Fic: Ebenezer Jones
Title: Ebenezer Jones
Author: Erin Giles
Disclaimer: Torchwood is the intellectual property of the BBC.
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: Jack/Ianto, Finn
A/N: This is for electrictoes because apparently when I’m wrong about things I have to write her Finn fic. I like to see this as ‘Well Done’ fic for her finishing NaNoWriMo and getting a permanent job, though.
Summary: AU. FitS. Jack wants a proper family Christmas, Finn is still trying to understand Christmas, but Ianto’s attitude to Christmas, however, seems to be bah humbug!
‘My nose is cold.’
‘That’s because you keep pulling your scarf off,’ Ianto said, bending down to tug Finn’s Thomas the Tank Engine scarf back in place over his nose. His own nose was numb from the cold wind sweeping through the Cardiff streets, but Jack had ‘borrowed’ his own scarf yesterday and then failed to return it.
‘But I can’t breathe,’ Finn complained, making fake choking noises as Ianto grasped his mittened hand in his own gloveless one - Jack had borrowed his gloves too.
‘Well it’s either a cold nose or not being able to breathe.’ Finn seemed to consider this for a moment, deciding to keep his scarf in place as Ianto pulled his matching hat back out of Finn’s eyes.
‘Look at the Christmas lights, Uncle Ianto.’ Finn was waving a hand up into the air above them, marvelling in the sparkle of Nadolig Llawen.
‘Uncle Ianto.’ Finn twisted round to find his Uncle in the sparkling wonderland of Cardiff city centre.
‘Uncle Ianto!’ Finn was tugging on Ianto’s arm, demanding attention as Ianto himself searched for a familiar face in the late night shopping crowd.
‘What?’ Ianto barked, and Finn’s eyes immediately filled with tears. There was a wobble to his voice when he spoke.
‘The Christmas lights,’ Finn said, meekly, pointing above Ianto’s head with his free hand. Ianto sighed. He didn’t mean to take his foul mood out on Finn.
‘They’re very pretty, Finn, but I’m trying to find your Uncle Jack.’
Finn sniffled, reigning in the tears. ‘He said he was going to see Lewis John.’
‘No, he was going to John Lewis, Finn.’
‘Well maybe we should look for him there?’ Finn suggested with the kind of wide-eyed innocence that Ianto sometimes envied.
‘He said he’d meet us outside,’ Ianto said even as he pulled his phone out of his coat pocket. He pressed speed dial 3 and waited. It rang several times before it went to Jack’s voicemail. He tried again, thinking Jack just wasn’t able to hear his phone wherever he was. It went to voicemail for a second time and Ianto sighed, a huff of warm air colliding with the freezing cold night and curling it’s way towards the stall that was selling mulled wine and sausages. Ianto looked at the crowd surrounding it, hoping to find Jack red faced and merry. No such luck.
‘Sleepy bird,’ Finn said, leaning against Ianto’s leg and tugging his arm down so it pulled on Ianto’s shoulder.
‘Come on,’ said Ianto, lifting Finn up into his arms. ‘Let’s go see if we can find your Uncle Jack inside.’ Finn pressed his nose against Ianto’s cheek causing Ianto to hiss in displeasure. Finn’s nose really was cold.
‘When your phone rings, you’re supposed to answer it,’ Ianto said as they reached Jack on the second floor of John Lewis where he was looking at Christmas wreathes.
‘You rang?’ Jack asked, putting one wreath down to fish his phone out his pocket. He cringed when he looked at it, noticing he had two missed calls, both from Ianto.
‘Sorry,’ he apologised. ‘Now you’re here, though, what do you think?’ Jack presented Ianto with two wreathes as Ianto let Finn down onto the shop floor.
‘Don’t wander too far,’ Ianto called after the small boy. ‘What am I supposed to think of them?’ he said to Jack. ‘They’re Christmas wreathes. One’s red and the other is green.’
‘Which one do you like better?’ Jack asked, holding one up and then the other as if he was going to hang them round his neck and parade around the town centre, passing on Christmas cheer to all.
‘For what?’
‘For playing festive hoopla. What do you think it’s for?’ Jack said in exasperation. ‘It’s to put on the door.’
‘What? For the Tourist Information?’
‘No, Ianto, for your front door.’
‘Why do I want a wreath for my front door?’
‘Because the only Christmas decorations you own is tinsel made out of asbestos from 1983 and reused bits of string that still smell of cigarettes that you use to hang Christmas cards over.’
‘I was born in 1983. I highly doubt I bought my tinsel when I was a baby.’
Jack glared. ‘I want a proper family Christmas this year, Ebenezer.’
‘What’s this?’ Finn asked, presenting Ianto with a very breakable looking pack of baubles.
‘They’re Christmas tree decorations, Finn. Now put them down.’ Ianto turned back to Jack. ‘What do you mean, ‘proper family Christmas’?’
‘I mean Christmas tree, presents, turkey, chestnuts roasting by the open fire with stockings hung above and Christmas carol singing round the piano after dinner.’
‘You’ve been watching It’s A Wonderful Life again, haven’t you?’ Ianto accused Jack. Finn was back again, presenting his Uncle with more Christmas decorations.
‘What’s this?’
‘It’s tinsel, Finn.’
‘What’s it for?’
‘For strangling your Uncle Jack with,’ Ianto said in exasperation. Finn frowned, looking up at his Uncle Jack as if for conformation, but when he didn’t get any he decided to take it back to where he’d found it. He didn’t want his Uncle Jack to get strangled.
‘I just want a traditional family Christmas, round the table, with the whole Jones family,’ said Jack.
‘Jack, they’re not even your family!’
Jack stopped looking at wreaths then, looked straight at Ianto with a rather pained expression of his face and Ianto immediately wished he could take back what he’d said. He opened his mouth to say something, to apologise, to backtrack, to do something to make it better, but Finn beat him to it.
‘What are these?’
Both Ianto and Jack turned to look at Finn holding up a traditional glass jar of black and white striped sweets for inspection.
‘Ask your Uncle Ianto,’ Jack said, his voice cracking slightly before he dumped the two wreaths he had been trying to decide between and left. Ianto opened his mouth to call Jack back, but he didn’t particularly want a domestic in the middle of the shop.
‘Uncle Ianto, what are these?’
It took Ianto a moment to tear his eyes away from the blue coat of Jack’s that was hurrying down the escalators. ‘They’re humbugs, Finn.’
Ianto heard Jack’s keys in the door around midnight. He’d been sat on the sofa for the last four hours channel hopping, not watching anything for more than a couple of minutes before he was looking for something else to watch. It was the time of the year when Christmas specials were being dusted off, and family films were being given airings.
He and Finn had watched A Muppet’s Christmas Carol when they’d gotten home before Ianto had put Finn to bed. Rhiannon was out at her works Christmas do. Finn had been looking for his Uncle Jack to read him a bedtime story, and Ianto had had to tell him that Uncle Jack was working late.
Ianto was already out in the hall when Jack finished unlocking the front door and got himself over the threshold. The apology that he’d spent most of the evening preparing suddenly evaded him though. He opened his mouth like a goldfish out of water while Jack took his time closing the front door and shrugging out of his coat.
‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ was all Ianto managed to get out. He turned away from Jack and padded into the kitchen, hoping Jack would follow him.
‘Finn was looking for his Uncle Jack to read him a bedtime story,’ Ianto said when the kettle was boiling and Jack was leaning against the kitchen work surface furthest away from Ianto and the kettle.
‘Did you tell him he doesn’t have an Uncle Jack?’
‘No.’
They stared at each other across the kitchen for a moment, both of them with arms folded across their chests, waiting for the other to say something first.
‘I’m sorry,’ Ianto said, just as the kettle wound itself up into a deafening roar before it clicked off and settled back down.
‘I’m sorry,’ he repeated, just to make sure Jack had heard him. Jack just nodded and gave Ianto the ghost of a smile. Ianto made the coffee then and they sat in an uncomfortable silence until they soundlessly agreed it was time to go to bed.
Ianto was staring up at the bedroom ceiling several hours later, the hairs on his arms slowly standing up as the bedroom got progressively colder. He wasn’t sure if Jack was still awake, but if the lack of snoring and wriggling was anything to go by he probably was. They was a rift between them in the bed and Ianto couldn’t get comfortable, so used to being nearer to the middle of the bed than clinging onto the edge.
‘You do know that you’re part of the family?’ His voice was halfway between a whisper and a croak. Jack didn’t say anything so Ianto cleared his throat and continued to talk to the ceiling.
‘If you want to cook the Christmas dinner and hang stockings on the fire and sing carols round the-‘ Ianto paused, trying to think of a substitute for a piano they didn’t own. ‘Well, I’m sure Finn would play his recorder if you asked him. Not sure he knows anything other than Three Blind Mice, though. But if you want to do all that then I’m not going to stop you.’ Ianto sighed, rolling his eyes at himself and his own ineptitude when it came to apologies.
‘We can do it together. Decorate the Christmas tree, cook the turkey, drink too much alcohol, and go carol singing. I’ll even wear Mr. and Mr. itchy Christmas jumpers if you want. I’ll make you your own stocking to hang next to mine.’ There was a pause where Ianto tried to think of some other festive family fun that would please Jack.
‘You have a Christmas stocking?’ Jack asked from his side of the bed.
‘My Mam made them for all of us when we were kids. She made Finn one when he was born too. I’m pretty sure Rhiannon can’t sow to save her life, but I’m quite handy with a needle and thread.’ Ianto let his head roll to the side so he could see Jack in profile where he was staring at the ceiling.
‘You don’t have to make me a Christmas stocking,’ Jack said as he shifted in the bed, rolling onto his side so he was closer to Ianto.
‘You’re part of the family,’ Ianto said, rolling onto his side too so their noses were almost touching now, his next words nothing more than a whisper. ‘You deserve one.’
Jack closed the minimal gap between them and kissed Ianto warmly on the lips. There was a lot of shuffling and rustling of bedcovers before Ianto and Jack were settled into their usual sleeping positions, much closer and no longer hanging onto the edge of the bed.
‘Jack?’
‘Hmm?’ Jack was rubbing a hand up and down Ianto’s arm, causing him to shiver slightly.
‘You’re not going to make me wear a Christmas jumper are you?’
Jack laughed. ‘No. But I appreciate the sentiment all the same.’
Author: Erin Giles
Disclaimer: Torchwood is the intellectual property of the BBC.
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: Jack/Ianto, Finn
A/N: This is for electrictoes because apparently when I’m wrong about things I have to write her Finn fic. I like to see this as ‘Well Done’ fic for her finishing NaNoWriMo and getting a permanent job, though.
Summary: AU. FitS. Jack wants a proper family Christmas, Finn is still trying to understand Christmas, but Ianto’s attitude to Christmas, however, seems to be bah humbug!
‘My nose is cold.’
‘That’s because you keep pulling your scarf off,’ Ianto said, bending down to tug Finn’s Thomas the Tank Engine scarf back in place over his nose. His own nose was numb from the cold wind sweeping through the Cardiff streets, but Jack had ‘borrowed’ his own scarf yesterday and then failed to return it.
‘But I can’t breathe,’ Finn complained, making fake choking noises as Ianto grasped his mittened hand in his own gloveless one - Jack had borrowed his gloves too.
‘Well it’s either a cold nose or not being able to breathe.’ Finn seemed to consider this for a moment, deciding to keep his scarf in place as Ianto pulled his matching hat back out of Finn’s eyes.
‘Look at the Christmas lights, Uncle Ianto.’ Finn was waving a hand up into the air above them, marvelling in the sparkle of Nadolig Llawen.
‘Uncle Ianto.’ Finn twisted round to find his Uncle in the sparkling wonderland of Cardiff city centre.
‘Uncle Ianto!’ Finn was tugging on Ianto’s arm, demanding attention as Ianto himself searched for a familiar face in the late night shopping crowd.
‘What?’ Ianto barked, and Finn’s eyes immediately filled with tears. There was a wobble to his voice when he spoke.
‘The Christmas lights,’ Finn said, meekly, pointing above Ianto’s head with his free hand. Ianto sighed. He didn’t mean to take his foul mood out on Finn.
‘They’re very pretty, Finn, but I’m trying to find your Uncle Jack.’
Finn sniffled, reigning in the tears. ‘He said he was going to see Lewis John.’
‘No, he was going to John Lewis, Finn.’
‘Well maybe we should look for him there?’ Finn suggested with the kind of wide-eyed innocence that Ianto sometimes envied.
‘He said he’d meet us outside,’ Ianto said even as he pulled his phone out of his coat pocket. He pressed speed dial 3 and waited. It rang several times before it went to Jack’s voicemail. He tried again, thinking Jack just wasn’t able to hear his phone wherever he was. It went to voicemail for a second time and Ianto sighed, a huff of warm air colliding with the freezing cold night and curling it’s way towards the stall that was selling mulled wine and sausages. Ianto looked at the crowd surrounding it, hoping to find Jack red faced and merry. No such luck.
‘Sleepy bird,’ Finn said, leaning against Ianto’s leg and tugging his arm down so it pulled on Ianto’s shoulder.
‘Come on,’ said Ianto, lifting Finn up into his arms. ‘Let’s go see if we can find your Uncle Jack inside.’ Finn pressed his nose against Ianto’s cheek causing Ianto to hiss in displeasure. Finn’s nose really was cold.
‘When your phone rings, you’re supposed to answer it,’ Ianto said as they reached Jack on the second floor of John Lewis where he was looking at Christmas wreathes.
‘You rang?’ Jack asked, putting one wreath down to fish his phone out his pocket. He cringed when he looked at it, noticing he had two missed calls, both from Ianto.
‘Sorry,’ he apologised. ‘Now you’re here, though, what do you think?’ Jack presented Ianto with two wreathes as Ianto let Finn down onto the shop floor.
‘Don’t wander too far,’ Ianto called after the small boy. ‘What am I supposed to think of them?’ he said to Jack. ‘They’re Christmas wreathes. One’s red and the other is green.’
‘Which one do you like better?’ Jack asked, holding one up and then the other as if he was going to hang them round his neck and parade around the town centre, passing on Christmas cheer to all.
‘For what?’
‘For playing festive hoopla. What do you think it’s for?’ Jack said in exasperation. ‘It’s to put on the door.’
‘What? For the Tourist Information?’
‘No, Ianto, for your front door.’
‘Why do I want a wreath for my front door?’
‘Because the only Christmas decorations you own is tinsel made out of asbestos from 1983 and reused bits of string that still smell of cigarettes that you use to hang Christmas cards over.’
‘I was born in 1983. I highly doubt I bought my tinsel when I was a baby.’
Jack glared. ‘I want a proper family Christmas this year, Ebenezer.’
‘What’s this?’ Finn asked, presenting Ianto with a very breakable looking pack of baubles.
‘They’re Christmas tree decorations, Finn. Now put them down.’ Ianto turned back to Jack. ‘What do you mean, ‘proper family Christmas’?’
‘I mean Christmas tree, presents, turkey, chestnuts roasting by the open fire with stockings hung above and Christmas carol singing round the piano after dinner.’
‘You’ve been watching It’s A Wonderful Life again, haven’t you?’ Ianto accused Jack. Finn was back again, presenting his Uncle with more Christmas decorations.
‘What’s this?’
‘It’s tinsel, Finn.’
‘What’s it for?’
‘For strangling your Uncle Jack with,’ Ianto said in exasperation. Finn frowned, looking up at his Uncle Jack as if for conformation, but when he didn’t get any he decided to take it back to where he’d found it. He didn’t want his Uncle Jack to get strangled.
‘I just want a traditional family Christmas, round the table, with the whole Jones family,’ said Jack.
‘Jack, they’re not even your family!’
Jack stopped looking at wreaths then, looked straight at Ianto with a rather pained expression of his face and Ianto immediately wished he could take back what he’d said. He opened his mouth to say something, to apologise, to backtrack, to do something to make it better, but Finn beat him to it.
‘What are these?’
Both Ianto and Jack turned to look at Finn holding up a traditional glass jar of black and white striped sweets for inspection.
‘Ask your Uncle Ianto,’ Jack said, his voice cracking slightly before he dumped the two wreaths he had been trying to decide between and left. Ianto opened his mouth to call Jack back, but he didn’t particularly want a domestic in the middle of the shop.
‘Uncle Ianto, what are these?’
It took Ianto a moment to tear his eyes away from the blue coat of Jack’s that was hurrying down the escalators. ‘They’re humbugs, Finn.’
Ianto heard Jack’s keys in the door around midnight. He’d been sat on the sofa for the last four hours channel hopping, not watching anything for more than a couple of minutes before he was looking for something else to watch. It was the time of the year when Christmas specials were being dusted off, and family films were being given airings.
He and Finn had watched A Muppet’s Christmas Carol when they’d gotten home before Ianto had put Finn to bed. Rhiannon was out at her works Christmas do. Finn had been looking for his Uncle Jack to read him a bedtime story, and Ianto had had to tell him that Uncle Jack was working late.
Ianto was already out in the hall when Jack finished unlocking the front door and got himself over the threshold. The apology that he’d spent most of the evening preparing suddenly evaded him though. He opened his mouth like a goldfish out of water while Jack took his time closing the front door and shrugging out of his coat.
‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ was all Ianto managed to get out. He turned away from Jack and padded into the kitchen, hoping Jack would follow him.
‘Finn was looking for his Uncle Jack to read him a bedtime story,’ Ianto said when the kettle was boiling and Jack was leaning against the kitchen work surface furthest away from Ianto and the kettle.
‘Did you tell him he doesn’t have an Uncle Jack?’
‘No.’
They stared at each other across the kitchen for a moment, both of them with arms folded across their chests, waiting for the other to say something first.
‘I’m sorry,’ Ianto said, just as the kettle wound itself up into a deafening roar before it clicked off and settled back down.
‘I’m sorry,’ he repeated, just to make sure Jack had heard him. Jack just nodded and gave Ianto the ghost of a smile. Ianto made the coffee then and they sat in an uncomfortable silence until they soundlessly agreed it was time to go to bed.
Ianto was staring up at the bedroom ceiling several hours later, the hairs on his arms slowly standing up as the bedroom got progressively colder. He wasn’t sure if Jack was still awake, but if the lack of snoring and wriggling was anything to go by he probably was. They was a rift between them in the bed and Ianto couldn’t get comfortable, so used to being nearer to the middle of the bed than clinging onto the edge.
‘You do know that you’re part of the family?’ His voice was halfway between a whisper and a croak. Jack didn’t say anything so Ianto cleared his throat and continued to talk to the ceiling.
‘If you want to cook the Christmas dinner and hang stockings on the fire and sing carols round the-‘ Ianto paused, trying to think of a substitute for a piano they didn’t own. ‘Well, I’m sure Finn would play his recorder if you asked him. Not sure he knows anything other than Three Blind Mice, though. But if you want to do all that then I’m not going to stop you.’ Ianto sighed, rolling his eyes at himself and his own ineptitude when it came to apologies.
‘We can do it together. Decorate the Christmas tree, cook the turkey, drink too much alcohol, and go carol singing. I’ll even wear Mr. and Mr. itchy Christmas jumpers if you want. I’ll make you your own stocking to hang next to mine.’ There was a pause where Ianto tried to think of some other festive family fun that would please Jack.
‘You have a Christmas stocking?’ Jack asked from his side of the bed.
‘My Mam made them for all of us when we were kids. She made Finn one when he was born too. I’m pretty sure Rhiannon can’t sow to save her life, but I’m quite handy with a needle and thread.’ Ianto let his head roll to the side so he could see Jack in profile where he was staring at the ceiling.
‘You don’t have to make me a Christmas stocking,’ Jack said as he shifted in the bed, rolling onto his side so he was closer to Ianto.
‘You’re part of the family,’ Ianto said, rolling onto his side too so their noses were almost touching now, his next words nothing more than a whisper. ‘You deserve one.’
Jack closed the minimal gap between them and kissed Ianto warmly on the lips. There was a lot of shuffling and rustling of bedcovers before Ianto and Jack were settled into their usual sleeping positions, much closer and no longer hanging onto the edge of the bed.
‘Jack?’
‘Hmm?’ Jack was rubbing a hand up and down Ianto’s arm, causing him to shiver slightly.
‘You’re not going to make me wear a Christmas jumper are you?’
Jack laughed. ‘No. But I appreciate the sentiment all the same.’