to look like a petulant or delinquent child as he trailed behind Jack. He closed the door gently before sliding into the chair opposite Jack's.

“So what's this about?”

“Gwil.” Ianto jumped as the door clicked open behind them, the little boy who was the subject of their conversation poking his head through.

“Dad? Tad? Coffee.”

Jack waved him in, taking the coffee from Gwil with a big smile. “Thanks, champ.” He ruffled Gwil's hair, causing the little boy to scrunch up his nose in irritation at the messiness. Ianto's heart swelled with protectiveness. They couldn't send him to school yet. There was no way he was ready.

Ianto touched Gwil's back in thanks as he passed Ianto his own cup of coffee. Silver tray empty, Gwil twisted it between tiny hands nervously as he looked away from Ianto. “Tad? Can I go play outside? I promise to stay on the Plass.”

Ianto hesitated, glancing to Jack. The other man nodded not-so-subtly at the monitors, and Ianto relented. “Okay. But stay on the Plass. No bothering people, no talking to strangers, and if-”

“I see anything weird, come straight back.” Gwil nodded seriously. “I know, Tad.”

“Alright,” Ianto grumbled, still unhappy with the idea.

Tiny arms wrapped around his neck in thanks, before the little boy was off, tray rattling as he set it by the coffee station and alarms blaring as he left the Hub.

Jack had the CCTV pulled up on his monitor before Ianto even turned around. As they watched, a little figure appeared on the screen, dashing out toward the guardrail overlooking the bay. Ianto watched as Gwil stared out at the ocean, tiny hands curled around the railing as he swung gently on it.

“So. What is it.”

Ianto sighed, tearing his gaze away from the CCTV in order to meet Jack's eyes. “School.”

“School?”

Ianto continued. “Registration starts this month, and Tosh thinks he's ready.” Ianto hurried to add: “I don't.”

Jack was grinning, either ignoring or oblivious to Ianto's worries. “School? I didn't realize it was already time. What do you think: public or private? We can afford public, if you want. Maybe we should ask your sister about the schools around here...” Jack's eyes lit up. “We'll have to buy him school supplies! Pencils and erasers and those little binder things with the metal teeth and the cool covers. I just bet they have ones with airplanes on them.”

Ianto hurried to stem the torrent of Jack's enthusiasm. “Jack,” he spoke firmly, maintaining eye contact. “I disagree with Tosh's assessment. I don't think he's ready. Not only could he use another year of private tutoring, but he's still below the average height and weight for his age, has little experience interacting with other children, and moreover, we don't even know if he can be trusted at his age not to discuss Torchwood with his classmates.”

Jack was watching Ianto fondly as he spoke. Personally, Ianto found the expression worrisome at best, condescending at worst. As Ianto paused for a breath, Jack leapt into the conversation, ticking off points as he went. “If Tosh says he's ready academically, I trust that he's ready academically. I spoke with Owen yesterday, and Gwil is only barely below average height. There will probably be kids shorter than him in his year.” Jack was grinning as he held up a third finger; Ianto frowned back at him. He shouldn't be enjoying this argument. “The only way he's going to get better at interacting with other kids is by going to school, and finally, he's a smart kid: we can trust him not to talk about Torchwood.” Jack glanced down at his four raised fingers. “Did I get everything?”

“You've practiced this, haven't you?”

Jack grinned. “With Gwen. She played you!”

Ianto chose to ignore Jack's childlike glee at his preparedness for this argument. “What happens when he wants to bring a friend home for a play date? He can't exactly bring them down to his room.”

Jack frowned. So there were problems he and Gwen hadn't anticipated during their little mock-argument. “Well, what if...” Jack frowned and fell silent again. “Gwen...”

Ianto sat back in his chair, taking a triumphant sip of his coffee. While Jack pondered the solution to that little problem, Ianto could have another year with Gwil out of school. Nine was much better than eight. Surely he would feel ready to release Gwil to the world then. Maybe.

"”Teleport pad!”

Damn it. Ianto set his coffee down with a thunk. “What?”

Jack was excited about whatever idea he had: leaning forward, hands gripping the edge of his desk. “We get a house out in the suburbs that looks like our rooms downstairs. When a friend wants to come over, we bring them to the house. We put a teleport pad in the doorway, and then another in the entrance of our rooms downstairs. Then,” Jack lifted his hands, gesturing as he spoke, “They enter the house out there,” Jack moved his hands from one side of the desk to the other, “and end up here.”

Ianto squinted at Jack. “That's... that's a...”

Jack slapped the desk triumphantly. “I think the word you're looking for is 'fantastic'. And thanks: I know.”

Ianto's stomach curled, face going pale. This was really happening. His eyes flickered to the CCTV, where Gwil was squatting on the ground, picking at something Ianto couldn't discern on the low-resolution cameras. That little, tiny boy was going to have to go to school. All on his own. For hours on end.

“I... I need...” his vision swam, and Ianto pitched forward in his chair under a wave of vertigo. There was the scrape of a chair, and suddenly strong arms were encircling him, holding him together. A few moments later a cool glass of water was being pushed into his hands, and Ianto sipped at it, slowly regaining his equilibrium. He pressed the glass to his forehead when it was half-empty, rubbing at the beads of sweat that had suddenly broken out there.

Jack was crouched next to him, a mix of concern and gentle amusement on his face. “It's going to be okay,” he spoke quietly, steady voice a reassuring anchor for Ianto to cling to. “Every kid has to go to school sometime. Just think about all the fun stuff we'll get to do: clothes shopping, school supplies shopping, play dates and homework and school projects...” Jack's hand reached up and rubbed at Ianto's, which was still gripping the armrest of his chair tightly. “And just think about the friends he'll make, and the normal life he'll have. He'll get to see the sun more than once a week.”

Ianto turned his hand over, releasing the armrest and gripping at Jack's hand instead. “I don't know if I can let him go already.”

“You don't have to.” Jack's lips pressed soothing kisses along the back of Ianto's hand. As stupid and simple as the gesture was, Ianto felt himself relax with each light peck. “Just a few hours each day. And then he comes home to us, full of new ideas and knowledge and stories. Don't you want him to get to experience that?”

With a strangled gasp Ianto pulled Jack to him, burying his face in Jack's neck. Jack's hands rubbed at his back as Ianto fought to regain some semblance of control. “'m scared,” he murmured. “I... I don't think I've ever been...” Jack nudged Ianto gently away, and they stared into each other's eyes. “Canary Wharf, and Lisa, and the cannibals... then it was just me who might die or get hurt, or you or Tosh or...” Ianto cut himself off, shaking his head. “But now it's Gwil. And I just...”

“Ianto: it's just school. He's not fighting Weevils or Daleks or Cybermen. Worst thing that can happen is a bad test grade or a nasty remark from a classmate.” Ianto was unconvinced, and he knew it showed on his face, because Jack was speaking again. “You all survived it relatively intact, didn't you?”

Ianto nodded, slowly piecing himself back together. “Sorry,” he murmured, face going red. “Sorry, I don't know why I was so... sorry.”

“Hey, it just means you're a great Tad.” Jack pressed a kiss to Ianto's forehead before standing. “Now come on: we've got that teleconference with UNIT in ten, and you ned to brief me on whatever the hell I'm supposed to say.”

Ianto nodded, sorting through Jack's desk for the necessary papers, trying to let work take his mind off visions of little Gwil being bullied or failing a test. Jack's hand reached for his again, squeezing tightly.

“It's going to be fine. You'll see.” His grin turned crooked, eyes dancing. “And we're going to have so much fun back-to-school shopping.”
***

Ianto wanted to wring his hands, but somehow managed to suppress the nervous urge. It wasn't like they were about to face a hoard of weevils, or the PM, or an alien dignitary. They were just in a car park, about to go into W.H. Smith. It shouldn't be cause for the nerves he felt.

“Oh, a rucksack! Add it to the list, Ianto! We have to get you a really cool one, champ. Maybe with fighter jets. Or aliens!”

The rucksack was already on the list, which was neatly transcribed in Ianto's careful script onto his moleskin notepad, which lay safely tucked away in Ianto's inside jacket pocket. Also on the list were pencils, a pencil case, pencil sharpeners, a lunchbox, a Filofax, a multi-subject binder, loose-leaf paper, pens, rubbers, sticky notes, a maths set, highlighters, and stickers. Because every little kid deserved stickers.

Gwil was a bundle of nervous energy at Ianto's side, holding tight to his hand as his dad bounded ahead of them into the store. “Ianto! Gwil! Dinosaurs!”

Ianto peered ahead to where Jack was, waving a pencil case around in the air like mad. Acting much calmer than anyone really had any need to be in a stationary shop – mostly to counteract the energies of Jack – Ianto pointed Gwil toward the shopping baskets. “Go and get one.”

As Gwil was occupied with carefully lifting one of the baskets apart from the stack – Ianto with one eye on him the whole time – Ianto walked sedately over to where Jack was. The item Jack was holding was indeed a dinosaur pencil case. Ianto cooed a little bit in his brain, but schooled his expression into careful indifference. “Gwil does need a pencil case. Ask him if he likes that one.”

Jack's twinkling eyes clearly conveyed the message that he wasn't buying Ianto's calm and collected act for a second, though he didn't say anything. “Champ! Look at this! Dinosaurs!”

Gwil's eyes went wide as he adjusted the shopping basket on his arm, standing on tip-toes to see the product that Jack was waving about. “Neat,” he breathed.

White teeth blazing as he grinned, Jack tossed the pencil case into the basket before taking it from Gwil. “See?” he mouthed at Ianto.

Arching an eyebrow, Ianto pointedly took out his moleskin and crossed out “pencil case”. Jack's arm wrapped around his shoulders, squeezing the younger man tight to his chest. Ianto did his best not to blush as he glanced around the store. It wasn't like it was illegal or anything, him and Jack taking their kid back-to-school shopping. It just seemed – Ianto caught the disapproving eye of an older woman – that others might censure them, and their little, untraditional family.

Jack, naturally, seemed entirely unaffected. He was pointing down the next aisle, filled with lunch boxes. “Oh sweet nebula, look at this!” Jack's hands darted out, snatching up a lunchbox and shoving it in Ianto's face. “It's a zebra!”

Ianto's heart melted a little bit. It was a zebra. A little lunchbox and thermos all done up in a single package to look like a big zebra head.

Just as Ianto's fingers closed around the zebra lunchbox, Jack shouted again, racing off down the aisle. “Space stuff! Look!”

Setting the zebra back into its place on the shelf, Ianto took Gwil's hand and led him over to where Jack was waving another lunchbox, this one with, indeed, a spaceman on it.

“That's Buzz Lightyear.” Gwil nodded knowledgeably at the lunchbox. “He's a space hero. He's loud and funny and has a fancy thing on his wrist...” Gwil trailed off and blinked up at Jack. “He's just like you!”

Ianto spluttered, glancing down at the lunchbox in Jack's hand. “Oh dear God, it is you, isn't it? He's even got your chin!”

Jack had the good sense to look suitably ashamed. “How was I supposed to know what 'Pixar' was? When the guy told me where he worked, I just assumed it was a gay bar!” He smiled fondly down at the little lunchbox. “He did design me the best companion, though.” Jack nodded at Woody, waving from the front of the lunchbox. “Reliable, rational, level-headed...”

Ianto rolled his eyes as he stared down at the lunchbox, hands on his hips. “I can't believe you just seriously compared me to an animated toy cowboy named Woody.”

Jack snorted, before ruffling Gwil's hair. “What do you think? Take your tad and me to school with you for lunch every day?”

Gwil nodded seriously, blue eyes carefully tracking the lunchbox as Jack tossed it into the basket to join the dinosaur pencil case.

Jack's body tensed, Ianto sensing the precursor to a sudden burst of movement from the other man. He snatched one hand out just as Jack took off, grabbing the buckle on his greatcoat and pulling him back. “Calmly,” Ianto warned. Jack grinned sheepishly back.

“Rucksacks are in the next aisle,” Jack sing-songed.

They did need a rucksack for Gwil, but that didn't warrant Jack racing down the hallways like he was chasing a Hoix in a garbage dump. Ianto told Jack as much, who pouted over-exaggeratedly, but matched Ianto's calm stroll down the aisles.

The moment they were down the aisle, Gwil went straight for a dinosaur rucksack, lifting it off its hook and clutching it tight to his chest. “Tad?”

Ianto made a show of checking the tag and flies, as if he wasn't about to give in to Gwil's request immediately. After a good minute of scrutiny, he handed the rucksack to Jack, who deposited it in their basket. “Alright, Gwil. What do we need next?” Gwil held his four-fingered hand up to Ianto, who placed his moleskin notebook into the tiny palm. With a look of great seriousness, Gwil flipped through it, then ran his middle finger down the list as he mouthed the words to himself. “Pencils, rubbers, pencil sharpers, and pens are probably all together. Right?”

Poking his head out the aisle, Ianto looked around. “I believe so...” he turned his head left to right, checking the signs. “Down here.”

Sure enough, just two aisles down was a veritable sea of writing implements and their accessories. Gwil went for the pens, oo-ing and ah-ing over the fancy fountain ones, with their separate ink cartridges and replaceable nibs.

Jack, much to Ianto's infinite embarrassment, went straight for the pencil sharpeners, holding one up and waggling his eyebrows at Ianto. “Hey, do you think-”

“Stop it.” Ianto gave Jack his look, who put the pencil sharpener down with a sigh.

“No fun.”

A tug on his sleeve directed Ianto's glance downward, where Gwil was holding a twelve pack of bright yellow pencils. “Tad, these? They're nice and neat looking.”

Ianto handed the pencils off to Jack with a nod of approval. “You can pick out one pen, too: but it has to be practical.” He steered Gwil away from the fountain pens, over to the ballpoints. “I'm sure you can find some with fancy nibs that are a bit more... modern.”

With a longing sigh in the direction of the fountain pens, Gwil turned to examine the ones Ianto had placed him in front of. “The postman had a pen like those, is all,” he sighed. “I always wanted one.”

Jack and Ianto's eyes met over Gwil's head, both pairs big and sad. Ianto sighed, rubbing a hand through his hair. He glanced at the price tags on the fountain pens. Perhaps he could just let Gwil get one... and only let him use it under supervision...

Ianto glanced down at Gwil, more than ready to make the concession. Before he could, however, he caught a glint of mischief, and the shadow of a smile, dart across Gwil's face. Ianto gasped. “You... you...” Jack's barking laugh next to him confirmed to Ianto that he wasn't imagining Gwil's expression. “You were playing us?! I... Gwil!”

Gwil's eyes were big and blue as he looked up at Ianto, but their affect was greatly weakened by Ianto's new insight. “But Tad, Mr. Davies really did have a fountain pen! And it was shiny and fancy, and I really did always want one!”

Ianto was having none of it. “It's not practical. When you're older. Maybe next year for your birthday.” He nodded at Gwil's crisp white shirt. “I don't want to be lifting ink stains from your clothes every day.”

Gwil sighed, but after much deliberation managed to pick a pen he liked from the rows Ianto approved of. Dinosaur rubbers, a four-pack of highlighters (Ianto was sure they didn't come in any color other than yellow back when he attended school...), and a pencil sharpener (“Jack, no. Stop it! There are children about!”) all joined the other items in the basket by the time the three-member family had traversed the aisle.

Nudging Jack, Ianto peered into the basket at their accumulated loot. He sighed as they headed down the next aisle, where the Filofaxes, ring binders, and sticky notes were. “We're going to end up turning him into some sort of space-fighter-pilot dinosaur-wrangler at this rate,” he grumbled, poking at the various and sundry dinosaur- and space-themed items in the basket.

“Good thing his dads work for Torchwood, then.”

Ianto gave Jack the look he always gave him when the subject of Gwil and Torchwood came up.

Jack bowed his head in a suitably chastised gesture and cast about for a change in subject. “Looks like Gwil shares your propensity for organization.” Ianto followed Jack's gaze down the aisle, to where Gwil was flipping through the leather Filofaxes with something akin to reverence. He held a brown leather one up inquiringly to Ianto for approval. After flipping through it to make sure it was the right year and no pages were ripped or missing, Ianto handed it over to Jack.

“What's left on the list?” Ianto prompted Gwil. A tiny middle finger skimmed down the list as Gwil mouthed the words to himself. Ianto frowned. Should he point out the behavior to Toshiko before Gwil started school? Was it a learning disability, or detriment?

“A ring binder. Can I pick out any type I want?”

Ianto scanned the ring binders lined up on the shelves on either side of them for anything overly expensive, offensive, or otherwise inappropriate for an eight-year-old's consumption. Everything seemed rather standard, so he nodded before adding a caveat: “Show it to your dad and me first, though.”

Gwil set off down the aisle, carefully scrutinizing each binder. Ianto sighed and leaned back against the shelves, pressing forefinger and thumb to the bridge of his nose. A rustle of greatcoat and clomp of boots over linoleum floors alerted him to Jack positioning himself next to him.

“Why don't we get something for ourselves while we're out?”

Ianto cracked one eye open, catching sight of a flash of a block of stickies in Jack's hand. “Jack, we're here for Gwil's school supplies, not to indulge your...” he glanced down the aisle, “interests.”

“Come on, Ianto. Can we get this one just for us?” Ianto tried to tilt his head away from Jack's warm breath, but Jack wrapped a strong arm around his waist, keeping in him place. “I can sit you down on my desk and carefully label all the parts of you I like the very most.” Ianto glanced around the aisle again. It was only the two of them, and Gwil, who was erstwhile occupied with examining a safari-themed packet of sticky notes, ring binder wedged under his left arm. “I'd start with your sexy brain, of course,” Jack continued, fingertips brushing over Ianto's waist. “Then move down. Your eyebrow that you arch whenever you're scolding me,” Ianto felt Jack's grin against his ear, “those big, blue eyes of yours, which you think hide everything from me but don't. Your cute little nose, your moist lips, which I love to suck and nibble and lic-”

“Tad! Dad!” Big, blue eyes gazed up at the two of them, as Ianto struggled to push Jack away. “Can I get a set of stickies? Please? I promise to only use them when I need them. I won't waste them!”

Still feeling a bit like an overly stern parent from the fountain pens, Ianto nodded. “Hand them to your dad. But I don't want to see them covering your bedroom without good reason.” There were, of course, plenty of good reasons to cover a bedroom with sticky notes. Ianto just didn't want Gwil to waste them.

By the time they made it to the cashier, Jack was mock-struggling beneath the weight of the school supplies they had managed to cram into Gwil's backpack, and Gwil was falling asleep in Ianto's arms. They had been up since five that morning, when a Rift alert had forced Ianto and Jack stumbling from their beds, and Gwil peered out from his doorjamb, mindful not to get in the way. It was no wonder he was ready to drop now, after a day of studying and serving coffee and otherwise running around.

Ianto adjusted Gwil in his arms, and the little boy burrowed his nose further into the crease of Ianto's neck. Jack paid, winking at the cashier who was making googly-eyes at little Gwil.

As they piled into the SUV, Jack placing the bags into the boot and Ianto strapping a still-sleeping Gwil into the backseat, Ianto raised the back of his hand to his mouth, stifling a yawn. “Looks like Gwil's not the only one who needs to get to bed.”

Ianto smiled tightly at Jack as they slid into their seats, Jack taking the wheel. “Unlike Gwil, I still have a laundry-list of things that need to get done before then.”

“Well,” Jack's smile flashed bright in the streetlights as they pulled out of the car park and back onto the main roads, “At least we have something to look forward to tomorrow.”

Ianto smiled tiredly as leaned his head back against the headrest. That's right. Tomorrow Gwil's uniforms were supposed to arrive in the post.
***

Jack grinned as he stood in the corner of Gwil's bedroom, watching Ianto tut and fuss over Gwil's new school uniforms. Gwil was standing in the center of his room, chest bare and arms out as he stared down at Ianto. Tad was crouching on the floor at Gwil's feet, handful of tacks in his mouth as he pinned an extra four centimeters of material on the trousers up. Jack had said they should just buy trousers that actually fit, but Ianto hadn't seen the sense when they could get twice the amount of use out of trousers that started a size too big.

Shifting slightly where he stood, Jack cocked his head as his eyes trailed down to focus on Ianto's arse. It was rather beautifully laid out before him: jacket hiked up, trouser material stretched tight over the two globes... Jack's grin widened.

“Tad, Dad's staring at your bum again.”

Jack spluttered, uncrossing his arms as Ianto turned to look over his shoulder at him. To Jack's relief, Ianto was smiling knowingly. “Your dad does have a bad habit of doing that, doesn't he?” Ianto addressed Gwil. Above him, Gwil nodded solemnly. The look he gave Jack was a mini-version of Ianto's arched eyebrow – the only difference being that Gwil hadn't quite figured out how to raise an individual eyebrow, and had to settle for lifting both in chastisement. Jack tried to look suitably ashamed.

As Ianto turned back to his work measuring the hem for Gwil's trousers, Jack made a plaintive noise. Gwil's big blue eyes were still trained on him, so Jack addressed him. “Your tad just looks so handsome when he's tailoring clothes.” From his location at Gwil's ankles, Ianto made an incredulous noise.

“Alright, take these off.” Ianto sat back from Gwil, waiting as the little boy carefully slid out of the pinned trousers. Jack stepped forward and took the trousers, setting them aside on the back of the chair with the other four pairs Ianto had already hemmed. Picking up the last pair, Jack handed them to Gwil, who slipped them on without hesitation. He had already been through the process four times, after all.

Jack's wrist strap chose that moment to beep, and he frowned down at it. Gwil and Ianto continued their measuring: it was Ianto's assigned day off, so unless the world was about to end, he didn't need to respond to any Rift alerts. Jack however, was still on duty – he had just slipped down to their quarters to watch the trying-on while the Rift had stayed quiet and his paperwork had been completed.

“Toshiko?” Jack turned away from Gwil and Ianto as he spoke into his ear comm. “What's going on up there?”

Owen's voice came through on the comm in reply. “Don't worry about it, Jack. Just a flagged report coming from a residential. Gwen and I can handle it. Enjoy your time with the Missus.”

Frowning at Owen's last jibe, Jack decided to be the bigger man and not react to it. Instead, he pushed it to the back of his mind and flicked off his comm, turning back to Ianto and Gwil with relief. Ianto was just finishing up pinning the last hem, nodding satisfactorily to himself as he did. He glanced back at Jack, raising an inquiring eyebrow. “They don't need me,” he reassured Ianto, who frowned as he stood.

“If they do-”

Jack waved away Ianto's concern. “They don't. Owen told me so himself, and you know he'd be the first to get my a-” he glanced at Gwil, who was standing there patiently, listening, “-butt up there.”

Ianto nodded distractedly, seemingly satisfied with his answer. The younger man was frowning as he stared at the other pieces of Gwil's new uniform that had come in the post: plastic-wrapped packages of button-down shirts and shorts and jackets and ties. As Gwil stood patiently in his pinned trousers and nothing else, Ianto selected and unwrapped a shirt, jacket, and tie from the piles.

Jack watched, broad grin on his face as Ianto held out each article of clothing to Gwil, who took them and carefully put them on. Tiny fingers fumbled with buttons, double and triple-checking to make sure he had holes and buttons aligned properly. Ianto waited just off to the side, letting Gwil look into his wall-mirror as he straightened and tugged at his shirt.

Once that was done up properly, Gwil popped his collar and looked expectantly up at Ianto. He handed the boy his tie, waiting as Gwil's fingers fumbled with the silk strip. Jack's grin widened as Gwil grew more and more frustrated, tying an improper knot, then untying it, then tying something that turned out to not actually be a knot at all, the material falling loose as soon as he let go of it.

Ianto started forward, uniform jacket thrown over his forearm and hands outstretch to help. But Gwil shook him off, face set like stone as he glared into the mirror. “I can do it!” he insisted, fingers going again to the silk, and again falling away without a successful knot.

Tears started to well up in his eyes as he continued to struggle with the material. Ianto, at a loss for what to do, hovered just outside of Gwil's personal space, eyes wide and concerned as he fumbled, seeking an appropriate reaction. He turned to Jack, silently pleading for help.

Grin still on his face, Jack stepped over, dropping down onto his haunches beside Gwil. The little boy turned his face away from his dad, quietly sniffing as he let the tie hang loose around his neck. “Hey, champ: you've seen Tad and I get dressed in the morning for special meetings, right?”

There was some loud sniffling, but then Gwil tilted his head slightly, glancing at Jack out of the corner of his eye. “Like with the Prime Minister?”

“Yeah, exactly.” Jack put a big hand on Gwil's back, patting it comfortingly. “And do you remember how Tad tied my tie when I had to wear one?”

Gwil sniffed again, but nodded. “He got behind you and tied it for you.” A hiccuping little laugh escaped Gwil's throat, and he turned more fully into Jack. “I thought you two were going to start sex again, but then Tad said you were going to be late.”

Above the two of them, Ianto sighed loudly. “Glad to know our son's on his way to becoming a sex addict,” he murmured.

“It's healthy,” Jack shot back, smirking up at Ianto. When the other man smiled ruefully down at him, Jack turned his attention back to Gwil. “I let Tad tie my tie because he's the best at it. Better than Uncle Owen or Uncle Rhys or Uncle Andy or me. That's why he's going to hem your trousers, too: because he's an expert at all this clothing stuff.”

Shyly Gwil glanced up at Ianto in the mirror. He looked back at Jack, eyes still red. “I know you're just trying to make me feel better.”

Jack laughed, rubbing Gwil's back roughly. “Yeah, I am. But you did see Tad tie my tie for me, right? So what I said's true.”

Gwil considered this for a long moment, eyes sliding between Jack squatting next to him, and Ianto standing behind him in the mirror. Finally, Gwil held the tie up to Ianto. “Show me. But don't do it for me!” he cautioned. “I want to learn.”

Ianto's entire body relaxed visibly with relief as he joined Jack in his squatting position on the floor, loosening his tie as he lowered himself to the ground. “Put yours around your neck and watch me.”

Watching as man led boy in intricately tying a small piece of silk, Jack felt warmth blossom in his chest. Ianto and Gwil made such a perfect father and son: quiet, studious, fiercely intelligent, and with a wry sense of observation that would put Stephen Fry to shame. They even looked alike, with their dark brown hair, curly when grown out, and bright blue eyes.

“Jack?” Owen's voice crackled through on the comm, and Jack tore his gaze away from his little family. “Looks like we could actually use you on this one. There's some tiny... green dog-cricket... thing... anyway, Tosh says he's speaking a dialect of Galactic Standard, but it's too off for our translation software.”

With a sigh Jack pressed the contact in his ear. “On my way, Owen. Just don't wave at him.”

“Why, what- Tosh, no, wait!”

Jack closed his eyes as a burst of vicious Galactic Standard swears filled his comm. Reluctantly he leaned forward and pecked Ianto on the temple, pushing himself to his feet a moment later. “Gotta run, champ.” Jack ruffled Gwil's hair, glancing in the mirror once at his progress. “I expect you to help me with my tie next time I have to go to an important meeting, right?”

Gwil's face was determined as he stared up at Jack's reflection in the mirror. “Okay, Dad. Be safe hunting the aliens.”

Jack's eyes met Ianto's in the mirror as he promised: “I will.” With a wink and a flourish of his coat, Jack swept out of their rooms and out of the Hub, away from Ianto and Gwil. He needed to keep the world safe from miniature green dog-crickets, after all.

***

Andy took a giant swallow of his coffee, before setting it down on the conference table and drumming his fingers anxiously on the side of the mug. He hadn't been much of a coffee drinker before Torchwood, but that Ianto bloke certainly made a decent brew. Though – and he'd never admit this to anyone on the team, lest he suffer the wrath of Ianto, or worse, Jack – Andy still preferred a nice cup of tea to calm his nerves when they were frayed, such as they were now. With no other recourse beside coffee at the moment, Andy took another thick swallow as he waited in the silent room.

The team had been sent out a notice to congregate in the conference room at five pm, Rift willing. Ten minutes to five, no klaxons had sounded or screaming come through on the police scanners, so Andy had taken his late-afternoon coffee and headed off to the conference room. Now he was sitting there, alone, waiting on the others.

Andy drummed his fingers on the mug some more, glancing casually around.

The door banged open not a second later, jolting Andy half out of his seat with the sound. In barged Captain Harkness, all bravado and noise.

“Ianto not here yet?”

Andy got the distinct impression that the question was directed at the room, rather than himself, but he answered anyway. “I was the first one here; no one else-”

“Ianto!” Jack ignored Andy entirely, face breaking into a beaming grin as he stared above his head at the doorway. Andy turned in his seat, watching as Ianto walked in behind Gwil. The little boy (not an alien dignitary, Andy reminded himself) was dressed similarly to Ianto, in a little formal suit and carrying a tray of drinks. Ianto had bags of food in both hands – a consolation, Andy supposed, for keeping them through dinner. Personally, he didn't mind: he ate better when Ianto fed him than at home.

Andy waited, silent observer as Gwil and Ianto passed out dinner and drinks, setting them down in front of each team members' seats at the conference table. As soon as he thanked Ianto for the meal, Andy dug into the vegetable and chicken lo-mein. His eyes drifted to the door of the conference room as it banged open, slurping a noodle into his mouth as Owen stormed in, fiddling with what appeared to be a role of knotted bandages.

“Ianto, where the hell is the file on these cat-nurse bandages? I think it decided my hand was injured, even though it's not, and it won't,” Owen shook his hand viciously, “let,” the bandage just flapped around, one end loose, the other wrapped tightly around his hand, “go!”

Ianto moved in front of Owen, guiding him to his seat where several egg rolls already graced his plate, dipping sauce nestled snugly on the side. “That's from the order of the Sisters of Plenitude,” Ianto corrected gently as he pulled out his PDA and tapped at it. “I'm sending the files to your workstation now.” Cautiously Ianto reached out with his stylus, poking at the bandage with it. “It probably just latched onto a minor abrasion or cut you didn't realize was there. It's not cutting off circulation?”

Owen groused as he shoved a full egg roll into his mouth. “No,” he managed to mumble out from around the food, “Just bloody annoying.”

Jack cut in, then, already seated at the head of the table and digging into his own food. “Then it can wait until after the meeting.”

Taking a long drink of his wonton soup, Andy peered out from over his bowl as Ianto settled into his seat on Jack's side, automatically leaning over and making sure Gwil was cutting up his food satisfactorily. Paternal duties seen to, Ianto then turned to Jack and looked pointedly at his napkin, which was lying on the table. Jack rolled his eyes, but set it in his lap before shoveling a pile of noodles into his mouth.

“Guess I should be thanking the Missus for this bountiful feast, then?” Owen snarked, even as he reached for the beef and broccoli container. A faintly murderous look passed across Jack's face, causing Andy to sink down into his chair as he watched the proceedings. Before Jack could reply, the door swung open again, revealing Tosh and Gwen rushing in, both women flustered.

“Alright there, ladies?” Owen turned his attention to them as he continued to eat. Andy saw the way Jack continued to glare at him, even after he had turned away, but Owen didn't seem to notice. He also didn't seem to notice that the alien bandage kept swiping through his food, causing streaks of sauce to spread around the table. Ianto was too busy making sure Gwil – and Jack, it seemed – chewed his food properly before swallowing, to notice the mess that Owen was inadvertently making.

Andy slid down further in his seat and focused on sipping at his coffee.

“Oh, Ianto, thank you, dear,” Gwen breathed as she and Tosh slid into their seats and began to eat. “Tosh and I have had the weirdest day.”

Catching a piece of chicken as it slipped from between Gwil's chopsticks and setting it back on his plate, Ianto glanced and the two women. “That business with the comic book shop?”

Gwen rolled her eyes, groaning, as Tosh chimed in. “Just because I'm Japanese doesn't mean I watch anime. And it certainly doesn't mean I've cosplayed as... as...”

She glanced over at Gwen for help, who supplied: “Ku-san-ag-i?”

Owen let out a snort at that, looking Tosh significantly up and down. “You might be able to pull it off, Tosh. You've got a better rack than most of the Japanese girls who-”

“Owen.” Ianto was sending death glares in Owen's direction, glancing significantly down at Gwil. The little boy was looking on curiously, none of the words the adults spoke around him slipping past his notice. Andy was familiar with how much Gwil paid attention to what Owen said: it was how he learned all his swear words and adult pop-culture references, if Ianto's constant grumbling on the matter was anything to go by.

Glancing up at his tad, Gwil helpfully supplied: “'Rack' means boobies.” He grinned, mouth filled spottily with teeth. “I like those. They're soft and nice when Auntie Gwen or Auntie Tosh cuddles me.”

Ianto sighed, closing his eyes as he tried to regain his composure. Jack, on the other hand, leaned around Ianto and gave Gwil a high-five, which Ianto tried to put a stop to the moment he opened his eyes. “We shouldn't encourage it,” Ianto hissed.

Jack sighed but leaned forward again, looking Gwil sternly in the eyes. “What your tad means is it's not polite to mention a lady's... breasts. Those are private, adult things.”

Gwil nodded understandingly. “Bedroom things,” he clarified. For all of Ianto's mortification, Gwen and Tosh both seemed flattered, eyes practically cooing at Gwil as they smiled at him adoringly.

Not for the first time, Andy wondered if Jack and Ianto were really the sort of people who should be raising a son together. God help any girl – or boy – Gwil would encounter as a teenager in a few years. Hopefully Ianto would at least have enough mind to teach the lad about safe sex before then – if he hadn't already.

“Right.” Jack banged on the table, calling the room to some kind of order. Andy sat up and paid attention, putting on his best helpful expression. Even after a few months, Andy worried about being kicked off the team and retconned, sent back to the police department.

“As you know, Gwil's going to start school in just a few weeks,” Andy didn't miss the way Ianto's jaw tightened and eyes flicked over to Gwil at Jack's words, “and he needs to be told what he can talk to his schoolmates about, and what he can't.”

Ianto raised an eyebrow as he dabbed delicately at the corner of his mouth. “I don't feel much like having to retcon one of his classmates every other week, just because Gwil mentioned his pet pteranodon.”

Gwil rolled his eyes in a gesture eerily similar to Ianto's, and crossed his arms over his chest. “I know I'm not supposed to talk about Myfanwy to the other kids. You told me that when I started footie practice!”

Ianto hushed Gwil with a placating touch to his arm. “I suggested the discussion might go over better if everyone on the team was here. That way Gwil can see that he always has the whole lot of us to talk to about Torchwood business, when he can't talk to his friends.”

Cautiously, slowly, Andy raised his hand in his seat at the back of the table. “Uh... excuse me...”

The entire table – Gwil included – turned to look at Andy, who immediately regretted interjecting. Still, he forged ahead, tugging at his shirt and squaring his chin resolutely. “Why even keep Torchwood secret at all, anymore? Speaking from experience, everyone knows who you are – especially you, Captain Harkness. And we all know that you're the ones who show up whenever something spooky is going on.”

Ianto and Jack exchanged a look that Andy had trouble reading, before Jack turned his gaze back on Andy. “Ianto tried that, once, as an experiment.”

The man himself quirked an eyebrow, smirk tugging at his lips. “It didn't end well. Trust me, it's for the best that the true nature of our organization remains... clandestine.”

“Basically, secret organization: fine.” Jack held his thumb up, then turned it down as he spoke again: “Secret organization that fights aliens? Less fine.” Turning his fingers to point at Gwil, Jack continued. “So that's rule number one for you, champ: there's no such thing as aliens. We don't catch aliens, we don't fight aliens, and you've never met an alien. Got it?”

Andy thought all this covert ops business was a bit much for an eight-year-old to comprehend, but Gwil nodded his understanding, even as he stuck a wonton in his mouth.

“Number two...” Jack paused, before leaning back in his chair and looking at Ianto. “What's number two?”

Ianto took over the discussion then, turning to Gwil. “You don't live underneath the Plass. Dad and I are going to buy a house, and we'll pretend to live there. When you walk home from school, you'll go in the front door of the fake house, and a transporter will take you to our rooms under the Hub.”

Owen rolled his eyes, rocking back and forth in his chair, drink in his bandaged hand. “Why don't you and the husband just move into the house? Making the whole thing more complicated than it needs to be.”

Andy didn't miss the dark look that passed over Jack's face at the word “husband”. Andy's eyes flickered to Ianto, but the younger man was still focused on Owen, so he didn't see Jack's expression. “Jack and I need to stay at the Hub in case of emergency.”

“No, Jack needs to stay at the Hub.” The bandage still firmly attached to Owen's hand fluttered as he pointed an emphatic finger at Ianto. “You and the mini-butler are free to live wherever you like.” Andy recognized the challenge in Owen's eyes: he wanted Ianto to admit to staying with Jack for personal reasons, instead of hiding behind Torchwood business. Andy wasn't sure if things had always been like this between Owen and Ianto, but the behavior had certainly seemed to escalate recently, if Jack's responses to the situations were anything to go by.

Sure enough, Jack's fist came down on the table, causing everyone except Owen and Ianto to jump in their seats. “Owen. Drop it.” The two men stared each other down, Ianto caught in the middle, trying to shoot Jack placating looks. “Ianto and I have already discussed the living arrangements. That's not why we're here today.”

Owen huffed a little in his seat, but didn't say anything else.

An awkward silence fell over the table, broken finally by a somewhat desperate-looking Tosh. “Where did you get the technology for that? I've never examined any teleport tech.”

Ianto turned to Tosh, relief in the change of subject written obviously across his face. “Archives. Back in the seventies one came through. Jack knew it was there, and how to get it working again.” He turned back to Gwil, ticking off points on his fingers. “So: no aliens, and we live in a normal home. You already know not to talk about Myfanwy,” Gwil nodded, pouting somewhat: Andy guessed that he was feeling put-out that his tad felt the need to reiterate that point. “When people ask what your dad and I do for a living, what do you say?”

“Special ops,” Gwil answered promptly. “It's like super-secret government work. Dad and Tad can't tell me any more than that, but they're protecting us and fighting bad guys.”

Andy smiled as he watched Gwil rattle off their cover story with ease. The little boy was brilliant, considering all the factors at play against him. Gwen had given him the run down after he had first joined. Gwil hadn't been with them for even a year, then, but Gwen told him that he was already world's better than how they found him: malnourished, uneducated, tiny and small and helpless in an alleyway. For all the non-traditional nature of Jack and Ianto's parenting, the little boy was flourishing under their watchful eyes.

Ianto continued questioning Gwil. “What about you, Gwil? What year were you born?”

“Two thousand,” he answered promptly, beaming like he had just answered a trick question correctly. Which, if Andy considered it, he sort of had.

“And when did Dad and I adopt you?”

“A year ago,” Gwil answered, fiddling with a fortune cookie.

Reaching out, Ianto took the fortune cookie from Gwil, opening the packaging for him. He held it up, though, asking another question before handing it back. “And what about...” Ianto hesitated, eyes flickering in that soft way Andy was learning to read. “What about your finger?” he finished quietly.

Gwil shrugged a shoulder, apparently unperturbed by his injury. “Playground accident when I was little. Caught in rusty chains of a swing.” He held out his injured hand, four digits waggling at the fortune cookie Ianto held just outside of his grasp.

Ianto relented, passing the treat to Gwil, thumb swiping gently over the scar tissue that marked the spot where Gwil's index finger once was. Gwil cracked open the cookie and started munch on it with unbridled enthusiasm, one eye on the little slip of paper he had extracted from the cookie.

Owen burped loudly, patting at his stomach in a most content manner. “Well, thanks for the meal, Mrs. Harkness.” Jack bristled again, while Ianto simply sighed and started to clean up Gwil's spot, placing bits of rice and noodles that had gotten away from his chopsticks back on his plate. “If that's it for the evening, I'm going to head over the medbay and get this,” he held out the hand with the overeager bandage still wrapped happily around it, “taken care of.”

“Owen!” Jack shouted after the doctor as he started away. “I want a full report on that parasite on my desk by the time I wake up.”

Owen shot two fingers over his shoulder as he hurried out the door. “You wish, Jack. You'll get it in two days, when I finish the autopsy.”

Andy winced at Owen's insubordination, and the dark expression on Jack's face. But Ianto was there, saying something quietly to Jack, a hand on his forearm. Glancing over at Gwen and Tosh, who were clearing up their places, Andy decided that now might be the time to beat a hasty retreat. With one last nod of thanks to Ianto for the meal, he headed out. He still had a few reports to close out before he headed home, anyway.

***

Ianto pursed his lips as he stared at the lovely little three-bedroom, two-bath home. It was in a good school district – the absolute first filter he had put all the homes through, since that was the reason for buying a home in the first place – fairly new, and in good shape. All the electrical outlets were in place, there wasn't any obvious water damage, the garden and lawn were both lovely and well-kept. It was a home worthy of being lived-in, much less good enough to use as a front for their rooms in the Hub. It was the sort of home he might have imagined him and Lisa living in, a few years down the line.

“I don't know.”

Jack groaned, loudly and emphatically, from his spot sitting on the front steps. “Iaaan-tooo.”

Ianto's eyes flickered around the exterior, ignoring the estate agent standing by her car, jabbering away on her mobile. “That tree could fall in a storm.”

Jack threw his hands up in the air, before pushing up off his thighs and standing. “Then I'll have it removed. Ianto, this is the fifth house I've seen: and I know you've looked at a dozen more without me.” Ianto opened his mouth to protest, but Jack just gave him one of his expectant, are-you-really-going-to-deny-it? looks, so Ianto closed it, pressing his lips together tightly. Jack was right, after all.

Getting one of those private, concerned expressions on his face, Jack edged closer to Ianto, turning slightly away from the estate agent. “Is something wrong? Something about Gwil, or Torchwood...”

Ianto shrugged noncommittally, eyes still flickering over the quaint little house. Maybe the house had some bad Rift history? He could check the records, though he doubted there was actually anything wrong with this one. Only two of the other houses had come up in the records when he queried. But he couldn't exactly turn down yet another house just... because...

“Hey.” Jack's sharp tone startled Ianto out of his reverie, forcing his gaze to the stony face of the other man. “Don't do that.”

“What?”

“That refuse-to-say-anything thing,” Jack waved his hand around. “I can't fix it if you don't tell me what's wrong.”

“Oh, because you're so forthcoming about what's bothering you when you're in a mood,” Ianto snapped back. Immediately he regretted the words, as the stony look on Jack's face turned briefly murderous, then blank. The blank expression was the worst of all.

“Reached a decision, yet?” The bubbly voice of the estate agent cut through the tension roiling between the two men like a pot of fresh coffee. “I don't mean to rush you, but there is another couple interested-”

“We'll take it.” Jack broke eye contact with Ianto as he spoke, turning to the estate agent. “It's perfect.”

With one last look, Ianto turned away from Jack and toward the house. Jack would be the one signing the papers, anyway: he was the one actually buying the place. Tension all through his neck and shoulders, feeling like some sort of atlantes figure, Ianto walked slowly up the steps to the front door, swinging it open. He stared into the interior of the house: an interior no one would ever see, so long as they set up the teleport properly.

“Thoughts: go.” Jack slipped up behind Ianto: not quite touching, but a solid, warm presence, impossible to ignore. Everything about Jack was impossible to ignore, Ianto thought fondly.

So he complied with the request, saying the first thought skimming the surface of his tumultuous mind. “It's sad. This poor little house won't ever get to be a real home – see a real family live in it. It'll just stay empty. A facade.”

Jack moved closer, still not really touching, but there was the whisper of his coat edges against Ianto's suit jacket as they breathed together, staring into the perfectly lovely house. “If...” Jack stopped, and Ianto waited. He always waited, when Jack spoke like that: serious. Quiet. “If you wanted to, you could live here. You and Gwil.”

Abruptly Ianto stepped away from Jack, fear gripping his heart. He scanned the room, counting the outlets – one, two, three, four – in an effort to calm himself down before speaking. “What about you?” he asked outlet number four, refusing to look at Jack, lest the fear and – pathetic, silly, needy – desperation show through his eyes. “You'd have to stay at the Hub. Remote monitoring and Rift-prediction programs only go so far.”

There was the muffled sound of Jack's boots on the carpet, and a blur of grey as Jack's coat moved through Ianto's peripheral vision. Then Jack's hand was on his shoulder, nudging him, forcing Ianto to turn and face him. “I'd... yeah. But we could set the teleport up in the house, say in the back of your closet or something, and we'd be able to-”

Jack stopped speaking abruptly as Ianto made a choked-off noise and turned away. He stared fiercely at outlet number two, willing down the anger and betrayal that were worming their way through his system. “This is...” Ianto tampered down the urged to punch the wall. Wouldn't do any good, and would probably bust up his hand. “Is this because of Owen?” he finally managed to growl out. With a flash of calm anger, Ianto managed to turn around, staring down Jack in challenge. “Reputation called into question, so you're trying to reassert it? God forbid Captain Jack Harkness be spoken of in the context of a relationship.”

For a split second, Jack's face registered pure shock and confusion. Ianto faltered in his tirade, realizing too late that he had read Jack all wrong. Then the bafflement turned to anger, and Jack rounded on Ianto. “I was pissed at Owen for you, you big idiot! He was calling you my wife, I thought you'd...” Jack waved his hand at Ianto helplessly, “I don't know, take offense!”

Ianto was incredulous. Hands on his hips, he raised an eyebrow at Jack. “And, why exactly would I take offense? Which one of us takes it up the arse, more often than not?” As Jack's mouth fell open in a light-hearted protest, Ianto rolled his eyes. “And I know, it doesn't matter. But honestly, Jack: Owen gives me shit all the time. It's just him taking the mickey.” He leaned into Jack, wry smile twitching at his lips. “Honestly, Jack: I don't even hear eighty percent of what falls out of that man's mouth.”

There was a long moment as the two men stared at each other, brows furrowed and hands on hips in identical postures of bafflement. Then, very slowly, a chuckle started in Jack's chest. That was all it took to open the floodgates, and moments later Ianto was clinging to Jack as they laughed, tears streaming down both faces.

“Wait, wait.” Jack pulled away from Ianto, wiping at his face as he tried to stop laughing. “Where are we living?”

Ianto shrugged helplessly. “I thought you were kicking me and Gwil out of the Hub.”

Jack laughed boisterously, clapping at Ianto's shoulder. “I thought you wanted to move out!”

Ianto groaned, pressing his forehead to Jack's shoulder and shaking his head slowly. “We really must learn to actually talk to each other once in a while, Jack. All these miscommunications are getting exhausting. I'm too old for this.”

Beneath his forehead, Jack rolled his shoulder gently. “Hey, you think you're too old.”

Ianto snorted indelicately. “Why do I have the feeling lesbians never have these problems?”

Above him, Jack mused as he stroked small circles into Ianto's back: “Yeah, but they get a double-dose of PMT every month.” Ianto could feel Jack's face brighten, breaking out into a grin with his next sentence: “And we have penises. So, you know. There's that.”

Jack's wrist strap chose that moment to go off, signaling a Rift spike and interrupting Ianto's vague musings on the benefits and deficits of various sex organs. The two men split apart immediately, Ianto going for his PDA, Jack fiddling with his wrist strap. They groaned synchronously as they stared down at their devices. Jack was out the door to their new facade-home just a step before Ianto, who took a second to grab the key from Jack and lock it up, before both piled in to the SUV.

Just before they pulled away from the curb and as Ianto was pressing his comm to coordinate with Tosh, he felt a hand on his neck and a small tug. He turned, letting Jack pull him into a quick kiss. When he quirked an eyebrow at the other man, Jack just smiled and said: “Congratulations on the new house.”

Ianto rolled his eyes, but smiled back as warmth filled his chest. It was only as he turned his attention back to his comm and PDA that his eyes skittered over the calendar date, plummeting his heart into his feet.

There, in great big red letters, less than a week away, read: First Day of School.
***

The room was dark, the sounds of the Hub above them eerily absent. Not even Myfanwy could be heard shifting in her perch, getting ready to greet the day with a squawked demand for breakfast. It was too early for her, yet.

It wasn't too early for Ianto, apparently. So it seemed. He had been lying awake in bed for over an hour now, silent and still as he stared at his ceiling in the almost pitch-black of their room. The only movement for an hour had been the flickering of light as the numbers on his and Jack's digital clocks clicked over every minute, and the shifting and breathing of Jack in his sleep. Ianto's eyes slid to his clock. Six am. He was surprised Jack was still asleep.

As if roused by the very thought, Jack stirred next to Ianto, stilling with one foot thrown casually over Ianto's ankle. Ianto continued to stare at their ceiling. “You haven't been up worrying the whole night, have you?”

Ianto shook his head as he continued to stare resolutely at the ceiling. Maybe the Rift would absolutely implode today, bringing space stuff from the foulest corners of the universe raining down on their heads, and Gwil would have to give the first day of school a miss. But the Rift alarm hadn't gone off for a day, and Tosh was only predicting a minor spatial-displacement fluctuation late in the afternoon.

Sighing, Ianto gave up trying to control the Rift by sheer force of his gaze on his ceiling, and tilted his head slightly toward Jack. “No. Past hour, or so.”

Jack's hand wriggled beneath the sheets, displacing them until he managed to brush against Ianto's thigh. Ianto lay still for a moment as Jack's hand slipped to his groin, stroking his flaccid penis lovingly. “I can help take your mind off it,” Jack whispered against Ianto's neck, kissing it gently before pushing the covers away and sliding down his body.

Out of apathy – or perhaps an interest to see if it would work – Ianto let Jack slip his mouth around his still-flaccid member, licking and sucking and nuzzling against it. His technique was perfect, of course, but Ianto's mind was too busy treating him to images of Gwil getting run over by a car, or being bullied because he was small, or because he had two tads, or because of his finger. Or even worse: an alien crashing in front of the school and killing all the children, or a negative Rift spike taking him away, displacing him through time and space – again – or the government taking Gwil away from Jack and Ianto because they were Torchwood and Captain Jack Harkness and his little boy-toy Ianto Jones, and who would ever let them raise a kid?

After a moment, Ianto rolled away, nudging Jack's head gently with his thighs. Jack got the message, sitting up and staring balefully down at Ianto from the end of the bed. “Sorry, Jack.” Ianto wasn't embarrassed – Jack would never laugh for him being unable to perform, and his expression clearly said he understood in this particular case – but he did feel bad: bad that Jack couldn't offer him the comfort he needed, bad that he couldn't take it.

But Jack just offered him a crooked smile, crawling back up the bed to him and kissing him on the forehead. “It was worth a shot. Come on:” Jack patted Ianto's thigh roughly before swinging his own over the edge of the bed, “Make us some coffee. And I've got a better idea to help you out.”

Ianto doubted it, but pulled on a dressing gown and followed Jack out to their kitchen. Stifling a yawn into the back of his hand, Ianto started the coffee, while Jack puttered around the kitchen in the buff, piling the supplies for a hearty breakfast on the counter: bacon, eggs, onions, hash, butter, along with pans, olive oil, and a spatula. Before he began, he took his cup of coffee from Ianto gratefully, then steered him over to the kitchen table. Ianto waited, sipping from his mug as Jack grabbed their grocery list pad and pencil from the fridge, setting it down in front of Ianto on the table.

“Now, as I cook, I want you to make a list of everything that could possibly go wrong today.” Ianto glanced up at Jack, startled. This was supposed to calm him? But Jack seemed sure of himself as he nodded raised eyebrows at the pad and pencil. “I know you've already got a list a hundred items long in your head, but I want to see it: written out, nice and neat.”

Jack's confident prodding encouraged Ianto to pick up the pencil and give it a go. Jack hovered over him just a moment, before squeezing his shoulder encouragingly and returning to making breakfast.

By the time Jack was sliding eggs from pan to plate, Ianto had filled up both sides of one piece of paper and was reaching for a second. A sharp rap to the back of his knuckles, courtesy Jack's spatula, stopped him. “I'm sure that's plenty. Come on: hand it over.”

Reluctantly Ianto held the list out to Jack, proceeding to poke at his eggs as the other man read.

Things That Could Happen to Gwil:

1.] Bullied

2.] Run over by a car

3.] Food poisoning

4.] Infectious disease

5.] Molestation

6.] Broken arm leg wrist

6.] Serious injury

7.] Bad grades

8.] Negative Rift spike

9.] Positive Rift spike

10.] Dating

11.] Break-ups

12.] STIs

13.] Fights

14.] Kidnapping

15.] Exposure to swearing

16.] Exposure to sex

17.] Drugs

18.] Jail

19.] Stealing

20.] Getting lost on his way to class

21.] Tearing his uniform

22.] Not making friends

23.] Not being able to relate to any of the other children

24.] Having a flashback to 1848

25.] Refusing to attend – good thing?

26.] Failing grades

27.] Being behind

28.] Being unable to catch up

29.] Being too far ahead

30.] Amputation

In the background, Ianto could hear Gwil's alarm going off. Six-thirty, then. Ianto started up out of his seat, but before he could even stand, Jack's hand shot out to grip his arm and hold him in place. “Sit,” he ordered, glancing up from the list. As the two men sat, the alarm turned off, and the sounds of Gwil's bed creaking and feet padding around on carpet could be heard drifting from the little boy's room.

“He said he wanted to do it himself,” Jack reminded him.

Ianto nodded. He knew Jack was right. Gwil had insisted they buy him an alarm clock, so he could wake up on his own. It had been Gwil who pointed out that some mornings Jack and Ianto might not be around to help see him off, and that he would have to be able to take care of himself.

“Eat,” Jack prodded him, poking at Ianto's eggs with his fork and stealing a piece of bacon from him at the same time. “I don't need you fainting in the middle of a weevil chase.”

Reluctantly Ianto shoved a pile of eggs into his mouth, washing it down with a thick swallow of coffee. Everything tasted like cardboard to him this morning; his mouth was dry and the food stuck to the roof. As he ate – or poked food around on his plate – Jack stood and made a plate up for Gwil: eggs, bacon, hash, a glass of orange juice and milk. The rustling in Gwil's room grew louder as his lights turned on, visible through the crack under his door.

When Gwil's place was ready, Jack turned back to Ianto, holding the list out to him. “Here's what I want you to do.” Ianto shifted weary eyes up to Jack. “Take this list, and put it under your pillow.” Jack shook his head even as Ianto started laughing derisively. “Trust me, okay? And every day that Gwil comes home and nothing catastrophic has happened to him, you have to cross an item off the list.”

It might help – Ianto knew enough to give it a go. He let his eyes slide closed in resignation as Jack carded a hand through his hair. “Are you going to shower?”

With a sigh and quick glance to Gwil's bedroom, Ianto nodded. “I'll just be a minute.”

As he pushed back from the table and made for their bedroom, Jack coughed. “Ianto.” He was holding out the list, eyeing Ianto amusedly.

Ianto took the list and trudged back into their bedroom.

**

When he came back, Gwil was seated at the table, uniform on and breakfast moving rapidly from plate to mouth. He grinned as Ianto moved toward the table, teeth spotty in his mouth, eggs and bacon sticking between and on them. “Hey, Tad. Dad said you wanted to take pictures?”

Ianto nodded, subconsciously accepting his refilled mug of coffee from a now fully-clothed Jack. “Right.” He gulped at the coffee, feeling it slosh around in his nearly-empty stomach. Hesitating, he glanced at the clock on the microwave. “Let's wait for Auntie Tosh and Gwen. They said they wanted to see you before you left.”

Jack apparently took that as his cue to head upstairs to the main area of the Hub, which he did with a quick nod to Ianto. With shaking hands, Ianto set down his coffee on the table and moved to Gwil, smoothing out his collar, running fingers over the line of his jacket, checking the knot in his tie. He combed a hand through Gwil's short-cut wavy hair, checking it for cleanliness, even though Ianto had supervised his bath the night before. Crouching down, he checked the knots in his shoes, the length of the socks, the fall of his trousers.

“Tad.”

Ianto glanced up from his crouching position, at a big pair of blue eyes that were staring down at him exasperatedly.

“I'm going to be fine.”

Forcing a shaky smile onto his face, Ianto patted Gwil's leg. The pat turned into a squeeze, which devolved into Ianto surging up and hugging Gwil close to him, burying his face into the little boy's hair. “Just...” Breathing deep, Ianto took a moment to steady himself. In his arms, Gwil squirmed slightly, but settled and patted Ianto's sides in an attempt at comfort.

“It's okay, Tad.”

“Be safe,” Ianto whispered, squeezing his eyes shut tight against the onslaught of emotions trying to batter their way out of him. “Just be safe. And come to me or your dad if you need help, in anything. Anything.” Against Ianto's shoulder Gwil's head bobbed in some semblance of a nod.

Ianto was still squeezing fragile, tiny Gwil to his chest when the sounds of heels clicking over tiles reached his ears. Gwen's voice filled the kitchen. “Alright Ianto: let the rest of us have a go at the little one on his big day!”

Wiping his eyes discreetly, Ianto finally released Gwil from his embrace. The boy raced away from him to Gwen and Tosh. The women's arms were heavy with bags of presents, which swung as they flung them open and pulled Gwil into a hug. Gwil was poking at the packages immediately, riffling through tissue paper to try and get a peek at the treasures within.

In all the commotion Ianto had lost track of Jack, and so jumped when the other man appeared at his elbow, pressing a camera into his hand. “If you want pictures...”

Straightening his suit and combing a quick hand through his hair, Ianto nodded, all business. “Right. Sorry. Gwil,” Ianto's tone was sharp, causing the boy to jump away from the presents and look around guiltily. “One present at a time.”

Tosh offered her present out first, which Gwil held his arms out for patiently. He staggered under the weight when the brightly-wrapped bag was placed into his hands, setting it down on the kitchen tiles curiously. A moment later his head was emerging from the tissue paper, eyes wide. “A laptop!”

Ianto's eyebrows raised, even as he snapped a few pictures of the scene. Tosh hurried to reassure him. “I figured he might use it for presentations in class. And all the parental controls are already set for the internet.”

Jack was the next one to look concerned. “That's just for Gwil's laptop, right? It won't affect our...” he glanced at Ianto, “personal computers?”

Gwen gasped, affronted, even as Tosh smiled reassuringly. “No. Just Gwil's.”

“Honestly, Jack: what could you need to look at online? You've got the whole package right in front of you!” She gestured broadly at Ianto, gift bag banging against her elbow as she did.

Ianto accepted her indignation on his behalf with good grace. “Sometimes we look things up together.” He glanced at Gwil, before shrugging nonchalantly. “Just a bit of fun, you know.” Turning his attention back to Tosh, Ianto smiled in gratitude. “Thank you, Tosh. It's really too much, but thank you.”

Tosh waved a hand, mouth open to protest. Gwil cut in first, peering up from the already-open laptop. “Do you and Dad look at bedroom stuff on the computer?”

“We'll talk about that when you're older,” came Jack's immediate reply. He glanced over at Ianto in the next second, seeking his approval and smiling broadly when he received it.

“Uncle Owen picked you up something, too.” Tosh offered a smaller, apparently much lighter, bag to Gwil, who started rummaging through the tissue paper the second his fingers grasped it. She smiled apologetically up at Ianto and Jack. “He gave it to me last night: said he wouldn't make it in early enough.”

Ianto nodded, actually understanding of Owen's late morning for once: the night before, Owen had to stay until three am, running tests on a myriad of alien fluids to make sure nothing even remotely toxic had entered Cardiff's water supply. Luckily, the results had come back negative across the board. Resultantly, Owen had probably managed to stumble into his flat around three-thirty, and Jack had give him the morning off in gratitude.

“Star Wars.” Gwil's breathless wonderment refocused Ianto's attention on the present. Gwil was holding a packet of absolutely enormous Star Wars stickers at Ianto and Jack, eyes wide. Ianto frowned. Lightsabers and battling Jedi and Sith weren't exactly appropriate for school... but then again, Owen had probably passed over much worse. And Owen knew how much Gwil loved the new Clone War series on the telly: Ianto certainly caught the two of them bunking off to watch it together often enough.

“Tad, you have to thank Uncle Owen for me when he comes in! This is so wicked.”

Ianto nodded. “I'll pass on the message. And you can tell him, too, when-” Ianto paused, swallowing thickly. The three other adults in the room were staring at him sympathetically. He scowled, forcing the words out of his mouth: “When you get home from school.”

“And here's one from me and Uncle Rhys!” Gwen cut in, covering the tense moment. She nudged Tosh playfully, twisting her lips in a reprimand. “Twenty pound limit my... bottom.”

Plucking at the gift bag with the same enthusiasm as the other two, Gwil quickly extracted two packets of... “Silly bandz?”

Gwen nodded quite seriously, pointing at the oddly-shaped rubber bands. “Trust me. These things are like prison currency in primary school – so Rhys' secretary tells us.”

Gwil was undoing the packaging, tugging at the Toy Story 3 shaped bands. “What do you mean?”

Ianto snapped a few pictures more as Gwen squatted down next to Gwil, showing him how to wrap the bands around his wrist. “Trust me: at the end of the day, you'll be the most popular boy at school. Especially if you give a few away.”

Gwil stared at the bands on his wrist, nodding at Gwen as seriously as he would during one of Jack or Ianto's safety talks.

Glancing at his watch, Ianto nodded at Jack. “We've got to head out.”

Jack clapped his hands loudly, rubbing them together afterward. “Alright, ladies: time to bid the little man farewell.”

As many hugs and kisses and pinches to cheeks were showered onto Gwil by the two female Torchwood employees, Ianto pulled together everything they had gotten together the night before: Gwil's rucksack, filled to the brim with school supplies; and his lunchbox, sandwich, fruit, and pudding cup neatly packed in. Ianto helped Gwil into his rucksack, securing it onto both his shoulders. Gwil held up his four-fingered hand for his lunchbox, which Ianto passed off to him with only the slightest hesitation.

“Ready to go?” Jack was shrugging on his coat and checking his hair in his reflection on the microwave.

Ianto glanced around the kitchen, piling the breakfast dishes into the sink quickly and presents onto the table before they left. He'd have to sort that mess when they got back. “Alright,” he sighed, before shooting one longing glance at the Rift monitor they had in their little atrium. Totally quiet. Damn it. “I guess we can get going.” He waited another beat, as if it might go off in the next second.

Nope.

Gwil was standing at their teleport, shifting from foot to foot in what looked like a restrained bounce. “Can we go? I don't want to be late.”

A squeeze to his hand made Ianto glance over at Jack, who was smiling reassuringly at him. “It's going to be fine,” he said, voice steady and calm. “Come here.” Ianto let Jack pull him into a kiss, trying to let himself relax into it like he normally would. But not matter how tender, or sweet, or skilled Jack was, nothing was going to make the tension in his shoulders and neck dissipate.

They parted, Gwil shifting exasperatedly in Ianto's peripheral vision. “Ready, now? Tad? Dad?”

Ianto nodded, steeling his shoulders and forcing a tight smile on his face as he turned to Gwil. “Right. Let's go.”

**

They emerged on the other side of the teleport unscathed, stepping through the front door of the facade house between one blink and the next. Immediately Ianto turned to Gwil, checking him over for any discomfort. But Gwil was already walking ahead of them, down the route which Ianto had forced him to memorize a dozen times already. Ianto and Jack practically knocked each other over in their hurry to follow Gwil down the stairs of the house and to the pavement.

“You know, all the kids at footie said they walk to school on their own,” Gwil piped up as they walked.

Jack and Ianto exchanged a look: Jack's speculative, Ianto's slightly more terrified. “Maybe,” Jack replied, rubbing a hand roughly over Gwil's hair. “When your tad says you're ready.”

Ianto reached out and gave Jack's hand a squeeze in gratitude.

Abruptly, the sound of barking filled the air. Ianto jumped a mile, as did Gwil. A neighborhood dog was bounding at them, racing across one of the yards. Before Ianto could even react, Jack was a blur of grey next to him, racing in front and flinging his arm forward.

In the space of two rapid heartbeats, everything was still again. Whines replaced barks as Ianto brought his terror-stricken eyes into focus.

A Jack Russell Terrier was frozen, mid-bound, by a portable containment unit. Jack was rubbing the back of his neck, looking rather sheepishly down at it, while Gwil was squatting on the pavement, poking at the shimmering blue forcefield curiously.

“Wh- wh-” With a single breath, Ianto composed himself. “Jack,” he hissed. “Turn that off.”

Fumbling forward, Jack grabbed the little pebble that he had flung at the dog and flicked the deactivation switch. The dog dropped to the ground with a startled yip, before recovering almost immediately and trotting over to Gwil. Ianto was already in damage control mode, inspecting the houses, streets, and footpaths for curious onlookers. Luckily no one seemed to have noticed their little spectacle. The owners of the dog – a mother and a girl who looked to be about five – stepped out of the house a moment later, yelling sharply for the dog and scanning the yard for him.

Turning to Jack, who was tucking the containment unit back into the pocket of his greatcoat, Ianto raised an eyebrow. Jack rubbed his neck, smiling shakily. “What?” he blustered. “So I was nervous too, okay? So sue me!”

Ianto smiled, just a twitch of his lips. “You could have let on. Would have liked to know that I wasn't the only one worried.”

“Yeah, well,” Jack grinned his megawatt Harkness grin. “I wanted to be the one who had it all together. For once.”

At their feet, Gwil had by now abandoned his rucksack on the pavement, going instead for the dog, hugging it to his chest and letting it lick his face delightedly. Ianto couldn't tell who was more enthused: the dog or Gwil.

“Tad! Can we get a dog?”

The woman and little girl had now spotted the Jack Russell, shouting “Gingy!” reproachfully at it. Ianto phrased his response to Gwil carefully. “A dog would be a problem where we live, Gwil. And you already have Myfanwy.”

With a glance at the girl who was dropping down to her knees next to him, Gwil frowned up at Ianto. “Myfanwy's not the same,” he complained.

“Her name's Ginger, but we call her Gingy,” the little girl next to Gwil supplied, unprompted. The children continued to pet the dog together as her mother jogged up from the house, all smiles and undone hair.

“Sorry! I hope Gingy wasn't a bother.”

Ianto smiled politely at the woman. “Not at all.” Sticking out his hand, he made the introductions. “Ianto Jones. And this is... Jack. Harkness.” Ianto's gaze flickered away from Jack, not wanting to see the look in his eyes over the way he had stuttered over a formal label for Jack. He understood the other man's compunctions against using them, but sometimes it would just make conversations so much easier to be able to call Jack his partner or boyfriend or husband (well, never husband. Ianto had never entertained that particular delusion when it came to Jack).

The woman seemed unperturbed by the introduction, shaking their hands and beaming under the force of Jack's smile. “Jamie Stuart,” she replied. “And this one down here's Rachel.”

Gwil's head popped up at the sound of the adult conversation. “I'm Gwil,” he offered, standing abruptly and sticking out his hand. Jamie took it, bemused smile on her face.

“Well, it's very nice to meet you, Gwil. What year are you?”

“Four,” he replied promptly, not even glancing at either of his parents. Ianto felt a small flare of pride.

“I'm Year One,” Rachel offered, lifting Gingy up in a sort of rough strangle hold as she attempted to stand with the dog. Jamie quickly put a stop to this, extricating the dog from her daughter's grip and placing it back on the pavement, where it yipped and bounced in circles around the humans' ankles.

“You must be new to the area,” Jamie questioned, as the group began to continue on their way to the school. “I've never seen you before.”

Ianto nodded. “Just moved in down the street. We just adopted Gwil recently, and we did some research before we decided where to move.”

“Adopted?” Jamie asked, shocked. “I would have guessed he was yours,” she continued, nodding at Ianto. “He's just the spit! So you're new parents, then?”

Without glancing at Jack – Ianto was rather proud of himself for the restraint – he replied: “Yes. It's been an interesting year.”

Jamie laid a gentle hand on his arm, patting him reassuringly. Ianto personally would rather people just stop trying to reassure him this morning. He was getting through it just fine. Just so long as he didn't think too hard about the next eight hours he was going to spend separated from Gwil. “He'll be just fine at this school, I'm sure. He seems like such a lovely, polite little boy. I'm sure his teacher will love him.”

Ianto twisted his lips into what he thought might resemble a smile. It wasn't the teachers he was worried about. Gwil got along just fine with adults – problem was, he only got along with adults. A year of living among Torchwood's little family wasn't exactly proper preparation for normal social interactions. Ianto could only hope that football practice and trips to the park had made enough of an impression on Gwil that he didn't stand out too hopelessly among the other children.

Before he knew it, they were standing in front of the entrance to the school, gaggles of children racing by as parents called out last-minute reminders. Ianto froze, hand snatching out to grab at Gwil's blazer and keep him close for just a minute more. Jamie and Rachel had already moved to the side, giving them some time alone.

Conscious of potential schoolmates around them and unwilling to ruin Gwil's chances for friends because he was feeling separation anxiety, Ianto squeezed his shoulder and released quickly. “Stay safe,” he whispered, eyes darting over Gwil's little form as a sea of chaotic children swarmed around them. “If you need anything,”

“I know.” Gwil interrupted, eyes serious as he peered up at Ianto. “I have you and Dad. And Auntie Gwen, and Auntie Tosh, and Uncle Owen and Rhys. And Andy.”

Ianto nodded. There were not tears pricking at his eyes.

“Stay out of trouble, champ,” Jack ordered with a last ruffle to Gwil's hair.

“We'll be here before the school even lets out. Hopefully. And if we aren't-”

“I know the way, Tad.”

With that, Gwil was off, lost to sight almost immediately in the sea of children.

Jack's hand rested heavy on Ianto's shoulder, and suddenly, he wasn't irritated at the attempt to reassure. “Come on,” Ianto leaned into Jack's side, surprised when Jack wrapped a hand around his own and didn't let go. “Let's get back to the Hub. I'm sure there's plenty of work there to distract you.”

Ianto didn't let go of Jack's hand until they were back home.

***

The two clips worth of ammunition Ianto emptied into the insecticoid queen that was trying to invade Cardiff via a run-down pet food factory might have been overkill.

But he was late picking Gwil up from his first day of school because of this praying mantis with delusions of grandeur.

The bitch.

**

“We could have just-”

“I'm not listening to this right now, Jack.”

Ianto shoved past Jack in the Torchwood garage, barely taking the time to stop and grab two of the six evidence cases they brought back. Owen was busy negotiating the queen's corpse onto a gurney, while Tosh and Gwen collected up the other four evidence cases between them. Andy was on the comms, silent now as he awaited their arrival in the Hub.

“You do realize we might have been able to negotiate with her-”

Ianto spun, practically knocking Jack over with swinging cases and barely-controlled fury. The other man seemed unperturbed – perhaps even a little amused.

Ianto was not.

“You know what, Jack?” Ianto pushed the two evidence cases into Jack' arms, ignoring the rest of the team standing around and watching their tiff. “If you think this is such a laugh, you can go ahead and file all the evidence, fill out the forms, and try and interpret Owen's handwriting when he gives you his report.”

Leaning over the alien queen's body on the gurney, Owen shrugged. “Hey: Doctor,” he defended, pointing at himself.

Ianto ignored him, tapping his comm instead. “Andy, are there any reports coming in from around the warehouse that we're going to have to deal with?”

Andy's voice came over the line. “Looks like we might have two witnesses, and possibly a family that was affected by the alien's operations.”

Ianto stared pointedly at Jack. “Enjoy taking care of that. I have to go make sure Gwil actually made it home,” he grumbled, before spinning on his heel and storming off.

“Ianto,” Jack was shouting after him, “What do you think happened? It's not like the Jack Russell would have eaten him!”

By then, Ianto had made it back into the main area of the Hub, making a beeline for their rooms. Andy was jumping up from his seat, eyes wide and confused. “Jack Russell?”

“Long story,” Ianto grumbled, pushing past him to their stairway. “I'll be up to make coffee in a minute, Andy,” he shouted over his shoulder as he started down their stairs. “I just need to-”

“No problem!” Andy shouted back. “I'll just head down and help with the evidence!”

Practically racing down the stairs, Ianto came to a sudden halt in their kitchen. There was Gwil, munching contentedly on a sandwich and apple as he watched the little telly they had on the counter. Ianto stood quite still, watching him for a moment as he fought all sorts of ridiculous urges, like running over and wrapping himself around the little boy, or smothering Gwil to his chest and never, ever letting go.

Gwil's eyes flickered from the telly and landed on Ianto, face breaking into a grin the moment they did. “Tad!”

“Hey champ!” Ianto spun around, words catching in his throat as Jack jogged down the stairs. Before he could say anything – an apology or a reproach, Ianto hadn't decided which, yet – Jack wrapped an arm around his waist and pecked him on the cheek. “Sorry,” he whispered. “We'll talk about a new rota, maybe some more staff. Later.”

Ianto accepted the concession with a grateful smile, before both men turned their attention on Gwil. The little boy was gulping at his milk, staring up at his parents with barely-contained excitement. Ianto slid into the seat opposite him at the table, Jack joining them to Ianto's left.

“I'm sorry we weren't there, Gwil,” Ianto started. “There was-”

“Rift thingy, I know,” Gwil piped up. “But you had snacks ready!” He pointed at his sandwich, pleased.

Ianto nodded. He had prepared the after-school snack in advanced, in case of an emergency. He hadn't expected Gwil to need it on the very first day.

“Alright then,” Jack leaned into Gwil, grinning madly. “Spill.”

And so Gwil started talking – more than Ianto had ever heard him speak uninterrupted. There was the teacher, Ms. Denise, who was absolutely lovely and smelled like flowers, and had the kids make decorative name tags for their desks. Gwil put Myfanwy on his – “But I didn't tell people she was my pet, I just said it was the name of my pteranodon toy”. Apparently Auntie Gwen was perfectly accurate about the Silly Bandz: Gwil had already traded half of his over the course of the day, and had ingratiated himself to most of his classmates in the process.

Oh, and the classmates. There was one girl, Camille, who talked about lots of stuff, but none of it ever seemed to have to do what they were learning in class. Another girl, Emily, was quiet as a mouse the entire school day, but when Gwil exchanged papers with her, found out she had the best handwriting in the class, and had covered both sides of the paper with her story – not even skipping lines or anything. One boy, Zachary – “Not 'Zack' because we have another Zack but he's the cool one” – talked non-stop about his Halo account, and how his dad named the account “snipper” but it was supposed to be “sniper”. Jason had a speech impediment and couldn't eat or drink anything with sugar, but he was funny, and Gwil liked him. Another girl was Katie, who was really smart and “Her hair was really pretty. And shiny.” Jack and Ianto exchanged a look. Tibor was smart too, but had a “big head”. Ianto assumed Gwil meant this literally. Edward had bright red hair and didn't say much, Brianna had long brown hair even though she had something called “leukemia” and wasn't supposed to have hair, or something, and Sean was just a wild child who kept trying to climb the walls. This last factoid Gwil definitively meant literally, because he said as much.

Gwil's sandwich, apple, and glass of milk were all long finished by the time he stopped for a breath, pondering what else he could tell his parents. Ianto glanced at his watch, wincing at himself even as he made the gesture. “You know, I bet everyone upstairs would want to hear about this too,” he suggested tactfully to Gwil. “Why don't you help me with the coffee and you can tell them? And you can thank Uncle Owen for the gift in person, and tell Auntie Gwen how much your classmates loved your Silly Bandz.”

Without a moment's hesitation Gwil slid off his seat, placing his cup and plate on the counter before leading Ianto up the stairs. Jack wrapped his arms around Ianto just as he was going to follow Gwil to the coffee machine, tugging him back into his office. “Hey,” he said, squeezing Ianto's arm tight. “I mean it: I'll draw up a new rota, try and get Andy more field-ready. Maybe even make a few phone calls...” Jack trailed off, considering. After a moment, his attention snapped back to Ianto, face sliding into an easy grin. “And I'll make up for not being able to walk Gwil home. Tonight?”

Ianto smiled softly, nodding. “I'm fine, Jack. The day didn't end in an apocalypse, so there's really not much to complain about.” He quirked an eyebrow, letting his lips twitch impishly. “Though I do think I'll take you up on your offer later this evening.”

“That's right wicked, that is!” Owen's voice cut through the moment, causing both Jack and Ianto to poke their heads out curiously from his office. To Ianto's surprise – though he was never sure why anything would surprise him with Owen, anymore – the man was in the autopsy bay, holding one of Gwil's folders, while Gwil beamed down at him from the observation level. Stepping further out of the office, Ianto caught sight of one of Owen's Clone Wars stickers on the front of the binder, which Owen was admiring. “What'd I tell you?”

Gwil was nodding vigorously. “All the other boys watch it! Zachary even says he's got the whole DVD set at his Stepdad’s house.”

Watching the little boy in rumpled blazer and loosened tie expound on the benefits of Jedi over Sith, Ianto sighed. Okay. Maybe everything would be fine. For a while, at least.

***

Ianto slid the door shut to Gwil's room, after checking for the umpteenth time on the soundly sleeping little boy. Strong arms wrapped around him, and Ianto allowed himself to lean into the touch. Jack's lips followed next, pressing to his ear, kissing and nibbling as the two men rocked together, until they formed the words: “Come to bed?”

Doors were quietly shut and locked as clothes fell to the floor in a flurry of cotton and silk. Jack's grin lit up the dark bedroom as Ianto shoved him toward the bed, all pent-up frustration and intense focus after Gwil's first day of school. Jack laughed, digging his heels in as skin slipped over skin and the two men began a fight for dominance.

Ianto was unconcerned. He always came out on top where Jack was involved.

With a quick sweep of his foot to Jack's knees, Ianto managed to knock Jack backwards onto the bed, who laughed and continued to struggle even as Ianto climbed on top. Using the leverage his position offered him, Ianto rolled Jack, pushing and shoving his hands against Jack's skin until he had the other man where he wanted him: naked, on his stomach, sprawled out on their bed. Ianto took a moment to slide his hands along Jack's back, admiring the way that perpetually tanned skin looked in the dim light of their bedroom, and how smooth it felt beneath his fingertips.

Leaning down, Ianto pressed his lips to Jack's ears. “You might want to crawl up the bed,” he murmured. “I'd want to hold onto the headboard tonight, were I you.”

The simple suggestion had Jack scrambling up the bed, fingers wrapping tight around the headboard slats as he settled himself on elbows and knees, perfect arse pointed right back at Ianto.

Ianto let his hands slide admiringly over the smooth globes. His for the taking.

With a firm smack to the arse, Ianto moved away from Jack to grab the lube off their nightstand. He nudged Jack's legs apart, spreading his cheeks with little warning and shoving two fingers in straight away. Jack gasped before the noise dissolved into a breathy laugh, pushing his hips back and forth as he relaxed around the intrusive fingers.

“Eager tonight, are we?”

Ianto responded first by smacking Jack on the arse again, which only caused the other man to moan as his head dropped down and his hips moved more eagerly. As he slid a third finger in – faster than he normally might, but sure enough in the feel of Jack's passageway around his fingers to know he wasn't hurting the other man – Ianto leaned down against Jack's back, lips brushing his ear.

“This isn't for you, tonight,” he growled. Beneath him, Jack writhed and pressed back faster, knuckles gone white wrapped around the wooden slats of the headboard. “I was the one out of my mind over Gwil's first day, I was the one who couldn't even get it up this morning, and I was the one who took out the alien queen so that we could get back here to him. You just sat back, laughing and playing the level-headed dad.” Ianto removed his fingers and slicked himself up with little preamble. Brushing the head of his cock against Jack's twitching arsehole, Ianto waited a beat, watching with pleasure as Jack's breaths quickened, hands twisting and flexing in place. “Who is this for, Jack?”

Jack's response was immediate as he tried to press back onto Ianto's erection. “For you, Ianto. For you: all for you.”

With a satisfied grunt of approval, Ianto pushed forward, head falling back as he slid into Jack's tight heat. He dug his fingers into Jack's flanks, teeth gritted as he immediately pulled out and pushed back in, opting not to wait the beat they normally did upon first penetration. Jack moaned his approval, head sagging almost to the pillows as he arched back against Ianto.

Ianto's thrusts were brutal and efficient as he pounded into Jack, settling into a rhythm and sticking with it as fiercely as a marathon runner. As his arousal built within him, an ever-rising force focused in his groin and spreading through the rest of his system, Ianto could feel his stress and tension from the day varying inversely to his growing orgasm. It was like the pleasure he found in Jack was moving through his whole body, pushing out the fears and doubts in the form of sweat and panted breaths. Muscles wound tight with tension and stress were now tight for an entirely more desirable reason, as he continued to thrust his way toward that singular moment of mindlessness.

Beneath him, Jack was making known his – rather vocal – satisfaction with the proceedings, moans and grunts and “Yes Ianto”s, “So good”s, and “There, there, fuck me harder, there”s tumbling from his lips in a stream of constant praise. The bed creaked and groaned in protest, especially as Ianto shifted position: leaning forward so he could grip the top of the headboard with one hand, continuing to hold Jack in place for the brutal pounding with his other. The muscles in his shoulder and arm flexed as he hung onto the headboard, using it to thrust into Jack harder and harder, until the other man was crying out his completion. Jack's entire body seemed to fold in on itself as he came, his shout of “Ianto!” bouncing off their walls.

With his last bit of control, Ianto kept Jack in place by wrapping his arm around Jack's waist. “What,” he panted, “do you... say... Jack?”

Jack's body was burning beneath and around Ianto, searing away any last lingering frustrations of the day from Ianto's soul, scouring him clean and leaving only the sensation of exquisite, precipice-straddling arousal in its place.

When Jack's only response was to moan and rub his cheek against the pillow in his beautifully debauched way, Ianto tried again: “What... say...”

Jack's voice was raw when he finally gathered up the breath to speak, and muffled where his face was pressed half into the pillows. “Sorry,” he rasped out. Ianto groaned, eyes squeezing shut as he felt his orgasm cresting. Jack continued, voice growing clearer with each word. “Sorry for teasing you. I'll make sure you get more time with Gwil. I promise.”

Ianto groaned, low and long as he emptied himself into Jack, thighs twitching in time with hips as his come filled Jack's passage. Giving in to his noodle-minded legs, Ianto collapsed onto Jack's back, rolling slightly to the side as he pulled out.

Before he could even open his eyes, Jack was sliding out from beneath him. Ianto responded by sinking into the mattress and refusing to open his eyes just yet. The blood rushing in his ears didn't quite drown out the sound of paper crinkling next to him, before a scrap of it was being thrust into his hand. He waited a moment, ignoring Jack's insistent little post-coital kisses to his neck and jaw, as he basked in the warm glow of his orgasm. He imagined he could physically feel the endorphins running from the tips of his ears down to his toenails, scrubbing every inch of his insides clean like a thousand little roombas for his anxieties.

Finally he groaned, opening his eyes and lifting his hand to examine whatever Jack felt necessary to give him immediately after sex. As his eyes swam into focus, he saw that it was the list Jack had forced him to make that morning: the list of all his worst nightmares about what could happen to Gwil at school.

A pencil found its way into his hand as Jack continued to mouth at his jaw. “Now cross one off. You promised.”

Ianto sighed, but glanced at the list, trying to decide what to cross off. Finally he picked the first item, opting to just go in order rather than try and figure out which one of the fears seemed less likely to manifest on the second day.

Things That Could Happen to Gwil:

1.] Bullied

2.] Run over by a car

As Ianto replaced the scrap of paper beneath his pillow and set the pencil on his nightstand, he found that Jack was drifting off next to him, mouth hanging open and arse hanging out for all the world to see. With a sigh Ianto leaned down, tugging the covers up over the both of them and settling in next to Jack. The other man snuffled sleepily, tugging Ianto close to his chest without opening his eyes.

“Honestly, Jack,” Ianto teased, “it's only just gone ten thirty, and you're fast asleep. I must have been better than I thought.”

Jack's lips twitched into a lazy smile, though judging from the sluggishness of his movements, he was already well over half asleep. “'s just you, Ian,” he mumbled, face pressing further into the pillows and words harder to hear. “'s terrible. 'old...” his face cracked in a yawn, “married couple.”

Ianto froze.

Jack was asleep the moment after those last words tumbled from his mouth, so he wasn't privy to the sudden tightness in Ianto's grip, and the worried set to his brows. Next to him, Ianto held still. Very, very still.

What on earth had Jack meant by that? “Terrible. Old married couple.” Did Jack think it was terrible that they acted like an old married couple? But then again, his voice was fond, and even in sleep he was still smiling, face practically buried in Ianto's armpit. So he seemed happy with Ianto, at least.

But then why would he say that? Did he think of them as an old married couple? But that would be ridiculous: Jack hated the word “couple”, much less “married couple”. To Ianto's knowledge, he had only ever been married once in his time on Earth, and that was to maintain his cover – so the Torchwood files had said, though the way Jack's face hardened and eyes softened when the subject came up, even in a roundabout way, suggested something more than just a marriage of convenience.

A snore interrupted Ianto's whirlwind of thoughts, shifting his gaze to his side where Jack's mouth was hanging open in sleep. But then... did this mean that Ianto put Jack to sleep? That he was bored of Ianto? Because that was what an old married couple meant in Jack's vernacular, didn't it: that they were boring, that their... relationship... thing had lost any passion that it once had.

Perhaps Ianto could try spicing things up? Their toy box had gone a bit neglected over the past year, between Gwil and Torchwood and all. Then again, they had just brought out the floggers and ropes last week, after Jack had gutted a weevil on top of Ianto, ruining his second-best suit. And they certainly weren't always in their bedroom: two days ago had been the kitchen table, and two weeks ago Jack had thrown Ianto against one of the cell walls and ravished him where he stood. He supposed he could bring out the lacy knickers and buttplugs when they had a moment...

But that was just it, wasn't it? That was the crux of the issue. With a child and Torchwood, it was next to impossible to find that spare moment when they could rekindle their... whatever they had.

Glancing down at Jack once more, Ianto found the other man still smiling in his sleep, looking unfairly gorgeous snuggled against Ianto's side. Ianto squeezed him tighter, pulling him closer. He'd just have to work a bit harder, that was all. Redouble his efforts toward pleasing Jack.

Unless Jack didn't want to be pleased by Ianto anymore. In which case... Ianto stared at the ceiling, willing the thought away. Should he fight to hold onto Jack? Or should he just let the other man drift away? It might be for the best, after all, if Jack detached himself from Ianto before something happened.

Ianto's stomach twisted and clenched unpleasantly. Any therapeutic value that their love making had was now gone, relaxation banished far away from the knot of muscles and worry that was Ianto's body.

If Jack wanted Ianto gone, he had no idea what he would do.

***

“What is it?” Ianto's face was twisted in disgust as he peered down at the autopsy table.

Next to him, Andy's eyes were wide, hands turned palms-up in supplication. “I don't know.”

“It kind of looks like-”

“Don't say it.” Ianto turned to Jack, scolding. He knew what Jack was thinking, and they were not discussing that particularly memorable alien again. Or its vagina-containing tentacles.

“Alright, so what's the big emergency- holy rat jam in a blender, what is that?”

The three men in the autopsy bay turned to look up at Owen, who was jogging down to meet him. His eyes were wide, mouth hanging open as he stared at the body on his table. Ianto tapped on his PDA, brow furrowed as he flipped through the closest possible matches to the mess lying before them. “It appears it might be related to-”

Owen interrupted Ianto as he snapped on some latex gloves and hovered over the corpse. “This has got to be the most disgusting corpse I've ever seen,” he glanced up at the three men around him, “and I've seen floaters. Alien floaters. With hundreds of creepy-crawly half decomposed larvae still attached.”

Just as Owen appeared ready to get elbow deep in the bizarre alien corpse, the cog door alarms went off, a gust of chill air following it. Ianto frowned, glancing up at the door. Gwen was supposed to be covering the tourist office until the afternoon, and Tosh had the day off.

Sure enough, Gwen's voice was the next to fill the Hub. “Guess who Father Christmas dropped off a few weeks early on our doorstep!”

The next voice to fill the Hub was male, tinted with a heavy London accent. “Ho ho ho! Where's Captain Cheese?”

“Mickey!” Jack was racing up the stairs before Ianto could even take a step, leaping past Gwen to wrap Mickey up in a rib-cracking hug. A moment later he released Mickey, pushing past him to pull Martha into a similarly enthusiastic hug. “And Martha Jones. Or is it Martha Smith, now?”

Martha giggled as Jack released her, slapping at his arm affectionately. “Still Jones, thank you very much. Wouldn't want to confuse anyone.”

Behind the veritably giggling pair, Ianto stepped over, holding his hand out to Mickey. “I believe we've never been formally introduced. I'm Ianto Jones.”

Mickey slapped at Ianto's hand, clasping it between both of his own in almost as warm a greeting as he had given Jack. “I've heard all about you from Martha. Speaking of which,” he leaned in, though his voice didn't seem to decrease in volume any. “Captain Cheese ain't as good in the sack as he acts like, right? Because if he's not all fluff and bluster...”

Ianto's face colored, and he coughed delicately, doing his best to ignore everyone's – and Jack's – eyes on him. “No complaints,” he finally settled with. “Everything's quite... satisfactory.”

“Satisfactory?” Jack was looking at him with eyebrows pushed into his hairline and mouth halfway to a grin.

Ducking his head to hide his increasing blush, Ianto tugged at his jacket. “You're aware of how excellent our sex life is, Jack. I'm sure you don't need to be reminded of the details – or is old age making you senile?”

Mickey's laugh filled the Hub, as he reached out and clasped Ianto on the shoulder. “I like this one, Jack! Looks like you can keep the Captain in his place, yeah?”

Ianto managed a small grin. “I do my best.” Tactfully choosing to change the subject upon seeing both Martha and Mickey's eyes light up at the possibilities of how Ianto might “keep Jack in line”, Ianto inquired: “Do you two need accommodations for however long you'll be here? We can set you up in a hotel on Torchwood's bank account.”

Andy had made his way over by now, shaking Mickey's hand before settling back to watch the conversation.

“Didn't Jack tell you?” Martha pointed a casual finger in Jack's direction. Ianto, Andy and Gwen shook their heads. “We've already moved into a place near here. Jack's hired us. He said you guys were spread too thin, and so he offered me and Mickey a job!”

Owen chose that minute to join them, bounding up the autopsy bay stairs as he snapped off his gloves. He stuck his free hand out, greeting Mickey and Martha rather politely, for him. His smile turned a little easier as he faced Martha. “Looking lovely as always, Ms. Jones.”

Martha grinned and tapped a finger against Owen's chest. “Hey, careful now! I'm a married woman.”

She nodded at Mickey, who was now eyeing Owen with more than just casual politeness. Mickey edged over, wrapping an arm around Martha's waist. “This Owen?”

“Stop it,” Martha chided Mickey.

Owen's mood was visibly deflated as he turned away from Martha and Mickey. “So they're joining the team? Permanently?”

Jack nodded. “Look a little happier, Owen. With them around, you'll get more regularly scheduled days off. Especially now that we've got two doctors.”

Tossing his soiled gloves into a dustbin – Ianto made a note to have the bin incinerated later – Owen turned to stomp off. “Great. Yet another couple on the team. We've got too many couples around here, if you ask me.”

“Hey!” Jack's voice was sharp enough to make Ianto turn to him in surprise. “What's that supposed to mean?”

Owen turned back, sporting a nasty little grin as he faced off against Jack. Ianto unconsciously took a half step forward, ready to intervene. “Just what it says on the tin, Harkness. You've got you and Ianto playing happy families in Torchwood, now Martha and Mickey. What's next: Rhys going to join us? Harwood going to be our new cover?”

“You're out of line,” Jack growled.

“Pretty soon Tosh'll settle down with another alien or freezer-boy, and me an' Andy'll be the only two single blokes left in this sewer. Right?”

Andy's eyes widened as he took a step back from Owen. It was obvious he wasn't about to side with the doctor.

“Why don't you go cool off.” Jack's words were an order, not a suggestion. “Get lunch. Take a walk.”

Owen snorted as he turned his back on the group. “Just saying it's going to be a pain in the arse to have two 'Mrs. Jones' running around, if you take my meaning.”

“Owen!” Jack's shout echoed off the walls of the Hub. Ianto's eyes flickered back and forth between the two men, body tensed on the balls of his feet as he waited for the next sharp word or snide remark to turn to blows. “Out. Now.”

The Hub was eerily silent as Owen stormed out through the cog doors, blaring klaxons loud in the sudden stillness. Ianto positioned himself at Jack's back, ready to stop the other man if he dashed off, or guide the conversation back to Martha and Mickey, or anything else Jack might need.

“So!” Martha's voice was tinged with nervousness as she clapped her hands together, smile forced as she looked at Jack. “What's this new house you've been going on about? And the little one!” She turned to Ianto, smile growing a bit more natural with every word. “Jack's sent us pictures. It's amazing he fell through the Rift: he's just the spit of you! If I hadn't known any better, I'd say he was yours.”

Ianto took a step back, holding his hand out as he turned his body to gesture to the stairs to their home. “It's just this way. I can give you the grand tour.”

As Martha and Mickey started forward, Jack turned away, face set in his “brooding” expression: all tight jaw and dark eyes. Ianto reached out and touched his wrist lightly, causing the other man to stop and glance at him. “What?”

“Stay where I can find you,” Ianto murmured. “Tosh is predicting a spike this afternoon, and I want to be able to check on Gwil-”

“Yeah.” Jack's eyes unclouded just a little as he traced a finger back along Ianto's wrist. “I'll just be in the lower levels. You know where.”

Ianto nodded and released Jack, who disappeared in a swirl of wool and stomping boots. Turning back to Martha and Mickey, Ianto forced the smile back on his face. “I'll give you the grand tour, shall I?” The three of them started off toward Jack and Ianto's house, Gwen and Andy waving their farewell's as they returned to whatever tasks needed working on. “Gwil's at school, so you won't be able to meet him just yet.”

Martha cooed as Ianto led her and Mickey down the stairs into their atrium. “Jack's been keeping me updated with pictures and stories. Like his first temperature!”

Ianto rolled his eyes. “I assure you, I was not nearly as worked up as Jack claims I was. And he wasn't exactly all poise and level-headedness, either.” Ianto led them to the kitchen, rolling on the balls of his feet as he nodded at the room. “Kitchen. Obviously.”

Martha smacked his arm, moving past him and in the direction of Gwil's room. “Not what I came here to see! Where's the little one's room?” Abruptly Martha came to a halt, eyes on the hallway wall. “Wait! What's this?”

Ianto smiled, striding forward to stand alongside of her. Mickey managed to elbow his way in as well as he tried to get a look at what had caught Martha's eye. It was a framed scrap of paper: a list with each item crossed through, written in Ianto's neat hand.

“'Things That Could Happen to Gwil'?” Martha read.

“It was for his first day of school,” explained Ianto. “I was a bit nervous. Not,” he hurried on, seeing Martha and Mickey share a knowing grin, “nearly as nervous as I'm sure Jack made out. But Jack made me write the list, and cross off an item each day nothing happened to Gwil.”

Martha's eyes went all googly as she smiled. “That is so sweet! And then you got it framed?”

“Jack's idea,” Ianto admitted. “Though, in my defense, Jack was almost as nervous as I was. Did he tell you about him and the jack russell?”

Martha gave Ianto a sympathetic look, patting his arm comfortingly. “It's alright to be nervous: perfectly natural.”

“Hold up,” Mickey nudged his way forward, looking eagerly at Ianto. “What's this about the Captain and a jack russell?”

Ianto told Mickey about the incident as he led them down the hall to Gwil's room, to which Mickey laughed uproariously and clasped him on the shoulder. “I am loving you, Ianto! You and me stick together and we can keep the Captain from getting too big a head! Everyone else,” Mickey threw a thumb over his shoulder at Martha, who slapped at it teasingly, “just fawns all over him.”

“Well,” Ianto conceded as he swung open the door to Gwil's room and gestured inside, letting Mickey and Martha go in before him, “I will admit I might have a slight tendency to give in to some of his whims. He is my...” Ianto stopped, wincing as Martha and Mickey watched him struggle with his word choice. “Well,” he finally settled with “you know.”

Covering the awkward moment, Martha cast about the room for something to comment on. Her eyes landed on the bed, which she immediately went over to, palming the airplane-covered bedsheets. “Jack's idea, I take it?”

Ianto smiled, before nodding at the various and sundry dinosaur and Toy Story toys neatly placed on Gwil's dresser and toy chest. “The team reckons, between the two of us, we'll turn him into a dinosaur-fighting astronaut.” The unsaid or Torchwood hung in the air, even Mickey seeming to have enough tact not to mention Gwil's future career opportunities.

After Martha had cooed and loved over everything in Gwil's room, Ianto led them to the playroom. Mickey's first reaction was upon seeing the Wii, running over to the telly and pointing at it. “You're going to spoil that kid rotten! A Wii?!” Mickey frowned and glared over at Martha. “She won't let me get one.”

Ianto smiled. “Well, you can come down and play with Owen and Gwil anytime you're not working. And for the record, I do try my best not to spoil him: it was Owen who got him the Wii.”

A heavy sort of silence fell over the room at the mention of Owen. Martha and Mickey glanced not all that surreptitiously at each other, before Mickey turned to Ianto and practically shouted “Bathroom?”

Ianto led Mickey to the bathroom, before continuing the tour with Martha to his and Jack's bedroom. Martha gave the room a cursory glance, before turning to Ianto and crossing her arms. “Okay. So what's the deal with Owen?”

Ianto shrugged, going over to his and Jack's vanity and placing Jack's cologne bottle back where it belonged. “I don't know what you mean.”

“Oh come on,” Martha said, moving over to Ianto and leaning with her bum against the vanity. “It's obvious he's bent out of shape over something, and Jack doesn't seem to be handling Owen's comments any better. What's going on?”

Avoiding eye contact as strictly as possible, Ianto moved on to adjusting the clock on his nightstand. “Nothing. Owen just likes to see if he can't get Jack bothered.”

“Yeah, but by saying what, exactly?” Martha laughed, eyes following Ianto as he moved around the room. “He was just complaining about all the couples who work here. Nothing in what he said seemed like it should be all that insulting.”

Ianto adjusted a picture of Jack and Gwil at the park on his wall. Jack was mock-frowning, ice cream smeared all across his face as Gwil laughed and laughed. “Owen lumped Jack and I in with you and Mickey.”

“So what? The two of you are practically married.”

Flinching, Ianto finally turned back to Martha, leaning against the wall and putting his hands in his pockets. His head hung down dejectedly as he examined their bedroom carpet. “Please don't say that to Jack.”

“What?” Martha started forward, frowning. “Say what?”

“Anything about our... us... together. Couple or married or...” Ianto stopped himself, eyes drifting up the wall past Martha's shoulder as he tried to figure out what to say. “Jack's not the commitment type,” he finally settled on.

“What?” Martha laughed. “Ianto, have you seen the room you're in?” Striding over, Martha spun Ianto around and gestured at their wall, which was slowly getting covered with framed pictures of him, Jack, and Gwil. “Judging just from one wall alone, Jack seems to be the committing type.”

Ianto continued to avoid Martha's eyes, even as she ducked her head and tried to look in them. Martha's eyes went wide as she brought a hand to her mouth, the other still holding onto Ianto's elbow.

“Oh, Ianto, you can't think...” Ianto really should refinish their ceiling. That popcorn look was just too messy. “Jack loves you, you big idiot!”

Ianto's stomach churned and heart clenched as his eyes flicked to Martha's, then away. “Please don't let him hear you saying that.”

“Listen, I know he flirts-” Ianto snorted, muttering “understatement” under his breath, but Martha just plowed on, “but he really, obviously, completely loves you! I've only ever seen his face go the way it does when he looks at you a handful of times. Not even: maybe twice. And for all the flirting and carrying on, when Jack falls in love, he falls. He throws heart, body, and soul into that other person, and right now, that other person is you, Ianto.” When Ianto refused to reply, Martha moved her hand to his neck, eyes gone all soft and sweet. “Listen, Ianto: for a minute, I just want you to forget everything you know about Jack. The immortality, the flirting, the Doctor, everything. Then look around. Just from the evidence in this one room, doesn't it look like he's committed? That he loves you and Gwil, that he plans on spending the rest of... your lives with you?”

It was just the slightest hesitation, but Ianto heard it. He smiled and nodded at Martha, but his stomach didn't stop churning, and his heart didn't unclench. The reason Martha hesitated over “the rest of your lives” was The Reason Jack could never love him and Gwil “heart, body, and soul”, as Martha put it: he could never promise to be with them for the rest of his life.

The door banged open as Mickey stepped in, glancing around the bedroom. “So this is where the magic happens, is it?” He narrowed his eyes. “Looks suspiciously normal. Where's the good stuff?”

Turning away from Martha – and ignoring the promise in her eyes to bring up this topic again and again, until Ianto came around – Ianto smirked at Mickey and raised an eyebrow. “Oh, we keep our toy box at the back of the closet. Wouldn't want Gwil stumbling upon it.”

For the rest of the tour and subsequent process of registering Mickey and Martha as official Torchwood employees, Ianto carefully avoided any unnecessary eye contact with Martha. Every time he would glance up, he was just reminded too much of what he and Jack didn't have.

***

Ianto listened to the door from the Hub to the Tourist Office open behind him, and tried his best to pretend like he hadn't been watching Gwil's trip home – walking from the school, to the fake house, through the portal, and then up through the Hub to his office – for the past thirty minutes. He stepped out from the back room of the office, holding out his arms to scoop up Gwil in an after-school greeting. “How was school?”

Gwil shucked his rucksack on the floor behind the desk and loosened his tie, but made no other move to disassemble his school uniform as he got comfortable. “Good. I have maths homework tonight, and a spelling test at the end of the week.”

As if on cue, Gwil's stomach growled. He looked plaintively up at Ianto, who smiled back. His “feed me” expression was starting to take on an all-too-familiar cast, one that reminded Ianto of late nights spent at the Hub, pouring over documents with Jack until the older man finally convinced Ianto to go on a midnight chip run.

Ianto had finally managed to settled into some semblance of an easy routine, these past weeks with the extra help at Torchwood allowing him – most days – to get Gwil to school in the morning, pack lunches, and have snacks ready for him when he came home. It certainly wasn't always perfect, being Torchwood, and more than once Gwil had peeked his head out of their rooms after school, only to duck back down and wait as crises swirled above him.

But today the Rift had been relatively quiet, with only routine, easy-to-handle issues popping up. This meant that Ianto had time to prepare Gwil's after-school snack with care, which he went to retrieve as Gwil climbed up onto the desk: peanut butter and jelly sandwich, crusts cut off, with apple slices and a glass of milk.

Gwil dug in vigorously, crunching the apple slices in a mouth spotty with teeth and holes where teeth once were. Ianto stood at the desk, filling out forms on the computer there and closing out case files where he could. A quick glance to the clock on the computer, born from habit, told him he had a good half hour before the team needed more coffee and biscuits. As part of his new attempt at routine, Ianto had slightly adjusted his coffee distribution schedule straddling the time Gwil got home: one round of coffee and biscuits a half hour before school let out, which gave Ianto time to pass out the coffee and still watch Gwil's every step home, and one round an hour to an hour and a half after school left out, which gave Ianto some time alone with Gwil before he had to get back to work.

While Ianto had been focused on closing out a week-old investigation at a local hospital – as it turned out, particular alien plagues were apparently quite beneficial for human women's pain management during childbirth – Gwil had finished up his snack and scooted himself along the desk, silently watching Ianto work.

“Tad?”

Ianto finished filling in the box on the form he was on, then turned his attention to Gwil. “Hm?”

Gwil cocked his head to the side, eyes focused on Ianto's hands. Ianto waited patiently. Gwil had a way of trying to sort questions out in his head for a long time before actually asking them, and Ianto tried to respect that little flicker of independence – much like he pretended to respect Gwil's insistence to walk to and from school unattended.

Finally, Gwil pointed to Ianto's left hand. “That's your left hand, right? It's backwards, because I'm facing you?”

Ianto nodded, trying not to jump ahead and figure out what Gwil was going for. He'd reveal his thoughts soon enough.

Tiny fingers plucked at Ianto's left hand, lifting it and pulling it close to Gwil's face. He appeared to be examining each finger, rubbing them each carefully between thumb and middle finger in some sort of eliminative system. Slowly, blue eyes narrowed in thought, Gwil asked another question. “Are you and Dad married?”

Oh. As gently as he could, Ianto extracted his hand from Gwil's grip. His ring finger on that hand felt like it was on fire. Unsure of how exactly to handle this – especially without Jack present – Ianto settled for the simple answer: “No.”

Gwil seemed to take this into careful consideration, brain sorting through the information. “Can two boys get married now? You said some kids have two tads or two mams, or one each like normal, but you never said if two boys or two girls can get married.”

Again, Ianto hesitated before settling on the simplest answer: “Yes, two men or two women can get married if they want to.”

“Then why don't you and Dad get married?” Ianto cringed. Gwil's face was all honest innocence, blue eyes searching his tad's face like it held all the answers in the universe. Ianto sighed scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Mrs. Denise said that when two adults are in love they get married and maybe have kids. She said you get a ring that shows you're married. I'd never seen a ring on your finger, but...” Ianto's entire body tensed as he saw where Gwil's logic was heading. “You and Dad are in love, and have me, so then why aren't you married?”

There it was. In love. Ianto looked away, over to the secret Hub entrance. Down there, somewhere tens of meters below the Plass, Jack worked. Barking orders, joking around, filling in forms, fiddling with gadgets. And Jack would keep doing that, exactly that, for long after both Ianto and Gwil had died. Then he might move on, do something else, but he would still be alive, working and laughing and living. Forever.

“Your dad and I love you very much, Gwil.” Ianto slid his eyes slowly away from the Hub entrance, forcing a small smile onto his face. He knew it didn't reach his eyes. “That's all that matters.”

Gwil's eyes narrowed. “Loving me's not the same as loving each other. Why don't you love Dad?”

“I didn't-”

“But... you have sex with him! I thought you were only suppos'd-”

Ianto felt a bubble of panic rise in his throat. Shit. This conversation was quickly spiraling out of his control. This is why he never talked about Santa or the Tooth Fairy when he was around Mischa or David: he had absolutely no ability to lie to children.

“Just...” Ianto made a soft noise of exasperation in the back of his throat, before touching Gwil gently on the arm. “We love you. And we really care about each other. It's not exactly the same sort of family like your friends might have, but we already talked about how things are different in our home, right?”

Gwil's nod was a touch more sullen than Ianto might have liked, but he put it out of his mind. As Gwil polished off the last of his milk and Ianto finished up the form, he allowed himself a quiet sigh of relief. Crises averted. “Come on.” Ianto helped Gwil down from the desk, rubbing his back affectionately once he was on the ground. “Let's go pass out the coffee and biscuits, okay? Then you can do your maths homework at Auntie Tosh's desk.”

**

By some small miracle of fate, or the Rift, Jack, Ianto, and Gwil actually managed to sit down to dinner together. The meal wasn't home cooked, more like take-away from a grocers down the street, but it included vegetables and a salad and meats, so Ianto considered the evening meal an all-around success.

“Tad says he doesn't love you.”

Ianto choked on his beer, sending the fizzy liquid up his nose and back of his throat, burning his sinuses. Jack's look was sharp, but not immediately accusatory. Ianto gave thanks for small miracles.

“What do you mean, champ?”

Gwil continued, eyes narrowed at Ianto as he speared his potato viciously. “I asked Tad if you were married, and he said no, and that you weren't going to be.” Before either adult could get a word in edgeways, Gwil continued, picking up steam. “And I said if you love each other you'd get married, and he said you love me, and he loves me, but he wouldn't say that he loved you!”

Ianto winced. In child-logic it sounded so cruel. So simple. Setting down his fork carefully, Ianto turned toward Jack, about to explain.

Jack's eyes were accusatory now. “We could get married...” he said slowly. His tone said the words were directed toward Gwil, but his eyes stayed focused on Ianto.

“Jack...” Ianto warned.

“Well? Why not? Owen's always calling us 'husbands', and we-”

“Oh, that's a great reason to do something,” Ianto snapped, “because Owen says so. I'm swooning with romantic intent.”

Jack continued as if he hadn't heard Ianto, but the muscle twitching in his jaw told otherwise. “-we have a son together. There's no reason not-”

“You know The Reason not to,” Ianto hissed.

The table fell silent for a long, tense minute. Ianto stared coldly at Jack, who stared just as viciously back. In truth, Ianto was terrified: of what Jack would say, of what he wouldn't – couldn't – say. And terrified of the reasons Jack would be willing to get married to him: pity, convention, because he knew it wasn't forever, because even if Jack hated him and Gwil, it was just a blink of an eye for him, and it'd be over...

Ianto steeled his eyes more firmly as he stared at Jack, hoping his fears and insecurities weren't bleeding through them like they always did when he was around Jack. He needed to be able to stand firm on this issue, because it didn't seem like Jack was going to. Out of the corner of his eye, Ianto could see Gwil's tiny face flickering back and forth between his parents.

Finally opting to be the bigger man and stand down, Ianto dropped his gaze, muttering: “We can talk about this later.”

Jack's eyes stayed on Ianto, burning into the top of his head, for a long, long time after Ianto had lowered his to his plate.

**

After dinner, Ianto ushered Gwil off to his playroom, while he stayed behind and cleaned up. Jack was still sitting at the table, leveling looks in Ianto's direction, which he steadfastly refused to acknowledge as he cleaned up the dishes and silverware. Finally, without lifting his head from the sink, Ianto muttered “We're not doing this out here, where Gwil can hear. I'll be in the bedroom in a moment.”

Without a word Jack stood, his chair screeching against the floor as he pushed away from the table. As his heavy boot steps faded away to their bedroom, Ianto turned off the tap, pressing his hands to the counter edge. “Fuck,” he breathed.

He took a few long minutes to steel himself for the inevitable confrontation. Jack was furious: it didn't take any familiarity with him to recognize that. But, because Ianto was so familiar with Jack, he knew that beneath that fury was a more basic feeling of hurt. Jack was hurt by Ianto's assumption that he wouldn't want to get married. The only trouble was, Ianto couldn't figure out why. After all, it was Jack who hated the word “couple”. Jack who threw a fit every time Owen referred to them as spouses. Jack who couldn't even say... well.

Swallowing thickly, Ianto straightened up from the counter, tugging uselessly at his wrinkled shirt and unbuttoned waistcoat. This wasn't his fault. This wasn't his issue.

As soon as he stepped into the bedroom and let the door click shut behind him, Ianto knew this was going to be a blow-up. Jack was slouching in his armchair in the corner of the room, fiddling with a model airplane Gwil had given him for his last “birthday”. He resolutely kept his head down as Ianto walked slowly across the room, not looking up until Ianto stopped a meter or two away.

His eyes slid over Ianto's figure slowly, starting at his feet and moving up until they were making eye-contact. “You don't want to marry me.”

“Don't be ridiculous,” Ianto grumbled.

“Ridiculous?” Ianto realized too late how it had sounded, but Jack was continuing before he could reword what he had said. “Well excuse me for thinking you might have some feelings for the man you've been fucking for four years – the man you're raising a child with.” Jack broke their eye-contact, gaze drifting back down to the model airplane still in his hands. “Ridiculous,” he muttered under his breath.

“I meant,” Ianto stared, struggling to keep his voice relatively calm, “Of course I'd marry you-” Jack's head snapped up, “if you hadn't made it so clear that you didn't want to marry me.”

Jack huffed, finally setting the airplane aside and standing. “What do you mean I don't want to marry you? Why-”

Ianto started ticking the points off on his fingers. “You hate the word couple, you've only been married once in all the time you've been alive, you won't even admit we're exclusive, you throw a fit every time Owen even implies that we're spouses-”

“I don't throw fits.” Jack sounded ridiculously petulant.

“And you don't even love me!”

The air in the room was heavy with silence as Ianto's last, shouted words reverberated through both men's minds.

Jack's voice was pleading when he spoke next. “Of course I... I do. Ianto, how could you-”

“There, see:” Ianto waved a hand at Jack, ignoring the tears that started to threaten, “you won't even say it. How do you expect me to believe you want to marry me if you won't even-”

“I love you, Ianto! Okay? You're the one that won't, that doesn't...” Ianto realized abruptly that Jack was fishing, eyes pleading.

“Do you want to hear that I love you, Jack? Are you so dense to believe that I don't?”

Jack was wringing his hands – actually wringing his hands, and Ianto thought he wanted to end the conversation right there, just so Jack wouldn't seem so small and nervous. He moved toward Ianto, hand reaching out, then pulling back, eyes gone all soft and sad even as tears threatened. “No, Ianto... but you shouldn't. You shouldn't love me, not when-”

Jack might have appeared about to cry, but Ianto was still too angry. Angry at Torchwood, angry at the Doctor, angry at himself, for falling in love with some impossible man, a man that could never actually be his, who had to ask Ianto not to love him.

Ianto threw an arm out as he shouted. “What, so you're allowed to love me but I'm not allowed to return the favor?” Jack's entire body cringed, and Ianto turned his body away, so he wouldn't have to face the hurt he was causing the other man. “You order me around a lot, Captain Jack Harkness – fill out these forms for me, make me coffee, dispose of this weevil corpse, bend over-” Jack's mouth snapped open, his eyes angry and hurt by the last implication, but Ianto steamrolled right over him, “-but you do not get to order me not to love you.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Ianto could see that Jack was shaking, hands trembling violently as they reached out and pulled back, torn over what course of action would be best to take. “D- do-” Ianto watched as Jack took a steadying breath, sucking air into his lungs with a sort of vicious determination. “Do you? How can you? After... after Lisa, and leaving you. All the flirting and carrying on...”

Ianto gasped, shaking his head as tears started to fall. It was too much, now. He couldn't hold onto that white-hot anger he felt for Jack: not when the other man looked as wrecked as he did, all wide, terrified eyes seeking acknowledgement, a return of feelings. “What, you don't think I love you, Jack?” Ianto ran a shaky hand through his hair, pressing his hands on his hips as if that simple gesture might help him retain what little composure he had left. “You've known, Jack. You know how I am, you know how much I...” For all his efforts, a sob still escaped his lips. “I gave you everything of me, Jack, so long ago, long before I even should have. But I know you can't-” Ianto's voice broke on the word “can't”. He struggled for a moment to go on, to continue speaking, to keep being angry. But he couldn't, because his heart felt like it was ripping out of his chest. He gasped, sobbing, as he slid down to the floor.

Strong arms encircled him, and right then Ianto didn't care that they belonged to Jack, and that he was mad at Jack. He let himself be pulled into the embrace, tucking his face into Jack's chest. “If anything happened to you – permanently – I wouldn't be able to live,” Ianto finally managed to croak. “I'd just... I'd stop. And I'd ghost through life, doing things, surviving, but never living again until I died. And you...” Ianto felt, more than heard, that Jack was crying with him, now. “You have to keep going after I die. And after Gwil. And you've got lots of practice, so I know you can-”

“Practice?” Ianto found himself being pushed away, pulled and manhandled until Jack was staring him in the eyes, hands vice-like on his shoulders. “Practice? You think having the ones I love die around me, all the time, gets any easier? That I can handle it better each time?”

“You might not like it,” Ianto felt he was being rather reasonable, considering the flood of tears pouring down his face and the way his breath hitched every other word, “but it does. You get numb, and the pain dulls each time...”

Jack shook Ianto viciously. “Do you really think anything about how I feel for you is dull? Is numb?” Jack made a weird noise: half barking-laugh, half sob. “I tried not to, Ianto. I tried so hard not to love you, and it worked, it really did, for a while, but you just wormed your way in, with your coffee and your wry little smile and dry wit and ability to take care of me even when I didn't realize I needed to be.” Jack took a steadying breath before continuing. “And you're right: I will have to go on after you and Gwil die. But you're wrong if you think I'll just get over it. I'm going to 'ghost through life' for a long, long time after you're gone, Ianto Jones. And even when I stop ghosting, it's never, never going to be the same. Do you understand?”

Ianto tried to choke back a sob, found he couldn't, and ended up hiccuping rather unattractively. “Did we just get engaged?”

Jack's crooked grin just made Ianto cry more, feeling like a complete idiot even as he did. “It's a pretty shite proposal. Sorry.” Jack's hand reached up and caressed Ianto's cheek. “We can make up a better story for the team.”

Jack leaned forward to kiss Ianto, but he pulled away, still smiling through the tears. “Wait, wait.” He placed a hand on Jack's chest, rubbing his thumb gently over the cotton shirt. “Then why have you been so upset with Owen? Every time he says the word 'couple' or 'married' or 'spouse', I get ready to pull you off of him, think it's going to come to blows.”

Jack's thumb rubbed circles on Ianto's jaw as he smiled sheepishly. “I thought I was defending you. I thought you never wanted to get married to me, that you shouldn't feel pressured into staying with me, and that all those comments from Owen were just forcing you to stick around.” Jack's voice dropped, eyes falling from Ianto's face. “And I was scared. I never wanted you to love me. Because if you did, then it wasn't just me pining after you. Then this would be something real, something that would rip my heart out of my chest, something that I'd never, ever be healed of. And you'd be in love with me, when you could have done so much better.”

Ianto snorted. “Now's not the time for false humility, Captain.”

“But it's true!” Jack's eyes flicked up and met Ianto's once again, all earnestness dominating his expression. “You loving me is an absolutely terrible decision! You could have found someone normal and settled down with him or her. You could have had a normal life, with gorgeous kids, and none of this...” Jack waved his hand around, “bullshit.” Ianto laughed, hiccuping again. “I'm the worst person to love. If you're in love with me, then you end up with all these problems: the doubts, the insecurities, the knowledge that one day you're going to leave, and that I'm going to have to continue on. And you don't deserve all that, Ianto. You deserve so much more.”

“Unfortunately,” Ianto croaked, “love isn't a decision. At least in my experience. And this just... happened.” Ianto let Jack kiss him then, smiling through the taste of salty tears and desperation. When they pulled back, Ianto let Jack gather him in his arms, resting his head on Jack's shoulder. Jack's hand came up and stroked the back of his head as Ianto let his eyes drift closed. “No more laying into Owen, then?”

“Promise,” Jack murmured.

“Could we hold off on telling the team? For a bit?”

Jack's jaw brushed against Ianto's head as he nodded. “Yeah. Let's sort all this out ourselves, first. Rings, CP license, we're going to have to fake some records for me- oh!”

Ianto found himself being manhandled again, as Jack pushed them apart so they could see each other's faces. He clasped Ianto's hands in his own, expression as serious as Ianto had ever seen it.

“Ianto Jones,” he intoned, “would you make our little family complete, and marry me?”

With his hands trapped in Jack's, Ianto couldn't wipe away the tears that dripped down his face. He nodded, yanking Jack in for a kiss. “Yes,” he whispered against Jack's lips. “Yes, yes. Of course yes.”

The two men fell backwards together against the floor, clothes falling away with a quiet sort of reverence as they explored each other's bodies afresh. Later, as they lay in the middle of scattered clothes and let the sweat cool on their bodies, Ianto took Jack's left hand in his, stroking at his ring finger. “Do you really want to get rings?”

“I want anything you want,” Jack murmured, already on his way to sleep with eyes half-closed and foot rubbing gently against Ianto's ankle. “And I want you to want what you want, not what you think I want.”

Ianto snorted, but released Jack's hand and curled up into him, letting his head rest on Jack's chest. “Assuming I understood that properly, I'll do my best.”

“Good.”

The most fleeting thought of moving the two of them to their comfy, king-sized bed – only meters away from where they were – passed through Ianto's mind. But then he was asleep, using Jack's chest as a pillow and his warmth as his blanket.

 
***

Ianto groaned, arching up. It was good. Something... something was warm, and good. Ianto groaned again, feeling his erection swell. Yes. Warmth, and wetness, and...

Bleary eyes blinked sleep from them as Ianto woke. He hissed, hand going down automatically to the source of his pleasure, fingers brushing through familiar hair even before his eyes managed to focus on the man currently between his legs. Jack continued his ministrations unperturbed by Ianto's waking, sucking him down into his throat before pulling back, then repeating the motion.

Still sleep addled, Ianto found himself moaning and twisting his legs to the side, foggy brain having trouble processing such a skillful blowjob so soon after waking. “Jack...”

Sparkling blue eyes peered up at him from between his hair-speckled thighs, but that mouth – that wicked, filthy mouth – kept moving up and down on his cock. Deciding on surrender as the only viable course of action, Ianto lay back against the pillows and let Jack do as he wont.

A light tapping broke through the sound of Jack's slurping and Ianto's quick breaths. Removing his hand from Jack's hair, Ianto propped himself up and looked around. Jack seemed determined to continue, so Ianto tried his best to ignore him.

The tapping happened again, more insistently this time. Ianto's eyes focused on the door as he realized the sound was coming from there. Sure enough, a moment later a quiet “Dad? Tad?” reached his ears.

Ianto fell back with a groan, tapping at Jack's head until the other man pulled off him with a pout. “Gwil's at the door.”

Jack glanced significantly down at Ianto's erection. “Don't you think he can wait?”

“Jack.”

“Fine,” Jack huffed as he threw himself out of bed, snatching a pair of boxers off the ground as he stumbled to the door. Meanwhile, Ianto made sure the sheets were tugged up around him, pulling a pillow into his lap for good measure.

As soon as Jack opened the door, Gwil stepped in, carrying a tray carefully in both hands. Balanced on top was a full breakfast: toast with jam, cereal, orange juice, and fruit. The utensils and napkins were all laid out neatly, and a bluebell even sat in a little vase at the top of the place setting. Ianto smiled as he noted that everything on the tray was something Gwil could prepare himself, without use of the stove.

“Bore da,” Gwil greeted Ianto, as he passed the tray off to his tad. “Penblwydd Hapus.”

Ianto took the tray from Gwil and set it on top of the pillow in his lap. Jack lifted Gwil up into the bed, who immediately crawled into the middle, leaning up against Ianto. “Diolch,” Ianto murmured, pressing a kiss to Gwil's hair.

The bed dipped as Jack settled in on the other side of Gwil, slinging an arm around them both. He raised his eyebrows at Ianto, gesturing with his eyes at Gwil.

“Happy Birthday,” Ianto explained.

Jack grinned broadly, ruffling Gwil's hair. “Looks like you and I had the same idea this morning, champ.” Mock-covering Gwil's ears, Jack loudly whispered to Ianto: “I think mine was better.”

Ianto pushed Jack's hands away from Gwil's ears, snuggling Gwil up into a tight hug as he glared at Jack. “This is wonderful, Gwil.”

“Auntie Gwen told me to do it,” Gwil informed the two men, even as he stole a piece of fruit from Ianto's tray. “She said you'd 'preciate breakfast-in-bed.”

“Cock-blocker.”

“Jack!”

Jack held his hands up defensively. “What? She is!”

Ianto turned to Gwil, shooting dirty looks at Jack intermittently. “We'll have to make sure we thank Auntie Gwen for suggesting this. I appreciate it very much.” Ianto pulled Gwil into a one armed hug, kissing him again in gratitude. “Now come on,” he gestured at his tray, “I need some help eating all of this. What do you want?”

With a grin Gwil grabbed a piece of jam-covered toast and slice of cantaloupe, beaming up at Ianto as he munched. Ianto chose to ignore the crumbs that fell into the sheets. They needed to be washed, anyway.

Gwil cuddled up to Ianto as he ate, snug and warm against his side. Next to them, Jack's face went all gooey, to which Ianto could only smile back. “Hey!” Jack's eyes lit up with a plan. “Why don't we have a lie-in? I could bring the telly in from the kitchen and we could watch cartoons?”

Gwil's eyes lit up as he peered at Jack from beneath Ianto's armpit. He turned to Ianto, eyes pleading. “Do you want to, Tad?”

Ianto acquiesced quickly enough. He and Jack were scheduled for the afternoon and evening shift today, anyway. “Go on. We can have a proper lie-in: cartoons, breakfast in bed, and all.”

Before bounding out of the bed, Jack ruffled Gwil's hair and pressed a firm, smacking kiss to Ianto's lips. Gwil giggled beneath them, wrinkling up his nose at his affectionate fathers.

Ianto pressed another piece of fruit into Gwil's hand as they waited on Jack, munching on a few spoonfuls of cereal up himself. Jack came back shortly, cradling the small counter-top telly in his arms, before setting it on the bed and plugging it into the nearest outlet. He then climbed back up onto bed with the two of them, tossing the remote at Gwil, who immediately changed the channel to his favorite weekend cartoon station.

“I had another present planned,” Jack proffered, after a few minutes of watching Spongebob and Patrick annoy Squidward. Ianto turned to him, curious. Jack continued: “I was going to get you a...” he paused, then brought his left hand up behind Gwil's head and waggled his ring finger. Ianto melted a bit inside. “But I thought you'd rather have input into it than be surprised.” Jack grin said he already knew the answer to his next question. “Was I right?”

Ianto nodded, still unable to wipe the quiet grin off his face at Jack's intentions. “Yeah,” he murmured absently, “I'd like to look together for them. Make sure we get something we'll both like.” Pausing just a moment to nibble at toast – automatically mindful of crumbs, even though he had already come to the decision to wash the sheets that afternoon – Ianto smiled again at Jack. “Thank you, though. For thinking about it.”

Jack snatched a piece of kiwi from Ianto's plate and popped it in his mouth. “We could go next time we both have a day off? Or at least a morning.”

“Dad. Tad.” Gwil's tone of voice was less than amused as he tilted back to stare up at his fathers. “I'm trying to watch.”

“Right,” Ianto said, tone of voice quite serious. “Sorry. Of course.” He quieted down, smiling as Jack did the same on the other side of Gwil.

Once Gwil was suitably distracted by the telly once more, Ianto turned to Jack, catching his eye. As unobtrusively as he could, Ianto reached a hand behind Gwil, brushing a hand over Jack's shoulder. Thank you, he mouthed.

Jack winked in reply, before mouthing back Happy Birthday.

As Ianto settled in to watch the telly with Gwil and Jack, he realized that this might have been his best birthday celebration to date.

Blue balls notwithstanding.

***

The smell of baking filled their house, stirring Jack from his sleep. Hair sticking up at odd angles, he popped up in their bed, glancing around. He sniffed.

Definitely baking. It smelled like some sort of cake: chocolate and vanilla, possibly? And... was that a hint of buttercream frosting?

Covers flew to the floor as Jack scrambled from their bed, flinging open their bedroom door and bounding into the kitchen. There stood Ianto: standing in front of the stove with a pink, lacy apron over his suit. Immediately Jack rushed over to him, wrapping Ianto up in his arms and kissing at his neck.

“Jack.”

Jack yelped and jumped backward as Ianto slapped him on his naked thigh with a frosting spreader.

“Can I at least get one?”

Jack grinned as Ianto turned to him, all suppressed smiles and knowing glint in his eye. “One. And only one. They're for Gwil's classmates.”

Eagerly Jack took a cupcake from the tray filled with the already-frosted vanilla and chocolate delights, devouring it as he watched Ianto continue to ice the rest. He moaned as the first taste of delicious, homemade buttercream frosting hit his tongue. Ianto quirked an eyebrow in his direction at the sound.

“I take it they're satisfactory, then?”

Jack stuffed the rest of the cupcake in his mouth, moaning and making approving noises around a mouthful of cake and icing. “Sho shood!”

A sleepy yawn caught Jack's attention, causing him to turn around with his cheeks still puffed out with cake. Gwil was scratching his head, trailing his blanket with him and still in his pajamas. “Don't talk with your mouth full,” he chided. “Tad says it's bad manners.”

Taking a moment to swallow the last of the cupcake, Jack smiled and reached down for Gwil, swinging him up into a hug. Gwil giggled sleepily, nuzzling his face into Jack's neck as the blanket trailed down from his hand to the ground. “Happy Birthday, champ. Nine years old. Last year in the single digits!”

Pulling back so he could look his father in the eye, Gwil nodded seriously. “Yup,” he replied, sounding a great deal like Ianto in that one simple word.

Jack set Gwil down and pushed him back off to his bedroom to get ready to school. Turning to Ianto, Jack watched as he placed the finished cupcakes carefully in a carrying case, for Gwil to bring into school. His attention drifted back down to the lacy pink apron, quirking an eyebrow when he recognized a familiar tear. “Is that the apron we used when-”

“Yes.” Ianto was studiously not looking at him as he placed the last of the cupcakes in the case and began to tidy up the counter. “We didn't have an actual aprons, so I was forced to... improvise.”

“By dipping into our costume bag?”

A rosy flush to match the apron was starting to creep onto Ianto's cheeks as he sealed the container with a snap, turning to the fridge next. There, he tugged Gwil's lunch box out, double-checking its contents before placing it on the kitchen table. In the next moment Gwil hurried in, changed out of his pajamas and into his school uniform. He hurried over to the wall where his stepladder stood, folded neatly. Tugging it to the counter, Gwil unfolded it carefully before climbing up and reaching for a bowl and box of cereal.

“Fruit,” Ianto patiently reminded him as Gwil drowned the cereal in milk. The little boy rolled his eyes and went back to the fridge, retrieving one of Ianto's ever-present bowls of mixed fruits from it.

Jack watched the whole morning routine with a sort of detached amusement, until Ianto was shoving a dozen deflated balloons, handheld helium pump, and mug of coffee into his hands. “Get inflating,” he ordered, before hurrying off to the bedroom and tugging at his apron.

Without even thinking Jack took a swig of coffee and started inflating the balloons, body reacting automatically to Ianto's orders. He didn't even realize what had happened until Gwil's giggles brought his attention away from the quickly-inflating balloons – birthday balloons, of course, Jack should have figured – and to the little boy.

“What?” Jack questioned.

Gwil just smirked, another one of his Ianto-mannerisms he had picked up over the last two years. He shrugged a shy shoulder, spoon trailing around in his almost-empty cereal bowl. “You always do what Tad says. It's funny.”

Jack pouted, even as he continued to fill up the balloons. “Not always,” he insisted, teasing tone obvious in his voice. He leaned across the table and closer to Gwil, the little boy imitating the gesture. In a stage-whisper, Jack said: “I never pick up my dirty underwear, even though he always tells me to.”

“Yes you do.” Ianto bustled back in the kitchen, pink apron disappointingly absent, flour and icing smudges carefully removed from his hands. He continued as he gestured for Gwil to finish up and head to the bathroom. “Dad always does what I tell him.”

Jack leaned in for a kiss, smirking as Ianto indulged him. As he pulled back, he winked at Gwil and said: “Yeah, maybe I do. But it's just because your tad always knows best.”

Ianto nodded solemnly as he started to clean up Gwil's plates. “It's true. I really do.”

**

They sent Gwil off to school with a grin from Jack and a subdued wave from Ianto, watching him carefully on the CCTV as Gwil hurried down the sidewalk, balloons bobbing above his head and cupcakes clutched tightly under one arm. Before Gwil even reached the front entrance of the school, the Rift alarm sounded, sending Jack and Ianto running up the stairs to the Hub, thermos-full of coffee in Jack's hands, Jack's coat in Ianto's.

Of course Gwil's ninth birthday would be an active Rift day.

**

Jack spun the Torchwood SUV around the corner, half-listening to Ianto's shouted reprimand to watch for the children as he skidded into the school carpark. He was leaping out of the SUV almost before he threw it in park, smoldering smoke following him out of the car. Ianto was a half-step behind him, brushing at his singed hair and tugging at his suit, which now was pitted with holes from a hundred miniature fires and covered with a thick, black layer of soot. Jack stuck out a helpful hand and brushed at Ianto's eyelashes, snickering as a small shower of ash fell from them to Ianto's face. Not that their skin could get anymore ashen and soot-caked than it was already.

Gwil spotted them immediately, rushing out of the throng of students and over to his dads. He was clutching a paper bag decorated in marker drawings and macaroni art, slightly-deflated balloons bobbing after him. Upon reaching them, he pushed the empty cupcake case into Ianto's hands, the balloons and his lunchbox into Jack's. The paper bag stayed clutched tightly in his nine fingers. “Dad! Tad! We had birthday activities in arts and crafts today! Everyone-”

He cut himself off abruptly, taking in Jack and Ianto's appearance. Out of the corner of his eye Jack saw Ianto self-consciously try and brush soot from his suit – a lost cause, considering his hands were caked thick with the substance.

“What happened?”

Ianto coughed delicately, glancing around. “Fireworks factory explosion.”

The small fib was unnecessary, as the other parents and children were giving the three of them a wide berth, whispering behind hands held to their mouths and pointing none-so-subtly over at them. It wasn't like the damn SUV didn't have Torchwood etched into the bonnet, after all.

Gwil caught on quickly, though, and turned to Jack. “Was it a... Janet, sorta fireworks?”

Jack nodded seriously at Gwil's improvised code-word for “alien”. “Yeah. Loads.”

Gwil's eyes widened. “Did you save any for me?”

Sadly, Jack shook his head. “Sorry champ. They all exploded.”

Glancing between his parents again, Gwil's eyes widened, as if just realizing something. “Is everyone okay? All the Aunties and Uncles?”

Ianto started to bundle them off to the SUV, as Jack shifted everything to his left hand so that he could place his right on Gwil's neck as they walked. “No permanent injuries,” he reassured Gwil, before grinning. “Auntie Martha might be a bit touchy for a few weeks, though. Her hair caught fire, and now,” Jack removed his hand from Gwil to gesture wildly around his own head. “Poofed out. Like a poodle.”

Gwil laughed uproariously as he climbed into the backseat, Ianto turning around automatically to check he was buckled in properly. “Don't laugh when you see her,” he warned. “Aunt Martha's quite upset over it.”

Nodding solemnly, Gwil gnawed on his scarred hand as Jack – more carefully, this time – pulled the SUV out of the carpark and headed back for the Hub. As Jack maneuvered them through the streets of Cardiff, Gwil jiggled his paper bag and Ianto. “Tad! Did you see? All the kids in class made me stuff for my birthday during arts and crafts! Look!”

Obligingly Ianto reached backwards and took the bag from Gwil, opening it up and peering inside. He made appreciative noises as he started to pull out an assortment of papers. Jack risked taking his eyes off the road a few times to try and get a peek.

“Your friends made these for you?”

Jack watched Gwil nod in the rearview mirror. “Macaroni pictures, and markers, and Emily – she's the really quiet one – she did stuff with felt.”

“Felt, huh?” Jack asked, nodding in an impressed sort of way when Ianto held out said felt-art for Jack to glance at as he drove.

“What's that one with all the blue and red lines scribbl-” Jack stopped himself just as Ianto started shaking his head viciously to his left, “with all the blue and red art all over it?”

“That's Sean's. He drew us having a lightsaber battle against Count Dooku. It's really cool.”

Jack grinned as he watched Ianto's expression pale a bit at the violent image. Taking a hand from the wheel, he placed it reassuringly on Ianto's thigh and squeezed. Ianto's smile was tight-lipped, but it was still a smile.

“Did all your classmates make you art?” Ianto asked.

Gwil nodded back. “Yup. Can I show the Aunties and Uncles when we get home?”

Ianto hesitated, glancing over at Jack before replying. “They're all a bit... tired, now. Why don't you save it for tomorrow, when they all can appreciate it better?”

Gwil nodded, reflected face in the rearview mirror not even showing a trace of disappointment. Jack supposed that's what happened when a child grew up in Torchwood.

He grinned in the mirror at Gwil, who saw him grinning and smiled right back.

Personally, Jack wouldn't have it any other way.

**

“Another year.”

Ianto hummed in agreement as he padded across their carpet in bare feet, sliding under the duvet and curling up into a ball. Jack scooted himself closer on the bed, spooning against Ianto and nibbling at his ear. Ianto nudged him gently with a shoulder in reprimand, but then he was turning over, pressing his lips to Jack's and kissing him without complaint.

Jack pulled away, passing a hand over Ianto's face and then back through his hair. Now freshly showered and clothes – fully – incinerated, Ianto no longer smelt like soot and ash. He just smelled like soap. And Ianto.

“Gwil's probably the best that could have happened to us,” Jack mused. When Ianto quirked an eyebrow, he elaborated, stroking his hand through Ianto's hair. “Without him, I'd never have let you get this close. I wouldn't be prepared to marry you.”

Ianto's eyes slid away from Jack's, so he waited as the other man wrestled with his own emotions. This openness thing was still new for the both of them, and took some getting used to. Jack didn't mind waiting for Ianto. He didn't think he'd ever mind waiting for Ianto. “I suppose we're quite a good thing to happen to Gwil, all things considered,” Ianto finally replied.

Jack grinned. “Yeah. Even though we're Torchwood.”

“Even though we're Torchwood,” Ianto agreed, leaning back in for another kiss.

“So,” Jack breathed as their bodies started to move against each other, fingers plucking at fabric. “Where'd that apron get to?”

The End until Year 3

Next story in series - Gwil's Guide to Growing Up Torchwood: Year 3.

• Main Torchwood slash page
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• Amazon.com - Torchwood: Children of Earth
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