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mpreg jackrry, part 11
Nov. 13th, 2017 11:02 pm[looks like we haven’t talked about Harry’s family yet! Maybe around this time Anne and Robin and Gemma come to town, and maybe Harry brings Jack to dinner with them? I don’t know how this would go but it should probably happen. Maybe Jack’s left alone with Gemma at some point and she says something fiercely protective? Idk, ideas welcome.]
Anyway, now it’s December, so cue Harry Styles being a giant Christmas dork. Maybe Jack helps hang Christmas lights at his apartment and haul the tree up the stairs, sparing Zayn the task. Maybe Harry has a hideous Christmas sweater, maternity clothes edition. Maybe there’s hot chocolate. Maybe there’s a stocking or an ornament for the baby, idk, hey all you people who actually read this trope: how much pregnancy fluff is actually desirable? Anyway, at some point around week 32 (a large jicama, the app specifies -- “wouldn’t want a small jicama, would we,” notes Harry --) Harry and Jack are hanging out on the couch in the glow of the Christmas tree and Harry asks if Jack’s up to anything this weekend, and Jack makes a face. “Just the office party.”
Harry is WILDLY INTRIGUED by the office party, which is at some fancy restaurant downtown, and Jack has to explain that it’s just his division so his closest work friends won’t even be there, and it’s just an excuse for management to pat themselves on the back for a good year, and it’s always super boring but people notice if you don’t go, and he can’t ever remember the names of anybody’s spouses, and it’s such a waste of a Saturday… “Can you bring a date?” Harry asks. Jack can’t believe Harry actually wants to go, but Harry convinces him, hey, it’s a free meal, a little party never hurt nobody, let’s do it. Oooohhhhh, and… Harry smirks… “Are you going to wear your kilt?” Jack was certainly not planning on this but if Harry wants him to, well.
[I will happily accept suggestions for Harry’s extremely pregnant office party attire. Currently leaning toward plants pants since they seem to have a talent for accommodating surprise bulges.]
They cab it to the party, because driving downtown during the holidays is miserable, and Jack fidgets in the backseat while Harry chats up the driver. He’s got to clear something up before they get to the party, and it’s going to be awkward, but not saying anything is going to make the party really awkward, and I’ve written five different versions of this conversation and I’m not sure which one (if any) works. The upshot is that Jack says something about introducing Harry to people as his boyfriend, and there’s some confusion and back-and-forth and possible offense taken about whether Jack’s just suggesting that for office party convenience, but Jack means it and Harry wants him to mean it (or else Harry’s just confused because he thought this was all perfectly clear already) and EVERYBODY’S HAPPY going into the party.
It goes well! Jack UNFAIRLY BENEFITS from the total double standard whereby a male employee who’s about to become a parent is immediately perceived as mature and settled and stable and reliable! (which is not the case for a woman! but this story has no female protagonists to be bitter about that!) His superiors are talking to him about hospitals and sleep training and private schools and soccer leagues, and Jack is totally bluffing his way through this because he has not put much thought at all into the actual logistics of the next 18 years. Meanwhile Harry’s on the other side of the room charming everyone, and as cocktail hour rolls on everybody who circulates in Jack’s direction tells him how much they like Harry. (“I can’t believe you didn’t even tell us you were expecting! We’ve barely got time to have a shower for you two!”)
As dinner wanes, Jack gets up to fetch another drink for himself and a tonic and lime for Harry. He catches Harry by himself at their table when he returns, pretty much the first moment they’ve had to themselves since they walked in the door. Jack sits down next to him and slides his drink over. “I think you won office party.”
Harry stretches like a smug cat. “If we’re playing a game, I want to win.”
“Thanks,” Jack says. “Seriously.”
Harry leans in close and whispers hot against Jack’s ear. “I’m happy to keep being office party boyfriend.” Jack feels a hand curl around his knee, under the tablecloth. “But I’m ready to go whenever you are.” There are fingertips inching along the bare inside of Jack’s thigh, under his kilt.
“Right,” Jack says, standing up quickly, “off we go.”
Anyway, now it’s December, so cue Harry Styles being a giant Christmas dork. Maybe Jack helps hang Christmas lights at his apartment and haul the tree up the stairs, sparing Zayn the task. Maybe Harry has a hideous Christmas sweater, maternity clothes edition. Maybe there’s hot chocolate. Maybe there’s a stocking or an ornament for the baby, idk, hey all you people who actually read this trope: how much pregnancy fluff is actually desirable? Anyway, at some point around week 32 (a large jicama, the app specifies -- “wouldn’t want a small jicama, would we,” notes Harry --) Harry and Jack are hanging out on the couch in the glow of the Christmas tree and Harry asks if Jack’s up to anything this weekend, and Jack makes a face. “Just the office party.”
Harry is WILDLY INTRIGUED by the office party, which is at some fancy restaurant downtown, and Jack has to explain that it’s just his division so his closest work friends won’t even be there, and it’s just an excuse for management to pat themselves on the back for a good year, and it’s always super boring but people notice if you don’t go, and he can’t ever remember the names of anybody’s spouses, and it’s such a waste of a Saturday… “Can you bring a date?” Harry asks. Jack can’t believe Harry actually wants to go, but Harry convinces him, hey, it’s a free meal, a little party never hurt nobody, let’s do it. Oooohhhhh, and… Harry smirks… “Are you going to wear your kilt?” Jack was certainly not planning on this but if Harry wants him to, well.
[I will happily accept suggestions for Harry’s extremely pregnant office party attire. Currently leaning toward plants pants since they seem to have a talent for accommodating surprise bulges.]
They cab it to the party, because driving downtown during the holidays is miserable, and Jack fidgets in the backseat while Harry chats up the driver. He’s got to clear something up before they get to the party, and it’s going to be awkward, but not saying anything is going to make the party really awkward, and I’ve written five different versions of this conversation and I’m not sure which one (if any) works. The upshot is that Jack says something about introducing Harry to people as his boyfriend, and there’s some confusion and back-and-forth and possible offense taken about whether Jack’s just suggesting that for office party convenience, but Jack means it and Harry wants him to mean it (or else Harry’s just confused because he thought this was all perfectly clear already) and EVERYBODY’S HAPPY going into the party.
It goes well! Jack UNFAIRLY BENEFITS from the total double standard whereby a male employee who’s about to become a parent is immediately perceived as mature and settled and stable and reliable! (which is not the case for a woman! but this story has no female protagonists to be bitter about that!) His superiors are talking to him about hospitals and sleep training and private schools and soccer leagues, and Jack is totally bluffing his way through this because he has not put much thought at all into the actual logistics of the next 18 years. Meanwhile Harry’s on the other side of the room charming everyone, and as cocktail hour rolls on everybody who circulates in Jack’s direction tells him how much they like Harry. (“I can’t believe you didn’t even tell us you were expecting! We’ve barely got time to have a shower for you two!”)
As dinner wanes, Jack gets up to fetch another drink for himself and a tonic and lime for Harry. He catches Harry by himself at their table when he returns, pretty much the first moment they’ve had to themselves since they walked in the door. Jack sits down next to him and slides his drink over. “I think you won office party.”
Harry stretches like a smug cat. “If we’re playing a game, I want to win.”
“Thanks,” Jack says. “Seriously.”
Harry leans in close and whispers hot against Jack’s ear. “I’m happy to keep being office party boyfriend.” Jack feels a hand curl around his knee, under the tablecloth. “But I’m ready to go whenever you are.” There are fingertips inching along the bare inside of Jack’s thigh, under his kilt.
“Right,” Jack says, standing up quickly, “off we go.”
