‘Great! Now I’m mummy, with thirty-seven hungry mouths to feed!’ Ianto thought with a sigh. His scalp tickled from the brood’s little feet. He’d need to persuade them to stay in some sort of nest; he couldn’t carry them around on his head all the time.
A heat-lamp over a box containing one of his t-shirts did the trick. It smelled of him and was cosy to snuggle into, silver scales shimmering in the lamplight.
The babies were already quite independent, able to flutter out and feast on the mealworms Tosh had provided. Maybe being surrogate mum wasn’t so bad.
TBC in ‘Fledglings’