asra_fic: Ralph Clarke (Default)
[personal profile] asra_fic
Characters: Jack/Ianto
Rating: PG
Words: 800-ish
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Mpreg. Talk of abortion. This is my first time writing Mpreg, and I hope I’ve somehow managed not to mess it up.
Summary: How Ianto reacts to Jack’s news.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.



‘Tell me,’ Ianto says gently, reading Jack’s expression perfectly. So Jack does.

He tells him something that will change their lives forever, spells it out slowly and haltingly as they stand in the balcony, the sea breeze tugging at their hair and their clothes.

After that first, broken glance, he doesn’t look at Ianto; his eyes seem focused on a spot far beyond the horizon, his eyes bluer than the sea.

At first, it isn’t even Jack’s words that register in Ianto’s mind. What registers is the amount of distress that Jack is in. And that’s what Ianto’s instincts respond to, even as his mind struggles to take in everything that Jack’s saying. It seems as though he’s been neatly split into two: the rational part that’s hearing Jack’s words, and the instinctual part that’s hearing the tone of Jack’s voice.

‘—don’t need to go through with this,’ Jack finishes, and it’s as if Ianto can hear every single tiny fragment of that voice, hear what it’s taking Jack to hold all those little pieces together. Ianto feels something splinter inside him, preparing to break, and he knows that it is up to him to hold them both together before they fall away in separate directions.

‘Wait,’ he says, stepping closer and pulling Jack into his arms, functioning on autopilot, his instincts recognising that they both need this, realising that he has somehow, inadvertently, broken Jack and needs to put him together again rightnowdamnit before terrible things happen.

Owen. The name comes to mind like a ray of sunshine. Owen’s a doctor; pregnant people need doctors. Ohgodhowwillwedothis. Owen will know, he’ll figure it out, he’s a good doctor, he’ll take care of Jack. He’ll know, he must know, doctors do this kind of thing all the time.

‘We have to go to Owen,’ he says, relieved beyond measure that he’s thought of something useful, and is shocked when Jack recoils as though Ianto has slapped him across the face.

‘I—I thought you might agree we need to let Owen… take care of this,’ Jack says carefully. But why is he looking so devastated at the thought?

Ianto cups the back of Jack’s neck with one hand, frames his face with the other. ‘That’s right, Owen will take care of this. It’s all going to be fine.’ He knows he’s reassuring himself as much as he is Jack, but god, they both need it. ‘So brave,’ he thinks aloud, his lips against Jack’s hair. ‘You’re so brave, so amazing.’

But Jack says, ‘No,’ and shakes his head. ‘No, I’m not brave, I’m just doing what needs to be done.’

‘I’m with you, Jack. We’re doing this together.’ Fuck, we’re really going to do this. We’re going to be parents. Wait, wait, wait. First things first. Go see Owen. Make sure Jack’s going to be okay. Make sure we can get him through this. It takes him a moment to remember that Jack can come back from anything, but the very last thing he wants to think of at the moment is that this is probably going to hurt Jack very much, physically, and there’s nothing he can do to spare him that.

‘Let’s not waste any time,’ he says, kissing Jack’s hair, tightening his hold involuntarily as Jack freezes in his arms at the words. He can sense Jack’s distress as vividly as though it were his own; in a way it is his own, here, now, while they both seem to be falling off a precipice and the only thing Ianto can do is let Jack know that no matter how long or how hard they fall, he’s not going to let go of Jack.

Jack’s wrist strap beeps, and he pulls himself out of the embrace. ‘Weevil attack,’ he says as he glances at it. He finally meets Ianto’s eyes. ‘You’d better see to it, while I go and get this taken care of.’

‘But—’

‘Look,’ Jack says, and he’s looking away again, his voice impatient now. ‘People could be dying while we waste time arguing. Gwen’s on vacation and it’s Tosh’s day off, so that only leaves you. Is that a problem?’

‘No,’ Ianto says quickly. ‘No, of course not.’ The last thing he wants to do right then is to let Jack out of his sight, but Jack’s right, there’s no time to waste. Words lodge themselves in his throat, desperate to spill over, to be heard, but there’s no time. He reaches to lay a hand on Jack’s arm but Jack is already pulling away. Ianto follows him into the living room but the door slams shut behind Jack before Ianto’s hand has closed over his car keys.

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June 2011

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