s4_see | There, Wolf [13/13]

Title: There, Wolf
Rating: teen [language and sexual situations]
Characters: Gwen, Ianto, Jack, PC Andy, A Werewolf
Spoilers: post-Exit Wounds
Advisories: crossover with Being Human; also if you think about the werewolf thing a little too hard, um... yeah, but not on-screen
Disclaimer: I am apparently a very silly person at this hour

Summary: Torchwood has adopted a stray...

Notes: And made the deadline on the other thing as well, so maybe Muse will even be getting on those sequels to this sometime soon...

**********

Not the greatest surprise, Gwen supposed, to stumble upon a certain someone on their stroll round the waterfront, long legs stretched out lazily where he was catching some rare Cardiff sun on the steps of the Senedd. "Jack."

"I knew you wouldn't be able to stay away from the jawline forever." He sat up straighter to look into the pushchair. "Is it just me, or is he twice the size he was last time I saw him?"

"Babies do that."

Euan flailed under the scrutiny and tossed aside his teether. Jack picked up the puppy-sized nylon bone with a lift of one eyebrow, but handed it back to Gwen without comment. Rhys cleared his throat; "I'll take him round the basin, let you two catch up."

Jack shaded his brow with one hand to watch the Tad with his buggy trundle off down the quay. "Always said he was a keeper."

"He is that, yeah."

Jack's smile dimmed a bit, although it would have taken someone who knew him as well as she did to notice. "So, how have things been with you?"

"Oh, the usual, everyone at his work's mental and once a month my son turns into a puppy in his cot. But we're coping."

"Andy still doing all right with it?"

As if Jack didn't have his sources, of course, but Gwen humoured him, handing over her mobile to show him the photos of the well-kept house, and Euan taking his first steps in the garden, and one very large dog romping with a smaller ball of fluff by the light of the full moon. Andy had even adopted a few ordinary mutts to go along with the image of a country estate; his neighbours in the nearby village so far hadn't seemed to notice that their eccentric new part-time constable occasionally had an extra or two running about on his land of an evening...

Soon enough Jack's end of the conversation drifted onto work. Andy had managed to find him three candidates worth extending contracts to, bringing them back up to something more closely resembling a practical team after so long limping along without two of their limbs. If that wasn't too gruesome a metaphor even for Torchwood. Gwen listened with half her attention to his waxing rhapsodic over the one who not only preferred night shifts but didn't mind having to hear the rambling stories of bygone wars. And some rubbish about how they'd tried to call each other's bluff over the weapons training with claims of prior experience at the battle of Ypres and ended up -- well, she did have to cut Jack off before he could get too far into a loving description of what she was terribly afraid had turned into a threesome right there on the range. Still Torchwood, whoever was actually on the duty-rota.

And still Torchwood enough that it was impossible to go for very long without an interruption, as Ianto came loping into view at a not-quite-emergency-yet pace, abstracted nod for Gwen although his attention was clearly on his comm: "Dunno how convincing I'd be, no one's really afraid of Methodists. Except maybe DJs --"

"Duty never turns a blind eye for ten minutes around here." Jack pulled Gwen in for a peck on the cheek. "Don't be a stranger, huh? I don't want the next time I see the kid to be when he's hitting his Uncle Jack up for a job."

"I think we can manage to drop round a bit sooner than that." Ianto was shifting impatiently, well for Ianto at any rate, and Gwen thought she caught a mutter of bloody Bristol. "Go on, have fun saving the world."

Jack snapped her a salute and turned in a swirl of greatcoat to allow himself to be herded off down the Plass. Smiling to herself at the thought of how much Ianto could be like a loyal corgi himself, Gwen brushed off the seat of her trousers and went to catch Rhys up.