Gwil's Guide to Growing Up Torchwood: Chapter 7

[amuly]

Title: Gwil's Guide to Growing Up Torchwood: Chapter 7
Pairing: Jack/Ianto, Gwil, Team
Word Count: 1,819
Rating: PG
Summary: When a seven-year-old boy falls through the Rift, Ianto and Jack decide to adopt him. This is the story of his life at Torchwood.
Chapter Summary: Gwil knows how to use the coffee machine. Owen is baffled. Owen's POV.
Warnings: none
A/N: This was one of the first chapter ideas I thought of for this series. Eee ^.^


Previous Chapters:
Prologue
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

Owen peered out from the autopsy bay, toward the coffee machine. His eyes were just under the railing, peaking out as he tried to look without being noticeable. He could see it from around the water tower from here, though just barely.

Most mornings, Owen was interested in the coffee machine from a purely survivalist point of view: he needed coffee to live, and therefore needed to know when Ianto would be getting it to him. This morning, however, was different. This morning he was worried for his life not because of lack of coffee, but because of who was brewing it.

Owen watched as Gwil trotted over the coffee machine, smart little shoes clacking on the metal grated floors of the Hub. Ianto and Jack were watching from Jack's office completely unsubtly. Jack was actually leaning on the doorframe and craning his neck to try and see around the water tower. Owen watched as Ianto excused himself, hurrying away. Ducking back down as he walked past, Owen watched Ianto step smartly up the stairs, in the direction of the hothouse. Owen wasn't fooled. He could hear those footsteps stop well before the hothouse, and could just imagine Ianto looking down at Gwil from his new vantage point.

Speaking of which...Owen turned his attention back to what he could see of the coffee machine. Over the hum of computers and squawk of Myfanwy, Owen imagined he could faintly hear the sound of the machine starting to brew, steaming and rattling around the way it did. His eyebrows lowered as he continued to stare. This could never end well.

**

This whole debacle had started less than a week ago. At least, that was when Owen had first noticed the stool.

The stool had appeared one morning, innocuously taking up residence next to the coffee machine. Owen had only noticed because he was grabbing a sample of Randeran bile out of the fridge to test its acidity levels. Just happening to glance down, Owen had spotted it: a little, wooden, collapsable stool, folded up and tucked away to the side of the coffee machine. That first day, Owen had thought nothing of it: it was a stool, there were things up high, case solved. It wasn't until the second time that Owen encountered the stool that he realized something was about to go horribly, horribly wrong.

Owen had been strolling over to the snack cabinets above the fridge, hoping to find a biscuit or two to tide him over until lunch. His shin caught on something, and he cursed, clutching it in pain. “What the fucking hell?!”

Owen glanced down sharply, to see the stool sitting out. Ianto had rushed over, dragging Gwil behind him and apologizing as he made Gwil put it away. But Owen stopped them both, grabbing Gwil's wrist as he reached for the stool. “Wait. Wait a minute.” He stared at the stool on the ground. It was covered in loopy, slightly-messy letters, painted on by some hesitant hand. It read “Gwil”.

Turning to look at Ianto, Owen gaped. “Don't tell me you're letting the tyke near the coffee machine?” Lest someone get the wrong idea and think Owen concerned for Ianto's continued coffee-machine dependent happiness, Owen continued. “I mean, just don't want to get poisoned because he confused alien semen with the creamer.”

Judging by the absolutely horrified look on Ianto's face, Owen had put the fear of God in him. Or at least the fear of alien semen-flavored coffee. But then Ianto was wrapping his hand around Gwil's shoulder confidently. “Gwil knows what he's doing.” Owen scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest and raising his eyebrows. Ianto just stared back steadily, until a sly little grin crossed his face. “He's prepared your coffee for the last three days, actually. I just supervised.”

Briefly Owen ran through the taste of the coffee in his mind for the past three days. He couldn't recall a difference. Still: “I knew there was something off! I thought it was just you being too tired to stand, but turns out, it's because mini-Ianto was preparing it!”

Ianto's eyes narrowed, and Owen knew he must have struck a nerve. He leaned back, just a bit. Ianto with Gwil was like a mum bear with her cubs: terrifying and hairy. “Jack and I have personally taste-tested all of Gwil's brews, and they are well up to our standards.” Owen started to scoff again, but Ianto leaned in before he completed the derisive noise. “And if you think it's that terrible: there's always instant.”

**

Thus, Owen was watching, with bated breath, as Gwil trekked over to the coffee machine for his first completely solo batch.

There were several long minutes of clattering and brewing, steam coming out of the machine as Gwil hopped on and off his stool to get the things he needed. Owen continued to glare at the machine. How could a seven-year-old work it at all? Hell, he couldn't work it, and he was a fully skilled surgeon. There was no way little Gwil would manage.

Tosh and Gwen came in during the interval, cheerily announcing good morning to everyone as they set about sorting their workload. After a quick systems check, Tosh walked over to Owen, crouching down delicately in her skirt. “Nervous?”

Owen shot her a look, smirking and shaking his head. “For my taste buds? Yeah. But if it's shite, I'll just upend it over Ianto's head.”

Tosh nodded, tapping a finger to her chin in mock-contemplation. “I suppose that might get the message across.” She paused before continuing. “Rather unsubtle though, don't you think?”

Owen twitched his eyebrows moodily. “Not subtle enough, if Ianto really thinks this is a good idea.”

He was rewarded with an awkward pat on his shoulder by Tosh, who then stood up and went back over to her workstation. “It's going to be fine,” she reassured him.

But it wasn't going to be fine. Owen was sure of it. The little munchkin was going to ruin the only thing Ianto did right around this blasted place. Well, the only thing Ianto did right for Owen. He suspected Ianto did a good many things right for Jack, if the continuance of their...whatever they had...was any indication.

A sudden stillness filled the Hub, jerking Owen out of his thoughts. The coffee machine was quiet.

God save them all.

Owen glared from under the railing as the distinctive noise of ceramics clinking on a silver tray reached his ears. Gwil slowly came into view, carrying the tray with both hands as he tottered across the metal-grated floor. He stopped at Toshiko's desk first, nodding his head at her mug since he couldn't lift it up himself. She took it, thanking him politely and stroking his hair. Gwen jogged over, then, coming up from some of the lower levels. She took her mug from the tray with a big, gaped-tooth smile as she thanked Gwil.

Then it was Owen's turn.

For a moment as Gwil started over to his autopsy bay, Owen had the sudden urge to look busy, in order to disguise the fact that he had been spying. Then he remembered this was just a seven-year-old boy, and stood his ground.

Above him, Gwil paused at the railing, glancing over at the stairs and down at Owen. After a minute's consideration, Gwil turned, making to walk down the stairs with the tray. Owen sighed, scrambling over and holding his hands out. “No. Wait. Don't need you tripping down the stairs and busting your head open.” Owen jogged up the stairs to Gwil, taking his mug off the tray so quickly that Gwil had to fight to keep it balanced. “Don't need your dads screaming at me as I'm trying to patch up your skull.”

Owen winked as he said it, meaning it to be a joke, but Gwil just lowered his eyes and nodded. With a slight wobble, the little boy turned, heading over to Jack's office next.

Owen sighed, subconsciously taking a sip of his coffee as he watched the little figure walk carefully away. Jack really needed to influence the kid more: take him out to sports, cinema, maybe eat some junk – Owen reeled as delicious coffee flooded his taste buds. Startled, he started down at the coffee, trying to convince his brain that it wasn't Ianto's. But it tasted just like Ianto's. Absolutely identical. Owen glared at Gwil's back, who was now offering his tray to Jack. He took his coffee with a big, goofy grin, ruffling Gwil's hair and tugging on his earlobe for good measure. Hearing footsteps behind him, Owen spun around to see Ianto stepping off the stairs and down to the main Hub. A proud little smile was graced his lips.

“Good, Owen?”

Owen sputtered. What could he say? Finally he settled on a noncommittal shrug. “It'll keep me awake, I suppose. Best I can hope for, isn't it?” He then stomped back down into his autopsy bay, fiddling with saws and scalpels as he listened in on Jack and Ianto.

“Well?” he heard Ianto ask Jack. “Is it up to standards?”

Owen felt a small thrill of satisfaction at the slight nervous note in Ianto's voice.

“Oh, Ianto! It's perfect! Identical to yours. Well...” Owen practically leaned backwards trying to hear Jack's caveat. “Identical to your normal coffee, at least.”

The leer in Jack's voice left no room for speculation as to what sort of “special” coffee he might be thinking of. Owen gagged.

Jack was continuing. “You've turned Gwil into quite the little barista.”

Owen heard Ianto's self-satisfied hum, and could only assume he was taking a sip of his coffee. Pounding back a mouthful of his own, Owen tried to ignore how perfect it was.

“Don't forget you have to feed Myfanwy at eleven,” Owen heard Ianto say, presumably to Gwil. Owen took another large swallow of his coffee.

“Doctor Owen?”

Owen spun around, only to come face-to-face with Gwil, who was crouching by the railings and leaning his head through them. “What?” Owen asked slightly more harshly than he might have. After all, the kid did call him “Doctor”. No one did that around here.

“Do you need more?”

Owen glanced down to his hand, where he was clenching an empty coffee mug. With great reluctance he let his eyes drift up to Ianto, who was standing in Jack's doorway looking insufferably smug. With a growl Owen shoved the mug at Gwil. “Well, go on then. Least you're pulling your own weight around here.”

Owen turned back to his work with the sound of Jack's chuckle filling the Hub.

The coffee really was that good, though.


Want more? Continue on to Chapter 8 here.