amuly | Gwil's Guide to Growing Up Torchwood: Year 2, Chapter 13

Title: Gwil's Guide to Growing Up Torchwood: Year 2, Chapter 13
Pairing: Jack/Ianto, Gwil
Word Count: 2,117
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's 9^th birthday isn't inconvenienced by Torchwood. But it was close.
Warnings: none
A/N: This is the last chapter of Year 2. Year 3 starts a day early on Sunday, since I'm traveling to Pittsburgh for a few days (to visit CMU. WHERE I GOT INTO GRAD SCHOOL *dance party forever*) and won't be able to update Monday. So you get Gwil a day early: lucky you guys!

(Irrelevant news post over here.)

Previous Chapters:

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

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

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

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

“Jack.”

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

“Can I at least get one?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“By dipping into our costume bag?”

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

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

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

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

“What?” Jack questioned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What happened?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your friends made these for you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Another year.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

If you missed it, jedimonkeyspock did fanart for this chapter. Go check it out and leave her some love!

Continue on to Year 3, Chapter 1.