First part of story - Gwil's Guide to Growing Up Torchwood: Year One

Gwil started awake in his big, empty bed. The darkness around him moved, bringing life to the nightmare still buzzing through his mind. Mill owners and foremen and big boys danced in front of his eyes, reaching out and snatching at his pajamas in the darkness. The growls of machinery and angry men mixed in his mind, echoing through the barrier of wakefulness. With a whimper, Gwil hopped out of his bed and pushed open his door. He padded through the kitchen to his tad and dad's room, where light was spilling through the slightly ajar door.

He could hear low voices coming from the room, and he paused, listening in. Too many times in his old life he had gotten in trouble for showing up in the middle of a conversation he shouldn't have, or learned a life-saving piece of information from one of those conversations. Eavesdropping had become as vital a skill to him as nimble fingers and quick eyes. He sank down to the ground, wrapping his arms around his knees as he listened in.

“-don't like you having to come back on your own.” That was his tad, Gwil knew. He shifted so he could peer into the room through the crack. He could see his dad and tad propped up in their bed. His dad looked sick: pale and sweaty. He was lying with his back against Tad's chest, who was running a soothing hand through his hair.

Dad spoke next, voice barely a weak croak. It was nothing like how he normally sounded: the loud, happy voice that equal parts comforted and intimidated Gwil. “Well I don't need you putting yourself in harm's way just to be at my side when I come back.”

Both men's eyes were closed. Tad shifted, nuzzling his nose against Dad's hair. “Will you let me as long as I promise to only when it's safe?”

“Of course.”

There was a long pause, and Gwil almost uncurled himself from the floor to let himself in. But then Tad shifted, frowning before he spoke. “We're going to have to tell Gwil eventually.”

Gwil twitched at hearing his name. Dad moved, opening his eyes as he tried to turn around in Tad's grip. But Tad just held him tight, rubbing a hand up and down his arm until he settled. “Not yet. He wouldn't even understand it at his age.”

“You underestimate him.” Judging from his tone of voice, Gwil thought that Tad might be saying something nice about him, so he smiled in the half-light from his parents' bedroom.

“He won't notice that I'm not aging. Not yet.”

“But what happens if you die in front of him?” Dad made a disgruntled sound, but Tad continued. “It's Torchwood, Jack. It could happen. How am I supposed to keep him calm if you die? Or keep him from being terrified when you come back? What if he does something rash, because he doesn't know? As he gets older...”

“Please, Ianto?” Dad's voice sounded so weak; it made Gwil nervous. “Just...not yet. Just give me a few years of pretending to be normal?”

“Gwil is a Rift victim from eighteen forty-eight, his parents work in a giant underground base and the closest thing he has to a pet is a pteranodon. I think you might have failed at 'pretending to be normal' quite a few oddities back.”

Whatever Dad said next was too quiet for Gwil to catch, but it made Tad laugh. Gwil shifted forward, trying to hear more, when he overbalanced and fell into the door, pushing it open. He heard rustling from the direction of the bed. Before he could even right himself, strong arms were lifting him, and he found his tad holding him close as he peered down worriedly. “Gwil? What's the matter?”

Gwil glanced back at the door, where he could see the darkness from their rooms creeping in. He snuggled against Tad, burying his face in his nightshirt. “Bad dream. Cwtsh?”

He felt himself being carried across the room, then Tad shifting onto the bed. Dad was there, running a big hand through his hair. “Cwtsh?”

Above him, Tad replied: “Cuddle. He had a bad dream.”

There was some shifting and adjusting as the two men and one little boy tried to get comfortable on the bed. After a few moments of crawling around on the bed, Gwil found himself being lifted and placed onto the pillows. He peeked out above the piles of pillows to see his tad looking at him bemusedly, while his dad looked on with a grin. “He's small enough to just sleep up there without getting between us. And then I don't need to worry about rolling over and crushing him in my sleep.”

Tad snorted, but then leaned forward to give Gwil a kiss on the forehead before lying down onto the pillows. “Do you think you could fall asleep there, Gwil?”

Gwil crawled around once in a circle on the pillows, before settling down: wedging himself beneath one pillow and on top of another. He looked back up at Tad and nodded from his pillow-enveloped position.

“Go to sleep, champ.” Dad's voice, though still weak, was regaining some of its usual vibrance. A big hand covered Gwil's head, ruffling his hair before he settled in next to Tad. Gwil kept his eyes open for as long as he could, watching as Dad and Tad shifted until they were curled up around each other: Tad lying on his stomach, half on the bed and half on Dad's chest; Dad on his back, a single arm curled around tad and holding him close. Dad looked tired, but his eyes were still open when Gwil's started to fall closed. The last thing Gwil remembered before he fell asleep was Dad humming a lullaby that sounded of long ago and far away.

Jack swung the wheel to the right, almost two-wheeling the SUV around the corner. The other two passengers in the car flew to their lefts, propelled by centrifugal force.

“Jack!” Ianto was gripping the above-window handle in one hand and Jack's thigh in his other. “Don't you think you should drive a little more cautiously with Gwil in the car?”

Jack glanced in the backseat through the review mirror, shooting the wide-eyed boy a grin. “We don't want to be late to his first footie practice, do we? And besides: he's fine. Aren't you, champ?”

A whimper drifted up from the backseat, but then Gwil's tiny voice piped up: “Yes, dad.”

Jack ignored the look he knew Ianto was shooting him, as he pushed the car up over a curb and onto the grassy parking lot before the football field. The car skidded to a halt over moist grass, clumps of dirt spattering against the wheel-well. Jack ignored another look being sent his way and hopped out of the car, greatcoat billowing out behind him in the slight breeze of the cool almost-summer day.

Ianto was already around back, hauling two chairs and a cooler out of the boot, while Jack opened the back door and held his hands out to Gwil. “Come on, little man. Let's get you to practice.”

Gwil undid his seatbelt and crawled along the seat, allowing Jack to scoop him up and plop him onto the grass. Gwil stared down for a moment, lifting his feet in turn and watching as the cleats sunk into the moist dirt. He started stomping slowly, kicking up grass and mud with increasing delight.

“Gwil. Manners.” Ianto shoved the bundle of chairs into Jack's arms as he reached down and grabbed Gwil's hand, adjusting the cooler in his other. Immediately Gwil stopped stomping, following Ianto calmly over to the coach.

Jack set up their chairs in a prime position on the sidelines, grinning broadly at the other parents doing the same. He knew he and Ianto made an odd couple: not only were they same-sex – thankfully, not as problematic as it used to be, though still liable to raise a few eyebrows – but Jack knew he looked ten (certainly not fifteen) years older than Ianto. Plus, with him in his greatcoat, and Ianto in a jumper, tie, and slacks, they certainly didn't look ready for a day at the football field.

By the time Jack had set up the two collapsable chairs, Ianto was squelching back over to him, heavy cooler in one hand causing him to sink slightly into the ground. He set it down between the two chairs, nodding at Jack as he straightened. “Everything's sorted with the coach. Practice runs about an hour and a half.” He nodded at Jack's wrist strap. “Remote monitoring on?”

Jack rolled his eyes, patting the chair in a brusque invitation to sit. Ianto complied, but continued to look at Jack until he nodded. “Yes, Ianto. Don't worry. Tosh and Gwen are at the Hub, remote monitoring is on, and Gwil knows to come running if he hears us call.” Reaching over the cooler, Jack took the other man's hand in his. “We're fine.”

Ianto's features were still drawn tight in a small, worried frown, but he nodded, squeezing Jack's hand in a sign of trust.

As they watched Gwil race around the field, doing wind sprints, ball-handling and goal-scoring drills, Jack felt himself relax in the cool, bright day. The clouds from the previous night had moved on, letting the sun warm the area as much as it could in early May. Warm weather was definitely on its way, though: Jack was almost tempted to take his greatcoat off and roll up his shirtsleeves. Almost.

On the field, Gwil slipped as he hefted a leg back to kick, going flying onto his rump and spraying mud everywhere. Next to him, Ianto jumped forward, stopped only by Jack's hand gripping his wrist. “Wait.”

Ianto seemed beside himself – over grass stains or concern for their son, Jack wasn't positive, though he felt it was probably the latter – but stayed seated, entire body tense. Sure enough, a moment later Gwil jumped up, laughing and holding his muddy hands out to one of the other boys on the field. He turned and scanned the sidelines, looking for his parents, until his eyes settled on the two men. Despondently he wiped at his bum, plucking at his clothes in what appeared to be an attempt at an apology to Ianto. Jack just waved vigorously, giving Gwil a thumb's up and shouting “Eye on the ball, Gwil! And feet under your head!”

Gwil, apparently bolstered by the lack of scolding over his dirty clothes, returned the wave before dashing off to the back of the line of boys, leaning to watch none-so-subtly as he waited for his next go at the goal.

Jack let go of Ianto's wrist, thumb sliding over it soothingly as he did. “See? What'd I tell you?”

“I suppose...” Ianto's expression softened as he watched Gwil chat animatedly with another boy on the team, the two of them waving their arms and kicking their legs in what seemed to be a dramatic reenactment of Gwil's tumble, though Gwil was a great deal more subdued than the other boy. “He does appear to be making friends.”

“See? And isn't that why you wanted him on the team in the first place?”

Ianto was quiet as serious eyes followed Gwil around the field. “That and the fresh air. And exercise. Can't be good for a child: being cooped up in the Hub all day.”

Jack relaxed into his little cloth chair, stretching his legs out in front of him. “Well, when he starts school in autumn he'll spend plenty of time outside the Hub.”

At the mention of school Ianto's expression immediately clouded over again. Jack cast about quickly for a change in subject. “Here,” he opened the cooler and pulled out two drinks: beer for Ianto, water for himself. “Relax a little. It's our day off.”

With seeming reluctance Ianto took the beer, cracking it open and glancing once at Jack before taking a sip. Jack grinned, taking a mirroring drink from his bottle of water. After a few more sips Ianto did seem to relax more, easing down in his chair a bit and stretching his legs out, similarly to Jack. “It's warming up,” he commented after a minute.

Jack barked out a laugh, eyes twinkling. “Look at us: saviors of the universe, talking about the weather and taking our son to football practice.”

Ianto's small but genuine answering grin warmed Jack's heart. “Never would have thought it possible.” At that moment, Jack's wrist strap beeped, and Ianto's face fell. “Spoke too soon, haven't I?”

But Jack was shaking his head as he looked at the readings. “It's just a weevil. Hang on, let me get Gwen.” Jack tapped his comm, turning slightly away from Ianto. “Gwen? Tosh? You getting this?”

Loud panting filled his ear, and a moment later Gwen's voice came through, a little too loud. “Fine! It's fine. It ran right in front of me as I was heading to interview the kid who reported the sighting from two nights ago.”

Jack frowned, turning even more away from Ianto as movement flickered at the corner of his eye. He refused to let the other man leave over something Gwen had already taken care of. They were spending this day as a normal(-ish) family if Jack had any say in it. “You're fine? No injuries, don't need to call in Owen?”

“Nope!” Gwen's voice was returning back to a reasonable volume as her breathing grew steadier. “Already hooded and in the trunk. Pink-UFO young man will have to wait a little while longer, I'm afraid. I'm taking the weevil back to the Hub now and putting it in a cell for Owen to tag tomorrow.”

Jack nodded sharply, bringing his hand up to his opposite ear. Ianto was saying something, but Jack was trying to focus on Gwen. “Sounds good. See you girls in an hour or so.” With that, Jack ended the communication, turning back to Ianto. “Alright, what did you-” Jack stopped as he noticed two women and a man standing next to Ianto, who was also standing and looking exasperatedly at Jack.

Ianto smiled weakly at Jack. “Some of the other parents came over and introduced themselves.”

The single man in the group waved a can of beer at Jack. “And we swear, it wasn't to take advantage of your hospitality. That was just a bonus.”

Turning up the charm, Jack quickly collected himself and stuck out his hand. “Captain Jack Harkness.”

The man shook it, smiling back. “Dafydd Thomas.”

Jack turned to the two women, kissing their hands in turn. One of the women blushed and preened under the attention, the other just raised an eyebrow in a “we are not amused” sort of way and glanced pointedly over at Ianto. The blushing women introduced herself as Alis Evans, and the no-nonsense one was “Llewella Talog, no relation to the actress, before you even start.”

Jack raised his eyebrows, but decided to persist in his charm. “Well, I wouldn't have thought that. You're much more beautiful than Myfanwy.” Jack shared a little secret smile with Ianto, who rolled his eyes but lips quirked all the same.

The woman gave him another knowing look, but there seemed to be a sort of good-natured dryness behind it, so Jack decided to let her be – for now. The man, Dafydd, nodded over at Ianto. “We were just talking to your partner here, asking him about the boy you've got out there. I noticed he's got that finger missing: you adopt him from a bad home?”

Ianto's eyes locked with Jack's: scared and pleading and completely at a loss. Jack hesitated for just a moment, but it was long enough for Alis to speak up. “Excuse my brother: he's got no sense. He didn't mean it to be rude or nosy: just concern for the poor dear. He must have been through a lot.”

Jack spoke up then, waving a hand dismissively. “No, nothing like that. Just a...accident on...the playground. When he was younger. It doesn't bother him now.”

Jack could see Ianto visibly relax at his response before he regained his composure. “Alis and Dafydd are brother and sister: had their sons just a few months apart from each other.”

Jack nodded, feigning interest. “Must be nice. The...” What were the relations caused in this era? Right: “...cousins must be close, being the same age.”

Alis nodded, moving a little closer to Jack. “It is nice. I'm glad they don't go to the same school, though: it'd be too much like having a sibling in your year, and that just ends up terribly competitive. The way it is, they can play with each other without the pressure.”

“Get up, Owen! You've just got a scratch! Oh, for...” Llewella sighed and turned to the adults. “Sorry, hang on.” She jogged out to the field, crouching in front of a little boy who was crying on the ground and holding his knee. A minute later she was back, throwing her hands up. “I swear, I prayed to God for boys so I'd have children who would get dirty and play rough and then grow up to be brilliant engineers, maybe work for Richard Branson. What do I get?” She waved her hand at the field, where the boy was limping exaggeratedly back into the pack of children. “A little boy who's almost certainly going to end up a twink by the time he's fifteen and a girl that wants to be a photographer.” The women sighed again, then waved a hand at Ianto and Jack. “Not that I mean any offense. You two seem nice and...strapping.”

Jack laughed as he watched Ianto struggle to stifle the same reaction. “You people and your boxes...” He hesitated, glancing over at Ianto when he realized he might have said too much. “By which I mean you Welsh people. I'm from...California.”

Llewella shrugged, seemingly unconcerned. “I know my kids, is all I'm saying. That boy is as fey as they come.” She shook her head. “Suppose I'll have to give in. Maybe next year I'll let him do the back-to-school shopping with me. Pick out some pretty...scarfs...or something.”

Once again, Alis came to the rescue, changing the subject. “That's a rather fancy car you boys have there.”

“Company car,” Ianto immediately replied. He glanced at Jack, hesitating as he drew the next sentence out slowly. “We're...civil servants...”

Dafydd snorted, nodding at the SUV. “Sure. And I'm King of Wales. You do realize you've got 'Torchwood' etched into the side of the bonnet, donch'ya?”

Jack groped around for an answer. Llewella snorted, eyes fixed on the field. “Torchwood's 'civil service'. They just fancy themselves James Bond.”

Ianto self-consciously straightened his tie as a flush rose in his cheeks. Jack made a mental note to make Ianto feel exactly as suave as James Bond when they were alone later that night. Dafydd crumpled his can and handed it back to Ianto. “You wouldn't have another to spare, would you?”

With that, the five adults seemed to come to some sort of equilibrium as they settled into chatting about all sorts and sundry, to be only occasionally interrupted by Llewella's shouts or groans of embarrassment. Dafydd and Ianto shared four more beers between them, Alis drinking perhaps half a can of stolen sips from her brother's. Llewella started smoking after checking that no one would be bothered, and proceeded to chain smoke the rest of the practice, hand pressed to her forehead with cigarette dangling between its fingers whenever Owen did something exceptionally awful. After an hour of watching Owen trip over his own feet and cry two more times, Jack had to at the very least agree with Llewella's assessment that sport was not little Owen's calling. He made a note to take video sometime and tease their Owen back at Torchwood with it.

Once the coach released the children, the parents parted ways, scooping up muddy little kids in their arms and piling them into cars. Ianto carefully patted Gwil's head, holding him at arm's length. Jack had to admit that he had managed to get exceptionally muddy. “Don't get into the SUV until I put the towel down, okay?”

Gwil nodded, big eyes looking up at Ianto expectantly. “Did you see me, tad?”

Ianto seemed at a loss for a moment, before he smiled down at him. “Yes. You did a good job. Four goals: that's more than I would have made at your age.”

Gwil beamed under the praise, turning to Jack. “Did you see, dad? I slipped and got muddy.” He said it almost quietly, as if he was uncertain whether or not Jack would see the joy in the situation that he did.

“You sure did!” Jack ruffled Gwil's hair roughly. “Now let your tad get you buckled up while I pack up here.” As Gwil and Ianto headed over to the car, Jack folded up the chairs, tucking them under one arm and lifting the now empty cooler with the other. He had stored them in the boot of the SUV and shut the door by the time Ianto shut the passenger door, Gwil buckled up and mud-covered body safely sat on top of a towel. The two men slid into their seats up front, and Jack started the drive home.

Gwil chattered more than Jack had ever heard him speak in one sitting on the ride back, describing in perfect detail everything he learned on the field that day: the new terms, how to kick, how goals worked, the different positions he could play, &c. Once he was finished with his report on the mechanics of football, he continued on to describe, in excruciating detail, every other child he had met and talked with. “'nd they don't even work, tad. They say they watch telly 'nd go to school. 'nd if they don't do that, they just play.”

Ianto nodded next to Jack, eyes getting that softly sad look they got whenever Gwil mentioned his days at the mill. “I'm sure they have chores, same as you.”

Gwil shook his head vigorously. “All they do is clean their rooms.” At his tad's momentary silence, Gwil hurried on. “But I don't mind my chores. I like helping you with Myfanwy and the coffee.”

As they pulled into the underground garage to the Hub, Ianto unbuckled his seatbelt and turned around. “Clothes off before you go inside. Drop them by the laundry machine. Then straight into the shower.”

Jack grinned, unbuckling as well and leaning over to kiss Ianto. “Wouldn't mind following those orders myself...”

Ianto kissed him back briefly, rolling his eyes and grinning as he opened his door. “Gwen and Tosh are inside, Jack: don't need to give them an eyeful.”

Outside the SUV, Gwil was carefully undoing his cleats, shirt already shucked off and lying in a heap next to the washing machine. Ianto squatted down to help him, yanking off the shin-guards and tube socks after the shoes came off. Shorts and pants flew off, and Gwil went racing into the Hub before Ianto could toss a towel at him. Jack grinned as the younger man sighed and started piling muddy clothes into the wash. As he reached for the Tide – grass-stain formula, specifically bought when Ianto and Jack decided to enroll Gwil in football – he nodded over his shoulder. “After him? Make sure he gets into the shower, please?”

With a quick smack to Ianto's bum, Jack was off after Gwil, ignoring the “Oi! Boots!” that followed him.

By the time he reached the main room of the Hub, Jack could hear Gwen and Tosh cooing and giggling furiously. With a sigh he jogged to catch up with Gwil, who was just heading into his office. Jack swept him up, clutching the starkers boy to his chest and wrapping his greatcoat around him. “Ladies, ladies, please! Wait until my boy is a little older before you start ogling him!”

Tosh giggled and tapped her glasses against her mouth cheekily. “I think you're rubbing off on him already, Jack. I thought you two had decided Ianto was going to be the one to influence him, for the sake of the human race?”

Jack grinned dashingly, still covering the squirming boy with his coat. “For the sake of the human race, I decided to make sure he will one day grow up to be as much of a heart-breaker as his old man.”

Gwen scrunched her nose in delight. “With a bum as adorable as his, he'll have no problems.”

Jack winked, heading back into his office and to his manhole. “Ah, but if I had a bum as adorable as his, I would have never developed my charms!” With the sound of the two female Torchwood employees giggling over Gwil behind him, Jack unwrapped the naked little boy from his coat and plopped him in front of the ladder. “Down you go. And straight into the shower, like your tad said!”

Waiting a moment for Gwil to climb down, Jack followed after him. By the time Ianto found them a half hour later, carrying a bucket filled with muddy water and looking rather put-out at Jack, the man and boy were sparkling clean, hair dripping from the shower. They were curled up on the couch with Sesame Street on, Gwil asleep in his bathrobe against Jack's chest.

“I'm only letting you out of a scolding over your muddy footprints because Gwil's exhausted,” Ianto whispered, leaning down to give Jack a kiss.

Jack smiled up at him, tugging at his hand. “Come to bed for a bit?”

With one more kiss, Ianto straightened and nodded. “Let me grab a quick shower. Get him in pajamas and put him down for a nap.” Jack stared after Ianto for a moment, before gently lifting Gwil and carrying him off to bed.

Ianto stood outside the entrance to the vaults, clutching Gwil's tiny hand in his. His palm was sweating, but he refused to let Gwil's hand go for a moment so that he could wipe it on his trousers. In front of them, Jack bounded into view, a broad grin on his face. “All set!”

Glancing down at Gwil, Ianto took a breath. Why had he ever agreed to this?

**

Jack's tactics to convince Ianto had really been entirely unfair.

“Fuck, Jack, yes.” Ianto pressed his palms flat against the headboard as he arched into Jack's eager mouth. Jack's hands rubbed soothingly up and down his flanks as he swallowed him down farther, opening his throat and swallowing around Ianto once his nose was firmly nestled in the thick tuft of pubic hair at the base. “Jack...”

Jack hummed as he pulled back, making Ianto pant and writhe against the sheets. With an absolutely pornographic slurping noise, Jack pulled all the way off, grinning up at Ianto. “Do you want me to keep going?”

Ianto groaned, but shook his head. “If I come from this I'm not going to be able to return the favor.”

With a waggle of his eyebrows and a kiss to Ianto's stomach, Jack slithered up Ianto's body. “Why don't I do all the work tonight?”

Ianto smiled up at Jack, accepting his almost chaste kiss before the other man stretched off to the side, grabbing lube from their nightstand. Ianto lazily stroked his wet erection as he watched Jack slick two fingers up and prepare himself. The lube changed hands, and Ianto slicked some on as Jack closed his eyes and steadily thrust three fingers in and out.

Ianto groaned as Jack sank down onto him in a single, smooth motion, hips pushing up and up, as if he could press any deeper inside. Ianto's hands flew forward, gripping hard at Jack's hips as he urged him to stay fully seated for just a moment longer. With a cheeky grin, Jack clenched around him, drawing another guttural moan from Ianto.

Ianto eased up the pressure on Jack's hips, and the other man began to rise, riding Ianto with smooth, powerful movements. Ianto pushed up with every thrust down, eyes sliding shut as he focused on the feel of Jack around him, above him.

“We should introduce Gwil to Janet.”

“Uhnn...” Ianto wasn't listening to Jack at the moment. He was a great deal more focused on the way Jack was riding him like a filthy Roman centurion.

“After all, he already takes care of Myfanwy.”

Ianto's breathing was becoming more labored as he pushed up into Jack, thighs quivering with the inability to increase the pace or pressure.

“And he needs to get used to aliens, after all.”

“Jack...close...”

Jack's pace quickened, pushing Ianto ever closer to that precipice of pleasure. His arousal coiled inside of him, tensing every muscle until, with a few more quick, downward thrusts Ianto came, crying out.

Jack continued to ride him even as Ianto's cock softened inside him. Ianto whimpered with the overstimulation, making a mad grab for Jack's own erection. But Jack's hand was already there, pumping himself to completion with a few strokes.

As Ianto drifted off, not even making a move to wipe down his cock or stomach where his and Jack's come abounded, he felt Jack shift next to him. “So is that a yes?”

The next morning, Ianto wouldn't even remember the question – or his answer – but in that moment just between orgasm and sleep, his mouth mumbled “Yes.”

**

“I still don't know if I approve of this, Jack.”

“You agreed,” Jack reminded him, reaching the man and boy. He extended a hand down to Gwil, waggling it until the boy grabbed hold. “Ready to meet Janet?”

Gwil, mouth set in a firm line, nodded. Ianto's heart sank at the sight.

They started down the hallway, Ianto a resolute pace behind Gwil and Jack. “Listen, Jack, I know I agreed, but I wasn't in my right mind.”

Jack's lewd, crafty smirk thrown over his shoulder told Ianto that Jack knew exactly what state of mind Ianto had been in when he asked.

“He's only seven. Can't this wait...”

“Say hello to Janet!”

Going perfectly still, Ianto watched as Gwil's eyes slowly traced upward. Janet was in her cell, munching on something Jack had given her earlier. Noticing the humans, she stood up and loped forward, stopping just a few centimeters before the reinforced plastic. Having just fed, she was somewhat placated, but the look in her eyes was still one that sent chills down Ianto's spine, no matter how long he worked with her.

Gwil was tucked behind Jack's leg, peering up at the ominous creature before him. He was completely still and silent for two long minutes: eyes the only part of his body moving as they darted around the creature's body, absorbing every detail.

Finally he tugged at Jack's trousers, not moving a centimeter from their protection. “It's an alien?”

“Yup. From outer space.”

Gwil glanced back at Ianto, who nodded solemnly. Gwil had picked up on the new concepts of space and rockets through a sort of osmosis, mixing sources like what he saw around the Hub and on the telly. From what Ianto could judge, he had the same understanding of such matters as any modern seven-year-old.

“Does it eat little boys?”

Ianto winced. He really needed to monitor Owen's coffee-conversations with Gwil. He was obviously planting all sorts of notions in his head.

Ianto glanced at Jack who was slowly nodding. “She eats big boys, too. In fact, one of these almost ate me, once. Your tad saved me.”

“You did?” Ianto couldn't help but feel warmth inside as Gwil stared up at him with obvious hero-worship, even as his hands still clutched at Jack's trousers and body remained firmly ensconced behind them.

Ianto settled for nodding and smiling tightly down at Gwil. “Yup. But they are quite dangerous: don't even come down here without your dad or me.”

Gwil nodded absently, eyes once again returning to focus on Janet. “What kind of alien is it?”

“It's called a weevil.” Jack was slowly inching Gwil away from his legs, trying to push him out into the open. Ianto watched as Gwil became too fascinated by the creature to notice, and soon only three fingers were left holding onto Jack's trousers. “Jaaanet.” Jack waved his hands and moved around, causing Janet to snarl and beat one meaty fist at the plastic. She wasn't being aggressive, as her stomach was currently full. Still, Gwil jumped back, clutching at Jack's leg and pulling himself back behind it.

“What does it do?”

Ianto and Jack both blinked and stared at each other for a moment at the question. Jack answered first. “She...uh...she eats. And so we give her food.”

“We study her.” Ianto slid into his lecture-voice, staring down seriously at Gwil. “We keep her safe and comfortable, and then we learn things from her, like how to protect people from other weevils, and how to make them stop hurting people without hurting them.”

Gwil seemed to accept this explanation, watching Janet studiously. “Do I have to feed it, too?”

Ianto shook his head immediately. “It's too dangerous,” he said.

Not even a second later Jack chimed in with: “Maybe when you're older.”

For that addendum, Jack received a completely deserved glare from Ianto, which also contained a promise to discuss that issue later. With a firm nudge, Ianto pushed Jack away from Gwil, taking the boy's hand in his again. “Come on: let's go feed Myfanwy. She missed you yesterday when you were studying with Auntie Tosh.”

As they walked away from Janet, Ianto only relaxed once he heard Jack seal the door behind them. His footsteps were loud as he jogged to catch up, slipping a warm, dry hand into Ianto's. A quick kiss to the temple was enough to cause the last bit of tension to ebb from Ianto's body, and he let out an almost-silent sigh as he glanced down to check on Gwil. The little one didn't seem to be permanently scared by his visit with Janet; on the contrary, he was already preoccupied with thoughts of Myfanwy: discussing quietly how they would have to change her nest Saturday, because it had been almost a month since the last time.

Jack's warm breath tickled Ianto's ear as he leaned in. “See? Our boy can handle anything.”

Ianto smiled thinly. The problem is, he thought, when you're Torchwood, "anything" encompasses much too much.

 

Jack watched Ianto fall, unable to do a thing about it. He ripped his arm away from the alien currently gnawing on it, ignoring how the sinews and muscles ripped away from bone. With a roar he swung his Webley around and shot the alien in the head, not even waiting to see if the wound felled the creature.

A moment later he was at Ianto's side, hands shaking desperately above the pool of blood slowly forming beneath him. Ianto had gotten off a shot; he must have: the alien that had tore a chunk out of his shoulder, trapezium, and neck was lying still next to him. Jack's Webley lay uselessly on the ground – his hands were pressed to Ianto's throat, trying to stop the bleeding.

“Ianto, Ianto, Ianto...” Jack's voice was broken and scared. He barely even recognized it himself as the anguished syllables tore themselves from his lips. Frantically he pulled off his coat, laying it over Ianto before pressing the limp sleeves to the wound. The thick wool absorbed the blood quickly, the red stain spreading through the fabric like spilt ink. It was too much blood – Jack knew that. Still, he pressed down harder, sobbing as Ianto's eyelids fluttered and a pained moan escaped.

“Ianto! Ianto, please, hang on. Please...”

Jack didn't even register Owen running up to them until the doctor was tearing Jack's hands and coat away and replacing them with a wad of cotton and bandages. “Get him off the ground, Jack! Fuck! Throw him into the boot, come on!”

Without a second's thought to the alien corpses littering the warehouse, Jack hefted Ianto into his arms and rushed him to the SUV, crawling into the boot with Ianto still in his arms. He cradled the wounded man in his lap as Owen scrambled up in with them. Owen had barely slammed the door when the SUV took off, Gwen in the driver's seat. “It's a lot of blood,” Jack moaned.

“Thanks, doctor Harkness, I didn't fucking notice!”

Owen was scrambling, securing the wad of bandages to Ianto's throat and injecting him with several different concoctions. Jack blinked, looking around in a state of shock. He knew the ride back to the Hub would take at least ten minutes. He looked down at the increasingly white face of the man in his lap. Ianto wouldn't make it.

“Transfusion. Owen, Owen, you have to...” Jack held out his arm. “Give him my blood. Please.”

Owen's face was grim as he fumbled through the medkit in the boot. “Believe me, Jack, I would if I could.” He grinned without humor. “Ianto's O positive. You're A, Gwen and I are B.” Owen grabbed Ianto's wrist as he felt for a pulse. “If it was any one of us, Ianto could help. But since it's him...”

Jack swallowed thickly. “We can't give to him.” He blinked, tears falling freely onto his coat, still wrapped around Ianto. “But, maybe...maybe my blood's okay. Fifty-first century, the...the vortex energy...”

Again, a shaky non-smile. “I've checked before. It's a no go, Jack. Just...” he lifted one of Jack's hands and placed it over Ianto's wound. “Just keep pressure on it. We have to get back to the Hub. Once we're there, I've got plenty of blood to give him.”

Jack's whole body was shaking violently as he kept pressure on the wound. He watched, almost disconnectedly, as Owen injected Ianto with something else, lifting his wrist and checking his pulse a moment later. He pulled a manual respirator out of the kit, fitting the mask over Ianto's face and pumping it, counting under his breath. His entire demeanor was grim, and he turned to shout over the seat-backs: “Gwen! Get a move on!”

“You don't think I am?!” Gwen's voice had a tinge of hysteria to it, and Jack found himself actually grateful. If Gwen was scared, then she'd drive faster.

He looked up at Owen through tear-filled eyes. “What are his chances?”

Owen shook his head, eyes fixed firmly on Ianto as he continued to pump air into his lungs. “No way to-”

“Owen! Numbers!”

“It's fifty-fifty!” Owen's wide eyes met Jack's, and for the first time Jack noticed a wet sheen to them. “I've got as much procoagulants as I can put into him without stopping his heart, and that's slowing the bleeding. But not enough, and too late: he needs more blood. If his heart hasn't stopped by the time we get him into the med bay, I can probably work some magic.” Owen turned away from Jack, breaking eye contact as he wiped his face on his sleeve. As he turned back, Jack's heart seized at the look on his face. “His pulse is weak, Jack.”

Jack bent his head, staring down at Ianto's face. His skin was white – if it weren't for the rise and fall of his chest, Jack would have thought him dead. As it was, his breathing was shaky, and growing shallower by the minute. “Please, Ianto. Please: don't leave me.”

**

Jack carried Ianto into the Hub, kicking the Chula corpse off the autopsy table and setting Ianto down onto the now-cleared space in one, smooth motion. Tosh ran over from her station, hovering in the observation level with Gwen as Owen dashed in and started pulling apart cabinets. Within a minute he had Ianto hooked up to an IV, blood pumping into his system. Next was an oxygen mask Owen slipped over Ianto's nose and mouth, to replace the manual respirator Owen had continued to work through the entire, frantic drive back.

At first, Jack sighed, thinking the worst was over. But then Ianto's wound started bleeding afresh, soaking through the gauze and tape and spilling over onto the table. “Owen? Owen, what the hell is-”

“It's the anticoagulant! You have to put it in the blood to store it.” Owen ripped the cap off a needle and jabbed it into Ianto's IV line. With a grumble he spun around, eyes drifting around the bay until they stopped, apparently alighting on something. He returned a moment later with something the size of a pen.

“What's that? Owen, do you know how to work it?”

“It's just a laser scalpel. I'm going to stitch up Ianto with it: stop some of the bleeding.”

Jack ran shaking fingers around the outside of the wound. The skin wasn't even really there: chunks of it were torn away, other pieces were just hanging there, shredded and bloody. There were parts where the muscle had been torn away so much that bright spots of bone shone through, noticeable even with pools of blood filling in the gaping holes. “But...Owen, he needs muscles. Skin grafts. What if there's a disease on that animal? You need to test...”

“Just let me do my fucking job!” Owen shoved Jack, eyes blazing, against the railing. “You need to get the fuck away from Ianto right now, or he's going to die. Die, Jack.”

In the sudden stillness, a small sob filled the air. Jack's eyes flickered over to the corner of the medical bay. Gwil was sitting on the bottom step, arms wrapped around his knees and body curled into a tight ball. He was sniffling: bright, blue eyes blood-shot; cheeks tear-stained; nose running as he cried.

With one last shove Owen pushed off Jack, going back over to Ianto. “Take care of your son, Jack; I'll take care of my patient.”

When Jack walked over to Gwil and made to crouch down next to him, Owen shook his head without looking up from Ianto. “No kids in here, Jack. Take him out.”

So Jack scooped Gwil up, pressing his face to his shoulder. Gwil started to cry in earnest, then: arms wrapped tight enough to hurt around Jack's neck and wet face soaking through his shirt. Jack shushed him, rubbing his back as he walked over to his office. “Shh, champ. It's alright. Shh.”

Gwil just sobbed louder, apparently taking Jack's attention as permission to cry. Jack had to work hard not to join him in volume, at the very least. He couldn't help the tears that ran freely down his face and sobs that shook his body, but he managed to do it quietly. “It'll...” Jack gasped silently before continuing. “It'll be okay, Gwil. Shh. Everything'll be fine.”

Gwil's head shook back and forth against Jack's shoulder. Voice muffled, he cried out “Tad's going to die!”

A current of panic shot through Jack's system, causing him to shudder violently. All he could think to do was hold Gwil tighter, hand continuing to rub over the back of Gwil's head. “No. No, he's going to be fine. Uncle Owen is going to make him better.”

But Gwil shook his head and started to cry harder. “He's going to die! The blood, and...and...he looked like Kai!”

Jack continued to hold Gwil. Kai must have been someone he knew at the mill. Every once in a while Gwil would mention someone or something that had happened – most often, someone who had died or some traumatizing event. Jack had a sinking feeling that Kai had died from exsanguination.

“Maybe. But Uncle Owen is very...very good. He'll...” Jack took a shaking breath. “He'll fix Tad.”

A gasp and pained cry came from the med bay. Jack stiffened, clutching Gwil tighter. Every instinct in his body was telling him to run over there, to hold Ianto's hand, to kick and scream and cry, or maybe punch Owen. But he couldn't bear letting Gwil see his tad like that again. So he stayed seated.

A moment later Tosh rushed in, wiping tears from her face. “He's okay,” she gasped out. “Owen's slowed the bleeding. He's awake.” She held her arms out, scooping Gwil up from Jack. “Owen's going to put him under for the repairs. You'd have to talk to him now.”

Jack placed a kiss to Gwil's forehead as he got up to leave. “See? Tad's okay. I'm just going to check on him.” With a nod to Tosh, Jack hurried out of his office.

Ianto was moaning on the table, head turned away from his shredded shoulder and eyes squeezed shut. Owen was working meticulously at the wound, flushing it with a saline solution and taking swabs. Without looking up, Owen spoke: “I'm giving him heavy sedatives. We've got to regrow muscles, and even with the regenerator I've got it hurts like a bastard.”

Reaching Ianto's undamaged side, Jack grabbed for his hand. Ianto squeezed back, hard. His skin was still too pale, but it wasn't quite the deathly pallor it was a few minutes before. “Okay?”

Ianto grit out: “No. It hurts. A lot.”

Jack half-laughed, half-sobbed. “Never would have guessed.”

“Where's Gwil?”

Jack squeezed Ianto's hand reassuringly, clutching it to his chest. “He's fine. He's scared,” he amended. “But if you're okay, we're okay.”

A scream ripped its way from Ianto's throat as Owen did something to his shoulder. Ianto made a futile attempt to roll away, collapsing back onto the table when Owen pulled him back. “Alright, time for Ianto to go to beddie-bye so the doctor can do his job.”

Jack waited as Owen injected the sedative into Ianto's IV. Ianto's grip slackened and expression relaxed, until he was asleep a few seconds later. Jack stayed as Owen continued to work: smoothing back Ianto's hair from his face and rubbing his hand. He watched as Owen carefully reconnected tissue and tendons, using the regenerator to fill in missing parts. Muscles regrew before his eyes, slowly and tediously meshing with the still intact muscles.

Two hours later, Owen threw down the regenerator and laser scalpel. He snapped the blood-soaked gloves off, tossing them into the biohazard bin. Jack tried not to look at the pieces of skin and shredded tissue that the gloves landed on top of. A hand fell heavily on Jack's shoulder, and he glanced up to see Owen nodding tiredly down at him. “I pumped him full of enough sedative to keep him knocked out for the night. He'll be off field duty for...” Owen shrugged. “Hell, I don't even know, Jack. He might have permanent mobility issues with his whole left side.”

Jack nodded, eyes trained on the layers and layers of gauze covering Ianto's neck, collar, and shoulder. “How long until he wakes up?”

Owen glanced at his wrist and, noticing no watch there, lifted Ianto's arm to have a look at his. “It's eleven now, so he should be coming out of it around six am or so.” He hesitated, looking at Jack. “I thought I'd go home, catch some sleep. I'll come back around five, five-thirty?”

Jack nodded absently. “Sure, Owen: go home.” As Owen walked past, Jack reached out and grabbed his wrist with his free hand. “Thanks, Owen.”

“Yeah, well. Just doing my job, boss.”

As the cog door slid shut, Jack bent down and pressed a kiss to Ianto's forehead. His joints creaked as he stepped away. He hadn't taken time to consider his own wounds from that night, and even though they were healed, his newly-grown muscles were protesting his two-hour vigil. He climbed the stairs and looked around. Tosh was on the couch with Gwil: tapping away on her laptop one-handed, while Gwil slept fitfully on her lap, trapping her other hand between himself and the couch. Jack nodded at her. “Thanks, Tosh. You can go home, now.”

Tosh smiled up at him tiredly, slipping her glasses off and closing up her laptop. “No trouble at all, Jack.” She edged Gwil off her carefully, and Jack slid onto the couch, taking the little boy into his arms. “He's still upset.”

Jack nodded as Gwil stirred. Quickly he leaned across and kissed Tosh on the cheek, before turning his full attention to Gwil. The cog door sounded a second time as she left. “Dad?”

Jack smiled down at Gwil. “Hey, sleepy.”

“Where's Tad?”

Jack smoothed down Gwil's hair, which was sticking up on one side from falling asleep on Tosh. “He's resting now, but you can see him if you want.”

Gwil nodded assuredly. Just as Jack was about to stand, he hesitated. Ianto's dressings were clean and blessedly blood-free, but Jack's coat still covered his lower half and was soaked in blood. It probably wouldn't be the most reassuring sight for Gwil.

Just as he was going to tell Gwil to stay in place while he took care of tidying up Ianto, the sound of heels on metal grates reached him. Gwen came out of his office, looking around at the empty Hub. “Owen done, then?”

Jack nodded. Gwen came over and sat on the couch on the opposite side of Gwil, tucking her arm around the boy and looking concernedly at Jack. “Everything alright?”

“Everything's fine. You took care of the cleanup?”

Gwen nodded. “Just got back from the incinerator with the last of them. No witnesses that I could tell, but Tosh already set the computer up to notify us if any reports came through.”

Absently Jack stroked Gwil's hair as he listened. Standing, he tucked Gwil over to Gwen. “Hey, watch him for a minute? He wants to see Ianto, but I need to...” Jack gestured vaguely.

Gwen nodded, pulling Gwil under her arm. “Hey, Gwil. Did you like going to a movie with Uncle Rhys and me last weekend?” As Gwil nodded sleepily, Jack backed away and into his office. “We could go to another one this weekend. Maybe even get some ice cream.”

Jack hurried down the ladder into their rooms. He gathered up a pillow and blankets from the linen closet, as well as a pair of pajama bottoms from their dresser. There was no way he was going to be able to maneuver a shirt onto him in his state, so Jack left the matching top and hurried back up, into the Hub. With a finger held up to Gwen he made his way down the stairs of the med bay.

Jack paused for a moment, looking at Ianto. Color had slowly returned to his cheeks as he had rested and Owen worked. Now he was looking more his old self: ragged and worse for wear, but himself. Gingerly Jack removed his coat, grimacing as Ianto's dried blood cracked and distorted its normal lines. He removed Ianto's trousers and pants, tossing them into the corner. The suit was a total loss after today.

Gingerly Jack slipped the pajama bottoms on. Just as carefully he slid a blanket under Ianto – an autopsy table wasn't exactly the most comfortable place to spend the night, but Owen had insisted no one move Ianto until the morning, when they could better assess his stability. Jack then slipped the pillow under his head and spread the quilt he had grabbed over him. Gently he covered what he could of the bandages: he would uncover it later so as not to damage the area, but for now he didn't want Gwil to see how extensive the damage was. He had already seen too much, that day.

Running his hands down the quilt, Jack took one final moment to himself. If it weren't for the oxygen mask still firmly in place over Ianto's nose and mouth, now it would almost look as though Ianto really was sleeping, rather than unconscious due to heavy sedation. Bending down, Jack placed a lingering kiss to Ianto's forehead. The skin was blessedly warm beneath his lips. With tears in his eyes he stood, fingers brushing over Ianto's hair. “Gwen?”

Gwen appeared, tugging Gwil along with her. He was looking more alert now, but also more worried. “Come here,” Jack stretched his arms out, scooping up Gwil and settling him on his hip. He started leaning, craning his neck to peer down at Ianto.

“Tad?”

“Shh. Tad's sleeping. He has to rest up to feel better.”

Fearful eyes turned to meet Jack's. “Will he wake up?”

Leaning forward, Jack nuzzled his head against Gwil's. “Of course he will. Tomorrow morning Uncle Owen is going to come in and wake him up.” Jack gave Gwil a minute to touch Ianto's chest and stare down at his sleeping face, before he squeezed the boy. “Come on: you need to sleep.”

Gwil's eyes slid down to the ground, an almost-pout forming on his lips. He was much too well-behaved – another remnant of his mill days, though Ianto's influence was certainly helping the manners linger – to voice a protest, though Jack could tell he wanted to. “Here: give Tad a kiss.”

Jack held Gwil as he carefully levered himself down to kiss Ianto on the cheek. Then he carried him to their rooms, letting him go down the ladder first. Jack tucked him in perfunctorily, mind too focused on Ianto alone in the med bay to focus on the task at hand. With an absent-minded kiss on the forehead, Jack made to leave Gwil's room.

“Dad?”

Almost out of the room, Jack stopped. He allowed himself one longing gaze at the ladder, then turned back to Gwil. “Yeah?”

Gwil's big blue eyes stared up at him from beneath a pile of blankets. “I'm scared. Can you stay with me?”

Jack winced, but made his way back to the chair next to Gwil's bed. “Sure, champ. Why don't I read you your book?”

Jack made to pick up The Magician's Nephew, but Gwil's sudden cry stopped him. “No! Tad's reading that!”

With a sigh, Jack's eyes skimmed around the room. “Hang on: I'll be right back.” Jack hurried out and grabbed the first book on the coffee table: Xenobiology for the Intrepid Traveler. Owen had given it to Ianto for Christmas last year.

Settling in next to Gwil's bed, Jack opened to a random page and started to read: “'Name: Foamasi. Type: Reptilian biped. Planet of Origin: Unknown. Affiliated With: the Argolin. The Foamasi are an intelligent, bipedal race of reptiles resembling humanoid chameleons...'”

Twenty minutes later, Gwil was asleep, and Jack snuck out to return to Ianto's side.

**

The cog door sounded at five o'clock that morning. Jack hadn't slept yet, opting to sit with his back to the railing as he watched Ianto's chest rise and fall throughout the night. Ianto had barely moved: not even those little twitches or groans he was liable to make throughout a normal night's sleep. But with the cog door alarm, Ianto shifted, frown creasing his features and a small groan escaping his lips.

“Ianto?”

Ianto's blue eyes sliding open was more beautiful to Jack than the crystalline star supernova he had seen back in his twenties. Tears pricked at his eyes as he grinned down at the other man, who was growing more awake by the second. “J-Ja-ow...” Ianto's words descended into a small groan, eyes falling shut again in pain.

Jack quickly stifled his smile – though with the amount of relief he was feeling, it was hard – and glanced over his shoulder. Owen was walking down the steps, eyes bloodshot and hair completely unstyled. “How's the patient?”

“Just waking up.”

Ianto groaned, slitting open a single eye. “Feeling like I went ten rounds with a weevil. Owen?”

Owen was already there, pulling out a needle from the fridge and injecting it into Ianto's IV. “Painkillers on their way. Thirty seconds and you're going to feel fantastic.” Ianto's expression eased immediately and he nodded. Owen was on his stool, sliding across the bay and grabbing a clipboard. “Before the meds go making you feel like Wolverine, rate your pain levels for me.”

“Twenty,” Ianto grumbled.

“What's it feel like?” When Ianto just shot Owen a look, Owen held one hand up and continued. “'Scuse me. Does it feel bruised, torn, or itchy? Is there an area where the pain is worse?”

“Yeah, my left shoulder area.”

Owen rolled his eyes and glared at Jack. “Get control over your spouse, would you?”

Jack just shrugged. “Not my husband, sorry Owen.” He nodded at the dressings that Owen was lifting gingerly. “How is he?” he half-whispered.

Owen snorted and continued to examine the area. Jack noticed that beneath the pink, new flesh and hundreds of stitches, the entire area was a mass of deep purple bruising. “Because you don't sound like a concerned husband,” Owen smirked up at Jack as he replaced the bandages.

To Ianto he said, “Come on, pain descriptions, before the painkillers set in and you forget.”

Ianto sighed but spoke up. “Bruised. Massively bruised, that's how my whole left side feels. And tight.”

Owen nodded. “That'd be the scar tissue and stitches. Any sharp or wet pains?”

Ianto shook his head, then stopped, grimacing. “No. Just hurts. A lot.”

With a smirk, Owen smacked his clipboard against his hand. "Good news! You'll be up and ready to get mauled again in a month!” Owen made some more notes on his clipboard before sliding across the bay and tossing it onto a table. “I'm going to scan you later today, after I give the regenerated muscles and tendons and what-not more time to integrate into the old stuff you've got, but from what I can tell, recovery looks good.”

Ianto groaned and appeared to attempt to roll his eyes. “Thanks, Owen, but in the meantime can I get another dose of painkillers?”

Owen frowned and grabbed Ianto's wrist, feeling his pulse for thirty seconds. Finally he dropped it and nodded. “Quarter of a dose more, but that's all you're getting for another six hours.”

As the painkillers hit his system, Ianto relaxed more, eyes fluttering shut. He hummed happily. “That's good...”

Owen nodded at Jack. “Alright, he's good to move. I'd suggest loo, maybe a scrub down, then bed.” He squinted at Ianto's IV, apparently considering something. “He can eat, but try and keep it liquid: soups and the like. And you might want to keep a bucket nearby.” He shrugged at Jack's alarm. “Nausea's to be expected with that amount of damage and meds.”

Jack nodded, moving to scoop Ianto up. Once Ianto was securely in his arms (and nuzzling quite unselfconsciously into his chest) he hesitated, glancing at Owen. “Could you...”

Blinking once, Owen laughed in sudden understanding. “You guys really need to get some stairs.”

Ianto made a funny little giggling noise from where he was snuggled into Jack's chest. “I told him 'bout stairs.” He blinked, raising his eyes slowly up to Jack's face. “'s Gwil?”

Bending down, Jack pressed a light kiss to Ianto's forehead as he followed Owen over to the ladder in his office. “He was shaken up, but now he's sleeping in his room.” Jack caught Owen's accusing glare and he scowled back. “I could have handled the situation better.”

With a satisfied smirk Owen descended down the ladder. At his shout, Jack carefully lowered Ianto down to him, trying his best not to pull at his damaged side. The task proved almost impossible, but Ianto was drugged up enough that he didn't complain. Once Owen and Jack managed to maneuver Ianto to bed, Owen checked over the bandages and stitches again, tutting at a few torn stitches. “Let me grab some stuff.”

As they waited for Owen to return, Jack crawled into bed with Ianto, clinging to his undamaged side. “Don't ever do that again,” he whispered.

Ianto's smile was a bit drugged and unfocused, but his words were clear enough for Jack to understand: “Can't promise it, sir.”

Once Owen had given Ianto a tune-up and helped Jack get him to the bathroom and back, he left for good. He told Jack he had cultures growing from the swabs he took of Ianto's wounds, so they would know if there was anything else they would need to do in a few hours. At Ianto's weak request for a glass of water, Jack returned from the kitchen with a pitcher, two glasses, and a bendy straw. Ianto drank a full glass, then pushed away Jack's attempt at a refill and closed his eyes.

Jack was watching him, sure he had fallen back to sleep, when Ianto spoke up again. “Jack?”

Immediately Jack squeezed Ianto's good hand in reassurance. “I'm here.”

“'m sorry I scared you. And Gwil.”

Jack's eyes watered, so he pushed back Ianto's hair and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “It's alright. We're fine. I'll bring Gwil in later when you wake up.”

“'love him.” Jack could tell Ianto was actually falling asleep now, as his breathing evened out and words drawled heavily.

After a silent sob Jack lay his head down gently on Ianto's side, listening for his heartbeat. His voice was a hoarse whisper. “I love him, too.”

Jack was drumming his fingers on the arm of his little fold-out chair. It wasn't that he didn't want to be there: he definitely did. His impatience had more to do with the midday blow job that had been cut short by a Rift alert, which him and Ianto had then not had the opportunity to continue because they had to hurry off to Gwil's football practice.

Being a parent took a lot of sacrifice.

Ianto was seemingly unperturbed by the direction their day had taken, and was talking a amicably to the other parents. In the month or so they had been taking Gwil to practice, the other parents had grown to like Ianto. With Jack, they were more grudgingly accepting, out of what seemed to be deference to Ianto. Llewella in particular had warmed up to the two of them, asking increasingly intimate questions as she tried to get a handle on - she was convinced - her gay son. "So, since you two are both fine, strong men, how do you decide who's on top? Do you just let Jack, since he's older? Is that the rule?"

Jack grinned as he watched Ianto splutter. Ever the hero, Jack stood up and went over to Ianto, rubbing a reassuring hand over his shoulder. "You really need to get over your obsession with labels. Narrows your horizons."

Llewella was apparently unaffected by Jack's seductive eyebrow waggle, sucking on her cigarette and raising a skeptical eyebrow of her own. "So, what, Ianto tops, then? Or do you two switch night to night?"

As Jack opened his mouth, leer firmly plastered across his face, Ianto cut in. "It's really just a matter of personal preference, in the same way heterosexual couples might have a preferred position."

Llewella still looked incredulous, but let the issue drop as coach called the end of practice. Jack turned to the field with the other parents, looking for Gwil. Frowning, Jack felt a small flare of nerves when he couldn't spot him right away. Next to him, Ianto was obviously feeling more than a small flare of nerves, gripping Jack's arm hard enough to bruise. "Jack. Jack, I don't...Jack..."

Jack lay his hand over Ianto's. "It's okay. I'm sure he's just playing around with another kid..."

"Oh, bollocksing hell. Owen? Owen! Where did that boy..."

Jack glanced over at Llewella, who was stalking across the football pitch. Ianto was frowning next to him, but Jack was slowly growing suspicious of the dual absence. A slow grin spread across his face, and he tugged on Ianto's arm. "Come on," he said, "I have a theory where Gwil is." Jack started after Llewella across the field without waiting for Ianto, who was heading toward the drink stand at the far end of the pitch.

Just as Jack and Ianto had caught up with Llewella, the three adults rounded the corner of the drink stand. On the other side, tucked into a little alcove, were Gwil and Owen. Kissing.

Jack's reaction was instantaneous: he whipped out his cellphone and snapped a picture. This was going on the fridge – the one in the main area of the Hub, not the one in their private kitchen. The artificial clicking sound effect from his camera seemed to awaken the other two parents from their trance, spurring their reactions.

"Owen!"

Owen and Gwil jumped apart from each other. Owen stared at the ground guiltily, whereas Gwil just looked between his fathers and then Llewella, obviously confused by the mixed reactions. Jack tensed as he waited for Llewella's next reaction, ready to defend the other boy. Although Ianto was looking a little shellshocked, he squared his shoulders, apparently gearing up for the same argument.

To Jack's surprise, Llewella just put a hand to her forehead, shaking her head slightly. "It's fine, Owen. I..." she glanced hesitantly at Jack and Ianto before continuing. "I already knew. And I still love you." She hesitated again, before squatting down and pulling little Owen into a hug, who looked on the verge of tears. Patting his back awkwardly, Llewella continued: "Just...let me tell your tad, yeah?" She smiled tightly up at Ianto and Jack. "He'll be fine, I'd just rather break the news to him in my own way." With a sigh Llewella straightened, ruffling the top of Owen's head. "Come on: we'll stop by a clothes store on the way home and you can pick out one thing: whatever you want."

Owen's face brightened at this, and the tears that had been threatening vanished in an instant.

As the mother and son started away, Gwil turned to his fathers and cocked his head. "Did we do something bad?"

Jack ruffled Gwil's hair and shook his head. "Nope."

Ianto was more cautious. He peered down at Gwil. “Why do you think that?”

Gwil shrugged one shoulder shyly, glancing past the two men toward Llewella and Owen's retreating forms. His gaze returned to Ianto's, and he ventured: “I thought Mrs. Talog was mad.”

Jack scooped Gwil up, setting him on his shoulders. He gave his son's skinny chicken legs a reassuring squeeze. “She's just in shock. She'll get over it.”

Ianto's shoulder bumped into his, and Jack glanced over at the other man. He was looking a little nervous, glancing up at Gwil and worrying his lower lip. “Kisses are...special,” he started. “You should only kiss someone you...really care about.”

Jack's smirk went resolutely unnoticed. Jack leaned closer, pressing their shoulders together. “You know, I think Gwil's gotten more action than me today.” Ianto managed to appear unperturbed, though Jack didn't miss the lusty look that flashed across Ianto's face before he managed to school his features into something more kids'-football-pitch appropriate. In place of trying to rile up Ianto, he turned his attention back to Gwil. “So how'd you end up kissing little Owen?” He stared up, rolling his eyes to the top of their sockets as if he could see Gwil that way. “Did he kiss you first?”

Atop his shoulders, Jack could feel Gwil shift. “Yeah. But I wanted to see why you and tad do it all the time. I thought it'd feel good.”

Jack shared a surprised look with Ianto. “It didn't?”

Even though he couldn't see it, Jack could feel Gwil's little shrug. “Dunno. Just...nothing. It felt like touching. But with lips.” He bent down, bringing his face level with Jack's. “Why do you and tad do it so much?”

With a smirk Jack kissed Gwil on the cheek, making him giggle and scrunch up his face before pulling away dramatically. “Because your tad and I...really care about...each other. And kisses feel good when you really care about someone.”

They had reached the car, and with a dramatic heave Jack lifted Gwil from his shoulders, swinging him back and forth before setting him carefully on the ground. After regaining his balance, Gwil smiled up at his parents, looking between them with a curious little glint in his eyes. “D'you think it'd feel better if I tried it with a girl?”

Jack's reply was cut off by Ianto opening the SUV door and helping Gwil hop in. “Don't go trying it with just anyone,” he cautioned. “If you really like someone, boy or girl, it'll feel nice then.” He hesitated, glancing back at Jack. “Though some people don't like boys kissing boys so...no doing it unless the other boy wants to, yeah?”

Gwil shrugged one shoulder as Ianto leaned into the car, buckling the seatbelt snugly around him. “Back at the mill, Cefin got hurted because they caught him with 'nother boy.”

Stiffening, Jack lay a hand on Ianto's shoulder, willing him not to overreact. With a strangled little noise, Ianto pressed a kiss to Gwil's forehead and pulled away. His hand closed compulsively over Jack's, and he squeezed it tightly. “We won't ever let something like that happen to you, cariad. If anyone ever hurts you, you tell us.”

Gwil didn't seem to understand what was so imperative, but he nodded anyway. Ianto shut the door and started over to the passenger side. Jack stopped him, gripping his hand and pulling him in close. Ianto looked so hurt and scared. Offering the only comfort he knew how, Jack pushed Ianto up against the SUV and kissed him: deeply, tenderly. When they parted, Jack pressed his forehead against Ianto's, staring into his eyes. “I will always protect him.” Jack could feel Ianto's shoulder shift minutely as he pressed against him, still sore and healing from his injury. And you.

Ianto's eyes softened, but the fear was still there. “He's so little. And there's people out there...”

Jack stopped him with another kiss, lopsided grin crossing his face as he pulled away. “Yeah. But we're Torchwood.”

 

Ianto rushed out of his car, glancing at his watch for the umpteenth time. He was supposed to meet Tosh here an hour ago to pick up Gwil from one of their tutoring sessions. Of course, as he and Jack had been en route a Rift alert had come through. Thus had begun the two hour detour where they had to deal with a ship-full of Transporian traders. Luckily they had only been displaced spatially, and not temporally, so it was just a matter of Jack giving them directions back to one of the main trade routes.

Or it would have been that simple if they hadn't wanted to make the best of the situation and gather up some things to sell off-world.

After two hours of listening to Jack speak some headache-inducing language in an attempt to just get the Transporians off-planet, Ianto had looked significantly at his watch and left. Jack could deal with the traders on his own, and if things got problematic, there was always Gwen and Owen back at the Hub.

“I'm sorry! I know: I'm late.” Ianto ignored the headache pounding at his temples and exhaustion seeping out of every muscle as he jogged over to Tosh and Gwil, who seemed to be playing some sort of numbers game. Gwil was sitting on the picnic table, staring intently at the numbered cards in front of him. Tosh seemed to be maneuvering the cards, setting up little equations or puzzles, and Gwil would reach out and rearrange the cards into his answer.

Tosh looked up, pushing her hair back from her face. She smiled as Ianto drew nearer, patting Gwil on the leg and pointing him in his direction.

“Tad!” With a squeal Gwil clambered off the table, launching himself at Ianto until he was wrapped firmly around his leg. Ianto brought a hand down to his shoulder, squeezing it in greeting.

“Did you have fun with Auntie Tosh today?”

Gwil nodded, gazing up at Ianto with adoring eyes as they awkwardly walk-hugged their way back to the picnic table, where Tosh was packing up her supplies. “How's he doing?”

Smiling as she fitted the cover over her box of cards, Tosh glanced up at Ianto. “Brilliantly. If we worked a little bit harder, he might be ready to start school come autumn.”

Ianto's grip tightened on Gwil's shoulder, and he shook his head. “Not...” he took a breath and forced a smile. “I think it's best he wait another year. Introduce him a bit more to normal life.” When Tosh looked like she didn't believe him, Ianto continued on quickly: “Well, can't exactly have him telling his classmates about his pet pteranodon, or the giant fountain that runs through the center of his underground home.”

Finished cramming everything into her over-sized purse, Tosh swung it over her shoulder with a smile. “I suppose...” she relented. Still, as she started away she patted Ianto's arm. “But he will have to go the next year.”

Swallowing thickly, Ianto nodded. “I know,” he whispered.

With that, Tosh was off, leaving Ianto and Gwil alone in the park. “Where's Dad?”

Ianto glanced down at Gwil, who was still attached to his leg. He was peering around it toward the car park. When he spotted Ianto's car, rather than the SUV, he frowned. “Oh. He's working, isn't he?”

Forcing a smile, Ianto patted Gwil on the shoulder. “He's almost done. He said he'd meet us here, then we could get dinner.”

Gwil's face lit up at that, and he took a step away from the protective shadow of Ianto's leg. “Chips?”

Narrowing his eyes in mock-consideration, Ianto finally drawled out. “Maybe. If you're good.” Ianto looked around the park, noticing the other children shouting and playing on the playground. “Why don't you go play with some of the other kids?” He nodded in the direction of the playground. “I'll wait over here for your dad.”

Gwil nodded and started off toward the monkey bars. Ianto, in turn, did his best to control his impulse to leap up and hover over Gwil's every move. He'd be fine. After all, it was just monkey bars. Millions of kids all over the world went on them every day.

Ianto twitched violently as Gwil's hand slipped and he hung on with one arm. Then he was righting himself, swinging hand over hand again across the bars. With a long, shuddering breath, Ianto eased himself back onto the picnic bench. It was fine. Jack would be here in a few minutes, and then they'd all have chips. Ianto shifted slightly in his seat, feeling the paunch that threatened around his middle. Well, maybe he'd have a salad. It was the least he could do, considering he'd been too busy to cook these last few months, much less get a proper workout in.

“David! David, don't you dare! David, if you don't get down from there this instant, I swear...”

Ianto's head whipped around so fast he was sure he pulled something. Sure enough, there was his sister, running across the playground and over to David, who was dangling from the roof of one of the playground towers. He laughed and shot her two fingers, returning to climbing around where he most decidedly was not supposed to.

Rhiannon gasped at the gesture, dashing toward her son with renewed fury. “That's it! Just for that, no Xbox for a week! And if you don't get down from there now, I'll make it two.” David just shouted and kept climbing. Rhiannon was now beneath him, hands on her hips in a gesture Ianto recognized as hereditary. “You're going to get it when your tad gets home! I'll tell him what you did, and when he's finished with you, you won't be able to sit down for a week, you hear me?”

From where he was observing the proceedings at his picnic bench, Ianto ducked his head and smirked. With great reluctance and more than a bit of defiance, David crawled down from the tower and back over to his mam. She snatched his arm up, pushing him back toward a bench. Ianto could see her purse and another woman on the bench that he could only assume Rhiannon had been sat at. “Now, you sit over here with me for five minutes before I let you loose again.”

Too late, Ianto saw his sister's gaze drift in his direction. Shock was quickly replaced by a grin, and she hurried over, David still tightly in hand. “Ianto! What are you doing here?”

Grasping about for an answer, he nodded at her. “Might ask the same of you. What brings you into Cardiff?”

She nodded over her shoulder at the woman waiting for her on the park bench. “Friend of mine moved here a few months back. Thought we could catch up while the kids had a play date.” Letting go of David's hand, she pointed at the picnic bench. “Sit!” she commanded. She turned back to Ianto with her arms crossed. “But come on, now: you didn't answer my question. What're you doing at a park?”

Ianto thought he could have come up with a convincing lie. Unfortunately, Gwil chose that moment to run over, pointing at a scraped knee. “Tad? You told me to tell you if I got hurted.”

“Hurt,” Ianto mumbled absently, already squatting down to examine the knee. “Are you okay?” Gwil shrugged, apparently unperturbed by the scrape. Ianto nodded and patted the side of his leg. “It's fine. Try to keep dirt out of it until your dad arrives.”

Taking that as a dismissal, Gwil hurried back off to the playground. Ianto stayed squatting for a moment, as if he could avoid his sister's inquisition by not standing up. He knew he had to face her, of course, and so with only a moment's more procrastination, he straightened from his crouch.

Rhiannon was alternately gasping and grinning madly. “Was...was that your...son? Do you have a son? How could you have not told me this, you daft bastard!”

Ianto put on his best apologetic face. “I'm sorry. He just sort of...fell into our laps. It's only been...” Ianto paused, counting in his mind. Actually, it had been almost a year. Ten months or so. “...A few months,” he fibbed.

Rhiannon slapped his arm – a bit hard, Ianto felt – and giggled madly. “Oh, my gracious, he's absolutely precious! Look at how well-behaved he is!” Ianto turned to the playground to see that Gwil was helping a smaller girl onto a swing. “What's his name?”

“Gwil.” Rhiannon's nose scrunched up in delight and she cooed.

“So, wait, he's not yours, then? You adopted him? With who?”

Jack, with his usual flair for dramatically perfect timing, chose that moment to pull up in the SUV and bound out. Gwil spotted him first, and it was his racing over to the car park that brought Ianto's attention to Jack. Behind him, Rhiannon followed his gaze and gasped. “He is not yours! Is he? Oh my Lord, I had heard rumors...”

Ianto waited for Jack to come over to him, Gwil hoisted high in his arms. Jack started to lean in for a kiss but stopped, noticing Rhiannon and eyeing Ianto questioningly. “Who is this lovely lady you're talking to?”

Ianto sighed, tugging Gwil from Jack into his arms. “Jack, this is my sister: Rhiannon. Rhiannon: Jack. He's Gwil's dad.”

Rhiannon hesitated, pointing between the two men. “Wait, wait, explain it to me. Are either of you the biological father?”

“No, we just...adopted him. Together.” Hiding a blush, Ianto's attention returned to Gwil's scraped knee, and he frowned. He'd best get some antiseptic on it and a plaster before the grime from the park settled in. This, of course, was not an excuse to get away from his sister, though he did hesitate at the thought of leaving Jack alone with her. With a speculative glance between the two of them, Ianto gave Jack a sharp look. “I'm going to clean up Gwil's knee with the kit in the SUV. I won't be long.” He glanced significantly over to his sister, then back at Jack. “Be good.”

Jack grinned and winked. “I'm always good.”

**

When Ianto returned, Gwil racing off to the playground again with a fresh dinosaur plaster on his knee, he found Rhiannon laughing and turning bright red. “What has he said?” he grumbled, sliding onto the bench next to Jack.

Beneath the table Jack nudged his thigh against Ianto's. Ianto had to remind himself not to pull away.

Rhiannon was waving her hands, still gasping with laughter. “I knew you'd be an overprotective parent! Jack was telling me about Gwil's first temperature.”

Ianto blushed. “I was worried. Something could have happened. And Jack was a nervous wreck, too,” he pointed out. Eyes narrowing slyly, he looked across at his sister. “Besides, the better story is Gwil's first kiss.”

Rhiannon gasped. “At his age? He can't be older'n six!”

“Seven, actually.” Ianto frowned. “He's small for his age.” Yet another reason to keep him out of school a year more. Ianto felt his headache return in earnest at the thought of sending Gwil off to school.

Reaching across the table, Rhiannon tapped Ianto's hand. “Well, go on! Tell me!”

Jack leaned forward conspiratorially. “It was at football practice. With a fellow teammate: Owen.”

Rhiannon gasped appropriately. “No!”

“Yes!”

Ianto wanted to thunk his head on the table. He didn't do family. And he hadn't thought Jack did, either. But here he was, gossiping with his sister like they were old mates. He lifted a hand to his temple. He should have grabbed paracetamol from the kit when he was there.

An hour later, and Ianto was dragging Jack and Gwil back to the cars. By then he had already been roped into two dinner dates for the families and a weekend play date for the kids. “What did you think you were doing?” he hissed at Jack once they were at the SUV.

Jack looked surprised. “I was being nice to your sister. I thought that's what you wanted.”

Ianto shook his head, refusing to look at Jack. With a huff he opened his car door, nudging Gwil inside and focusing all his attention on buckling his seatbelt. When he closed the door and turned back to Jack, Ianto's face was a storm cloud. “Polite, fine. But getting chummy, accepting dinner invitations...” Ianto put his hands on his hips. “What exactly do you think is goning to happen when we have to cancel on her because of a Rift alert? And then have to cancel the raincheck because of another alert? And when we have to race off from Gwil's play date because a spaceship crashed just outside of Newport?”

Ianto took a breath, rubbing his forehead.

“I'm just saying it's hard, Jack. It's hard to do the life-outside-of-Torchwood. Which is why I've never tried.”

Jack frowned, reaching out and taking Ianto's hand in his. “Well, maybe it's time you did.”

Ianto scoffed derisively. “Yeah, well, how many of us do you see making it work? One out of five? Not very good odds, Jack.”

Jack's face took on that thunderous quality it sometimes got, and Ianto knew he had struck a nerve. At the moment, he didn't care: he was tired, his head was killing him, and all he could think of was the fact that Gwen hadn't had to deal with the alien spider invasion last weekend because she was off with Rhys. So he pressed on. “The only one out of all of us who gets to have it all is Gwen, and you know it. Doesn't matter that I'm raising a Rift child, one that you insisted we keep – no, Gwen's got to be the one who has weekends off, who gets to go on dinner dates and even take our son on trips to the park: trips we never go on with him, except for these fleeting moments in between disasters!”

Ianto took a breath. Jack's face had shut down: a blank mask. He shouldn't have been so angry, Ianto knew. He was tired. No, not tired: he was absolutely exhausted. And it really wasn't Gwen's fault, Ianto knew. She had been a great help to them, taking Gwil out when neither Jack nor he had the time. It just sometimes felt like she was the privileged, spoilt youngest sibling of their twisted family, and Ianto was a mix of long-suffering mother and servant. And Gwen was three years older than him!

Jack's response was quiet. “I thought you wanted him. I thought...I thought you loved him.”

Ianto's anger faded and resolve crumbled as he looked up at Jack's face. To anyone else, his expression was completely neutral, devoid of any emotion. But Ianto knew him better than that. He hadn't made him angry: he had hurt him.

“Jack, I didn't mean-” Ianto made to reach out for Jack, but he pulled away and turned to the SUV.

“I'll see you at the Hub.”

Ianto winced as the door slammed and Jack pulled out, tires screeching as he peeled away.

He slid into the driver's seat of his own sedan and sat for a moment, unblinking, staring at the dash.

“Tad?”

Wiping his face – not tears, never tears over one Mr. Jack Harkness – Ianto turned around. “Yup? You alright back there, Gwil?”

“You and Dad were fighting.”

Ianto offered Gwil a tight smile. “It'll be fine. Just...grown-up stuff. Now come on,” he tapped Gwil's leg, “Why don't we stop at that chip place on the way home? Like you wanted.” Gwil's face lit up, and Ianto turned back around feeling self-satisfied. At least there was one person he could make happy.

Sending off a quick text to Jack to let him know they were picking up dinner – not that it matters, probably going off to a roof to brood, leaving us alone for the night – Ianto pulled away from the park and set off for food and the Hub.

**

As Ianto tried to herd Gwil into their living quarters while carrying bags full of food and their dry cleaning, he heard Jack's voice shouting orders. It was a surprise – Ianto had honestly thought Jack would be gone for the night in one of his sulks, only to slip into bed just before dawn. As if Ianto didn't know that he had been out; as if Ianto didn't know exactly when he came back.

Ianto rounded the corner of the tunnels into the main area of the Hub, just in time to see Gwen, Owen, and Tosh all filing out through the cog door. Jack's back was to Gwil and Ianto, as he watched the other team members file out.

Gwil hurried away from Ianto, scrambling over to his dad and tugging at his leg. “Dad? Tad bought you chips.” Big eyes stared up at Jack beseechingly. “And he got you the coleslaw that you like, even though he said you didn't deserve it for being a wanker. But he said it makes you happy.”

Ianto coughed delicately, shifting the food in his grip. “Gwil, language.” He risked a glance at Jack, who was looking like he didn't know whether to laugh or hug him. “I didn't say wanker,” he muttered. “Must have picked that up from Owen.”

Extracting himself from Gwil's grip, Jack took the bags from Ianto and kissed him on the cheek. “Let's go eat. The Rift is supposed to be quiet tonight, so I sent everyone else home.” His eyes were pleading as he looked at Ianto. “I was going to cook, before I got your text. But I still sent them all off, so we'd have a family dinner.”

Ianto smiled. Jack was trying. Really, honestly trying. He reached out and squeezed Jack's arm. “Thank you.”

**

Later that night, when Gwil was safely tucked up in bed and Ianto in Jack's arms, Ianto felt Jack nuzzle at his hair before pressing a small kiss above his ear. “I'll get you more time off, to spend with Gwil. And I'll try to spend more time with him, too.”

Ianto shifted, trying to turn around to look Jack in the eye. But Jack's arms stayed firm around him, holding him in place. “I didn't mean it, Jack. I was just tired and hadn't had enough caffeine. It does happen, on occasion.”

Ianto felt Jack's breath tickle his ear as he sighed. “No, I'm asking too much of you. If you were still just on administrative support, it might be doable. But you're a field agent, as well as run the entire archives and liaise with everyone I don't want to – which is everyone.” There was a pause, then Jack continued. “I'm going to hire more staff. That way we can have a proper rotary going, with real time off. Not 'time off Rift-willing'.”

Ianto hummed, not really taking anything Jack was saying seriously. “Got anyone in mind? Or would you like me to start poaching UNIT?”

“Well...” Jack drew the word out slowly, letting a pregnant pause fill the air. “What do you think about Andy?”

 

Gwil gasped at the brightly colored movie posters hanging around the theatre. His hand was clenched tightly in Gwen's as Rhys ordered their snacks from the concessions stand.

"...and a box of M&Ms." Gwil watched as Rhys payed the cashier and collected their mounds of food and drink. Once Rhys was weighed down by an armful of sodas, popcorn, and candy, Gwen tugged on Gwil's hand and they walked into the cinema together to find some seats.

Gwil was squirming in his seat, looking around at the other people sitting there, then at the advertisements on the screen, then back at the projection booth as he traced the source of the moving pictures. Tapping him gently on the leg, Gwen pushed the box of M&Ms into his hands. "Try some of these. But don't tell your tad I let you eat junk food."

Gwil marveled at the little round, colorful pieces of candy, each with their M stamped onto one side. Carefully, he put one in his mouth, sucking on it and then biting down. His eyes widened and he beamed up at Gwen. "Sweets!"

Rhys, reaching over Gwen, plucked the box from Gwil's hand and gave him back a small handful. "Don't need you getting sick." He chuckled and turned to Gwen. "Wouldn't want to clean up that mess."

Gwil looked on, somewhat uninterested, as Gwen and Rhys beamed at each other, nuzzling and canoodling for reasons unfathomable to Gwil. He wondered what his dads were doing now.

**

Jack pulled Ianto to him on the bed, grinning as he wrapped his arms around him. "We've got the whole evening," he murmured. He felt Ianto tense up slightly, and frowned. "Hey: what's wrong? I got us the night off, made the room up for you..." Jack looked around the room at his handiwork. Electronic candles were placed in strategic bunches around the room and the lights were off. He had even dug around in the linen closet for Ianto's special silk, red sheets, that he only brought out for special occasions. Jack nudged Ianto when he was slow to respond.

"It's very nice, Jack. It is. But..." Ianto turned around in Jack's arms to look him in the eye,"Gwen ended up getting the night off, too. Wasn't the point to try and even out time off?"

Jack nodded, moving out from behind Ianto and sliding off the bed. "It was. Which is why I've drawn up a roster, so that we know exactly how much time any one of us has off." He pulled a piece of paper out from his bureau drawer, waving it at Ianto with a flourish. "See? Because of tonight, Gwen has to work the next three weekends."

Ianto frowned as he took the paper, but slowly his expression softened as he examined it with his practiced eye. "You really put a lot of time into this, didn't you?" Jack could only smile gently down at him in response. Ianto's beautiful naked flesh was accented by the red of the sheets, making him a vision of gorgeous Welsh breeding. The soft smile in his eyes as he looked up at Jack only made him more so, and Jack felt his heart swell to bursting. Leaning down, Jack started in for a kiss, only to hesitate a centimeter before Ianto's lips. The other man had no such hesitation, reaching up and cupping Jack's cheek, pulling him in the remaining distance until their lips finally met.

A whimper escaped Jack as he crawled into the arms of his perfect Ianto. They shifted until Ianto was on top, grinning down at Jack. They kissed again, tongues tangling as hips settled against one another, slowly working their way up to their familiar rhythm. Jack hummed his approval as one hand trailed down Ianto's back, settling on his arse and squeezing tightly. Ianto's hips pressed down harder in return, and there was a momentary lessening of contact as Ianto reached to their nightstand for the lube.

Jack reached a hand up, tweaking Ianto's nipple as he leaned over him, then craning his neck to lick a stripe where his fingers had just been. Crawling back to his previous snug position atop Jack, Ianto slapped at Jack lightly, a playful glint in his eyes. "Stop that, or we'll never get to the main event."

Jack waggled his eyebrows, sighing and pulling Ianto closer to him. "Well, we wouldn't want that."

Ianto kissed Jack deeply as he pushed two slick fingers inside him. Jack arched into the touch, relaxing around the probing, thrusting fingers. He groaned as he felt Ianto's fingers stretching inside him, moving and scissoring. If he didn't know that an even better sensation was coming, he could lie here all night, coming on Ianto's fingers alone.

Completely relaxed, Jack barely even moved as Ianto withdrew his fingers and slicked up his cock. With a firm smack to his flank, Ianto edged closer. “Come on, don't make me do all the work.” Jack chuckled, lifting his legs and wrapping them around Ianto's back, pulling them closer together as he did.

Jack let his head fall back, pressed back against the silken pillowcase, as Ianto entered him. He mm'ed as Ianto settled, hips pressed firmly against Jack's arse. As Ianto began to move, Jack wrapped his thighs tighter around Ianto, pulling him in and squeezing tight. He dug the heel of one foot into the crack of Ianto's arse, rubbing it up and down. Ianto laughed as he thrust, smacking at Jack's chest. “Stop it.”

Jack waggled his eyebrows. “What?” He rubbed his heel harder, finding Ianto's hole and pressing against it.

Ianto's hips stuttered in their movement, and he shook his head, laughing again. “I don't think it's going to fit.”

He thrust harder and Jack gasped, heel dropping from its place as Ianto hit his prostate. Jack slowly fell apart as Ianto wrapped a hand around his cock, and came soon after, orgasm washing over him with a slow intensity.

He pulled Ianto down, kissing him languidly until he felt Ianto stiffen and spill into him. Their breaths mingled as Ianto lay atop him, resting as post-orgasmic shudders caused his muscles to twitch and contract.

Finally Ianto shifted, groaning as he pulled out of Jack, who felt the loss of Ianto filling him keenly. They settled around each other, curled up as their heartbeats returned to normal.

“This was nice, Jack. Thank you.”

Jack rubbed Ianto's shoulder, kissing him on the forehead. “Well, hopefully we'll find some more recruits and manage to have even more downtime. If I could just get Mickey and Martha away from UNIT...”

Tucked firmly into Jack's side, Ianto hummed. “At least we have Andy now. That should help.”

Jack laughed. “Once he figures out how to tell the difference between an alien diplomat and a child.”

Ianto poked him in the ribs. “Hey, how was he supposed to know Gwil really was a little boy? It happened once on Star Trek!”

“Which is why you shouldn't learn lessons about aliens from television.”

As Ianto's chuckle faded and breathing evened out, Jack pulled Ianto closer to him. He pressed his nose to Ianto's soft curls, breathing in deeply and trying to memorize this moment. He never, ever wanted to hurt this man lying with him. If only he could force himself to stop and think once in a while, he might be able to do just that.

Ianto could barely even remember why they were fighting this time, as he tucked Gwil into bed. It had started with Owen, and one of his “husband” comments. “Looks like you'll have to take the husband out some other weekend.” Jack had refuted the label, chuckling and glancing over at Ianto, expecting the same reaction. Only Ianto had been distracted, slow on the uptake. Being elbows-deep in an alien spacecraft would do that to a person. So he had muttered something like “We'll just move our reservations to next weekend,” and continued on doing his job.

He hadn't expected Jack to stop smiling.

He hadn't expected Jack to take off on his own as soon as they were back at the Hub.

So here he was, two hours later and putting Gwil to bed. Dinner, bath time, and story time had all come and gone, and still no Jack.

“Are there really planets with red suns?”

Ianto carefully marked their place in The Magician's Nephew and set it on Gwil's bedside table. “There sure are.” He tucked the covers carefully around Gwil, brushing his hair back on his forehead and pressing a kiss to it.

“Can I go there someday?”

Ianto froze, willing himself not to say something rash. “Maybe,” he finally forced out. “When you're much, much older.”

He straightened, meaning to leave. But Gwil's little hand reached out, wrapping four fingers around his arm. “Tad? I need to give you a kiss for Dad. For when he's done with work.”

Reluctantly, Ianto leaned back down and let Gwil kiss him on the cheek. If he had no reservations about lying to Gwil, he might consider not giving Jack the kiss. But as it was, he would have to pass the kiss onto Jack. If the man ever came home.

**

An hour later, and Ianto was beyond furious. Who the hell did Jack think he was? Ianto stopped bitterly at the thought. Captain Jack Harkness: that's who Jack thought he was. But that still didn't excuse this. Jack had wanted Gwil. Jack had promised to make more time for them, and had hired Andy to help make it happen. And yet, Owen says one little word, “husband”, and Jack flees like he's got a Dalek armada hot on his heels.

With a growl, Ianto threw down the archive file he was looking at – looking at, not reading – and grabbed his jacket. Jack wasn't going to get away with this again.

It should have been a simple matter of checking the location data on the SUV. But when Ianto pulled it up, there was no signal. Jack had turned it off. Same with the GPS on his cellphone. So Ianto pulled up the CCTV footage, following the SUV back from the Hub. As Jack weaved through the streets, Ianto's confusion became more and more, until a sudden spark of realization went through him. Without even waiting to see the final few turns of Jack's journey, Ianto shut down the computer and grabbed his car keys.

**

Ianto opened the door to his old flat quietly. The place was dark, but the lights from the other apartments and street were enough to make his way through the familiar layout. He shut the door almost silently behind himself, scanning through rooms illuminated by only ambient light. His living room, kitchen, and guest room were empty. Really, he had known all along where he would find Jack once he had figured out where he was headed.

The door to his old bedroom was open, and for a moment, he just stood in the doorway. Jack was on his bed – apparently asleep. As Ianto stepped farther into the room, he could see that Jack was definitely asleep. It was an odd thing: Ianto didn't think he had seen Jack asleep for months, now. The other man was always still awake when he fell asleep, and already up by the time Ianto was waking.

Ianto sat down on the bare bed, bedsprings creaking in protest as they dipped under his weight. Jack was instantly awake beside him, though he didn't move after his initial jerk.

They sat in silence for a long time: at least half an hour. Ianto was about to give up, go home to the Hub and Gwil, when Jack spoke.

“It almost doesn't smell like you anymore.” Ianto waited for Jack to continue. “Every time I come, it's less.”

Ianto sighed, leaning forward and resting his forearms on his knees. “Then come home, Jack. Our bedroom smells like me.”

Jack shook his head, still not moving from his recumbent position. “No, it doesn't.” Jack finally pushed himself upright, touching a whisper of a hand to Ianto's shoulder. “It smells like us, not you.”

“That's not a bad thing, Jack.” Ianto glanced over his shoulder and looked up at Jack. “After all, I'm not Gwil's father by myself. Neither are you. We both are. Us. And I don't know why you hate that so much, that idea of us being together. If you...” Ianto took a breath, stealing himself. “If you don't want to be exclusive, that's...we could work something out.”

“No! No, Ianto,” Jack's touch was firmer now, more insistent at Ianto's back. “No, Ianto. I don't want to be with anyone else. We have so little time... It's just...” Jack waved his hands uncertainly. “Makes me feel...claustrophobic?”

Ianto laughed, shaking his head. Finally, he turned fully around to face Jack, pulling his legs up and crossing them. Jack smiled tentatively, reaching out and resting his hands on Ianto's thighs and stroking his thumbs gently over the fabric. “Claustrophobic?”

“Mm, say it again.”

Ianto rolled his eyes and tapped at Jack's hand. “I'm not asking you to marry me, Jack. I'm not even asking to be your boyfriend. I'm just...” Ianto paused, trying to figure out what he was asking of Jack. “Could you just brood in the Hub, in the future? So I know where you are?”

Jack's fingers picked at Ianto's trousers. “Why'd you keep the flat?”

Ianto frowned, trying to follow Jack's non sequitur. One moment studying Jack's face, so obviously displaying his insecurity, and Ianto understood. “Oh, Jack...” He reached out and pulled Jack into a kiss, reassuring him in the physical manner most familiar to them. When he pulled back, Jack's eyes were hopeful, though still harbored some small flicker of doubt. “It was in case something happened to the Hub,” Ianto explained. “Our house is also our headquarters, and our organization isn't always fondly thought upon. I was worried there might be an attack, and then we'd have no where. You and I might do alright with hotels for a few weeks, but Gwil...” Ianto shrugged. “I wanted to minimize the uncertainties in his life.” Ianto smiled, remembering something. “Oh, and Gwil asked me to give you this.” He leaned forward and gently pecked Jack on the cheek.

Ianto didn't pull away immediately, and Jack made no move to, either. They nuzzled at each other's cheeks and necks, until Ianto found himself being pulled forward, on top of Jack.

**

An hour later, Ianto straightened his tie as Jack nibbled at his earlobe. “One more-”

“Jack, Gwil's at home. God knows what he'll think if he wakes up from a nightmare or wants a glass of water...”

Jack relented, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and bounding upright. He held out a hand to Ianto, who took it and allowed himself to be hauled up, off the old mattress. With one final kiss, Jack let Ianto lead them out to their cars and back to the Hub.

The next day, Ianto put his flat on the market.

A week later, after they had to kill a man infected with an alien parasite, Jack went down to the Torchwood docks to brood. He left Ianto a note tacked to their fridge.

Ianto was sitting on Jack's desk, laughing quietly into his cup of coffee, when Gwen came in. "Jack, about the time off schedule..."

Ianto winced and stood up immediately, trying to excuse himself as inconspicuously as possible. Gwen noticed and tapped him on the arm. "Oi! I'm not trying to be difficult. I just want to switch weekends with someone for next weekend. It's my birthday and Rhys wanted to take a little holiday to a romantic cabin." Gwen made googly-eyes, grinning at the thought.

Jack poked at Ianto, gesturing around his desk. "Ianto, could you..."

with a sigh, Ianto deftly opened one of Jack's drawers and extracted the spreadsheet. He honestly had no clue how Torchwood had functioned before he came along. Actually, he did: if the state of the archives were anything to go by, Torchwood's only consistent governing type for the past century had been "disorganized".

Ianto peered at the spreadsheet, figuring who could swap what weekend with Gwen. His first instinct was to swap himself, but Gwil had a footie game that weekend that he really couldn't miss if it could be at all helped. He didn't think Tosh or Owen had anything going on, so he made a note to ask them as soon as they returned from collecting that alien fossil out in Newport.

He told as much to Gwen, who smiled broadly. "Oh, you are a dear, Ianto. Thank you!" She turned to leave, and Ianto thought that would be the end of it. He went to resume his position on Jack's desk, when Gwen paused and turned around, half-way to the door. "You know, now that I'm thinking about it, Gwil hasn't had a birthday the whole time he's been here."

Jack and Ianto frowned in unison, glancing at each other. “He never mentioned one...” Jack drawled out.

“You never mentioned one either, sir. We still celebrated,” Ianto pointed out.

“Oh yeah...” Jack's face took on a dreamy quality that made Gwen giggle and Ianto blush. She couldn't possibly know about the chocolates and the swing and the tentacle, but still...

Ianto coughed delicately and straightened his tie. “I can't imagine he has one, coming from a textile mill,” he mused. “We could assign him one? The day he fell through the Rift, perhaps?”

Gwen immediately clapped her hands together and smiled. “It's perfect! Every kid deserves a birthday, after all. Especially since we were all abducted for Christmas last year and the poor dear missed out on the two weeks surrounding the 25th.”

Ianto nodded and looked pointedly at Jack. “I'm going to have to agree with Gwen.”

Jack's hands were already up in front of him in surrender. “You don't hear me protesting. I embrace any opportunity to spoil my son rotten.”

Ianto frowned down at the schedule, making some notes. “We're already scheduled for time off the weekend of his one-year Rift anniversary. We could do something in the park? Maybe even take him on holiday to London? He'd probably love the Eye...”

Gwen, whom Ianto hadn't noticed was still hovering in Jack's office, stepped closer. “Why not have it here? We're all going to get him gifts anyways.”

There was a hesitant look shared between Jack and Ianto, before Jack spoke up. “Yeah, but he spends all his time down here already. I'd rather take him out that weekend – see the sights of modern Britain.”

With a somewhat apologetic – and completely insincere – smile, Ianto nodded at Gwen. “I agree with Jack. Gwil deserves some time away from this place.” His gaze drifted over to Jack, and he said, more sincerely, “We all do.”

**

They were just rounding the top of the London Eye when the call came through.

Gwil was clutching the lap bar, leaning as far over his fathers as he could. First he'd lean over Ianto's lap, gaping and gazing at everything on his side. Then he'd lean over Jack's lap, mouth hanging wide open and big blue eyes bulging almost out of his head.

“Jack! Where are you?”

Ianto sighed, already thumbing off his gun's safety and making sure Gwil was buckled in securely.

With a resigned glance between the two men, Jack tapped his comm. “We're on the London Eye, Owen. What is it?”

“Turn around.”

Ianto, listening in on the same line, turned around before Jack did. On instinct he grabbed Gwil with one hand and covered his eyes with the other. There was a...Ianto fumbled for a label. It was basically a monster climbing up the bridge behind them, roaring like something out of a bad fifties movie.

Jack's mouth had dropped open, hand still pressed to the comm in his here. “Oh, not one of you.”

Ianto, hands still firmly clasped over Gwil's eyes, turned to Jack. “I suppose this is a problem?”

“Big. Problem.”

**

“Sorry your eighth birthday didn't go better, champ.”

Rubbing a towel over his head, Ianto smiled over at Gwil as Jack spoke. Gwil was sitting on the double bed in their hotel room, remote firmly gripped in his small hands as cartoon images from the telly illuminated his skin.

“When we get back to the Hub, Auntie Gwen will have a little party ready for you, okay? But your tad and I are going to have to spend the rest of the weekend working.”

Ianto sighed, tossing the towel at Jack as he shucked on one of the plush hotel bathrobes and walked over to the bed. Crawling onto it, Ianto sat behind Gwil and pulled him into his lap. The boy instinctively cuddled against Ianto, dropping the remote and tangling his fingers into Ianto's bathrobe. Ianto pressed his nose to Gwil's hair and breathed deep, satisfying himself that the shower had gotten all of the – yet to be identified to him by Jack – alien guts from his hair.

Jack started toward the bed, only stopping to throw a robe on when Ianto glared at him from above Gwil's head. Regardless of what Jack had argued about it not mattering at Gwil's age, Ianto felt eight was a bit old to have your dads wandering around naked in front of you.

Gwil was grinning up at Jack as he joined them on the bed. “I get two birthday parties?”

Ianto and Jack's eyes met over Gwil's head, and they smiled.

“Sure do, champ. Tad'll call Gwen tonight, and she'll have it all ready for you when we get home.”

**

When they pulled into the Hub, Gwen was waiting with party hats and noise makers. “Happy Birthday, Gwil!”

She blew on the noise maker, running over to them and pinning a hat to Gwil's head. He grinned up at her, pushing the hat out of his eyes. “Thank you, Auntie Gwen.”

Cooing all the while, Gwen ushered Gwil inside as Ianto stared dejectedly into the boot of the SUV. “What do you want me-”

Jack cut him off with a wave of his hand and squeeze to his arse. “Worry about that later. Right now, we've got Gwil's second eighth birthday to attend.”

With a sigh, Ianto closed the heavy door on the SUV, leaving the desiccated remains where they were. Jack was right: it could wait until after Gwil's party.

They waked into the Hub together, following the sound of Gwil's cries of delight. The main area of the Hub came into view as they rounded the corner, and Ianto raised his eyebrows as he saw the decorations Gwen put up. There were streamers and balloons and banners proclaiming “Happy Eighth Birthday, Gwil!” In some dark corner of his mind, Ianto silently bemoaned the fact that he'd be the one to clean all this up. But he quickly shoved the thought down, replacing it with the bubble of joy at seeing Gwil exclaiming over the pile of presents waiting for him on their raggedy old couch.

The rest of the Torchwood team was gathered around the couch, party hats on them all (except for Owen, who was scowling at Gwen and backing up every time she came near). There was even a cake with nine unlit candles stuck in it. Ianto was surprised – and grateful – for Gwen's thoughtfulness: Myfanwy tended to get skittish whenever there was an open flame in the Hub.

Jack immediately inserted himself at Gwil's side, tugging him into his lap and poking at the presents simultaneously. “Want to open your presents before cake?”

Ianto frowned, but Gwil pipped up, shooting a glance at him: “Tad said 'patience is a virtue', Dad.”

Gwen, Tosh, and Owen and burst out laughing at the affronted expression on Jack's face. Rhys and Andy chuckled more quietly behind their hands.

Jack recovered quickly, ruffling Gwil's hair and bouncing him on his knee. “Fine, fine. Killjoy.” Jack and Ianto shared a grin across the coffee table. “Cake, then?”

Ianto smiled as he looked down on the cake. It was a dinosaur cake, complete with little plastic dinosaurs stuck into it that would serve as nice bath or sandbox toys later – after they were cleaned of cake, of course. Gwen must have gotten it, and Ianto made a note to let her have an extra day off sometime soon. This whole thing was really quite nice of her, and well-done.

After a round of “Happy Birthday”, Ianto started forward to cut Gwil's cake. He hesitated, knife hovering in the air. “Gwil, do you want to cut the first slice? It's good luck.” Gwil grinned and started forward, moving to snatch the knife out of Ianto's hand. He pulled back, hesitating. With great reluctance he handed the knife over to Gwil, but then curled his hand on top of his tiny one, guiding the cut. As soon as the knife touched the bottom of the cake, Ianto nudged Gwil away and took over.

Gwil gobbled down two pieces of cake before Ianto put a stop of it; Jack managed to scarf down three himself before he received a similarly reproachful look from him.

Once the cake was finished – in record time, but then again Gwil was the only child present, and the adults around him certainly had a healthy appetite – Jack poked at the brightly-wrapped packages. “Presents now?”

Ianto nodded, surreptitiously checking his watch. He'd look up the CCTV footage later so that he could pull photos from it. “One at a time, Jack!”

Jack pouted, setting down two presents and handing Gwil just one. With a glance at Ianto, Gwil pulled dutifully at the card first, slitting it open with tiny fingers and holding it out in front of him. “Birth...day...Auntie Tosh!”

Tosh smiled and tucked her hair behind her ear. “I hope you two don't mind, but I thought it'd be a nice change...”

“A Wii?! Thank you, Auntie Tosh! Owen and Chris and Liam have one!” Gwil informed the adults around him.

Tosh pointed at the box, where controllers and wheels and game packages were spilling out. “There's Wii Sports, Mario Kart, and Super Mario Galaxy for fun, but then Big Brain Academy and Word Coach for educational purposes. I hope you don't mind...”

Jack was grinning madly and clutching the plastic little baseball bats and tennis rackets. “Mind? Mind! Tosh, this is amazing! Ianto, we've got to play with these tonight!”

Gwil was blinking and staring at the back of the Mario game. “I know him! He's in my Gameboy.”

Owen butted in, reaching across the table and snatching at one of the presents. Ianto had assumed it was his from the beginning, seeing as it was the only gift wrapped – poorly – in newspaper. “Mine's next. Tosh and I collaborated.” He winked at Ianto. “Gotta make sure your kid's getting a proper education.”

Ianto didn't have long to wonder what Owen meant by that, when Gwil tore open the newspaper to reveal three more Wii games: Call of Duty 3, Red Steel 2, and Golden Eye 007, along with two adaptors to make the Wii-mote into a gun or samurai sword. Owen hurriedly snatched at the Golden Eye game, shoving it at Ianto. “And before you go off about the violence, check it out: James Bond. You've got to admit, that's a good choice for the kid.”

Internally, Ianto was conflicted, but he nodded politely at Owen. He could test the games himself later and swap them out of they proved too violent. “Thank you, Owen. Very thoughtful. And thank you too, Tosh. But if he falls behind in his studies because of this you have no one but yourself to blame.” He paused, mock-considering. “And Owen, I suppose.”

Tosh smiled craftily. “I'm counting on the games accelerating his literacy and spatial reasoning, actually.”

Jack was already moving on to the next gift as Wii games and accessories spilled down around them. Belatedly, Ianto pulled out his notebook and started writing down a list of gifts and gift-givers so that he could make Gwil write proper thank-yous later. Gwen's gift was tossed into Gwil's lap, who tore at the paper. It was Muppet Show DVDs, along with a stuffed Kermit the Frog. Gwil gaped and hugged the frog to his chest, squeezing him tight and closing his eyes.

Gwen smiled at Ianto. “I knew he was his favorite. Hopefully he doesn't already have the DVDs...”

Ianto had snuck alongside Gwil and was sorting through them. Along with two seasons of the Muppet Show were A Muppet Christmas Carol, The Muppets Take Manhattan, and Muppet Treasure Island. Ianto smiled softly down at the picture of little (frog) Tiny Tim, dressed all-too-similarly to how they had found Gwil himself. “He doesn't have any of these, Gwen. Thank you.” He smiled at Gwil, who was still clutching Kermit tightly and stroking at his flippers. “Though it seems the least expensive part of the present was the biggest hit.”

Rhys stepped in then, pointing a finger at the stuffed animal. “That's an original version, I'll have you know. Cost me almost fifty quid.”

Gwen silenced him with a slap to the arm, waving her hands dismissively at Ianto. “We don't have any little ones, or even nieces or nephews to spoil. It's our pleasure.”

Andy's present was next: a little package compared to the other three. He shuffled his feet, shrugging as Gwil opened it. “Gwen helped me out with it,” he admitted. It was a set of Legos, designed to build a TIE-fighter. “She said you had been showing him them for educational purposes. I thought she was joking but...” Andy looked a little confused. “There aren't...is it really a historical drama?”

Mock-glaring at Jack, Ianto shrugged nonchalantly. “If you believe everything Jack is, it's his biography. At least, parts of it are.”

“Princess Leona was, if you can believe it, even more attractive than Carrie Fisher. She was also blue.” When Andy seemed to be taking this news relatively well, Jack continued with a wicked grin. “And had six arms. And a prehensile tail. With fingers.”

With Andy suitably astonished, Jack glanced around the couch. “Ianto? Where's our gifts?”

But Ianto was already heading to the stairs that led down to their rooms. “Well, I didn't expect the welcome home party. One moment.”

Gifts successfully retrieved from Ianto's hiding spot in the back of their closet (Jack's own birthday and Christmas presents were already tucked safely away back there), Ianto brought the two carefully wrapped packages up to Gwil. “One from your dad and one from me,” he instructed, indicating which box was which.

Gwil took a moment carefully considering each box before deciding, evidently based on the fact that Jack's was heavier, to open Jack's first. It was an entire set of items, designed – as Jack had explained to Ianto one night – to turn Gwil into the next great fighter pilot. There was a little leather bomber jacket, two model airplane kits, fighter goggles, and – to Ianto's surprise – a Wii fighter pilot game. He frowned at that addition, which he wasn't aware of several weeks ago when Jack had shown him the rest of the presents. Jack smiled apologetically. “I might have checked everyone's credit card history for ideas.”

Four of the adults in the room squawked indignantly at that, with only Andy looking wide-eyed and confused. “Can you do that?” A blush rose on his cheeks and Jack waved reassuringly at him.

“Don't worry, Andy: it was strictly for gift-giving reasons. I didn't look into your online porn subscriptions and adult toy orders.”

Ianto made a note to bring Andy an extra batch of coffee and chocolate biscuits tomorrow.

Oblivious to the adult conversation going on above him, Gwil had already slipped on the bomber goggles and jacket, and had moved onto Ianto's gift.

Ianto waited with bated breath. He had known when he bought the gift that it might not rank in Gwil's top favorite gifts, but he had really wanted for Gwil to have it. And how many video games and DVDs did one little boy really need, anyway?

Reverently Gwil brushed aside the tissue paper, gasping as he gazed down at the gift. Jack beamed down at him, already aware of what Ianto had gotten him.

“Well? What is it, dear? Show the rest of us!” Gwen prompted.

Gwil stuck his hands in the box and carefully, carefully pulled out the tiny, tailor-made three-piece suit, complete with tie, cufflinks, and even socks, shoes, and underwear to go with it. “Now I can be just like Tad,” he breathed.

Ianto had to turn away and scrub at his eyes, ignoring Jack's knowing gaze.

**

With the wrapping paper thrown away and gifts carefully stacked downstairs on their kitchen table, Gwen pushed them all together, camera dangling from one wrist. “Come on, come on. We have to get a picture! Jack, get in there, let's go.”

Ianto winced, eyes flickering to Jack. His thoughts went to the box hidden in the bottom drawer of Jack's desk, with all the old pictures from past families – wives, children, lovers. Jack's eyes met his, and Ianto looked away. One day, he and Gwil would only exist as a photo in Jack's box. But at least they would be there.

Gwen passed the camera off to Rhys, pulling Andy in on the end and checking to make sure everyone was in place. Gwil climbed up into Ianto's arms, tie around his neck and bomber goggles on his forehead. Gwen and Andy were on his right; Jack, Tosh and Owen on his left. Jack's strong arm wrapped around his waist, pulling Ianto and Gwil in close to his side. With a sigh Ianto relaxed into him, smiling easily at the camera.

“Alright, smile on three, everyone. Ready?” Rhys held the camera out in front of him, squinting down at the picture on the back. “One, two, three!” On three, Jack leaned in and pressed a kiss to Ianto's ear, causing his mouth to drop open in half-reproach, half surprise. The flash went off and Ianto groaned, nudging Jack with his hip. “You ruined it!” he hissed.

But Rhys was grinning down at the picture, before turning the camera around and passing it over to them. “I don't know, mate: I'd say that's a keeper.”

When Ianto saw the picture, he found himself reluctantly agreeing with Rhys. He might have looked shocked, but it was a happy sort of shocked. In his arms, Gwil was laughing, entire face lit up. And Jack...well, he looked the happiest Ianto could ever remember seeing him. Ianto sighed and passed the camera back over to Rhys. “I think you're right. Print me out a few copies?”

Rhys winked and nodded. “No problem.”

**

An hour later, Jack was sending everyone home and Gwil was tucked into Ianto's arms on the couch, sleeping off a sugar crash. The tie was still looped loosely around his neck, and the goggles were pressing circular indents into his forehead. Ianto slipped the goggles off his head, rubbing at the marks and then carding his fingers through Gwil's hair, which was flattened oddly.

A shadow passed above him, and Ianto looked up to see Jack smiling down fondly at him. “Worn out?”

Ianto groaned, passing Gwil up to Jack. “The both of us. I think I need to sleep for ten hours to get over that...what was that alien, anyway?”

Securing Gwil to his shoulder, Jack rolled his eyes. “Oh, them. They're a major pain in the ass.” Winking, he extended his free hand down to Ianto. “Give me a pain in mine and I'll tell you all about them?”

Ianto laughed and let himself be pulled up into Jack's chest. “I was under the impression that pain wasn't the object of my interactions with your arse?”

Jack kissed him before hurrying off downstairs with Gwil, calling back over his shoulder: “Not always!”

With one last glance around the Hub for residual mess, Ianto shut down the main lights and started down after them, quiet grin refusing to leave his face.


End of The First Year.

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