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It's good that my mind is fertile ground for plot bunnies, but still...
I normally avoid mpreg stories like the plague, but since it's canon in Torchwood (or at least Jack has said that he'll never do that again) I've taken a chance and read a few Jack mpregs. Of course, none of what I've read seemed quite right, so I made the mistake of thinking about how I would go about doing it.
Oops.
Now, I probably could have ignore this plot bunny, but it went and joined forces with the get_house_laid prompt ("Jack Harkness, nuff said") I'm working on, which had already joined forces with this plot bunny. And I have yet to finish a single story (well, except for "Mistletoe") in this ficverse, though I have well over 25,000+ words written for it!
Sigh.
The problem is that scenes for other stories are spinning off the ones I'm trying to finish. In the get_house_laid story "Doctor's Dancing", Wilson is attacked-
House opened his mouth to ask what the hell was going on, when Wilson hissed in pain, and doubled over.
Jack went to Wilson, crouching down in front of him and resting his hands on his shoulders.
“James?” he asked.
“Leg hurts,” Wilson said, confused, as he gripped his right leg.
“What’d you hit it on?” House asked as he scanned the room for something Wilson might have bumped into.
“I didn’t… I don’t…ah…” Wilson gasped, and then groaned.
“Damn it,” Jack hissed, letting go of Wilson as if his hands were being burned. “Wild guess here,” he said. “You’re really good at comforting people, aren’t you?”
“What?” Wilson blinked at Jack.
“What‘s that got to do with anything?” House asked.
Jack looked at House. “It’s not his leg that hurts, it’s yours.” Jack rubbed his face then stared at Wilson.
“My guess is that you’re a latent empath. When she attacked you, she must have screwed with your psychic barriers and, well…you’re not latent any more.” He tapped his wristband again, then nodded. “It doesn’t look like there’s any permanent damage, a good night’s sleep and you’ll probably be fine but, right now, we need to get you someplace that’s emotionally quieter than a hotel bar on a Friday night.”
Well, that little event led to this scene popping up when I thought how much fun I could have with House being Jack's doctor while he was pregnant-- and thus, sealing my fate (I decided Wilson is now a touch empath where House and Jack are concerned)-
House: “Wilson! Need a consult!”
Wilson: “How is it that you always know when I’ve finished with a patient and can do your evil bidding?”
House: “It’s a special power I got when I joined the evil genius’s union. Put your hand here.”
House grabs Wilson's wrist and places his hand on Jack's stomach.
Wilson: “House! Whoa…”
House: “You got something?”
Wilson: “Uh, yeah.”
House: “So, what is it?”
Wilson: “Uh, okay, first off-- it’s not an it, it’s a them.”
House and Jack: “Them?”
Wilson: “Yeah, umm… Do you mind Jack?”
Jack: “Go ahead. I pretty much gave up my personal space when I got pregnant. That, and they seem to like you.”
Wilson: “It’s probably because my hands are warm. Right. Well, one of them is here and the other one seems to be over here. You didn’t bother to warm that thing up first before you started running them over with it, did you.”
House: “Well, no. Wasn’t expecting any complains from that end. So, healthy?”
Wilson: “Yeah, definitely. And I’m pretty sure the irritated one is a girl. I think the other one is a boy, though I can’t be sure since he’s not projecting much.”
Jack: “Should he be?”
Wilson: “No. He’s just seems happy that he’s not getting bothered right now by the annoying cold spot. Or the annoying jerk of a doctor who keeps poking at him. I think you‘re going to have your hands full when these two come out, Jack.”
Jack: “I kinda figured that one out already, thanks.”
I also had a scene spin off these two scene in "New Steps to an Old Dance"--
Jack could hear movement on the other side of the door, and braced himself for whatever reaction House was going to have to him dropping by unannounced. To be honest, Jack wasn’t even sure why he was here. He had only spent one night with House and his partner James-- and it wasn‘t as if they had spent much of that time talking. But Jack was in desperate need of company, and House seemed as good a place as any to start.
Besides, there weren’t that many people he could go to and just be himself.
When the door opened to reveal House’s scowling face, Jack tensed-- the muscles in his back and shoulders getting tighter and tighter as House ran a calculating gaze up and down his body.
“You don’t look like the pizza boy,” House snapped.
Jack wasn’t sure how to take that comment. “That your way of saying hit the road, Jack?”
“Nope,” House turned and walked away, leaving the door. “That’s my way of saying you’re getting your own beer. Fridge is that way.”
Jack smiled and breathed out some of his tension as he closed the door and slipped off his greatcoat.
Wilson pulled his hand away and smiled when Jack looked blearily up at him. “You’re in my spot, Jack.”
Jack grinned and sat up. “Sorry,” he said, then gave Wilson a quick kiss.
“Hey, how come I didn’t get a hello kiss?” House exclaimed.
Jack looked at him. “Cause you were being an ass.”
“I’m always an ass; what made you think I’d treat you any differently?”
Wilson chuckled and got off the bed. He pulled off his tie and said, “Well, I brought pizza so, whenever you two get…“ He glanced back and found House and Jack grinning at him.
“What?”
Jack turned to House. “You’re right; I don’t look like the pizza boy,” he said.
“What?” Wilson waved his hands in the air. “Never mind, I don’t want to know.”
Which led to--
House had to look down when the door opened to see who was opening it. Jamie looked up at him, one hand still on the door handle, with a surprisingly serious scowl for a six year old on his face.
“You’re not the pizza boy,” Jamie stated.
Okay, don’t think I want to know where you got that from, House thought. “No,” he said, “but I’ve got a hotline to Santa, and if you don’t let me in, I’m gonna make a phone call.”
Jamie rolled his eye. He glanced back inside when Jack yelled, “Jamie, who’s at the door?”
Mischief sparkled in the boy’s blue eyes, and he shouted back, “It’s not the pizza boy!”
“What?” Wilson shouted, then stuck his head out of the kitchen to looked at Jack, who was rubbing his forehead with a pained expression on his face.
“What are you teaching these kids, Jack?” Wilson asked, the Doctor's familiar laugh echoing in the background.
*headsmack*
One of these days I'll get at least one of these stories done.
I normally avoid mpreg stories like the plague, but since it's canon in Torchwood (or at least Jack has said that he'll never do that again) I've taken a chance and read a few Jack mpregs. Of course, none of what I've read seemed quite right, so I made the mistake of thinking about how I would go about doing it.
Oops.
Now, I probably could have ignore this plot bunny, but it went and joined forces with the get_house_laid prompt ("Jack Harkness, nuff said") I'm working on, which had already joined forces with this plot bunny. And I have yet to finish a single story (well, except for "Mistletoe") in this ficverse, though I have well over 25,000+ words written for it!
Sigh.
The problem is that scenes for other stories are spinning off the ones I'm trying to finish. In the get_house_laid story "Doctor's Dancing", Wilson is attacked-
House opened his mouth to ask what the hell was going on, when Wilson hissed in pain, and doubled over.
Jack went to Wilson, crouching down in front of him and resting his hands on his shoulders.
“James?” he asked.
“Leg hurts,” Wilson said, confused, as he gripped his right leg.
“What’d you hit it on?” House asked as he scanned the room for something Wilson might have bumped into.
“I didn’t… I don’t…ah…” Wilson gasped, and then groaned.
“Damn it,” Jack hissed, letting go of Wilson as if his hands were being burned. “Wild guess here,” he said. “You’re really good at comforting people, aren’t you?”
“What?” Wilson blinked at Jack.
“What‘s that got to do with anything?” House asked.
Jack looked at House. “It’s not his leg that hurts, it’s yours.” Jack rubbed his face then stared at Wilson.
“My guess is that you’re a latent empath. When she attacked you, she must have screwed with your psychic barriers and, well…you’re not latent any more.” He tapped his wristband again, then nodded. “It doesn’t look like there’s any permanent damage, a good night’s sleep and you’ll probably be fine but, right now, we need to get you someplace that’s emotionally quieter than a hotel bar on a Friday night.”
Well, that little event led to this scene popping up when I thought how much fun I could have with House being Jack's doctor while he was pregnant-- and thus, sealing my fate (I decided Wilson is now a touch empath where House and Jack are concerned)-
House: “Wilson! Need a consult!”
Wilson: “How is it that you always know when I’ve finished with a patient and can do your evil bidding?”
House: “It’s a special power I got when I joined the evil genius’s union. Put your hand here.”
House grabs Wilson's wrist and places his hand on Jack's stomach.
Wilson: “House! Whoa…”
House: “You got something?”
Wilson: “Uh, yeah.”
House: “So, what is it?”
Wilson: “Uh, okay, first off-- it’s not an it, it’s a them.”
House and Jack: “Them?”
Wilson: “Yeah, umm… Do you mind Jack?”
Jack: “Go ahead. I pretty much gave up my personal space when I got pregnant. That, and they seem to like you.”
Wilson: “It’s probably because my hands are warm. Right. Well, one of them is here and the other one seems to be over here. You didn’t bother to warm that thing up first before you started running them over with it, did you.”
House: “Well, no. Wasn’t expecting any complains from that end. So, healthy?”
Wilson: “Yeah, definitely. And I’m pretty sure the irritated one is a girl. I think the other one is a boy, though I can’t be sure since he’s not projecting much.”
Jack: “Should he be?”
Wilson: “No. He’s just seems happy that he’s not getting bothered right now by the annoying cold spot. Or the annoying jerk of a doctor who keeps poking at him. I think you‘re going to have your hands full when these two come out, Jack.”
Jack: “I kinda figured that one out already, thanks.”
I also had a scene spin off these two scene in "New Steps to an Old Dance"--
Jack could hear movement on the other side of the door, and braced himself for whatever reaction House was going to have to him dropping by unannounced. To be honest, Jack wasn’t even sure why he was here. He had only spent one night with House and his partner James-- and it wasn‘t as if they had spent much of that time talking. But Jack was in desperate need of company, and House seemed as good a place as any to start.
Besides, there weren’t that many people he could go to and just be himself.
When the door opened to reveal House’s scowling face, Jack tensed-- the muscles in his back and shoulders getting tighter and tighter as House ran a calculating gaze up and down his body.
“You don’t look like the pizza boy,” House snapped.
Jack wasn’t sure how to take that comment. “That your way of saying hit the road, Jack?”
“Nope,” House turned and walked away, leaving the door. “That’s my way of saying you’re getting your own beer. Fridge is that way.”
Jack smiled and breathed out some of his tension as he closed the door and slipped off his greatcoat.
Wilson pulled his hand away and smiled when Jack looked blearily up at him. “You’re in my spot, Jack.”
Jack grinned and sat up. “Sorry,” he said, then gave Wilson a quick kiss.
“Hey, how come I didn’t get a hello kiss?” House exclaimed.
Jack looked at him. “Cause you were being an ass.”
“I’m always an ass; what made you think I’d treat you any differently?”
Wilson chuckled and got off the bed. He pulled off his tie and said, “Well, I brought pizza so, whenever you two get…“ He glanced back and found House and Jack grinning at him.
“What?”
Jack turned to House. “You’re right; I don’t look like the pizza boy,” he said.
“What?” Wilson waved his hands in the air. “Never mind, I don’t want to know.”
Which led to--
House had to look down when the door opened to see who was opening it. Jamie looked up at him, one hand still on the door handle, with a surprisingly serious scowl for a six year old on his face.
“You’re not the pizza boy,” Jamie stated.
Okay, don’t think I want to know where you got that from, House thought. “No,” he said, “but I’ve got a hotline to Santa, and if you don’t let me in, I’m gonna make a phone call.”
Jamie rolled his eye. He glanced back inside when Jack yelled, “Jamie, who’s at the door?”
Mischief sparkled in the boy’s blue eyes, and he shouted back, “It’s not the pizza boy!”
“What?” Wilson shouted, then stuck his head out of the kitchen to looked at Jack, who was rubbing his forehead with a pained expression on his face.
“What are you teaching these kids, Jack?” Wilson asked, the Doctor's familiar laugh echoing in the background.
*headsmack*
One of these days I'll get at least one of these stories done.