Gwil's Guide to Growing Up Torchwood: Year 2, Chapter 3

[amuly]

Title: Gwil's Guide to Growing Up Torchwood: Year 2, Chapter 3
Pairing: Jack/Ianto, Gwil
Word Count: 2,418
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, Ianto, and Gwil go back-to-school shopping.
Warnings: none
A/N: 1.] I am such a terrible, mean, bad author. I AM SORRY. Sorry I disappeared, sorry this is so late, sorry sorry sorry. But we're back on, regular updates on Mondays, and we'll see if I can't up it to twice a week again (though I've committed to several things like jack_ianto_las  and rsbigbang  so I dunno how feasible that is). I also still owe you guys gun range porn. I'm on it, I swear. Again, sorry. :{ I hope the myriad of links and office supplies porn makes up for my terribleness as an author as of late.

2.] I tried my hardest with getting all the British terms right, though I'm certain there's something I must have screwed up. Feel free to Brit-pick me in the comments.


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

 

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No fun.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


Continue onto Chapter 4.