Ianto was crying again. It was the sort of guttural sobbing that everyone in Torchwood was accustomed to, where it looked like he’d poured a bucket of water over his head and was whining “noo nooo noooo” in a way that rhymed with ‘moo’. Previous crying fits had been caused by the death of loved ones, being forced to have the smallest slice of pizza, and Owen putting his ’special’ mayonnaise on Ianto’s salad.
This time, it was brought on by the gun that Captain Jack held to his head.
“I’m sorry Ianto, I really am” Jack said, his wide grin betraying the fact that he felt nothing of the sort. “But you’ve gone too far this time. To smuggle an entire Dalek battle cruiser into the basement. What were you thinking?”
“Noooooo!” Ianto wailed again, looking to Owen for support. But all his received from his associate was a mousy scowl. Then again, Owen had not been in a good mood ever since he had fallen off that stupid rising paving slab exit and broken all of his limbs. “I thought they were just friendly!”
“Friendly?” Jack shouted, gun steadily pressed against Ianto’s head. “Friendly? You put them all in BRAS!”
“But I loved them!” More tears flowed down Ianto’s face, pooling around his feet. “I loved them! Noooooo!”
“Eh, oh, okay, just this once then.” Jack flicked the gun away, pinched Ianto’s cheek and gave his hair a ruffle. “You little scamp!”
***Two years ago***
Ianto wiped his stubbly, grime stricken chin and downed another gulp of the vile smelling brandy. He shivered on the park bench, wrapping his filthy overcoat around him for warmth. “Merry Christmas me” he bitterly choked out. Another night on the streets. Another night alone and freezing and…
“Hey there.” The stranger had appeared from nowhere. A handsome, dashing fellow clad in an anachronistic blue military jacket, he was very out of place in the cold winter park. A walking grin amongst the gloom. “Ianto Jones? My name is Jack. Captain Jack. My friends call me Captain. And I have a proposition for you…”
Two hours later, and Ianto sat on the cold bench again, chewing on a handful of kola nuts to get the salty taste out of his mouth. He stared down at a crumpled five pound note with a rude doodle scribbled on it. “Cheap bastard” he scowled up at Jack. Jack simply stood there, still grinning.
“Oh come on Ianto, pleasure before business? I have another proposition for you, this time…”
“No. Oh no. No.” Ianto paused, considering his current financial situation. “Oh, okay. But I get a reach-around this time.”
“You misunderstand.” Somehow, defying all possible physics, Jack’s smile had become larger. “I want you Ianto… want you for my organisation. Torchwood. We’re outside the government and beyond the police!”
“Uh, so no-one in the government or the police know about you. So you’re just… you?” Ianto stared at Jack with bleary eyes. “Do you have an office?”
Jack shrugged. “Kinda. We’re based in the sewers under Cardiff! Isn’t that great?”
“You… you want me to go live in the sewer with you and run about pretending to be important but in fact no-one official even knows about you. And I’m guessing that means I don’t get paid either.” The crumpled five pound note became the focus of a tired Ianto’s attention. “Of course, saying that, it’s not like I’m doing anything anyway. As long as there is no buggery involved…”
“Buggery!” Jack exclaimed. “This time, our mission revolves around buggery!”
“Doesn’t… doesn’t it always, Jack?” Ianto quivered, hands raised high. It was at least a briefing where no-one was trying to kill him, but having the rest of the team around didn’t make him feel any less vulnerable. Owen was still staring at him with rat-like eyes. In order to keep up his reputation as Torchwood’s hard man, he had set his leg casts on fire. Toshiko had tried to cook some marshmallows over the flames, until Jack firmly reminded her that she wasn’t allowed to do anything.
“That time last week with those Vardans didn’t!” came the reply. “Well, apart from when they buggered you Ianto, but that was really your fault. And it wasn’t my doing when the Autons invaded Ann Summers. Anyway, look here.” Jack pressed a button, and a flickery video appeared on a monitor.
The screen showed a typical suburban house at Christmas. A mother tending to a Christmas tree with stockings hung above a roaring fireplace. And then suddenly, from the chimney came a huge crash, and a figure in red and white stumbled out. A scream from the woman, and then… then came the buggering.
“Santa Claus has not been very saintly recently” Jack smirked as he switched off the video with a snap of his wrist. “So Torchwood is going to catch him. Owen, Gwen and Toshiko, you come with me. I’ll act as bait. Sexy bait. Ianto…” Jack hurled a mop at his Welsh friend. “You’re on cleaning duty. I trust that is boring enough for you?”
And that was that. With a flash of his teeth and a twirl, the Jack and the Torchwood team were off, the rising pavement lifting them into the sky. Apart from Owen, who managed to fall off again. Once more, Ianto was alone.
“Oh Jack” Ianto sighed as he wistfully watched him ascend into the heavens of Cardiff. A tear trickled down his cheek again, a lonely hand stroked the needles of the official Torchwood Christmas tree. “I didn’t mean it Jack. I… I missed that night on the bench…”
As the Welsh wind whistled through the underground passages, Ianto slowly placed a record on the turntable, sweet dulcet tunes beginning to radiate out. “Jack, Jack… it’s just not the same with a randy Voord…”
In an instant, Ianto came to a decision. Quickly, his trousers came off and he taped a photo of Jack to the Christmas tree. “Oh Jack!” he wailed, as he inserted the tip of the tree into his anus, thrusting in and out, deeper and deeper as the needles plunged into his inner passages. “Oooooh Jack!”
Ianto closed his eyes in bliss, as he was filled with spiny love. “Ooooh Jack. Ooooh yes!” Then there was a click. And a hiss. And as Ianto realised that he didn’t actually remember anyone ever buying a tree, the branches rose slightly, before playing some festive music and rotating at high speed. “Ooooh noooooo!”
And once more, the cries rhymed with ‘moo’.
With Ianto’s fate unbeknown to him, Captain Jack was himself caught in a sticky situation. The trap had been perfect. Perhaps too perfect, for his backup team had been trampled by reindeer, and Jack was alone in front of a cool fireplace. Not a hair was out of place as he stood silently, eyes steely cold, gazing upon the visage of none other than Santa Claus.
Suddenly, Jack’s stony disposition was replaced with a grin and a click of his fingers. “Ah. That beard. Its fake, isn’t it?” Reaching forwards, he gave a hard yank, and the beard fell away. Its elastic band snapped with a ping, flying across the room.
Santa scowled. “Ah, Captain Jack. We meet again. On your knees human, for now, I reveal myself!” In a flash, he raised his arms, hooded garments falling off, and before Jack stood…
“My god!” Jack cried, face aghast. “It’s… John Simm! In a bra!”
“What? No, I’m the Master!” cried the Master as he posed in all his glory, naked except for a bra. “I’m this seasons villain, but more edgy and in a bra! And now I will show you my true laser screwdriver!”
“Ah well, the Master, that’s not so bad I guess” Jack shrugged, backing away. “But really, I prefer sonic…” He lunged forward at the Master, but the Master was faster, quickly flipping Jack to his knees, and unleashing the power of his laser screwdriver.
“Nnnn!” Jack gasped, gritting his teeth. “Damn you Master! I forgot about your laser screwdriver’s shrinking effects!” Sweat encrusted his brow as he looked about the room in desperation, his vision starting to blur. “Only one chance…”
Jack’s hand lashed out, grabbing the bottle of sherry left out on a small table for Santa, and in one gulp, downed the lot. “Ah, brilliant! But yeah. Plan…” Once more his arm whipped out, to take the large, chunky carrot left for Rudolph.
“I am the Master!” The Master cried out, punching both hands in the air as he repeatedly attacked Jack with his laser screwdriver. “I am the Master! Call me by my na-aaaargh!” His face contorted in agony, as Jack stabbed his arch-foe in the ass with the carrot. “Curse you Jack! From hells dark heart I stab at thee!” Slowly, he crumpled to the ground, comatose.
Jack stood over the Master, taking a firm crunchy bite of the carrot. One foot firmly crushed the dreaded laser screwdriver. “That’s the last time you use that!” he smiled. “Now, time to find that Voord costume again and go molest Ianto…”
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