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standing right next to his dad...
Nov. 3rd, 2017
mpreg jackrry, part 7
Nov. 3rd, 2017 11:06 pmJack keeps meaning to tell the rest of the gang but the timing never quite works. When he told Tom it just kind of came up randomly, and it was easy because he knew Tom wouldn’t give him a hard time about it, but he’s got to be in the right mood to put up with the dumb questions and the shit he’s probably going to get from the rest of the tech bros.
At happy hour a couple of weeks later, he tells himself he’ll launch into the story after he finishes his next beer, but just then Aneurin says, “Hey, I’ve got to bail on golf Saturday.”
“Shit, is that this weekend?” Tom asks, thumbing through his calendar. “I’m doublebooked. I can’t do it either.”
“Jack, you’re still in, right?” Barry says. Jack confirms that he is. This unspecified charity golf tournament, which their company is a major supporter of, has not exactly been uppermost in his mind, but he’s still planning on it.
“Do us proud, Jack.” Tom sets his phone back down on the table. “And Barry, try not to be too embarrassing for one afternoon.”
“Can’t promise anything,” Barry says cheerfully. “We should get a foursome together, it’s not like we can get a refund. And it’s a nice fucking course.”
They all look at Fionn. Fionn crosses his arms. “Don’t even think it.”
“Uh, I can see if Harry wants to play,” Jack says, and Barry’s all “That guy you hooked up with? Are you like dating him now?” and Jack says no and doesn’t get into the whole baby thing even though Tom’s staring at him pointedly, because right now Jack’s top priority is texting Harry to see if he wants to golf, because what a perfect excuse to spend the afternoon with Harry, and maybe they can go out afterwards or something.
hey i’ve got to do this charity thing on Saturday at [posh golf course] and half our foursome bailed, do you want to play? After a moment’s thought he adds, it’s paid for.
sure, Harry texts. still need a 4th? could ask niall
go for it
A couple of minutes later, we’re in, what time?
“Done,” Jack announces. “Got four.” That would be a logical segue into oh, by the way, technically there’ll be five of us, but Barry starts giving Jack a hard time about Harry and he just doesn’t feel like getting into it. He’ll tell him on Saturday.
Harry still doesn’t look particularly pregnant, more like he just has bad posture so his belly sticks out a little. From behind, in golf pants, he definitely doesn’t look pregnant, and Jack wants to fit himself against him, tuck his chin over Harry’s shoulder, flatten a palm over his belly, make him stand up straight. Harry starts to pull his golf bag out of the back of Niall’s car and Jack says oh, should I get that? Harry brushes him off, don’t worry about it, it’s not that heavy, and Jack has no idea what he’s supposed to be doing here.
MEANWHILE, Barry’s recognized Niall as the guy who plays guitar on Tuesdays at the Irish pub where Barry hangs out, and Niall recognizes him as the guy who cleans up at trivia night every now and again (“Really?” Jack asks incredulously. “Only when I make Fionn go,” Barry explains.) Barry and Niall get along splendidly, of course, and it’s a gorgeous fall day, and everyone involved has a great time until somewhere on the back nine everyone else is waiting on the green for Harry to recover his ball in the rough, and Barry and Niall start talking about going to the Irish pub afterwards.
Jack says something like, “We should go someplace Harry can get food at least, [disreputable Irish pub] sucks if you’re not drinking.”
“What do you mean, Harry doesn’t drink?” Barry asks. “He was pretty fucking sloppy last time I saw him.”
“He’s pregnant,” Jack says.
“Holy shit! You’re pregnant?” Barry directs the last bit over Jack’s shoulder and Jack looks around to see Harry coming up on the green, a look of horror on his face.
“You’re pregnant?” Niall says, and oh shit, apparently Harry hasn’t told him yet.
“Yeah, I am,” Harry says slowly. “I should have told you before.”
“Like, how pregnant?” Niall asks. “Sweet potato,” Harry and Jack say simultaneously. Harry grins at him, but the momentary thrill of their united front evaporates when Niall looks at Jack with narrowed eyes. “How come he knows so much about this?”
“He’s the father,” Harry says. “Um. The other father.”
“What, are you guys together now?” Niall says, like he can’t believe it. “No, no, we’re not,” Harry answers quickly, and Jack knows it’s the correct answer but it’s still no fun to hear.
Niall says something about Harry having a knack for not telling you things, and Harry kind of walks him over to the side of the green to talk away from Jack and Barry, but not before Jack hears Niall say in an icy calm voice, “At what point were you planning to tell me that I’m playing 18 fucking holes with your unborn child and your, your, what, your babydaddy?”
“Fuckin’ A,” Barry punches Jack in the arm. “The boys can swim, huh?” and Jack remembers exactly why he’d been putting off telling Barry.
After a few minutes Niall and Harry rejoin them and the last few holes are pretty awkward and they part ways back at the clubhouse, with Jack telling Harry he’s so sorry. “Talk later?” Jack asks, after Niall heads toward the parking lot without looking back. “Yeah, I’ll call you,” Harry says. (He doesn’t.)
Jack pulls out his phone as soon as he and Barry get in the car. “What are you doing?” Barry asks. “Texting the group chat before you tell everyone,” Jack says, not looking at him, preoccupied with composing a careful hey sorry i didn’t tell you guys sooner but fyi.... He doesn’t get any further before a message from Barry pops up in the chat. JACK KNOCKED UP HARRY followed by a string of eggplants, water droplets, and baby emojis. “Too late,” Barry announces triumphantly. “You asshole,” Jack says, but doesn’t care that much; it probably wasn’t the worst way to rip the band-aid off.
Fionn’s the only one to respond immediately: are congratulations in order?
i don’t even know, Jack replies.
At happy hour a couple of weeks later, he tells himself he’ll launch into the story after he finishes his next beer, but just then Aneurin says, “Hey, I’ve got to bail on golf Saturday.”
“Shit, is that this weekend?” Tom asks, thumbing through his calendar. “I’m doublebooked. I can’t do it either.”
“Jack, you’re still in, right?” Barry says. Jack confirms that he is. This unspecified charity golf tournament, which their company is a major supporter of, has not exactly been uppermost in his mind, but he’s still planning on it.
“Do us proud, Jack.” Tom sets his phone back down on the table. “And Barry, try not to be too embarrassing for one afternoon.”
“Can’t promise anything,” Barry says cheerfully. “We should get a foursome together, it’s not like we can get a refund. And it’s a nice fucking course.”
They all look at Fionn. Fionn crosses his arms. “Don’t even think it.”
“Uh, I can see if Harry wants to play,” Jack says, and Barry’s all “That guy you hooked up with? Are you like dating him now?” and Jack says no and doesn’t get into the whole baby thing even though Tom’s staring at him pointedly, because right now Jack’s top priority is texting Harry to see if he wants to golf, because what a perfect excuse to spend the afternoon with Harry, and maybe they can go out afterwards or something.
hey i’ve got to do this charity thing on Saturday at [posh golf course] and half our foursome bailed, do you want to play? After a moment’s thought he adds, it’s paid for.
sure, Harry texts. still need a 4th? could ask niall
go for it
A couple of minutes later, we’re in, what time?
“Done,” Jack announces. “Got four.” That would be a logical segue into oh, by the way, technically there’ll be five of us, but Barry starts giving Jack a hard time about Harry and he just doesn’t feel like getting into it. He’ll tell him on Saturday.
Harry still doesn’t look particularly pregnant, more like he just has bad posture so his belly sticks out a little. From behind, in golf pants, he definitely doesn’t look pregnant, and Jack wants to fit himself against him, tuck his chin over Harry’s shoulder, flatten a palm over his belly, make him stand up straight. Harry starts to pull his golf bag out of the back of Niall’s car and Jack says oh, should I get that? Harry brushes him off, don’t worry about it, it’s not that heavy, and Jack has no idea what he’s supposed to be doing here.
MEANWHILE, Barry’s recognized Niall as the guy who plays guitar on Tuesdays at the Irish pub where Barry hangs out, and Niall recognizes him as the guy who cleans up at trivia night every now and again (“Really?” Jack asks incredulously. “Only when I make Fionn go,” Barry explains.) Barry and Niall get along splendidly, of course, and it’s a gorgeous fall day, and everyone involved has a great time until somewhere on the back nine everyone else is waiting on the green for Harry to recover his ball in the rough, and Barry and Niall start talking about going to the Irish pub afterwards.
Jack says something like, “We should go someplace Harry can get food at least, [disreputable Irish pub] sucks if you’re not drinking.”
“What do you mean, Harry doesn’t drink?” Barry asks. “He was pretty fucking sloppy last time I saw him.”
“He’s pregnant,” Jack says.
“Holy shit! You’re pregnant?” Barry directs the last bit over Jack’s shoulder and Jack looks around to see Harry coming up on the green, a look of horror on his face.
“You’re pregnant?” Niall says, and oh shit, apparently Harry hasn’t told him yet.
“Yeah, I am,” Harry says slowly. “I should have told you before.”
“Like, how pregnant?” Niall asks. “Sweet potato,” Harry and Jack say simultaneously. Harry grins at him, but the momentary thrill of their united front evaporates when Niall looks at Jack with narrowed eyes. “How come he knows so much about this?”
“He’s the father,” Harry says. “Um. The other father.”
“What, are you guys together now?” Niall says, like he can’t believe it. “No, no, we’re not,” Harry answers quickly, and Jack knows it’s the correct answer but it’s still no fun to hear.
Niall says something about Harry having a knack for not telling you things, and Harry kind of walks him over to the side of the green to talk away from Jack and Barry, but not before Jack hears Niall say in an icy calm voice, “At what point were you planning to tell me that I’m playing 18 fucking holes with your unborn child and your, your, what, your babydaddy?”
“Fuckin’ A,” Barry punches Jack in the arm. “The boys can swim, huh?” and Jack remembers exactly why he’d been putting off telling Barry.
After a few minutes Niall and Harry rejoin them and the last few holes are pretty awkward and they part ways back at the clubhouse, with Jack telling Harry he’s so sorry. “Talk later?” Jack asks, after Niall heads toward the parking lot without looking back. “Yeah, I’ll call you,” Harry says. (He doesn’t.)
Jack pulls out his phone as soon as he and Barry get in the car. “What are you doing?” Barry asks. “Texting the group chat before you tell everyone,” Jack says, not looking at him, preoccupied with composing a careful hey sorry i didn’t tell you guys sooner but fyi.... He doesn’t get any further before a message from Barry pops up in the chat. JACK KNOCKED UP HARRY followed by a string of eggplants, water droplets, and baby emojis. “Too late,” Barry announces triumphantly. “You asshole,” Jack says, but doesn’t care that much; it probably wasn’t the worst way to rip the band-aid off.
Fionn’s the only one to respond immediately: are congratulations in order?
i don’t even know, Jack replies.