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Okay. Alright. Zack was ready to admit it.
He was excited.
This had actually been a possibility for a while now, since he'd stopped taking testosterone two years prior. It simply hadn't been a probability.
Not after Owen died.
Not after Zack miscarried from stress and grief.
He touched his stomach lightly as it churned with the memory, the flare of panic. Would the previous miscarriage make him more likely to miscarry again? Did they have enough of Owen's sperm to try again if Zack did miscarry?
"Sorry, love. Jack bollocks'd up, and I couldn't get out for ages."
The voice interrupted the self-destruct spiral Zack's brain was going down, making his eyes lift behind his sunglasses to look at the skinny figure jogging up to his table. He managed a smile as he exhaled slowly and rose from his seat.
"I thought it might be something like that." Zack stepped away from the table to give the other man a kiss and a brief embrace. "I'm not the only one who missed you while you were gone."
Owen seated the actor again with a snort and a malevolent glance cast at a paparazzo unlucky enough to be spotted taking shots of the young actor on an outing. The doctor was always Zack's hero. And even if it made the photographer blanch, it had the Welshman smiling more naturally at Owen. "Y'know, Jack has a funny way of showing he missed me."
"He's a rule unto himself." The actor shrugged. There was no real point in bringing up the fact Owen did avoid Torchwood for a good couple of days after his unexpected return. Zack still had no idea what had caused that. Ever since they first met each other almost five years ago, Owen had been buried in Torchwood, mostly to escape the world.
After that, he'd mostly been buried in Zack.
Pun intended.
"What'er you smiling about over there?" Owen took his husband's hand with a suspicious scowl on his face, but Zack knew better. Whatever had happened in the last couple of years, whatever had been done to make Owen's body heal and his heart pump blood again, it had caused the empathic bond between Zack and Owen to snap back into place when the doctor finally found his spouse again, like the connexion between Owen and the empath had never been severed by death. It gave Zack a leg up in knowing what was going on with his husband, for the most part.
"You," he replied easily, removing his sunglasses with his free hand so he could blink dark eyes innocently at the paler man. "And sex."
It was at this moment their server--a poor lass who was 20 if she was a day--came up to ask if they were ready. Were Zack unwed, he'd probably be captivated by the blush creeping up the blonde cutie's face. And Owen knew it, judging by his smirk and warning squeeze to Zack's hand. Honestly: that was unfair of Owen, since he'd be interested too under other circumstances.
After Zack placed an order for grilled fish, salad, and sparkling water and Owen made an order that seemed ridiculously unhealthy for a doctor to be ordering, the Englishman returned his attention to Zack. "So. Thinking about me and sex? I thought you were living like a priest these days."
"I'm eating healthier, but hardly living like a priest. You should know."
It was like the worry twisting Zack's stomach earlier never existed. Owen was here. Cocky, smirking, irreverent, capable, caring Owen. He calmed Zack down with his teasing as much as he did with the gentle stroking of his thumb over Zack's inner wrist. "S'good. Sex is healthy. Bit of cardio every day, endorphins. Good for headaches, stress." The doctor paused and squeezed his partner's hand, tender concern radiating along the connexion between them. "So let's have it: what had you in knots earlier?"
The younger man grimaced. It was a two-way street, this connexion. No way to hide what was really going on for Zack. "I'm...excited to try again," he admitted slowly. "But I'm worried. I already miscarried once. What if that makes it more likely I'll miscarry again? If I miscarry again, will we have enough sperm for another try after this? What if--"
"You're just workin' yourself up over bullshit," Owen interrupted. He shook his head. "I know what I'm doing, Zack. Those years of medical school aren't anythin' to sneeze at. Your job in this is to relax, look pretty, and let me between your legs."
There was a brief pause. Then, he couldn't help it: Zack snorted, started snickering. "You're terrible!"
"And yet you married me. Funny, that."
"What can I say? You have your moments."
"Ohhhhhh, I see. Moments, is it?"
The actor found himself in severe danger of cackling with laughter. It's what happened when one went through some pretty major life changes with a person, survived some pretty strange shit, and lived together for almost three years. Owen had been with Zack when the actor was genderfluid, listened when Zack admitted to thinking about going on T. Hell: Dr. Harper even declared he would be the one to administer the treatments for Zack. He stuck with the actor through the transition with a second puberty, through the discovery Zack was an empath. Fights, misunderstandings, a string of lovers--they'd been friends, lovers, partners, through it all.
And through aliens.
"Yeah...you have your moments."
Harper sighed and shook his head before taking a sip of water. "Alright, fine. My moment now though will have to be talking about housing." He paused. "We have a spare room that can be the nursery, if you don't really fancy having an office/guest room setup anymore. If you want both...we need to go house-hunting."
Zack was struck silent for a moment. Owen...was serious. This wasn't a joke. Owen was actually planning on the two of them having a kid. He was acting like their plan was guaranteed to work. Like Zack was going to carry to term this time. It had Zack inhaling shakily before answering him in a soft voice. "I don't mind losing the guest room."
Owen would be lying if he said he wasn't nervous. Zack would know anyway, if the doctor tried to fool him. Being married to an empath did one hell of a job for one's marital communication.
But honestly...it was a bit terrifying. They hadn't planned on it the first time Zack was pregnant. Owen had been in no state to properly process that surprise. And when he finally managed to return home two years later, expecting Zack to have a dark-haired tyke in his arms...Gwen had delivered a crushing blow.
Zack had lost the baby.
Owen's steps back to the Hub slowed and he forced himself to breathe slowly, deeply. As if that news hadn't been enough Jack bloody Harkness had got on Owen's ass about leaving Zack. As if that had been Owen's fucking choice.
Remembering made it so tempting to avoid the Hub again for the day, of not for another couple of weeks.
He exhaled slowly and pulled out his phone, bringing up the lock screen. Zack's face, blossomed in a delighted smile, beamed out at him. The main reason Owen had wanted to return to Earth at all. The only reason the cynical, sarcastic, and overall difficult Dr. Harper was interested again in having kids.
After Katie had died, Owen had spiralled down. The girl he loved, the woman he'd wanted to marry, had died along with his friend and the surgical team because her tumour had been a fucking alien. In yet another session of trying to numb himself afterwards with drink, the doctor came to the conclusion: it really was a shame the world would never get to see his indubitably brilliant progeny. Obviously, something had to be done about that, and within the next few days, a sperm bank was several samples richer.
It had honestly slipped his mind until his head cooled down after that fight with Jack. When he finally found the paperwork, Owen broached the possibility of in vitro to Zack. The look on Zack's face...Owen knew from the hope flowing from the actor and the trembling smile on his face what the answer was, even without the tremulous "yes, please" that came out of Zack.
Harper knew how the procedure would go. He could even do it, and planned on doing it. Zack's ovaries were still in good shape, and the actor reportedly had fairly regular periods in the two years Owen had been gone. Should be a piece of cake. The big thing would be keeping Zack from getting stressed this time around. No work for Zack, and less field work for Owen once they get a positive result.
But could he do it? Be a dad, that is. His own father had never really been a presence in his life, so what did Owen know about being a dad?
As he stopped in a shop to look at baby bedding, cribs, and other paraphernalia, it kind of hit Owen as he saw a couple browsing together: he wasn't doing this alone. He had Zack. And honestly: Zack had the hard part in this endeavour.
The more he thought about it, the more certain Owen was in his conclusion that overall, Zack had the harder job. Owen dove head-first into trouble, but Zack had to watch him go. Always had to wait for the doctor, even before Owen died. And Zack somehow managed that, an active acting career, and learning to control his empathy.
"What are you worrying about over there?" the actor greeted him from the kitchen as Owen entered the flat. The new place was in a completely different neighbourhood from where the couple had first met and lived. The walls were white, but Zack and Owen were in the process of adding splashes of colour to the space. It still felt off enough from home that it took Owen a moment to answer his husband.
"What? Sorry." He shook his head and met almost eerily light green eyes with his own coffee-hued eyes. Those were Zack's real eyes, not the dark brown orbs of earlier at the café. Now, contacts didn't hide gorgeous irises from Owen's gaze as he sauntered closer to his spouse. "Just thinkin'. It's nothin' you need to worry about, sweetheart."
Zack took a beat, just gazing at Owen, but seemed to accept the deflection. For the moment, at least. "Baked us a chicken and potatoes."
"Great. I'm starving." Owen pressed a kiss to his lover's cheek before pulling something out of his bag with a flourish. "Brought you a present."
In Owen's hand was a plethora of colours on strips of paper. The sight had his husband's eyebrow arch with confusion. "Palette strips?"
"For the nursery."
Owen tried to make it sound like an implied 'are you daft?' Anyone else might have been fooled. But Zack and Owen both knew: he was just being typical Owen, trying to bury an emotional moment with sarcasm, deflection. This was one more thing making their future child that much more real. The first step had been checking if the sperm bank still had Owen's sperm and that it was still viable. Second step had been a visit to a gynaecologist for an exam, which reassured the couple that Zack could bear children.
Optional third step: planning where and how they were going to live with the baby.
There were pink palettes, and blue. And green. And yellow. And purple. An array of pastels and neon colours, a few more subdued palettes. Owen even had some pamphlets with photos of different colour schemes in a room. "I thought we should have some options. I mean, it's bollocks, really, going 'oh, if it's a girl, the room needs to be pink! If it's a boy, we need blue!' We should just...pick somethin' we like that won't keep the tyke up."
Owen was rambling, but it didn't bother Zack. The actor was still a bit caught up in the fact his husband had taken the time to look at paint, pick out colour palettes instead of just snagging whatever. "Which is why you left out red?"
"Exactly."
The couple spent a moment in silence, simply staring at each other, before bursting into laughter. They moved together as if with one mind to kiss softly in a series of gradually deepening kisses, lingering more and more, until the beeping of the oven interrupted them.
"Oh. Um." Zack chuckled against his partner's lips and gestured vaguely towards the kitchen. "That'll be the chicken."
"Cock-blocked by a bird again."
"Oh cheer up, you. There's time enough for that later. I thought you said you were starving."
It was admittedly gratifying to hear and feel Owen's frustration as he groaned after Zack. "Yeah, but now I'm starvin' for somethin' else!"