FIC: Down goes Rudolph
Name: Down goes Rudolph
Rating: R for swearing and mistreatment of Santa and reindeers in a non-sexual way (even *I* am not that bad).
Pairings/Characters: Gwen, Jack/Ianto, Santa.
Summary: The Christmas season gets on top of Gwen.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Really. Really. NOT MINE.
Beta: skullgirl013 !
Author’s Note: o.o I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. (Inspired by rowanheart24 . Blame HER! LOL)
It was a tradition of the Williams family that each year someone of the family would host a Christmas dinner. This year it was Gwen’s turn and Rhys refused to help for that reason. It. Was. Gwen’s. Turn. Not his.
But, of course, Christmas had to move to one side for Torchwood and its alien activities, something that was frustrating Gwen. She was spending her days juggling putting up Christmas decorations, demanding that Rhys buy her a specific item and trying to arrange Christmas dinner.
Gwen was stood, precariously balanced on the top of a step stool, one hand putting up tinsel, the other attaching lights to a tree when Rhys came in on the twenty-third.
“Rhys fucking Williams!” she shouted. “If I do not see a DVD of the first season of Supernatural under that tree on Christmas day I will kill you!”
Rhys stopped in his tracks.
“Supernatural?”
Gwen twisted round, eyes focussing on him. “Rhys Williams, you better be joking.”
Rhys blinked. Hard. Repeatedly. “Oh god.”
In her rush to get to - and thusly murder - Rhys, Gwen fell off the stool.
Rhys wasn't sure he was brave enough to make sure she was okay.
*
Half way through preparing for making Christmas dinner the next day - at half past nine in the evening - Gwen received a call from Torchwood. The year before she would have ignored it, but, with the lack of Tosh and Owen, she didn’t have a choice anymore. So, with the table half moved into the middle of the room, Gwen abandoned it and went to Torchwood.
Ianto greeted her with a smile and a wave.
She gave him the finger.
He rolled his eyes and went back to locating the alien invasion going on.
After all, it was Christmas. And what was Christmas without aliens descending from the skies?
“Now, I don't think we need to worry; after all, the Doctor’s been around every Christmas for the past five years, but we need to be in just in case...” Jack said.
“If the Doctor will deal with it, why do we have to be here?” Gwen demanded through gritted teeth. “I have twenty people coming to my flat tomorrow and I have nothing prepared!”
Jack patted her on the shoulder. “Torchwood comes first, Gwen,” he said.
Gwen clenched her fists and bit through her lip.
*
It was quarter to midnight when Rhys phoned.
Gwen was sat in the Torchwood hub doodling hangmen on Ianto’s post-it pad, a line of broken-in-half pencils on her desk that she’d snapped mid-writing.
“Think she’s okay?” Jack asked Ianto, quietly.
Ianto eyed her bloodshot eyes. “Uh ... no. I don't think she is.”
DRINGGGGGGGGGGGG!
Gwen jumped up off her seat, looking around, wildly. When she realised it was her phone ringing she grabbed it and answered it. “Hello!?”
“Gwen? It’s Rhys. Where the hell are you? The table’s not set up and my mother’s going to be here at nine tomorrow and there’s nowhere to sit and ...”
Gwen clenched her fists, nails digging into skin and drawing blood. “Put your mother in a big red coat with white trimmings and stick her by the tree! Everyone will think Santa’s here late!” She hung up, dropping her phone on the floor and stamping on it, breathing heavily.
“Fetch your stun-gun,” Jack whispered to Ianto.
Ianto nodded and ran off.
Jack approached Gwen, cautiously. “Um, Gwen? Gwen, dear? Lovely Gwen who we treasure and don't want to stun?”
Gwen rounded on him. He backed off.
“Shall I go shag Ianto and leave you alone?”
She stared at him, angrily.
Jack took a deep breath. “Gwen, maybe this will cheer you up some: Santa visits Torchwood at midnight.”
She growled. “We’re having a secret Santa? There’s three of us, Jack, how secret can it be?”
“No, no,” Jack spluttered. “Santa visits Torchwood. Father Christmas is real. Well, he’s an alien. A really, really generous alien. Who visits Torchwood once a year.”
She blinked. “Does he bring Supernatural DVDs?” she asked.
“I don't know.”
She glared at him. “Then I don't care.” She sat down on her chair, heavily, arms crossed across her chest, heel digging into the phone still in bits on the floor.
Ianto reappeared, carrying his stungun (hidden) and looking edgy. Jack waved at him and crouched down, looking at Gwen. “Gwen ... what’s going on?”
“Christmas. I. Hate. Bloody. Fucking. Bleeding. Sodding. Christmas.”
Jack blinked. “Okay, so you hate Christmas. But why are you on the verge of a nervous breakdown?”
“Twenty people. My flat. Tomorrow. Not prepared. Why shouldn’t I be on the verse of a nervous breakdown, hmm?”
Jack sighed, then perked up. “Ooh, listen!” he exclaimed.
Sure enough, there was the sound of sleigh bells above the hub and someone saying, “Ho, ho, ho!”
Curiosity getting the better of her, Gwen stood up and, as Ianto hit the button to open the cog door. Sure enough; a flying sleigh with all the bells and whistles (no pun intended) came soaring through the door, lead by flying reindeers of all things. Gwen stared at it.
“That’s Santa,” she said.
“Ho, ho, ho!” Santa said, landing his sleigh by the water tower and climbing out. Ianto immediately ran forward and offered a bowl of food each to his reindeer.
“Is that Rudolph?” Gwen asked, pointing at the leading reindeer with a big red nose.
“Yep.” Jack pointed at the reindeers in turn as he said, “And that’s Donner and Blitzen and Comet and Cupid and...”
Gwen pushed his hand down. “I know the reindeers.” She looked at them. “Dasher, Dancer, Prancer and ... Where’s Vixen?”
“Oh ... Vixen had a little run in with one of our resident weevils a few years ago,” Jack said. He cupped his hand over his mouth and whispered, “We don't talk about it.”
Gwen’s eyes widened. “Whaa’?”
“Like I say. Don't talk about it.” He ran across the hub towards Santa. “Great to see you! Nice to see you trimming down a bit.” Jack grabbed Santa and hugged him, rubbing his stomach and grinning.
“Dear God, don't tell me you had a fling with Santa,” Ianto said. Santa blushed. Ianto rolled his eyes. “Now I’ve heard it all.”
“Well, the elves are better height for fun things but Santa’s really creative...” Jack said. Ianto just stared at him.
“Santa,” Gwen said, stepping towards him and smiling, slightly shyly. “I don't suppose you have a box in there for me, do you? DVD box shaped? Supernatural Season One?”
Santa looked through his bag as Ianto and Jack walked a few meters away, arguing about Santa and sex not being mixed. “I’m afraid not,” he said.
It happened in ten seconds. Too short a time for Jack to do anything about it.
One minute Gwen was stood, perfectly happy, in front of Santa. The next her eyes hardened, she grabbed her gun, put it to his head and yelled, “If I don't see a DVD box under the tree in ten minutes Santa gets a bullet in the brainpan!”
Jack stared at her. “Gwen, you’re not going to shoot a treasured childhood memory.”
Gwen turned and shot Rudolph in the head.
Jack turned to Ianto. “We have a situation. Let’s try and defuse it.”
“It’s Gwen or Santa, Jack,” Ianto said.
Jack nodded. “I know.” He paused. “Know anywhere you can get Supernatural Season One in ten minutes?”
*
Ten Years Later
“Uncle Jack, Uncle Jack!” Little Toshiko came bouncing across the room towards her two uncles. She looked panic stricken.
“What’s up?” Jack asked, lifting her onto the sofa between him and Ianto - much to Ianto, who was previously enjoying sitting with Jack’s arms around him’s, chagrin - and peering down at her.
“Rose says there is no such thing as Santa Claus,” Toshiko whimpered. She was six, Rose was nine. Rose was old enough to know there was no such thing as Santa and was starting to have a basic grasp of sex (thanks to her fathers’ activities). She seemed to take pleasure from corrupting Gwen’s children. Jack was proud of her for it.
“Well, Rose is a mean little girl who likes destroying the truth for other kids,” Gwen said, entering the room carrying a tray of cookies. “Of course Santa exists. I met him.”
Jack and Ianto exchanged glances.
Rose came bounding into the room, dropping in between her fathers and almost squashing Tosh, who Ianto lifted out of the way at the last moment. “Okay, so I lied!” she squealed. “But only because the truth is horrible.”
“Rose!” Jack and Ianto yelped, warningly.
Rose grinned, tongue between her teeth. “Toshi ...” she said.
“Rose, don't you dare,” Jack said. Gwen looked pensive.
“You didn’t tell her?” Gwen hissed.
“Toshi, your mom killed Santa. And Rudolph. That’s why there’s a red coat hanging in the hub and eight reindeers living in the vaults!”
~The End~