mpreg jackrry, part 4
Oct. 30th, 2017 08:39 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ferryboatpeak[hi, here's some more half-written mpreg trash; LIZ I FINALLY THOUGHT OF SOME FLUFFY ULTRASOUND FEELINGS FOR YOU. also i think it's developing an actual plot so watch out]
Jack doesn’t hear anything all weekend, until Sunday night while he’s watching the Red Sox game at Barry’s place and his phone buzzes with a text.
this is harry
He waits, but that’s all there is. Twenty minutes pass. Finally, Jack sends back thanks for getting in touch. He waits. Nothing. He tries sorry i didn’t say much the other day. He waits again. Still nothing. If this is what texting with Harry’s going to be like, he’s not interested in doing any more of it. Last try, he resolves, and sends could we meet up for a drink?
Twenty minutes later, his phone buzzes again and he stifles the urge to check it immediately, waiting until Barry goes to grab another beer. not drinking much these days, says the reply. Fine, whatever, Jack’s done. He tried. Harry can go on and be pregnant or whatever and never text Jack again and he won’t care, he won’t care one bit.
Another inning goes by and then it hits Jack. Of course Harry’s not fucking drinking. He grabs for his phone. shit, sorry, that was dumb.
[blah, blah, I’m tired of writing texts, upshot is harry eventually sends something like ultrasound tuesday, you should come, and jack agrees to go and Barry gives him a hard time about not paying attention to the game and jack avoids telling him anything. Maybe he reschedules a work meeting to free up Tuesday morning.]
The automatic doors at the hospital slide wide open as Jack approaches, and it feels like everyone in the world is looking at him. He skulks through the bright hallways with no place to hide, following signs to the elevator bank and then to the imaging department. He’s scanning the room, looking for Harry, when the medical assistant at the front desk nudges a clipboard toward him and asks if she can check him in. “Oh, no, I’m meeting my… um, someone,” Jack stutters, waving his hand vaguely toward the waiting area.
Harry walks in a few minutes later and goes straight to the desk without looking around the room. Jack watches him from the far corner he’s tried to disappear into. Harry looks the same as he did last week. Only the print on his Hawaiian shirt’s changed. The medical assistant laughs at something Harry says while she clips a packet of papers together for him, and he grins back at her, and it’s hard for Jack to believe that this person willingly had sex with him.
Harry turns away from the desk holding his clipboard and Jack gives him a half-wave. There’s some awkward conversation -- thanks for coming, no problem -- and then Harry busies himself with the paperwork and Jack watches out of the corner of his eye as Harry fills out the forms, following the pen to learn that his full name is Harry Edward Styles. The medical assistant calls them back just as Harry finishes, leading them to a dim room. Harry hops up on the exam table, paper cover crinkling under his worn-in boots. The only other chair is right next to the table, presumably for happy fathers or supportive friends or whatever. Jack sits there anyway.
The technician hands Harry a folded paper drape and tells him to tuck it into his waistband. Jack’s memories of their hook-up are not exactly the clearest, but when Harry pushes up the hem of his shirt Jack catches sight of the tattoos and suddenly he has a reaaaaaaally strong memory of dragging his hand flat down harry’s chest, thumbing over the butterfly, laurel leaves between his splayed fingers as he pressed the heel of his hand into harry’s hipbone, and oh boy this is really not what he should be thinking about in these circumstances. The leafy tattoos seem a little different than he remembers, not misshapen exactly, just a bit... rounded. He’s not imagining it, he realizes, noticing that Harry’s jeans are expanded with a hair tie cinched through the buttonhole and looped over the button. “Don’t judge,” Harry says as he unloops the hair tie and scrunches the waistband down below his belly, and Jack’s definitely not judging, he’s just… noticing… and in particular noticing a flash of red boxer briefs before Harry covers everything with the paper drape and he’s really got to stop thinking like that, he’s at a hospital for crying out loud, and given the consequences of the last time he fucked Harry he really shouldn’t want to ever do it again.
Fortunately the technician gets to work and things start happening on screen, so he leans his elbow on the table to watch the monitor in front of them. The… baby… materializes. A big head, one twig leg sticking out; it looks more like the idea of an ultrasound than an actual thing that is inside Harry, inches from Jack’s elbow.
Jack hears Harry breathe in sharply.
“Don’t get your hopes up,” Jack says. “He doesn’t look like a kickball player.” Harry lets out a surprised, shaky bark of laughter and the technician tells him to stop moving.
“My daughter,” Harry emphasizes, “is not going to play any contact sports.”
“Since when is kickball a contact sport?”
“It is when I play it.”
“Also that’s definitely a boy,” Jack says, “so what sport’s he going to play?”
“Golf, either way,” Harry says decisively.
“You golf?” Jack asks, surprised.
“Yeah, Niall's really into it. I go out with him sometimes.”
[FYI this is a BLATANT SET UP for jack and harry and niall and barry to go golfing later in this verse. Feel free to offer your thoughts on keoghead/bressie versus the other option of FULL-ON KEOGHORAN (which also opens up some possibilities for ace/aro fionn)] ANYWAY sorry i got distracted...
“There’s the heartbeat,” the technician says, zooming in and sliding an arrow toward a quivering spot on the screen. It’s moving so quickly; Jack feels his own heartbeat speed up, maybe in sympathy, maybe because Harry’s reached down to grab his hand, squeezing his fingers tight. Jack looks back at him, and oh god, has Harry got tears in his eyes? Jack looks away quickly, gripping Harry’s hand, focusing on the screen. It still doesn’t feel like that thing up there is his, but it occurs to him that he might be disappointed if it’s not.
Jack doesn’t hear anything all weekend, until Sunday night while he’s watching the Red Sox game at Barry’s place and his phone buzzes with a text.
this is harry
He waits, but that’s all there is. Twenty minutes pass. Finally, Jack sends back thanks for getting in touch. He waits. Nothing. He tries sorry i didn’t say much the other day. He waits again. Still nothing. If this is what texting with Harry’s going to be like, he’s not interested in doing any more of it. Last try, he resolves, and sends could we meet up for a drink?
Twenty minutes later, his phone buzzes again and he stifles the urge to check it immediately, waiting until Barry goes to grab another beer. not drinking much these days, says the reply. Fine, whatever, Jack’s done. He tried. Harry can go on and be pregnant or whatever and never text Jack again and he won’t care, he won’t care one bit.
Another inning goes by and then it hits Jack. Of course Harry’s not fucking drinking. He grabs for his phone. shit, sorry, that was dumb.
[blah, blah, I’m tired of writing texts, upshot is harry eventually sends something like ultrasound tuesday, you should come, and jack agrees to go and Barry gives him a hard time about not paying attention to the game and jack avoids telling him anything. Maybe he reschedules a work meeting to free up Tuesday morning.]
The automatic doors at the hospital slide wide open as Jack approaches, and it feels like everyone in the world is looking at him. He skulks through the bright hallways with no place to hide, following signs to the elevator bank and then to the imaging department. He’s scanning the room, looking for Harry, when the medical assistant at the front desk nudges a clipboard toward him and asks if she can check him in. “Oh, no, I’m meeting my… um, someone,” Jack stutters, waving his hand vaguely toward the waiting area.
Harry walks in a few minutes later and goes straight to the desk without looking around the room. Jack watches him from the far corner he’s tried to disappear into. Harry looks the same as he did last week. Only the print on his Hawaiian shirt’s changed. The medical assistant laughs at something Harry says while she clips a packet of papers together for him, and he grins back at her, and it’s hard for Jack to believe that this person willingly had sex with him.
Harry turns away from the desk holding his clipboard and Jack gives him a half-wave. There’s some awkward conversation -- thanks for coming, no problem -- and then Harry busies himself with the paperwork and Jack watches out of the corner of his eye as Harry fills out the forms, following the pen to learn that his full name is Harry Edward Styles. The medical assistant calls them back just as Harry finishes, leading them to a dim room. Harry hops up on the exam table, paper cover crinkling under his worn-in boots. The only other chair is right next to the table, presumably for happy fathers or supportive friends or whatever. Jack sits there anyway.
The technician hands Harry a folded paper drape and tells him to tuck it into his waistband. Jack’s memories of their hook-up are not exactly the clearest, but when Harry pushes up the hem of his shirt Jack catches sight of the tattoos and suddenly he has a reaaaaaaally strong memory of dragging his hand flat down harry’s chest, thumbing over the butterfly, laurel leaves between his splayed fingers as he pressed the heel of his hand into harry’s hipbone, and oh boy this is really not what he should be thinking about in these circumstances. The leafy tattoos seem a little different than he remembers, not misshapen exactly, just a bit... rounded. He’s not imagining it, he realizes, noticing that Harry’s jeans are expanded with a hair tie cinched through the buttonhole and looped over the button. “Don’t judge,” Harry says as he unloops the hair tie and scrunches the waistband down below his belly, and Jack’s definitely not judging, he’s just… noticing… and in particular noticing a flash of red boxer briefs before Harry covers everything with the paper drape and he’s really got to stop thinking like that, he’s at a hospital for crying out loud, and given the consequences of the last time he fucked Harry he really shouldn’t want to ever do it again.
Fortunately the technician gets to work and things start happening on screen, so he leans his elbow on the table to watch the monitor in front of them. The… baby… materializes. A big head, one twig leg sticking out; it looks more like the idea of an ultrasound than an actual thing that is inside Harry, inches from Jack’s elbow.
Jack hears Harry breathe in sharply.
“Don’t get your hopes up,” Jack says. “He doesn’t look like a kickball player.” Harry lets out a surprised, shaky bark of laughter and the technician tells him to stop moving.
“My daughter,” Harry emphasizes, “is not going to play any contact sports.”
“Since when is kickball a contact sport?”
“It is when I play it.”
“Also that’s definitely a boy,” Jack says, “so what sport’s he going to play?”
“Golf, either way,” Harry says decisively.
“You golf?” Jack asks, surprised.
“Yeah, Niall's really into it. I go out with him sometimes.”
[FYI this is a BLATANT SET UP for jack and harry and niall and barry to go golfing later in this verse. Feel free to offer your thoughts on keoghead/bressie versus the other option of FULL-ON KEOGHORAN (which also opens up some possibilities for ace/aro fionn)] ANYWAY sorry i got distracted...
“There’s the heartbeat,” the technician says, zooming in and sliding an arrow toward a quivering spot on the screen. It’s moving so quickly; Jack feels his own heartbeat speed up, maybe in sympathy, maybe because Harry’s reached down to grab his hand, squeezing his fingers tight. Jack looks back at him, and oh god, has Harry got tears in his eyes? Jack looks away quickly, gripping Harry’s hand, focusing on the screen. It still doesn’t feel like that thing up there is his, but it occurs to him that he might be disappointed if it’s not.
no subject
Date: 2017-10-31 04:40 am (UTC)(also i'm equally as intrigued as ace/aro fionn as i am with keoghead i'm going to need to meditate on this further)
no subject
Date: 2017-10-31 04:48 am (UTC)Also, do the tech bros know about Harry's, uh, delicate situation?
no subject
Date: 2017-10-31 11:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-10-31 10:15 pm (UTC)me today, refreshing the page over and over again: WHEN IS 5 COMING
jack getting accidentally distracted / turned on by harry in the doctor's office is very very much what i want always. also i love jack getting huffy about the text exchange and then ten minutes later being like "...oh wait"
no subject
Date: 2017-10-31 11:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-11-03 08:20 pm (UTC)I like this little bit "jack feels his own heartbeat speed up, maybe in sympathy"