My borrowed face and my third-hand grace only reflect your glory

John wasn’t sure why, for the last week of May, Ianto and Jack suddenly decided that his ‘modern education’ was lacking. Maybe it was the fact that their teenage daughter had gone home, and John needed the distraction. Maybe it was they needed the distraction, splitting time three ways with baby Val, Torchwood, and each other.

Or, as John found himself hoping when they started explaining ’drag’ as a performance art and not part of a gender identity, maybe there were plans for some future private games…

Then he saw the fliers when he was in Cardiff, and found himself strangely excited as June began.

“Guys? Are you planning on trying to explain Pride to me? ‘Cause I know about that. Stonewall ‘n shit.”

The night he brought it up, he watched Ianto look up from his book in bed to where Jack sat up between them, Val in his lap with a pacifier and her plushie seal, recovering from another nightmare. John watched the slow smile they shared as Jack very deliberately went to put Val back down as Ianto pushed him back into the mattress.

“Cariad, I can promise you…there is Pride, and then there is Pride.”

John didn’t get the chance to ask any more questions—and didn’t bother trying to remember them anyway once Jack got back to join them.

* * * * *

“…you weren’t kidding.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

John tries, and fails, not to stare as they find seats at the show. Already, he’s seen four different people with Jack’s build he’s hoping Jack has also seen, because he wants his Angel in those dresses. The evening gown with the hip-height slit, the magenta knee length one with shimmering stockings, or that sheer cream colored thing that teased the illusion of an hourglass figure…

Normally John loves that Jack just dresses up, becoming something soft and feminine and alluring simply because that’s what he is, a beautiful girl for them alone, but he’s mentioned outfits before he might need padding to look the way he wants to. Something like that? Yeah, John might not mind seeing how he pulls that off.

“Jack? If you don’t go shopping soon, I may die.” John croaks as another queen smiles and waves at him—a six foot Amazon in forest green sequins with waist length red curls to match her red lips and a glittering costume emerald choker resting just below her Adam’s Apple.

Ianto follows John’s gaze, and imagines Jack in a similar dress.

“One instance where we are in emphatic agreement.” Ianto murmurs, eyes wide.