Gwil's Guide to Growing Up Torchwood: Year 2, Chapter 1

[amuly]

Title: Gwil's Guide to Growing Up Torchwood: Year 2, Chapter 1
Pairing: Jack/Ianto, Gwil, Tosh
Word Count: 1,651
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: Jack decides it's time for Gwil to learn how to use a firearm; Ianto is not pleased with the idea.
Warnings: none
A/N: BACK! Oh gracious, you guys, sorry. I said a two week hiatus, it ended up being 5 weeks. Gah! :{ But hopefully my multi-fandom guys remained satisfied, b/c you got to read all my other stuff. As for you strict Janto fans... sorry! We're back on, now!

New business: I'll only be updating Gwil once a week on Mondays for a bit. I'm editing my novel and trying to get it published online by the end of the year (expect to hear more about that as the New Year draws closer), as well as just being generally busy with the holiday season. I'll try to bump it back up to twice a week as soon as I feel like I can. Okay! On to the fic!

Oh, and yeah, I spent a large part of my childhood shooting tin cans with BB guns.


Previous Chapters:
Prologue
The First Year:
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10
11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Deal.”

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

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

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

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

No.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“See? Nothing to worry about.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


Continue onto the Porn Interlude for Chapter 1.
Continue onto Chapter 2.

 

Comments

[amuly.livejournal.com]

Yay I'm glad you're happy it's back ^.^