2-Coffee Title: Coffee Authors:becky_h and baffledking Characters: Jack Harkness and Ianto Jones Fandom: Torchwood Theme Set: Theme Set #LW1 Theme(s): Coffee Warnings and Notes: Mpreg
He'd been sleeping a lot more than usual (for him, anyway) for the past few weeks. Last night, though, it had been extremely broken - vivid dreams, half-waking up because he was uncomfortable and to change his position. He finally gave up and got up. He felt fairly crappy but put it down to interrupted sleep. He managed to start the coffee, and to shower and change without incident, and then headed back to the kitchen.
He walked into the smell of brewing coffee and his stomach instantly rolled over. He didn't even think about trying to make it all the way back to the nearest bathroom. Hell, he was lucky to make it to the sink before the roll turned into a heave, and he was puking his guts up. Really, violently, ripping at his throat, making his eyes water, loudly sick.
Ianto was going to kill him.
"...Wow." Ianto came over to peer over Jack's shoulder with a moue of distaste. "Are you poisoned?"
He used the heel of one hand to turn the water on. "I sure as hell hope not."
Ianto wet a washcloth under the spray, handing it to Jack and putting a hand on the small of his back, "Are you going to be sick again?"
Jack wiped off his face, then reached for a (clean) glass, filled it and rinsed and spit. He half gagged, but didn't actually throw up. "I don't think so."
Ianto finished cleaning out the sink, "Go sit down. What have you eaten?"
Hwent. He sat. He folded his arms on the table and put his face down against them. "Nothing," he mumbled. "Well, pizza last night, that half the team also ate."
"I'm not sick," Ianto agreed, sticking a fresh glass of cold water beside Jack's head, "When was the last time you were sick?"
He shifted so he was sprawled out in the chair. "Besides being poisoned?"
"Yes," he rolled his eyes.
"That's a problem then," he said patiently.
"What?" he asked, blankly.
"You're suddenly sick, Jack."
He looked green again.
Ianto quickly grabbed Jack a bowl.
"Do you want me to strangle you?"
"No, I don't want you to throw up on the table."
"I'm not going to throw up on the god damn fucking table."
"Of course you're not sir," he said dryly, "You have a bowl."
He stood up and walked slowly toward Ianto.
"What?" Ianto didn't move.
He wrapped his arms around Ianto and put his hand on his shoulder. "I need to go to the morgue."
"Why?" Ianto asked, touching Jack's hip.
"Because it's where the medical equipment is." He was working up to moving.
"It doesn't work on you," Ianto wrapped an arm around Jack's waist and started leading him that way.
He stayed there for a second, then broke away and headed off. "I just need a blood sample," he said dismissively.
"To find out what the hell's wrong with me."
He got that out, just before he veered off into the bathroom and threw up again. Just as violently as before and this time totally failed to stay upright, and hit his knees.
Ianto was worrying now, hand on the back of Jack's neck and trying to be soothing while, at the same time, totally failing to have a clue how to.
He flushed, and for a long moment just knelt and panted softly, trying to catch his breath and make sure his nausea was under control.
"I never want coffee again," He mumbled, and pulled himself to his feet. "Right. Morgue."
The hand on his neck, and Ianto staying with him, was actually doing a lot to keep him calm.
"You say that now," he guided Jack down, warm and worried.
"I mean it, too." He was steadier by the time they got down there, and a quick rifle through found him a syringe and needle, the tourniquet was going to take longer.
"Sit," Ianto ordered, locating the tourniquet under the bandages because Owen was not an organizing genius. Also he didn't have to *draw* blood often. "I'll do it, you'll pass out."
"I'm not going to pass out," he argued, sat, and started undoing one of his cufflinks. "Do you even know how to draw blood?"
"I've had it done enough," he said agreeably.
"Why?" he asked, and cuffed his sleeve back, eyeing Ianto.
"I worked for Torchwood One, Jack," Ianto tied on the tourniquet. "They needed genetic samples."
"Okay," he agreed, and looked up at the ceiling while he made a fist.
Ianto got the blood with a minimum of wiggling the need in order to hit a vein and filled up a tiny vial, "How many?"
Ianto nodded and started filling them, changing out the tubes as they filled, "Why?"
"Why eight? Because it should be enough to run through everything I can think of to run it through."
"Or we can just take more blood," he said dryly.
"This is easier. Are you done yet?"
He held up the filled eighth vial, then pressed a piece of gauze to Jack's arm as he took the needle out.
He folded his arm up, gathered all of the vials up and then headed back upstairs. "I'll be back in half an hour."
"Do you need help?"
"No. I'm going to set the samples to run and spent the other minutes brushing my teeth."
He really was.
Ianto rolled his eyes, "Fine. Call me if you're going to tell me the truth or feel sick again."
" will," he promised.
He made sure the hub was locked, fed his blood samples into a whole slew of equipment, and went to brush his teeth .
...He was still there, half an hour later.
Ianto finished cleaning up the morgue. And the kitchen. And the office. Then he sighed and went to find Jack, "Are you kidding?"
He was just rinsing - again.
"What?" he asked, blankly.
"Go drink something."
He looked horrified. "No."
He glanced at his watch. "Come on, let's go see what we've got."
He was feeling better.
"It'll get the taste out of your mouth which brushing the enamel off won't, sir."
"Yeah, and add a new one. Don't worry about my dental health, I'm sure my veneers are holding up just fine."
He started for the main-hub.
"Torchwood's dental plan .." he started, then shook his head.
"It's a long story and got nothing to do with Torchwood." He sat down at Tosh's station and called up results. He scanned through them, rapidly.
Then he stopped. Backed up, and tried again.
"That can't be right."
He shook his head and turned the computer off. "I need to go out. I'll be back soon. Wait here for me."
"Jack, what's going on?"
He shook his head. "Just wait here." He grabbed his coat and left.
anto turned the computer back on and tried to call the results back up, grabbing a cup of coffee as he waited for the boot.
The screen came up with "Nice try, Ianto'.
Jack came back forty five minutes later, looking very. Gobsmacked.
Ianto had reorganized Jack's desk in a fit of passive aggression. He did frown when Jack got back though, "What?"
He stopped and looked at Ianto. "I'm pregnant."
Ianto rolled his eyes, "Of course you are, sir. Would you like some coffee?"
He shook his head. "I'm pregnant, Ianto. I'm not joking. I am manufacturing high levels of human chorionic gonadotropin."
"Captain, speaking as someone's who's intimately familiar with your genitalia, that's not possible."
He held up both of his hands. "You want to see me pee on a stick and watch the lines show up?"
"No, I want to see a sonogram."
"No." He was suddenly scared, threatened, back against the wall and hackles up. Snarling, even.
Ianto blinked, honestly surprised, that reaction doing more to convince him that Jack's not kidding than even a sonogram would have. His voice went low and soothing almost instantly, "Jack, it won't hurt anything."
"Do you have any idea how I got knocked up?"
"I'm assuming you slept with someone you shouldn't have."
"Good assumption. Know how that species is affected by sonography?"
"No." he said after a moment, sounding surprised, "I hadn't thought of that."
"I didn't think so. Lucky for me, I did." He smiled, faintly.
"Okay." He rubbed his face, "Make a list of all the alien species you've had sex with in, say, the last six months."
"No," he said, simply. "There's only one, and it doesn't matter because you're still not getting a sonogram."
"What? Why? Jack, haven't you ever seen alien?"
"Point one: I would need a hospital or Owen to give me one. Neither is an option. Point two: I'm not risking it."
Ianto gritted his teeth, counted to ten, the nodded, "Fine. Go rest."
"I don't want to rest!"
"Well. You're not going to let me do anything. You're not going to let Owen do anything. You've been throwing up all morning. Nothing's pressing workwise." He took a deep breath, "And I need to go for the rest of the day."
And then he got it.
"Okay. Go on. Take all the time you need."
Jack being tractable made Ianto nervous. His eyes narrowed. "What are you going to do?"
He shook his head. "I don't know, Ianto. See what I can find out about Karclaxians."
He nodded, "Call me if you decide you need help."
"Of course I need help," he said with a soft snort and vague smile. "I just don't know what kind yet. I can't have a kid."
"Maybe you can."
"It got in there somehow." Ianto said with a tiny shrug.
He shook his head. Not what he meant. "Never mind, Ianto. You need some time. Go ahead and take it."
Ianto counted to ten again before starting to head up to the tourist office. "Call me."
He nodded. "I will," he promised.
When Ianto got to the door he went to the couch and. Just curled up.
He fell asleep, deeply and completely.
Ianto came back in a few hours with food and prenatal vitamins. He pulled a blanket over Jack and then started researching Kalaxions.
Jack didn't stir for hours. He didn't dream. He didn't toss and turn. He slept more deeply than he had for weeks. When he woke up, it was to see Ianto at the computer . His head hurt, he really had to pee, and the nausea was just worse. he didn't bother with moving this time, because there was also just 'what the hell am I doing now."
"Good morning sir," Ianto said without moving from the computer. "I brought you lunch if you're hungry."
He managed not to groan. "No, thank you. What time is it?"
"Around three pm."
He rubbed his eyes and refrained from sitting up. "Wow. Learn anything interesting?"
"Not yet, but give it time."
"They're humanoid, androgynous and intersexed. I think gestation's about human normal. I have no idea how this happened, but we need to work out a way to undo it."
"Shouldn't you talk to the father?" he asked almost absently.
"I'm pretty sure that's impossible."
"Because he's dead."
"What?" Ianto turned then. "It was that- Oh my god, Jack."
He lifted his eyebrows and finally roused himself enough to sit upright. "What?" he asked, watchful and quiet.
"It was that one? The one we-" he cut himself off then shook his head, "Okay, not an option then."
"Yeah, that one. The one we." He nodded and sighed. "Definitely not an option."
"Are you just going to get rid of it," Ianto asked softly.
"I don't know what else I can do. Not that I know how to get rid of it, as you so delicately put it, either."
"Keep it." Ianto shrugged.
"I can't run Torchwood like this, Ianto, I certainly can't bring a child into this place, and I. I. I."
He was almost 200 years old and he was stammering.
Ianto stepped away from the computer, came over and sat down next to Jack. "You can."
"Ianto, I am not raising a child in Torchwood. I don't even want to think about the thing coming out again." He thumped his forehead down against Ianto's shoulder.
Ianto winced, then wrapped an arm around Jack's waist, "Well, it's going to come out no matter what. That's just a fact. And you wouldn't have to raise a child in Torchwood. I would take it and raise it outside the city."
"...You want to raise a half-alien child."
"No, you idiot," Ianto sighed, rubbing Jack's back and sliding a hand into his hair.
He tilted his head into Ianto's hair, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His stomach, thank god, did not rebel. "Okay," he said more calmly. "What did you say?"
"The half-alien part doesn't matter. "
"Well, in as much as it would exist if it-" He stopped trying to argue. He rubbed his eyes. "I'll get it sorted out. Just do not, not, not, under any condition, let the others know what's up."
"We'll get it sorted out. And I wont' tell, sir."
"Thank you, Ianto."
Ianto nodded, patted Jack's shoulder and went upstairs to tidy up.