46
Ianto was asleep.
Laying on the back lawn, on the blanket Tarn had spread out for the picnic.
Tarn had placed the food to one side on another blanket, the sight of Ianto asleep too precious to spoil.
Ianto was supposed to be waiting for the food while securing the blanket but he had lain on it while waiting. Couple that with the warm day and you get a sleeping pregnant Welshman.
Tarn regarded his sleeping father-to-be then quietly went back inside and retrieved the old quilt, laying it over the lovely man as he slept.
A cushion from the sofa was delicately slid under his head and a kiss placed on his forehead.
"To borrow a phrase from my son …" Jack said as he watched the kiss, "… He's mine"
Tarn grinned as he looked up at Jack, his hand protectively placed on the bump and Jack smiled. This was a protective one, for certain.
Ianto sighed and Jack knelt, leaning in to kiss his sleeping beauty.
The scream from the house had Ianto's eyes open in a nanosecond and he flew up, head-butting Jack who yelped and flew back onto his arse.
Ianto cried out, grabbing his forehead as Jack writhed on the ground, his broken nose spurting blood which streamed from his fingers as he tried to correct the break.
"What the fucking hell was that!" Ianto roared, trying to rise again and Tarn grabbed his arm to steady him. "I'll kill them, I will fucking kill the lot of them!"
"Oh no" Jack moaned and Tarn knelt to help him.
"Your poor nose" Tarn crooned.
"No, Ianto. He's entering the explosive stage" Jack whined.
"Explosive stage?" Tarn asked with confusion.
"In the early stages of the third trimester, he gets extremely touchy. He judges himself, his weight, his place in my heart, his ability as a parent. Once he's over it, he's docile and serene. Our baby is anticipated eagerly" Jack explained, "But for the next two weeks or so, it is going to be sheer bloody hell!"
"Oh no" Tarn whispered.
"Expect tears and tantrums." Jack warned, "The kids won't like it either."
"It won't get too bad … will it?" Tarn asked.
"Well, the twins weren't so bad, he was bedridden. But with CJ? He shot me for not wearing bed socks with my cold feet in the bed."
"What?"
"He took my own gun and shot me" Jack said, "Was unrepentant too."
"That's why you have so many pairs of socks?" Tarn surmised.
"Yep, a wear a pair every night, come hell or high water, winter or summer. I have nice cotton ones for summer that aren't too hot" Jack sighed.
"Surely not all the time" Tarn huffed, "Only because of the pregnancy hormones?"
"Nope!" Jack grinned, "For him, I would wear anything. He even said I didn't have to, but it's the principle, ya know?"
"Yes?"
"Yes. If he can put up with the unbelievable discomfort of giving me my babies, I can at least honour his dislike for cold feet!" Jack wiped his nose and smiled, shining Tarn that it had healed.
"Now. Let's see if he's skinned one alive, shall we?"
They strode towards the house in hero poses, both a little afraid of the demon raging inside.
Woe betide them.