m_findlow

Title: Most precious gift of all
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Jack, Ianto
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG
Length: 1,087 words
Content notes: Fluff, lots of fluff...
Author notes: Written for m_findlow's prompt "Any, any, precious gifts" at fic_promptly
Summary: Jack remembers why family are the most important thing in the world

He wasn't in bed when I woke up.

I padded down the hall to the nursery, knowing I'd find him there. Sure enough, there he was, fast asleep in the rocking chair, with Eleri tucked up against him, also asleep. We're not supposed to have favourites, that's what they tell parents, but I can tell that Eleri and Ianto have a special connection. They're only a few weeks old, and she might be the youngest, but she's an old soul, I can tell. Just like her father.

The other two are attention seeking little tykes. No prizes for guessing who they take after. Already I'm dreading what they'll be like as teenagers, because I still remember what a pain in the arse I was as a teenager. But maybe they'll be different. Maybe with enough love and two parents who will always be there for them, no matter what, they'll learn that rebelling won't get them any more attention. They'll already have all the love and attention they could ever want.

Despite that, I can sense those two causing trouble, or worse, joining forces and causing trouble. Not Eleri though. She'll be the clever one who wins awards. The quiet unassuming one. She'll make her daddy proud. Both her daddies.

The other two, Sian and Thomas, they'll win ribbons at swimming carnivals and be cheered on as they race down the length of the football pitch. Already I can picture the four of us together in the stands, wrapped in wooly scarves and cheering until our throats are sore.

I still can't believe they're actually here, that this beautiful man sitting there in the rocking chair brought them into the world with barely a complaint the whole time. Hard enough to be expecting your first, but triplets, that's something else altogether.

I'm watching him, slumped there, tucked up in his dressing gown, but letting it hang open and loose at the front. He likes to hold them against his skin and feel them up close. Perhaps it's instinct. Like how a mother holds her babe against her breast, knowing that she can give it something its father can't. Perhaps they just like to be able to feel each other's personal warmth, or perhaps the feeling of hearts beating together against one another.

On some planets, they call it soul bonding. Two life forces irrevocably tethered to one another for all eternity. Perhaps that's what we are. Even before they came along, but even more so because of it. They are the most precious gifts either of us could ever have, and they're ours, each a little piece of the both of us.

Sian starts to grow restless in the crib, slowly waking from deep slumber, and on the verge of realising she wants feeding or a cuddle, and crying out for it. It's become the story of our lives since they came into this world. Just as soon as one of them is settled, the next is demanding attention. It's no wonder Ianto is asleep. We probably haven't had more than two hours sleep at a time, and sometimes all three of them start up at once. How many times have we had one in each arm and still not enough spare hands for bottles?

I gently pick her up whilst she's still half asleep, aiming to carrying her down to the kitchen for a fresh bottle before she starts up in earnest. If I'm lucky, she'll be suckling before she has a chance to wake Ianto.

She's so tiny and soft and pink, and she smells like something indescribably comforting. I breath it in and wish I could cuddle her forever and that she might never grow up.

I give Ianto one last look before leaving the room. He might be asleep, but his grip on the tiny bundle against him is sure, as if he instinctively knows how precious she is, and how important it is not to loosen his grip and drop her.

Down in the kitchen, I've mastered the art of doing everything one handed. The bottle warmer is permanently plugged in, so it's just a matter of filling the bottles and warming them. Sian is starting to gurgle against me so I start cooing and rubbing gentle circles on her tiny back, letting her suckle on my finger. My fingers look like those of a giant compared to her own tiny little hands.

Just when I think I've succeeded in keeping her occupied long enough to replace the finger with what she really wants, there's a loud sound coming from upstairs. Thomas.

'Daddy's going to be upset with your brother,' I say, tucking the second bottle in my pocket before heading back upstairs. Ianto is already up, swapping one tiny babe for the other. Eleri, I notice is awake as well, but she's quiet and seems to be content just watching the rest of the chaos playing out. She's truly her father's daughter. Bless her.

'Hey,' I say, passing Ianto the bottle, gratefully accepted, cradling Thomas in his arms and silencing the cries with the warm bottle. Somehow we've become a single coordinated unit, tag teaming twenty-four hours a day with hardly a word spoken.

'It must be nice to spend your life eating, sleeping and being cuddled whenever you want it,' I say.

'A shame neither of us can remember those formative years,' he replies, looking weary. As much as we've shared the duties, Ianto still seems to take on more than his share. I can't blame him though. Like him, I want to spend as much time as possible with our new family, and if that means giving up a bit of sleep then so be it.

I settle Sian back in her cot, now happily fed and burped, and stand in front of the exhausted man.

'Get some sleep, I'll finish up here,' I say, already reaching for the warm bundle in his arms.

His voice says no, but his arms say yes as they provide very little resistance to my plucking our little boy from them, still eagerly suckling away.

He leans over the cot, checking the girls and kissing them both, before returning to give Thomas a kiss as well. Before he walks sleepily out of the room, I grab his hand in mine, pulling him back for a kiss. It seems unfair to be the only one to miss out.

'I love you,' I say, knowing the words can never express just how much.

'I love you, too.'