fic: A Celebratory Mood
Title: A Celebratory Mood
Author Name: d8rkmessngr
Original Prompt Number: 1
Pairing(s): Jack/Ianto
Summary: Ianto wants to give Jack at least one good Christmas memory. Set during early 2nd season, but before Reset.
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I don't own them, if I did, I would feed them cookies all day and take away all their clothes!
Warnings: sex, mentions past Jack/Estelle, The Year That Never Was.
Word Count: 6,008
Author's Notes: candesgirl, I tried to keep Gwen out of it but for the story, I did need her in the beginning. I hope that's forgivable. As for the Santa hat, you didn't specify where. -snicker-
No matter whose brilliant idea it was, Ianto always ended up being the one picking up the mess afterwards.
Hands on his hips, Ianto surveyed the Hub with its three large pitchers of eggnog and the sprinkling of holly and garland scattered all over the floor.
The week before, Gwen had decided that with everyone back together, a Christmas party would be a 'brilliant' idea. Owen never commented on it-then again, his last Christmas was not a happy one-and Jack never seemed the sort to be excited over Christmas anyway. Well, considering Jack couldn't die and based on his random bits of information, Jack probably had spent many exciting Christmases in his long life.
Despite the collected lack of enthusiasm over the idea, Gwen had stridden into Jack's office and emerged an hour later with a grin and some money. Ianto highly doubted it was because Jack agreed with Gwen though. She had the determination of a Rottweiler when she fixated on something. Jack had most likely been worn down to submission. He did warn them later in a meeting to keep it small and no hats on the pterodactyl.
Ianto shook his head as he tried to sort out what was rubbish, what was Torchwood and what was holiday rubbish scattered all over the stations. He grimaced all evening as gift paper was torn apart and drinks were spilled. The urge to attack Owen with a broom nearly overwhelmed him when Owen knocked over one of the pitchers of eggnog onto Tosh's station. The medic was only spared his wrath because Tosh went on a verbal rampage fueled by too much wassail over the merits of keeping keyboards dry.
The mop slopped loudly over the sticky puddle under Tosh's desk. Ianto stepped neatly away from the splatter. Four pitchers of eggnog, three pitchers of wassail, it was a miracle they remembered to get food as well.
Gwen's enthusiasm had been contagious; Tosh later joined in for days of chattering suggestions about getting a tree, some decorations, presents, and bits of food. Owen grumbled it was like shrill harpies in stereo. Ianto suddenly found the Tourist office needed much cleaning and pamphlet replenishing. Jack strangely made no comment throughout the entire thing, even when Owen-still on the cusp between forgiveness and anger over Jack’s disappearance months ago-remarked that Jack most likely wanted to decorate the Hub in just prickly bushes.
The glasses tinkled and rattled when Ianto collected as much as he could-how much drink ware could five people use-and carried them to the tiny sink to soak. Lord, his eyes watered at the sour stench of rum. Damn Owen.
Gwen and Tosh had sweetly offered to help before, but too much eggnog had rendered them as graceful as blindfolded giraffes. After bumping into each other far too many times to be healthy, Ianto pleaded with Owen to drive them home. Ianto could hear the two girls slaughtering Canu Cwnsela all the way down the hall to the lift that let them out by the Tourist office. There was no way anyone was chancing the giddy girls on the invisible lift.
With a sigh, Ianto hefted up the trash bag and made a circuit around the room to pick up the bits of shiny paper and ribbon and the broken pottery dropped by the well-intended but inebriated women. He rolled his eyes at the mistletoe by the girls' desks. Bloody Owen. He pocketed some of them as he cleared off the workstations of spiced cake-he must remember to ask Tosh where she bought it-and half-drunken cups of eggnog and wassail. He smirked. He'd dump the sprigs on the medic's desk and let him deal with the women's anger when they discover it was really Owen, not Jack, who had dumped mounds of prickly bushes all over their chairs and monitors.
At the thought of Jack, the small smile Ianto wore faded. After a few glasses of eggnog, watching Gwen and Tosh decorate the spruce by the couch, and some half-hearted jokes, Jack had excused himself for a Whitehall conference call Ianto never remembered scheduling.
It felt odd without Jack there even if their captain hadn't been participating all that much before. Ianto spent most of the time leaning against a station, nursing his drink-he'd seen Owen with the rum before-and joined in half-heartedly with the medic in dispensing comments on crooked garland and imbalanced ornament placement. Ianto kept checking back to the office but despite the noisy cheer, Jack never emerged out of his office.
Despite the chaos, Ianto had to admit the Hub was vastly improved with the fresh scent of evergreen and splashes of red and silver all around. To his surprise, there were small presents already labeled and wrapped under the tree. When did Jack find the time? Ianto shook his but didn't open it with the others. Everything was well chosen and the girls looked pleased with the silver earrings they received. Even Owen had nothing to say about whatever Jack gave him, but Ianto caught sight of the small foldable photo frame Owen slipped back into his box. Ianto couldn't help but stare at the door waiting for Jack to show the whole time the gifts were distributed. He never did. Ianto kept his gift from Jack tucked in his coat pocket.
Ianto hummed Tawel nos dros y byd as he collected the trash. He frowned at the pitchers. Wonderful. One was missing and most likely there was a puddle somewhere for him to clean up. Ianto sighed. He scraped the food off the plates and left the dishes in the sink as well.
Unlike the others, Ianto wasn't in a hurry to leave. There was nothing to rush home to, at least not any more and long ago, a lifetime ago, Ianto was so sure there would be someone waiting for him. But then he failed to save her and his flat was far too empty sometimes when he sat there in the dark. Ianto didn't want to think about that so the hymn rose higher and filled his ears as he plucked out dirty napkins and tossed out plastic utensils.
"You should go home."
Ianto yelped and nearly tripped over his own trash bag when he spun around. His hands went for a gun that wasn't there inside his jacket.
Cheeks flushed, braces off his shoulders, collar wide open, Jack leaned against his office door with his striped mug in his fist. He offered Ianto a crooked grin.
"Sorry," Jack offered before he lifted the mug up for a drink.
"I-I was wondering where you were," Ianto stammered as he recovered quickly enough to finish cleaning the desks. "You missed the gift exchange."
"Paperwork," Jack would only say before taking another sip from his cup. "World doesn't stop spinning just because of the holidays."
Ianto tied up the trash bag with an easy knot. "The offices are closed now," Ianto pointed out. "No one to fax your paperwork to. All that work seems pointless."
"Seems to be a revolving theme in my life," Jack muttered.
"Pardon?" Ianto wasn't sure he’d heard correctly.
Jack shook his mug towards him. "Never mind. You should go home. It's Christmas Eve. Deck the halls, silent night and all that." Jack strode over and took the trash bag from Ianto.
"And what will you be doing?" Ianto watched Jack walk to the kitchen area to discard the bag in the bin and rinse off his mug.
"The same." The shrug Jack made hurt to see. "Someone needs to watch the Rift."
Jack opened the boxes of leftover takeaway and made faces at them. "Red and green fried shrimp? Seriously?"
"It's supposed to be festive."
"I don't need festive. I need edible." Another poke and Jack appeared to have given up. He snagged one of the remaining pitchers of eggnog instead.
Ianto frowned. "I thought you don't drink."
"I don't." Jack poured a generous amount into his mug though. "I'm being festive."
"I thought you didn't need festive, just edible."
Jack saluted Ianto with his mug before he drained it. "This is edible, too."
"That's debatable," Ianto muttered.
Jack gave him a wry grin but never moved away from the kitchen area. He refilled his drink but this time sipped carefully.
Ianto's brow knitted. "Isn't that too strong?"
"After decades of voluntary alcohol poisoning, you build up a tolerance." Jack shrugged. "And you tend to lose your taste for it so I stopped."
Ianto filed away that morsel of information in the mental corner he reserved for all things Harkness.
"You missed most of the party."
There was a twitch as if something pained Jack. "I'm not much for the holidays."
Baffled, Ianto stared. "You seemed pretty excited about last Christmas when Ms. Holmes and John-oh." It was sometimes too easy to forget that Owen wasn't the only one scathed.
"Last Christmas?" Jack's face twisted. "Only reason why I knew it was Christmas was because the Master was humming carols while he gutted m-"
He set down the mug on the counter with a loud thump that made Ianto jump. He watched, speechless, as Jack turned around sharply, his back towards him and stared at something Ianto couldn't see.
"Another reason why I don't drink anymore," Jack murmured. His shoulders slumped minutely in front of Ianto. "I can get pretty maudlin when I’ve had too much to drink."
The posture beckoned him. Ianto took a step forward. He swallowed and retreated back a step.
"I sing," Ianto blurted out. "Uh…I mean…when I have too much to drink, that is."
Jack peered at him over his shoulder. He raised a brow.
"Anything in particular?"
"Ah-ah, nothing in p-particular," Ianto stammered. "Whatever's currently p-playing."
Jack turned around in a graceful pivot, his hands in his pockets, the mug thankfully left behind.
"So," Jack drawled as he approached with a gleam in his eye that made Ianto's mouth run dry, "you mean to tell me that I missed out on a chance to have been serenaded by you at this party?"
A nervous chuckle stuttered free. "Serenaded would imply what I wail out constitutes singing."
"On the contrary," Jack purred as he stopped in front of Ianto, "I like it when you…wail."
Dear God, his palms were beginning to sweat. Ianto swallowed. Head tilted up, Ianto blinked at Jack and wondered if the captain was going to kiss him, as in kiss him. They hadn't since Jack's return and the 'date' Jack offered; since then they'd been quite casual and careful with each other. The sex was still nice (very) and the kissing was (bloody) brilliant but well, if Ianto dared to be honest with himself, it had been perfectly boring when Captain Jack Harkness tried to be a perfect gentleman.
Blue eyes that seemed to sparkle less lately since Jack's return were glued to him, drifting lower to his mouth before they snapped back up to Ianto's eyes again. It hurt to see the blue in Jack's eyes leech and pale and Ianto didn't know why. Ianto knew he didn't like it though. It made Jack look like a stranger who had come back to him-them. He came back for them, Jack had said.
Jack settled his hands on either side of Ianto's shoulders. Ianto tensed, leaned forward and-
"You should really go home." With a little pat on both shoulders, Jack stepped back.
Disoriented from the flush that rose up his body in anticipation and the icy downpour dumped over him, Ianto could only gape at Jack.
"Well," Jack began, "I'll see you after Boxing D-mmpf!"
If anyone asked, Ianto would blame the eggnog (he never had any), the music (there was none) or the mistletoe (it was in his pocket) for the reason why Ianto looped his arms around Jack's neck, pulled his Captain lower and stuck his tongue impolitely but enthusiastically down Jack's throat.
Technically, it wasn't down Jack's throat but oh, Ianto was having a very nice time trying.
After a few seconds of hesitation, Jack's arms drifted up to cradle Ianto behind the shoulders.
Well, that was rather polite and chaste of Jack, wasn't it? Ianto replied with an explicit grab of a nice, pert bottom with both hands, loud enough to clap soundly on Jack's arse. Ianto could have sworn he heard Jack squeak into his mouth but he was too busy enjoying the taste of eggnog in Jack's mouth to confirm it.
Jack's mouth was warm, a tad sweet from the crème, and moist when Ianto nibbled his lower lip. He felt rather than heard Jack groan and-oh, thank God-his hands moved down to cup Ianto's buttocks as if he was trying to push Ianto into his skin.
Teeth clicked against each other, tongues lapped against lips, breath heavy with the hint of too much alcohol; it had been ages since Ianto felt Jack's firm body pressed against him like a breathing wall. Ianto's hands squeezed Jack and felt Jack do the same and then there was a sudden air of desperation in the way Jack panted against Ianto's throat, in the way he ground his hips against Ianto.
The pterodactyl cawed shrill high above. It was grating enough to part them gasping.
Jack leaned heavily against Owen's desk behind him, still looking flushed, and a little more disheveled.
"Not that I'm complaining," Jack wheezed, "I never complain about a little tonsil excavation, but what brought that on?"
Ianto swallowed. He arched an eyebrow towards Jack's mug when he tasted bitter rum lingering in his mouth.
"Mistletoe," Ianto said blithely, trying to adopt Jack's more cavalier attitude but his voice cracked far too high to be convincing.
Jack craned to look up and stared blankly at the vaulted ceiling meters above them.
"Where did you hang it?" Jack asked skeptically. "On her nest?"
"Huh? Oh, no, no, no." Fumbling, Ianto pulled out one sprig. It didn't survive the trip out of his pocket though and dried berries and leaves fluttered to the ground, leaving Ianto with just a forlorn twig in his grasp.
"I can assure you it was…um…mistletoe…really," Ianto finished lamely. He held up the twig and wished it was big enough to knock him senseless so he could escape the humiliation.
"Uh…it was in your pocket." Jack folded his arms and cocked his head to consider the branch. He offered Ianto an eyebrow of his own. "Isn't that cheating?"
"I didn't know there were rules to luring people in to kiss under the mistletoe."
"Key word is under," Jack pointed out. He paused. "Lure? Since when did you ever feel like you need to lure me into doing that?" Jack flashed him a bright grin.
Ianto tugged at his tie. Did someone set him on fire? He stared at the twig in his grasp, tossed in onto Owen's station and retrieved the other trash bag on the floor.
"I'll go home now," Ianto mumbled.
"Wait." Jack's arms snaked around from behind and wrapped around his middle. "Don't go."
Ianto didn't turn around. "I thought you wanted me to go home."
"Changed my mind." Jack nibbled the back of his left lobe.
Ianto clutched the trash bag tighter. "That's rather mercurial of you," Ianto said as he tried to ignore the fact that Jack's fingers were smoothing down the wrinkles on his shirt with broad, warm sweeps.
"First you wanted me to go home. Now you want me to stay. You say you forgive us then you leave. You asked me out on a date then never-"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Jack stepped back and turned Ianto around to face him. "Okay, where was all that coming from?"
Ianto's mouth opened then shut. Then opened again.
"I'm…going home, sir." Ianto pressed the trash bag into Jack's hands. "Don't forget to keep the lid on so the rats won't get into the refuse bin. I'll see you in two days."
Jack surprisingly didn't protest. He took the bag and smiled wearily at Ianto. There was the stranger staring back at him again. "Sure. See you in two days."
"Happy-" Ianto paused at a look on Jack's face. He turned around, blinking when he felt Jack behind him with his overcoat. It took a few tries before Ianto's arms caught the sleeves. Done, Ianto took a very long time to do his buttons. Head up again, Ianto gave Jack a smile he barely felt.
"Happy Christmas, Jack."
Jack kissed his forehead and cupped his face with both hands then brushed his lips across Ianto's mouth. "See you in two days."
Ianto kept turning around to see where Jack was as he reached the invisible lift. He stood there on the square of concrete, watching Jack retrieve his mug and walk back to his office.
The ignition key turned for a third time before Ianto shut it off again. He sat in his car, in the car park with the engine off, Jack's present sitting in the seat next to him.
Ianto exhaled loudly inside the car and he reached over for the gift. He cradled it in his hands. He stared at the matted green paper for a few minutes before he dissected the wrapping by peeling the tape off strip by strip. It was wrapped with Jack's usual finesse: dented, pinched corners, the edges crooked and far too much cellophane tape was used. Ianto was still smiling to himself as he unwrapped it.
The box was too light to be anything extravagant; nevertheless, Ianto was surprised when a round and curved metal disk fell into his palm when he shook the box. Ianto turned on the car light and rotated the thin piece under the bulb.
It was a fob watch cover, Ianto realized, like the discolored one he had been forced to remove from his own watch when the hinges broke. It shone with its high polish, its silver sheen gleamed like a jewel when Ianto turned it every angle under the light. The edges were finished, smoothed out and rolled to a soft border trimmed with a hairline etching of gold. It was hammered thin but still a weight in his hand when he hefted it. Ianto fumbled his stopwatch out of his waistcoat and set the cover over the face. It was a perfect fit; as if it was meant for the watch originally.
The engravings on the front were concentric circles and strange patterns of dots forming a constellation Ianto didn't recognize. Ianto traced the patterns with his index finger. And the back…
Ianto slipped the cover into his pocket and got out of the car. His steps were brisk and purposeful but once he sighted the Plass, he was running.
The lights were still on when the cog door wheeled lazily to the left to let him in. Ianto bounced on his heels as he waited for the gate to beep and he wiggled past without waiting for the metal gate to swing completely over.
No music, the Hub was disturbingly quiet save the muted trickles of water from the sculpture above. Ianto felt loud and cumbersome as his heels tapped against the grating path. He picked up the garish red and white Santa hat Owen must have tossed on the steps on his way out. Ianto squeezed the soft brim absently as he scanned the Hub. He stopped short of the tiled wall and the couch in front of it.
Jack sat in the center of the couch, slouched forward with two pitchers by his feet, his mug cradled in his hand. One pitcher was already empty.
"I…um…" Ianto tried as he worried the hat in his hands. He gulped as he drew closer.
"There was a Rift signal one Christmas," Jack began with no preamble and nary a reaction to Ianto flying in, "I volunteered to go. It was a small signal. Easy job, I thought. A small alien pendant. Looked like jewelry."
"Alex told me the team would wait for me before they started getting drunk." Jack's mouth twitched. "Alex warned if I didn't hurry though, he would kiss all the ladies under the mistletoe. Told him that's okay…left all the guys for me." Jack chuckled airlessly. He shook his head.
"Think that was the only time I'd ever seen Alex blush."
"Alex Hopkins?" Ianto tentatively guessed. He remembered the file, remembered what Suzie Costello had tossed over to him and Owen after a few too many pints. Ianto swallowed. "You were working for him? Before…" Christ. "Before…"
"Happy new year," Jack saluted with his mug and drained the rest of the contents.
Ianto sat down next to Jack, a spot away but close enough to see the red-rimmed eyes staring at the foot of the sculpture.
"I found Maggie over there, Ben on the other…side," Jack pointed. His face contorted. "I couldn't get all the blood out so I ripped out all the concrete and replaced the floors with the metal grating."
Ianto nodded mutely. He inched closer to Jack until his shoulder bumped his. He waited, his eyes tracking Jack as he took a long gulp.
"I left Estelle on Christmas Day," Jack said suddenly. He dropped his eyes and stared at his mug. After a sigh, Jack grabbed the still full pitcher and poured enough that a little spilled onto his boots.
"They were sending all of us out to war," Jack whispered and Ianto wondered if the cloudy eyes were really seeing the Hub. "I told her to wait for me then my plane was shot down over Austria. No one told her but I couldn't come back anyway."
Ianto watched Jack roll his cup between his palms.
"Last Christmas I tried to ever celebrate," Jack recalled, his eyes dull, "was in the trenches, 1917. I gave my sardines to the men-boys, really. Might as well. I can't starve to death and it was C-Christmas."
Ianto observed his knuckles white around the mug. "What happened to them?" Ianto whispered.
Jack hunched his shoulders, his head dropping. "It was so cold then. I must have frozen to death during the night. I…I was the only one who woke…who woke up."
Ianto closed his eyes.
"And…" Ianto was almost afraid to ask, but it hung between them, between the questions of why Jack ever left.
"The Master?"
Jack flinched violently, enough so that Ianto huddled close against him and rested a hand over a trembling knee.
"I was really gone for a year. With the Doctor," Jack said, in a small voice. "He…let's just say he had a very painful way of celebrating the holidays." Jack swallowed hard. "God, I hate politicians."
Jack turned to look at Ianto. His smile was brittle.
"Like I said," Jack murmured. "I don't need festive." He dropped back into the couch and tilted the mug towards his lips.
"Just edible," Ianto said. Before he lost his nerve, Ianto captured the mug from Jack's fingers and brought it to his own lips.
The burning liquid was a shock, but it doused the horrible gnawing in his gut that had been growing while he listened to Jack.
“’ood God," Ianto sputtered. He set the mug on the coffee table. "How can you drink that?"
"Practice."
Ianto fanned his open mouth. "Is my tongue still there? I think my tongue's dissolved."
"I thought you were going home, Ianto."
Ianto's hand hung mid-air. He glanced over to Jack. Ianto averted his eyes. He cleared his throat.
"I uh…I was going to…"
Jack folded his arms in front of him and he leaned back a little to consider Ianto. "So why did you come back?"
Ianto looked down at the hat soft and slack in his lap. He stroked the white brim as he sought the words he wanted to say. The pointy sprigs left in his pocket gave him pause. His lips quirked wanly as he fingered the cloudy puff that dotted its pointy tip. Ianto pulled out the mistletoe still in his pocket. The twig point pierced the puffy hat’s pom-pom easily like a needle. Before Jack could react, Ianto reached over and lightly dropped the hat over Jack's head.
Jack blinked.
"Ah." Ianto flicked at the pom-pom that drooped over Jack's cheek.
"Mistletoe," Ianto whispered. "I believe this falls under the parameters of the tradition."
Jack rolled his eyes up to study the skewered pom-pom bobbing slightly in front of his brow.
"I think this counts as being under the mistletoe," Jack agreed. His mouth curved crookedly. He reached over and snagged Ianto's tie, pulling him close enough Ianto could smell the heady tang of rum and the sweetness of sugar. Jack pressed his lips to Ianto's. His kiss deepened, his hands tugging Ianto closer until Ianto fell into his lap, his arse heated by the firm thighs hitching up against him.
Ianto parted his mouth, tasting the creamy sweetness and bitterness in Jack's as Jack plunged his tongue in, lapping and exploring as his chest heaved against Ianto. Jack's fingers were slack on Ianto's tie now. Large, sure hands released the silk and rubbed up and down Ianto's torso like a craftsman's hands molding clay to something more than it was before. Jack's hands were constantly massaging his sides, coaxing his shirttails to pull free of his trousers, sweeping a wool coat off Ianto's shoulders. Jack's touch blazed a path that seeped through Ianto's clothes and branded his skin.
Every move Jack made Ianto mimicked. Relying on sense memory, he was already undoing every button on the crisp blue shirt as he tasted all of Jack's exhales, nipping his lower lip, and swallowing every husky moan made each time Ianto's fingers boldly wandered. By the time Jack pressed his face into Ianto's throat, Ianto tugged off Jack's shirt, undid his belt and trousers, one hand already diving into the loosened waistband to cup a smooth buttock cheek that fit perfectly in his hand.
"Ianto," Jack groaned before he sucked hard on a spot above Ianto's collarbone.
Heated, his skin burned mildly under Jack's mouth before a nimble tongue laved the spot in apology. Ianto hissed and arched his neck in offering.
"Bastard," Ianto breathed, "that'll leave a mark."
Jack mumbled something incomprehensible before his hands tackled the challenge of trying to slip Ianto's trousers over his buttocks while Ianto was still seated on his lap.
It wasn't clear where everything went. Ianto had a vague notion of his trousers, his shirt and his coat ending up pooled by the end of the couch behind him…or down the stairway leading to the cells. Fortunately, he wouldn't have to explain to the Weevils. They didn't speak English (he hoped). His shoes were under the coffee table. The left one was, at least.
Jack's trousers with his belt made an odd clanging sound as it must have struck the metal rail before pitching over into the medical bay. Jack's button down shirt, his white t-shirt…well, Jack has many more in his quarters below. The red hat swayed and caressed Ianto's temples as he devoured Jack's mouth. Ianto didn't want to be bothered to pull them over Jack's head and unseat the Santa hat sitting rakishly over Jack's head. Besides, still kissing here!
Boots thudded heavily behind Jack, skin slapped against glistening skin as they rocked against each other. Ianto felt Jack's legs part, inviting him to settle between them. Jack hissed when Ianto attacked a rosy nipple, his teeth grazing the hardened nub with the same strategy he would a melting ice cream cone.
Ianto reached blindly towards the coffee table until he could feel the mug still filled with eggnog. Licking a damp trail down the well-defined plane of Jack's chest, Ianto pulled the mug closer and tipped it forward. Jack jerked as eggnog dribbled down his front in a thick, sweet waterfall.
"What are you doing?" Jack sounded like he would have yelped but ended up gasping as Ianto grounded his throbbing erection against Jack.
"Being festive," Ianto said before he dipped his mouth over the trickles of milky eggnog running down Jack's naked torso.
Jack didn't reply coherently. He couldn't. His back arched up as Ianto swirled his tongue in the small puddle of drink pooled in Jack's navel.
The mug rolled to the floor still intact as Ianto found he couldn't focus on both keeping the mug in one piece and feasting on his captain splayed out loose-limbed on the couch. The taste of skin with the syrupy sweet of eggnog was a blend Ianto hadn't expected. His head spun as he swiped his tongue along the ridges of Jack's ribs. He lapped up a glistening trail of white from to Jack's throat, all the way down to-
"Ianto!" Jack's hips surged up when Ianto engulfed his cock whole, his mouth still warm and moist from the drink he had lapped off Jack's skin.
Ianto's cheeks hollowed as he sucked hard at the pulsing vein under Jack's cock, his teeth grazing the underside of the hard erection throbbing in his mouth. He needed to set his hands on either side of Jack's hips as Jack bucked, his head thrown back, his fingers flailing to tangle into Ianto's short hair.
The release took them both by surprise, Jack nearly thrashing off the couch when he came, hitting the back of Ianto's throat. Jack threw his head back so suddenly, there was a thump when he hit one of the lumpier spots on the furniture. As Jack slumped down onto the cushions, Ianto pulled back, heaving, as he wiped what he couldn't swallow off the corner of his mouth.
"In me," Jack whispered as Ianto rocked back to a kneeling position between Jack's legs. The hat was gone somewhere and Jack's dark hair was plastered all over his forehead and his eyes had darkened to a flinty blue.
Ianto could only nod, his throat tightening as Jack slid his right heel up to hook over Ianto's shoulder, the other leg dropping to the floor, opening himself up wider to Ianto.
Their hands laced together as Ianto drew closer. There should have been preparing, there should have been care. Their heads were stuffed with alcohol and memories remembered and told. Ianto fuzzily remembered lining up his painful erection to Jack's entrance. The next thing Ianto remembered was suddenly being pressed over Jack, nearly bending him in two as Ianto pounded in everything he felt and wanted to say to Jack. Ianto pistoned into that perfect heat, his voice hoarse as he called out JackJackJack until he was feeling too much, too much that he exploded into Jack in jets that must surely hurt. Jack cried out, not in pain, but in a mixture of relief, joy and grief that clamped around Ianto's cock with an intensity that milked out another jolt from Ianto until he collapsed over Jack and blacked out.
The fingers rubbing into his scalp were nice. Very nice. Ianto hummed contently as he opened his eyes drowsily to Jack's gentle smile.
"Was that a purr?" Jack teased, his words barely audible, raspy and unsteady.
"Mm," Ianto murmured. He rolled his head and found a better spot on Jack's shoulder. He opened one eye and across the warm, damp skin underneath him. Jack's chest rose and fall gently as Ianto brushed his knuckles up and down Jack's bare skin. Ianto's hand traveled further down until he through he felt something soft. Ianto snickered when he saw the Santa hat sitting over Jack's crotch.
"Someone thinks very highly of himself," Ianto slurred before he reached down and peeled up the hat to peek underneath. He started.
"Again?"
"What can I say?" Jack chuckled into Ianto's ear. "The eggnog wet my appetite."
Ianto swatted at the cotton ball tip and felt Jack giggle as the furred lining of the hat tickled from the inside. Ianto batted it again and Jack moaned.
"I think we wetted the couch more," Ianto muttered. He closed his eyes and sighed deeply.
"Mm," he just said again, smiling, when he felt Jack's foot rub up and down his calf, teasing the top seam of his-oops.
"Nice sock." Jack sounded like he was trying not to laugh. "Are those pink…snowmen?"
Ianto's head shot up and it irked him that Jack's smile broadened at the sight of Ianto's hair all stuck out in tuffs.
"They were a gift," Ianto said stiffly.
"From a friend?"
Ianto huffed. "Gwen bought everyone a pair, plus she made all of us wear them to see how they looked." Ianto glanced down at his right foot. The left one was gone.
"If you were here when we did the gift exchange, you would have gotten your pair as well," Ianto pointed out. Almost as soon as he said it, Ianto mentally groaned.
Jack's foot paused over Ianto's ankle. His smile was a poor attempt and Ianto rubbed his palm over Jack's heart.
"Not all Christmases will be bad," Ianto murmured before he kissed the spot his palm smoothed over. There was a lingering taste of eggnog slick on Jack's skin.
"No," Jack agreed. He brushed his hand across Ianto's hair. "Not all Christmases will be." Jack captured Ianto's left hand and kissed each fingertip. "This year wasn't."
Ianto, fueled by the warm glow in his chest, smiled against his shoulder.
"Thank you for my present," Ianto whispered as he watched Jack do the same thing with his other hand.
Jack smiled hesitantly. "I didn't think a tie would have been nice."
Ianto wiggled back down to lie across Jack's length.
"I would have liked that too," Ianto said. "I'm curious though. The engraving…I didn't recognize it. It's a constellation, isn't it?"
Jack's hand drifted up and down Ianto's back. He said nothing, his eyes distant.
"My sky," Jack finally answered in a soft voice. "It…it's what my sky looked like…back where I come from."
Ianto raised his head and stared down at Jack, speechless.
Jack tried to smile again but it wavered. "I can't tell you the name or where it is…timelines and all that. But…" Jack caressed Ianto's cheek with a knuckle.
"I wanted to at least share with you the sky I looked at every night as a boy."
Ianto's eyes burned. His chest swelled with an overwhelming feeling that made it hard to breathe. Ianto lowered his mouth and kissed Jack, his lips lingering.
"Diolch, cariad," Ianto whispered into Jack's mouth. "And the inscription…" Ianto took a deep breath.
"I love you, too."
Jack's eyes shone. He pulled Ianto closer and brushed his lips over Ianto's brow.
"Happy Christmas, Ianto."
Ianto murmured the same and rested his head on Jack's chest.
The rumble against Ianto's cheek was his only warning when he felt something furry flopped over his head.
"Jack," Ianto laughed as he reached up and felt the furry atrocity on him. "What in the world…"
Jack's legs wrapped around Ianto's middle and with an ease gained from years of sleeping on a narrow camp bed, rolled Ianto onto his back.
"Well," Ianto breathed as he found himself looking up at Jack now, "what have we here?"
Jack's grin was wicked and sent a pleasurable shiver down Ianto's spine.
"My turn to be festive," Jack announced before he lowered his head.
They celebrated the holidays all day in the Hub, celebrated each other's company by mouthing promises on each other's skin. They ate whatever takeout was left, even the red and green deep-fried shrimp. Then they celebrated the holidays all night, as well. It was a Christmas Ianto vowed Jack would have every year until the sparkle returned in Jack's eyes whenever the holidays arrive. At least with him, Ianto thought, he would make sure of it.
After Boxing Day, Owen complained for days that the couch reeked of rum and Ianto had to excuse himself each and every time, unable to think about the couch without blushing.
The End
Author Name: d8rkmessngr
Original Prompt Number: 1
Pairing(s): Jack/Ianto
Summary: Ianto wants to give Jack at least one good Christmas memory. Set during early 2nd season, but before Reset.
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I don't own them, if I did, I would feed them cookies all day and take away all their clothes!
Warnings: sex, mentions past Jack/Estelle, The Year That Never Was.
Word Count: 6,008
Author's Notes: candesgirl, I tried to keep Gwen out of it but for the story, I did need her in the beginning. I hope that's forgivable. As for the Santa hat, you didn't specify where. -snicker-
No matter whose brilliant idea it was, Ianto always ended up being the one picking up the mess afterwards.
Hands on his hips, Ianto surveyed the Hub with its three large pitchers of eggnog and the sprinkling of holly and garland scattered all over the floor.
The week before, Gwen had decided that with everyone back together, a Christmas party would be a 'brilliant' idea. Owen never commented on it-then again, his last Christmas was not a happy one-and Jack never seemed the sort to be excited over Christmas anyway. Well, considering Jack couldn't die and based on his random bits of information, Jack probably had spent many exciting Christmases in his long life.
Despite the collected lack of enthusiasm over the idea, Gwen had stridden into Jack's office and emerged an hour later with a grin and some money. Ianto highly doubted it was because Jack agreed with Gwen though. She had the determination of a Rottweiler when she fixated on something. Jack had most likely been worn down to submission. He did warn them later in a meeting to keep it small and no hats on the pterodactyl.
Ianto shook his head as he tried to sort out what was rubbish, what was Torchwood and what was holiday rubbish scattered all over the stations. He grimaced all evening as gift paper was torn apart and drinks were spilled. The urge to attack Owen with a broom nearly overwhelmed him when Owen knocked over one of the pitchers of eggnog onto Tosh's station. The medic was only spared his wrath because Tosh went on a verbal rampage fueled by too much wassail over the merits of keeping keyboards dry.
The mop slopped loudly over the sticky puddle under Tosh's desk. Ianto stepped neatly away from the splatter. Four pitchers of eggnog, three pitchers of wassail, it was a miracle they remembered to get food as well.
Gwen's enthusiasm had been contagious; Tosh later joined in for days of chattering suggestions about getting a tree, some decorations, presents, and bits of food. Owen grumbled it was like shrill harpies in stereo. Ianto suddenly found the Tourist office needed much cleaning and pamphlet replenishing. Jack strangely made no comment throughout the entire thing, even when Owen-still on the cusp between forgiveness and anger over Jack’s disappearance months ago-remarked that Jack most likely wanted to decorate the Hub in just prickly bushes.
The glasses tinkled and rattled when Ianto collected as much as he could-how much drink ware could five people use-and carried them to the tiny sink to soak. Lord, his eyes watered at the sour stench of rum. Damn Owen.
Gwen and Tosh had sweetly offered to help before, but too much eggnog had rendered them as graceful as blindfolded giraffes. After bumping into each other far too many times to be healthy, Ianto pleaded with Owen to drive them home. Ianto could hear the two girls slaughtering Canu Cwnsela all the way down the hall to the lift that let them out by the Tourist office. There was no way anyone was chancing the giddy girls on the invisible lift.
With a sigh, Ianto hefted up the trash bag and made a circuit around the room to pick up the bits of shiny paper and ribbon and the broken pottery dropped by the well-intended but inebriated women. He rolled his eyes at the mistletoe by the girls' desks. Bloody Owen. He pocketed some of them as he cleared off the workstations of spiced cake-he must remember to ask Tosh where she bought it-and half-drunken cups of eggnog and wassail. He smirked. He'd dump the sprigs on the medic's desk and let him deal with the women's anger when they discover it was really Owen, not Jack, who had dumped mounds of prickly bushes all over their chairs and monitors.
At the thought of Jack, the small smile Ianto wore faded. After a few glasses of eggnog, watching Gwen and Tosh decorate the spruce by the couch, and some half-hearted jokes, Jack had excused himself for a Whitehall conference call Ianto never remembered scheduling.
It felt odd without Jack there even if their captain hadn't been participating all that much before. Ianto spent most of the time leaning against a station, nursing his drink-he'd seen Owen with the rum before-and joined in half-heartedly with the medic in dispensing comments on crooked garland and imbalanced ornament placement. Ianto kept checking back to the office but despite the noisy cheer, Jack never emerged out of his office.
Despite the chaos, Ianto had to admit the Hub was vastly improved with the fresh scent of evergreen and splashes of red and silver all around. To his surprise, there were small presents already labeled and wrapped under the tree. When did Jack find the time? Ianto shook his but didn't open it with the others. Everything was well chosen and the girls looked pleased with the silver earrings they received. Even Owen had nothing to say about whatever Jack gave him, but Ianto caught sight of the small foldable photo frame Owen slipped back into his box. Ianto couldn't help but stare at the door waiting for Jack to show the whole time the gifts were distributed. He never did. Ianto kept his gift from Jack tucked in his coat pocket.
Ianto hummed Tawel nos dros y byd as he collected the trash. He frowned at the pitchers. Wonderful. One was missing and most likely there was a puddle somewhere for him to clean up. Ianto sighed. He scraped the food off the plates and left the dishes in the sink as well.
Unlike the others, Ianto wasn't in a hurry to leave. There was nothing to rush home to, at least not any more and long ago, a lifetime ago, Ianto was so sure there would be someone waiting for him. But then he failed to save her and his flat was far too empty sometimes when he sat there in the dark. Ianto didn't want to think about that so the hymn rose higher and filled his ears as he plucked out dirty napkins and tossed out plastic utensils.
"You should go home."
Ianto yelped and nearly tripped over his own trash bag when he spun around. His hands went for a gun that wasn't there inside his jacket.
Cheeks flushed, braces off his shoulders, collar wide open, Jack leaned against his office door with his striped mug in his fist. He offered Ianto a crooked grin.
"Sorry," Jack offered before he lifted the mug up for a drink.
"I-I was wondering where you were," Ianto stammered as he recovered quickly enough to finish cleaning the desks. "You missed the gift exchange."
"Paperwork," Jack would only say before taking another sip from his cup. "World doesn't stop spinning just because of the holidays."
Ianto tied up the trash bag with an easy knot. "The offices are closed now," Ianto pointed out. "No one to fax your paperwork to. All that work seems pointless."
"Seems to be a revolving theme in my life," Jack muttered.
"Pardon?" Ianto wasn't sure he’d heard correctly.
Jack shook his mug towards him. "Never mind. You should go home. It's Christmas Eve. Deck the halls, silent night and all that." Jack strode over and took the trash bag from Ianto.
"And what will you be doing?" Ianto watched Jack walk to the kitchen area to discard the bag in the bin and rinse off his mug.
"The same." The shrug Jack made hurt to see. "Someone needs to watch the Rift."
Jack opened the boxes of leftover takeaway and made faces at them. "Red and green fried shrimp? Seriously?"
"It's supposed to be festive."
"I don't need festive. I need edible." Another poke and Jack appeared to have given up. He snagged one of the remaining pitchers of eggnog instead.
Ianto frowned. "I thought you don't drink."
"I don't." Jack poured a generous amount into his mug though. "I'm being festive."
"I thought you didn't need festive, just edible."
Jack saluted Ianto with his mug before he drained it. "This is edible, too."
"That's debatable," Ianto muttered.
Jack gave him a wry grin but never moved away from the kitchen area. He refilled his drink but this time sipped carefully.
Ianto's brow knitted. "Isn't that too strong?"
"After decades of voluntary alcohol poisoning, you build up a tolerance." Jack shrugged. "And you tend to lose your taste for it so I stopped."
Ianto filed away that morsel of information in the mental corner he reserved for all things Harkness.
"You missed most of the party."
There was a twitch as if something pained Jack. "I'm not much for the holidays."
Baffled, Ianto stared. "You seemed pretty excited about last Christmas when Ms. Holmes and John-oh." It was sometimes too easy to forget that Owen wasn't the only one scathed.
"Last Christmas?" Jack's face twisted. "Only reason why I knew it was Christmas was because the Master was humming carols while he gutted m-"
He set down the mug on the counter with a loud thump that made Ianto jump. He watched, speechless, as Jack turned around sharply, his back towards him and stared at something Ianto couldn't see.
"Another reason why I don't drink anymore," Jack murmured. His shoulders slumped minutely in front of Ianto. "I can get pretty maudlin when I’ve had too much to drink."
The posture beckoned him. Ianto took a step forward. He swallowed and retreated back a step.
"I sing," Ianto blurted out. "Uh…I mean…when I have too much to drink, that is."
Jack peered at him over his shoulder. He raised a brow.
"Anything in particular?"
"Ah-ah, nothing in p-particular," Ianto stammered. "Whatever's currently p-playing."
Jack turned around in a graceful pivot, his hands in his pockets, the mug thankfully left behind.
"So," Jack drawled as he approached with a gleam in his eye that made Ianto's mouth run dry, "you mean to tell me that I missed out on a chance to have been serenaded by you at this party?"
A nervous chuckle stuttered free. "Serenaded would imply what I wail out constitutes singing."
"On the contrary," Jack purred as he stopped in front of Ianto, "I like it when you…wail."
Dear God, his palms were beginning to sweat. Ianto swallowed. Head tilted up, Ianto blinked at Jack and wondered if the captain was going to kiss him, as in kiss him. They hadn't since Jack's return and the 'date' Jack offered; since then they'd been quite casual and careful with each other. The sex was still nice (very) and the kissing was (bloody) brilliant but well, if Ianto dared to be honest with himself, it had been perfectly boring when Captain Jack Harkness tried to be a perfect gentleman.
Blue eyes that seemed to sparkle less lately since Jack's return were glued to him, drifting lower to his mouth before they snapped back up to Ianto's eyes again. It hurt to see the blue in Jack's eyes leech and pale and Ianto didn't know why. Ianto knew he didn't like it though. It made Jack look like a stranger who had come back to him-them. He came back for them, Jack had said.
Jack settled his hands on either side of Ianto's shoulders. Ianto tensed, leaned forward and-
"You should really go home." With a little pat on both shoulders, Jack stepped back.
Disoriented from the flush that rose up his body in anticipation and the icy downpour dumped over him, Ianto could only gape at Jack.
"Well," Jack began, "I'll see you after Boxing D-mmpf!"
If anyone asked, Ianto would blame the eggnog (he never had any), the music (there was none) or the mistletoe (it was in his pocket) for the reason why Ianto looped his arms around Jack's neck, pulled his Captain lower and stuck his tongue impolitely but enthusiastically down Jack's throat.
Technically, it wasn't down Jack's throat but oh, Ianto was having a very nice time trying.
After a few seconds of hesitation, Jack's arms drifted up to cradle Ianto behind the shoulders.
Well, that was rather polite and chaste of Jack, wasn't it? Ianto replied with an explicit grab of a nice, pert bottom with both hands, loud enough to clap soundly on Jack's arse. Ianto could have sworn he heard Jack squeak into his mouth but he was too busy enjoying the taste of eggnog in Jack's mouth to confirm it.
Jack's mouth was warm, a tad sweet from the crème, and moist when Ianto nibbled his lower lip. He felt rather than heard Jack groan and-oh, thank God-his hands moved down to cup Ianto's buttocks as if he was trying to push Ianto into his skin.
Teeth clicked against each other, tongues lapped against lips, breath heavy with the hint of too much alcohol; it had been ages since Ianto felt Jack's firm body pressed against him like a breathing wall. Ianto's hands squeezed Jack and felt Jack do the same and then there was a sudden air of desperation in the way Jack panted against Ianto's throat, in the way he ground his hips against Ianto.
The pterodactyl cawed shrill high above. It was grating enough to part them gasping.
Jack leaned heavily against Owen's desk behind him, still looking flushed, and a little more disheveled.
"Not that I'm complaining," Jack wheezed, "I never complain about a little tonsil excavation, but what brought that on?"
Ianto swallowed. He arched an eyebrow towards Jack's mug when he tasted bitter rum lingering in his mouth.
"Mistletoe," Ianto said blithely, trying to adopt Jack's more cavalier attitude but his voice cracked far too high to be convincing.
Jack craned to look up and stared blankly at the vaulted ceiling meters above them.
"Where did you hang it?" Jack asked skeptically. "On her nest?"
"Huh? Oh, no, no, no." Fumbling, Ianto pulled out one sprig. It didn't survive the trip out of his pocket though and dried berries and leaves fluttered to the ground, leaving Ianto with just a forlorn twig in his grasp.
"I can assure you it was…um…mistletoe…really," Ianto finished lamely. He held up the twig and wished it was big enough to knock him senseless so he could escape the humiliation.
"Uh…it was in your pocket." Jack folded his arms and cocked his head to consider the branch. He offered Ianto an eyebrow of his own. "Isn't that cheating?"
"I didn't know there were rules to luring people in to kiss under the mistletoe."
"Key word is under," Jack pointed out. He paused. "Lure? Since when did you ever feel like you need to lure me into doing that?" Jack flashed him a bright grin.
Ianto tugged at his tie. Did someone set him on fire? He stared at the twig in his grasp, tossed in onto Owen's station and retrieved the other trash bag on the floor.
"I'll go home now," Ianto mumbled.
"Wait." Jack's arms snaked around from behind and wrapped around his middle. "Don't go."
Ianto didn't turn around. "I thought you wanted me to go home."
"Changed my mind." Jack nibbled the back of his left lobe.
Ianto clutched the trash bag tighter. "That's rather mercurial of you," Ianto said as he tried to ignore the fact that Jack's fingers were smoothing down the wrinkles on his shirt with broad, warm sweeps.
"First you wanted me to go home. Now you want me to stay. You say you forgive us then you leave. You asked me out on a date then never-"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Jack stepped back and turned Ianto around to face him. "Okay, where was all that coming from?"
Ianto's mouth opened then shut. Then opened again.
"I'm…going home, sir." Ianto pressed the trash bag into Jack's hands. "Don't forget to keep the lid on so the rats won't get into the refuse bin. I'll see you in two days."
Jack surprisingly didn't protest. He took the bag and smiled wearily at Ianto. There was the stranger staring back at him again. "Sure. See you in two days."
"Happy-" Ianto paused at a look on Jack's face. He turned around, blinking when he felt Jack behind him with his overcoat. It took a few tries before Ianto's arms caught the sleeves. Done, Ianto took a very long time to do his buttons. Head up again, Ianto gave Jack a smile he barely felt.
"Happy Christmas, Jack."
Jack kissed his forehead and cupped his face with both hands then brushed his lips across Ianto's mouth. "See you in two days."
Ianto kept turning around to see where Jack was as he reached the invisible lift. He stood there on the square of concrete, watching Jack retrieve his mug and walk back to his office.
The ignition key turned for a third time before Ianto shut it off again. He sat in his car, in the car park with the engine off, Jack's present sitting in the seat next to him.
Ianto exhaled loudly inside the car and he reached over for the gift. He cradled it in his hands. He stared at the matted green paper for a few minutes before he dissected the wrapping by peeling the tape off strip by strip. It was wrapped with Jack's usual finesse: dented, pinched corners, the edges crooked and far too much cellophane tape was used. Ianto was still smiling to himself as he unwrapped it.
The box was too light to be anything extravagant; nevertheless, Ianto was surprised when a round and curved metal disk fell into his palm when he shook the box. Ianto turned on the car light and rotated the thin piece under the bulb.
It was a fob watch cover, Ianto realized, like the discolored one he had been forced to remove from his own watch when the hinges broke. It shone with its high polish, its silver sheen gleamed like a jewel when Ianto turned it every angle under the light. The edges were finished, smoothed out and rolled to a soft border trimmed with a hairline etching of gold. It was hammered thin but still a weight in his hand when he hefted it. Ianto fumbled his stopwatch out of his waistcoat and set the cover over the face. It was a perfect fit; as if it was meant for the watch originally.
The engravings on the front were concentric circles and strange patterns of dots forming a constellation Ianto didn't recognize. Ianto traced the patterns with his index finger. And the back…
Ianto slipped the cover into his pocket and got out of the car. His steps were brisk and purposeful but once he sighted the Plass, he was running.
The lights were still on when the cog door wheeled lazily to the left to let him in. Ianto bounced on his heels as he waited for the gate to beep and he wiggled past without waiting for the metal gate to swing completely over.
No music, the Hub was disturbingly quiet save the muted trickles of water from the sculpture above. Ianto felt loud and cumbersome as his heels tapped against the grating path. He picked up the garish red and white Santa hat Owen must have tossed on the steps on his way out. Ianto squeezed the soft brim absently as he scanned the Hub. He stopped short of the tiled wall and the couch in front of it.
Jack sat in the center of the couch, slouched forward with two pitchers by his feet, his mug cradled in his hand. One pitcher was already empty.
"I…um…" Ianto tried as he worried the hat in his hands. He gulped as he drew closer.
"There was a Rift signal one Christmas," Jack began with no preamble and nary a reaction to Ianto flying in, "I volunteered to go. It was a small signal. Easy job, I thought. A small alien pendant. Looked like jewelry."
"Alex told me the team would wait for me before they started getting drunk." Jack's mouth twitched. "Alex warned if I didn't hurry though, he would kiss all the ladies under the mistletoe. Told him that's okay…left all the guys for me." Jack chuckled airlessly. He shook his head.
"Think that was the only time I'd ever seen Alex blush."
"Alex Hopkins?" Ianto tentatively guessed. He remembered the file, remembered what Suzie Costello had tossed over to him and Owen after a few too many pints. Ianto swallowed. "You were working for him? Before…" Christ. "Before…"
"Happy new year," Jack saluted with his mug and drained the rest of the contents.
Ianto sat down next to Jack, a spot away but close enough to see the red-rimmed eyes staring at the foot of the sculpture.
"I found Maggie over there, Ben on the other…side," Jack pointed. His face contorted. "I couldn't get all the blood out so I ripped out all the concrete and replaced the floors with the metal grating."
Ianto nodded mutely. He inched closer to Jack until his shoulder bumped his. He waited, his eyes tracking Jack as he took a long gulp.
"I left Estelle on Christmas Day," Jack said suddenly. He dropped his eyes and stared at his mug. After a sigh, Jack grabbed the still full pitcher and poured enough that a little spilled onto his boots.
"They were sending all of us out to war," Jack whispered and Ianto wondered if the cloudy eyes were really seeing the Hub. "I told her to wait for me then my plane was shot down over Austria. No one told her but I couldn't come back anyway."
Ianto watched Jack roll his cup between his palms.
"Last Christmas I tried to ever celebrate," Jack recalled, his eyes dull, "was in the trenches, 1917. I gave my sardines to the men-boys, really. Might as well. I can't starve to death and it was C-Christmas."
Ianto observed his knuckles white around the mug. "What happened to them?" Ianto whispered.
Jack hunched his shoulders, his head dropping. "It was so cold then. I must have frozen to death during the night. I…I was the only one who woke…who woke up."
Ianto closed his eyes.
"And…" Ianto was almost afraid to ask, but it hung between them, between the questions of why Jack ever left.
"The Master?"
Jack flinched violently, enough so that Ianto huddled close against him and rested a hand over a trembling knee.
"I was really gone for a year. With the Doctor," Jack said, in a small voice. "He…let's just say he had a very painful way of celebrating the holidays." Jack swallowed hard. "God, I hate politicians."
Jack turned to look at Ianto. His smile was brittle.
"Like I said," Jack murmured. "I don't need festive." He dropped back into the couch and tilted the mug towards his lips.
"Just edible," Ianto said. Before he lost his nerve, Ianto captured the mug from Jack's fingers and brought it to his own lips.
The burning liquid was a shock, but it doused the horrible gnawing in his gut that had been growing while he listened to Jack.
“’ood God," Ianto sputtered. He set the mug on the coffee table. "How can you drink that?"
"Practice."
Ianto fanned his open mouth. "Is my tongue still there? I think my tongue's dissolved."
"I thought you were going home, Ianto."
Ianto's hand hung mid-air. He glanced over to Jack. Ianto averted his eyes. He cleared his throat.
"I uh…I was going to…"
Jack folded his arms in front of him and he leaned back a little to consider Ianto. "So why did you come back?"
Ianto looked down at the hat soft and slack in his lap. He stroked the white brim as he sought the words he wanted to say. The pointy sprigs left in his pocket gave him pause. His lips quirked wanly as he fingered the cloudy puff that dotted its pointy tip. Ianto pulled out the mistletoe still in his pocket. The twig point pierced the puffy hat’s pom-pom easily like a needle. Before Jack could react, Ianto reached over and lightly dropped the hat over Jack's head.
Jack blinked.
"Ah." Ianto flicked at the pom-pom that drooped over Jack's cheek.
"Mistletoe," Ianto whispered. "I believe this falls under the parameters of the tradition."
Jack rolled his eyes up to study the skewered pom-pom bobbing slightly in front of his brow.
"I think this counts as being under the mistletoe," Jack agreed. His mouth curved crookedly. He reached over and snagged Ianto's tie, pulling him close enough Ianto could smell the heady tang of rum and the sweetness of sugar. Jack pressed his lips to Ianto's. His kiss deepened, his hands tugging Ianto closer until Ianto fell into his lap, his arse heated by the firm thighs hitching up against him.
Ianto parted his mouth, tasting the creamy sweetness and bitterness in Jack's as Jack plunged his tongue in, lapping and exploring as his chest heaved against Ianto. Jack's fingers were slack on Ianto's tie now. Large, sure hands released the silk and rubbed up and down Ianto's torso like a craftsman's hands molding clay to something more than it was before. Jack's hands were constantly massaging his sides, coaxing his shirttails to pull free of his trousers, sweeping a wool coat off Ianto's shoulders. Jack's touch blazed a path that seeped through Ianto's clothes and branded his skin.
Every move Jack made Ianto mimicked. Relying on sense memory, he was already undoing every button on the crisp blue shirt as he tasted all of Jack's exhales, nipping his lower lip, and swallowing every husky moan made each time Ianto's fingers boldly wandered. By the time Jack pressed his face into Ianto's throat, Ianto tugged off Jack's shirt, undid his belt and trousers, one hand already diving into the loosened waistband to cup a smooth buttock cheek that fit perfectly in his hand.
"Ianto," Jack groaned before he sucked hard on a spot above Ianto's collarbone.
Heated, his skin burned mildly under Jack's mouth before a nimble tongue laved the spot in apology. Ianto hissed and arched his neck in offering.
"Bastard," Ianto breathed, "that'll leave a mark."
Jack mumbled something incomprehensible before his hands tackled the challenge of trying to slip Ianto's trousers over his buttocks while Ianto was still seated on his lap.
It wasn't clear where everything went. Ianto had a vague notion of his trousers, his shirt and his coat ending up pooled by the end of the couch behind him…or down the stairway leading to the cells. Fortunately, he wouldn't have to explain to the Weevils. They didn't speak English (he hoped). His shoes were under the coffee table. The left one was, at least.
Jack's trousers with his belt made an odd clanging sound as it must have struck the metal rail before pitching over into the medical bay. Jack's button down shirt, his white t-shirt…well, Jack has many more in his quarters below. The red hat swayed and caressed Ianto's temples as he devoured Jack's mouth. Ianto didn't want to be bothered to pull them over Jack's head and unseat the Santa hat sitting rakishly over Jack's head. Besides, still kissing here!
Boots thudded heavily behind Jack, skin slapped against glistening skin as they rocked against each other. Ianto felt Jack's legs part, inviting him to settle between them. Jack hissed when Ianto attacked a rosy nipple, his teeth grazing the hardened nub with the same strategy he would a melting ice cream cone.
Ianto reached blindly towards the coffee table until he could feel the mug still filled with eggnog. Licking a damp trail down the well-defined plane of Jack's chest, Ianto pulled the mug closer and tipped it forward. Jack jerked as eggnog dribbled down his front in a thick, sweet waterfall.
"What are you doing?" Jack sounded like he would have yelped but ended up gasping as Ianto grounded his throbbing erection against Jack.
"Being festive," Ianto said before he dipped his mouth over the trickles of milky eggnog running down Jack's naked torso.
Jack didn't reply coherently. He couldn't. His back arched up as Ianto swirled his tongue in the small puddle of drink pooled in Jack's navel.
The mug rolled to the floor still intact as Ianto found he couldn't focus on both keeping the mug in one piece and feasting on his captain splayed out loose-limbed on the couch. The taste of skin with the syrupy sweet of eggnog was a blend Ianto hadn't expected. His head spun as he swiped his tongue along the ridges of Jack's ribs. He lapped up a glistening trail of white from to Jack's throat, all the way down to-
"Ianto!" Jack's hips surged up when Ianto engulfed his cock whole, his mouth still warm and moist from the drink he had lapped off Jack's skin.
Ianto's cheeks hollowed as he sucked hard at the pulsing vein under Jack's cock, his teeth grazing the underside of the hard erection throbbing in his mouth. He needed to set his hands on either side of Jack's hips as Jack bucked, his head thrown back, his fingers flailing to tangle into Ianto's short hair.
The release took them both by surprise, Jack nearly thrashing off the couch when he came, hitting the back of Ianto's throat. Jack threw his head back so suddenly, there was a thump when he hit one of the lumpier spots on the furniture. As Jack slumped down onto the cushions, Ianto pulled back, heaving, as he wiped what he couldn't swallow off the corner of his mouth.
"In me," Jack whispered as Ianto rocked back to a kneeling position between Jack's legs. The hat was gone somewhere and Jack's dark hair was plastered all over his forehead and his eyes had darkened to a flinty blue.
Ianto could only nod, his throat tightening as Jack slid his right heel up to hook over Ianto's shoulder, the other leg dropping to the floor, opening himself up wider to Ianto.
Their hands laced together as Ianto drew closer. There should have been preparing, there should have been care. Their heads were stuffed with alcohol and memories remembered and told. Ianto fuzzily remembered lining up his painful erection to Jack's entrance. The next thing Ianto remembered was suddenly being pressed over Jack, nearly bending him in two as Ianto pounded in everything he felt and wanted to say to Jack. Ianto pistoned into that perfect heat, his voice hoarse as he called out JackJackJack until he was feeling too much, too much that he exploded into Jack in jets that must surely hurt. Jack cried out, not in pain, but in a mixture of relief, joy and grief that clamped around Ianto's cock with an intensity that milked out another jolt from Ianto until he collapsed over Jack and blacked out.
The fingers rubbing into his scalp were nice. Very nice. Ianto hummed contently as he opened his eyes drowsily to Jack's gentle smile.
"Was that a purr?" Jack teased, his words barely audible, raspy and unsteady.
"Mm," Ianto murmured. He rolled his head and found a better spot on Jack's shoulder. He opened one eye and across the warm, damp skin underneath him. Jack's chest rose and fall gently as Ianto brushed his knuckles up and down Jack's bare skin. Ianto's hand traveled further down until he through he felt something soft. Ianto snickered when he saw the Santa hat sitting over Jack's crotch.
"Someone thinks very highly of himself," Ianto slurred before he reached down and peeled up the hat to peek underneath. He started.
"Again?"
"What can I say?" Jack chuckled into Ianto's ear. "The eggnog wet my appetite."
Ianto swatted at the cotton ball tip and felt Jack giggle as the furred lining of the hat tickled from the inside. Ianto batted it again and Jack moaned.
"I think we wetted the couch more," Ianto muttered. He closed his eyes and sighed deeply.
"Mm," he just said again, smiling, when he felt Jack's foot rub up and down his calf, teasing the top seam of his-oops.
"Nice sock." Jack sounded like he was trying not to laugh. "Are those pink…snowmen?"
Ianto's head shot up and it irked him that Jack's smile broadened at the sight of Ianto's hair all stuck out in tuffs.
"They were a gift," Ianto said stiffly.
"From a friend?"
Ianto huffed. "Gwen bought everyone a pair, plus she made all of us wear them to see how they looked." Ianto glanced down at his right foot. The left one was gone.
"If you were here when we did the gift exchange, you would have gotten your pair as well," Ianto pointed out. Almost as soon as he said it, Ianto mentally groaned.
Jack's foot paused over Ianto's ankle. His smile was a poor attempt and Ianto rubbed his palm over Jack's heart.
"Not all Christmases will be bad," Ianto murmured before he kissed the spot his palm smoothed over. There was a lingering taste of eggnog slick on Jack's skin.
"No," Jack agreed. He brushed his hand across Ianto's hair. "Not all Christmases will be." Jack captured Ianto's left hand and kissed each fingertip. "This year wasn't."
Ianto, fueled by the warm glow in his chest, smiled against his shoulder.
"Thank you for my present," Ianto whispered as he watched Jack do the same thing with his other hand.
Jack smiled hesitantly. "I didn't think a tie would have been nice."
Ianto wiggled back down to lie across Jack's length.
"I would have liked that too," Ianto said. "I'm curious though. The engraving…I didn't recognize it. It's a constellation, isn't it?"
Jack's hand drifted up and down Ianto's back. He said nothing, his eyes distant.
"My sky," Jack finally answered in a soft voice. "It…it's what my sky looked like…back where I come from."
Ianto raised his head and stared down at Jack, speechless.
Jack tried to smile again but it wavered. "I can't tell you the name or where it is…timelines and all that. But…" Jack caressed Ianto's cheek with a knuckle.
"I wanted to at least share with you the sky I looked at every night as a boy."
Ianto's eyes burned. His chest swelled with an overwhelming feeling that made it hard to breathe. Ianto lowered his mouth and kissed Jack, his lips lingering.
"Diolch, cariad," Ianto whispered into Jack's mouth. "And the inscription…" Ianto took a deep breath.
"I love you, too."
Jack's eyes shone. He pulled Ianto closer and brushed his lips over Ianto's brow.
"Happy Christmas, Ianto."
Ianto murmured the same and rested his head on Jack's chest.
The rumble against Ianto's cheek was his only warning when he felt something furry flopped over his head.
"Jack," Ianto laughed as he reached up and felt the furry atrocity on him. "What in the world…"
Jack's legs wrapped around Ianto's middle and with an ease gained from years of sleeping on a narrow camp bed, rolled Ianto onto his back.
"Well," Ianto breathed as he found himself looking up at Jack now, "what have we here?"
Jack's grin was wicked and sent a pleasurable shiver down Ianto's spine.
"My turn to be festive," Jack announced before he lowered his head.
They celebrated the holidays all day in the Hub, celebrated each other's company by mouthing promises on each other's skin. They ate whatever takeout was left, even the red and green deep-fried shrimp. Then they celebrated the holidays all night, as well. It was a Christmas Ianto vowed Jack would have every year until the sparkle returned in Jack's eyes whenever the holidays arrive. At least with him, Ianto thought, he would make sure of it.
After Boxing Day, Owen complained for days that the couch reeked of rum and Ianto had to excuse himself each and every time, unable to think about the couch without blushing.
The End