Fic: When Santa Claus Came To Town
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Jack/Ianto, Mica.
Rating: PG
Spoilers: COE Character Spoilers. For the three of you that still don't know.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Property of the BBC, etc. etc. ad nauseum.
Summary: Jack is far more excited about Christmas than Ianto is. And Santa is coming to town. Set in the As Long As I Have universe, but you so don't need to have read that.
Note(s): I persuaded
erin_giles to write a Christmas fic where Jack and Ianto went to visit Santa with children by promising to write one myself, so this is what this is. erin_giles's fic The Course of Christmas Never Did Run Smooth is here and it's wonderful. This fic's also for pinkfairy727 because she deserves an extra special Christmas wish from Jack & Ianto. Beta-ed by erin_giles, thank you!The song that Mica sings is from One Bright Night & is the property of Music for Schools.
With less than two weeks to go until Christmas, Ianto knew that he couldn’t put off decorating his house anymore. He wasn’t anti-Christmas or anything; their base had been decorated a few days into December, and he’d even let Jack help. Gwen had ‘supervised’ while simultaneously complaining that she couldn’t help because her baby bump was too big. (Jack had then told her that next Christmas she’d have a baby to get excited with and she’d cried for a good ten minutes, during which Ianto had finished decorating the large Christmas tree which now stood in the centre of their base, reminding them all that there was a world outside.) He had been avoiding decorating the house, though. This was going to be a family Christmas, and it was a bit too much for Ianto; this new world where he and Jack were playing happy families and had become a ‘real couple’ all of a sudden and without him expecting it.
But time was ticking away and so he had decided to get on with decorating before Alice arrived with Steven to a bare, un-festive house. Thinking about it, taking Jack shopping with him was an awful idea, and Ianto should have known that it would be. He should have known far better than to let Jack come with him. It would have taken far, far less time to buy the decorations alone, and he would have been at far less risk of being thrown out of John Lewis.
“What about these?” Jack said, holding up a box of multi-coloured glass (and therefore highly breakable) baubles.
Ianto frowned. “They have no discernable colour scheme. I wouldn’t know where to put them.”
“But they‘ll look nice,” Jack said, and wiggled the box as though to demonstrate his point. “Christmassy.”
“Jack,” Ianto said. “Put them down before you break them.”
He moved away from the glass decorations in search of something more Jack proof and less gaudy. Jack followed him around the Christmas section; stopping only to peer more closely at things which piqued his curiosity or to open boxes, press buttons or lift flaps whenever the opportunity arose.
Ianto pointedly ignored him; he didn’t want people to think that they were there together. When Jack got thrown out for breaking things, Ianto would be able to finish his shopping in peace. He moved from shelf to shelf, table to table, not really seeing anything that he wanted to put on the tree. He didn’t want to go overboard with it; just something simple. Jack seemed determined to go all out and over the top, but that was just Jack.
Ianto was examining a tube of red baubles, trying to work out how many their tree would need, when Jack caught up with him, tugging on his arm like a small child. “Look, Ianto!” he said, with the glee of someone a thousandth of his age.
“What?” Ianto asked. The shop would be closing soon, Ianto was considering giving up altogether and coming another day. Without Jack.
“They’re going to have Santa here on Saturday,” Jack said, still grinning.
“Right” Ianto raised an eyebrow. “Why is that important?”
“Can we come take a look?”
“Yeah,” Ianto said. “If you want to look like a raving paedophile.”
Jack frowned. “I thought we could bring the kids.”
“Mica and David?” Ianto asked, putting the baubles down. “Please no.”
“Why not? They’d love it.”
“David would probably throw something at you for even suggesting it.”
Jack frowned again. He picked up a fragile looking ornament and turned it over in his hands.
Ianto reached out and took it from him, gently returning it to the display table. “And I don’t fancy letting Mica loose in John Lewis. She’ll be even worse than you are.”
“Oh, don’t be a spoil sport,” Jack said. “It’s Christmas. We could bring Steven too.”
“Oh yeah,” Ianto scoffed. “Let’s phone up Alice, ‘hi, can we steal your ten year old son to take him to meet an old man pretending to be Father Christmas in John Lewis?’”
“Well, I wasn’t planning on phrasing it like that,” Jack told him.
“We can’t bring Steven.” Ianto rolled his eyes. “He’s in Italy with his dad until Tuesday.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because I actually listen when Alice tells us things, like why they’re not coming over until the twenty third.”
Jack shrugged in vague acceptance. “Okay. So just Mica and David then.”
“David wouldn’t be caught dead visiting Father Christmas.”
“So just Mica?”
“No,” Ianto said. “Not at all.”
He had hoped that that would be the last word on the matter.
It wasn’t. Of course it wasn’t.
They went to see Rhiannon on Friday afternoon. Although they planned to spend Christmas with Ianto’s sister and her family (and Alice and Steven - Ianto had to wonder when his life had turned into an episode of The Brady Bunch- ) they couldn’t guarantee that the Rift would behave itself. They had decided to bring the children’s presents – already bought and wrapped by Ianto – to the house while they had the time, ready to be opened on Christmas Day, whether Jack and Ianto were there or not.
Ianto opened the door and let Jack go in ahead with the first bag of presents. He struggled through with the remaining presents; Jack had left him all the awkward shaped gifts, and by the time he had made it into the living room Mica was practically bouncing up and down in front of Jack. The grin on his lover’s face told Ianto that this wouldn’t mean anything good.
“Jack says we’re going to meet Father Christmas tomorrow,” Mica said, running at Ianto and hugging him. “Thank you!”
Ianto shot Jack a very dark look, then looked down at Mica. “You’re... welcome,” he ground out.
David looked up from where he was sprawled on the sofa. “I’m not going.”
“You don’t have to,” Ianto said.
David reached behind him, holding out his hand palm up expectantly. Ianto fished a twenty pound note from his wallet and glanced up to see what David was watching. Martin Freeman was on the television, surrounded by children.
“Where’s your mum?”
David was too engrossed in his DVD to care about what his uncle was saying, so Ianto turned to Mica. She was talking excitedly to Jack about all the things she wanted to say to Father Christmas, and from the expression on Jack’s face, Ianto guessed that he was beginning to see why Ianto had been so resistant to the idea.
Ianto contemplated a way that they could persuade Mica that wasn’t what Jack had meant and get themselves out of it, but all his hopes were dashed when Rhiannon walked into the room.
“Mam!” Mica screamed, tearing herself away from Jack and waving her arms at her mother over excitedly. “Uncle Ianto is taking me to meet Father Christmas on Saturday! I’m going to tell him about the Princess Barbie I want and we can have a photo and I can sit on his lap!” She said all of this in a high pitched, fast paced ramble, and Rhiannon’s eyes lit up.
“Are you?” she looked at Ianto. “That’s great, I can get the last of my Christmas shopping finished while you’ve got her. Oh, thanks, Ianto,” she said, and kissed his cheek.
He was trapped now. His niece was ecstatic, his sister painfully grateful. They couldn’t get out of this even if the world ended.
He was going to kill Jack.
They met Rhiannon in town on Saturday morning. Ianto and Mica were both wrapped up warm, while Jack paraded around in his coat and nothing else, not even a pair of gloves. Mica was buzzing with excitement when she greeted them, and Rhiannon had hurriedly thanked them, asked them to sort out some lunch for Mica and then had disappeared before they could raise any objections.
Mica had wriggled between Jack and Ianto and taken one of each of their hands as they walked towards John Lewis and joined an already long queue. Ianto let out a sigh; it was going to be a long day.
“Uncle Ianto?” Mica asked a few minutes later, tugging on Ianto’s coat sleeve.
He looked down at his niece. Her nose and cheeks were almost as pink as the hat that she had just tugged from her head. Her hair was mussed and he reached out to smooth it down, before frowning at himself.
“Mica?”
“Can you and Jack come to my Christmas play?”
Ianto glanced at Jack, who shrugged. “Maybe,” he said, feebly. “When is it?”
“I don’t know,” Mica said. “But it’s about Jesus’s birthday and we all get to sing songs and Amy Best is going to be Mary and I’m not jealous because I don’t want to be Mary. She has to be married to Joseph and Sam Evans is going to be Joseph and they have to kiss.”
Jack laughed, and Mica looked up at him, a grin on her face. Jack swept her into the air and set her on his hip.
“Jack, she can walk-” Ianto protested, but they ignored him.
“And who are you going to be in the nativity?” Jack said. “The angel Gabriel?”
Ianto bit back a laugh.
“No,” Mica frowned. “Gabriel’s a boy. I’m going to be a cow.”
“A cow?” Jack asked, eyebrows raised. Ianto could see the grin he was trying to suppress playing on his lips.
“Yes,” Mica said. “We get to sing a song and then we follow the doves and-”
“Doves?” Jack asked. “In a nativity?”
Mica rolled her eyes in a near perfect imitation of her Uncle Ianto. “Yes,” she said. “The doves are the leaders and everyone follows them to the stable that Baby Jesus lives in.”
“Okay,” Jack said, frowning. He looked at Ianto. “I haven’t been to many nativities, but I don’t remember anything about doves.”
“If you come see mine then you’ll see them!” Mica said, wriggling in Jack’s arms.
“We’ll see,” Ianto said, not willing to make any promises.
Mica frowned. “David says ‘we’ll see’ is grown up for ‘no’.”
Jack shook his head. “David’s just being silly, we’ll try our very best.”
“I want you to hear my song,” Mica told Ianto, ignoring Jack. “I’ve been practising and practising.”
“I’m sure you’re very good,” Ianto told her. “I’d like to hear your song,” he lied. He had vague memories of his own school nativities, and how awful they’d been. Rhiannon had all but bodily hauled him to David’s first nativity when he had been in nursery school. David had thrown a tantrum and run crying to his mum, refusing to be in the play at all. Ianto had been forced to sit and watch children he didn’t even know butcher songs about baby Jesus, and had sworn off all nativity plays afterwards.
“I’ll sing it for you now!” Mica declared, and Ianto inwardly cursed himself. Jack placed Mica back onto the ground and she prepared for her song.
“In the light of the moooon,” Mica sang. There were actions, too. Passers by were staring. “And the shining stars!” Mica was horribly out of tune, in that childlike way of just screaming the words and expecting everyone to be impressed.
The actions got more elaborate as Mica sang on. “We’re always trying to forget our feet our soaking wet, and frozen noses make us GLUM!”
Ianto was cringing, but Jack seemed to be enjoying it, and Mica certainly was.
The woman behind them in the queue gave him a bright smile. “You have a wonderful daughter,” she said.
“Oh!” Ianto said, startled and embarrassed. “She’s not mine!”
“Oh,” the woman apologised, “Your partner’s then? It’s so wonderful to see two men raising a child, and doing such a wonderful job!”
Ianto wanted to protest, but Mica had reached out, grabbing at his hand to force him to pay attention as the song continued. “We’ve got to mooove on, mooove on. We’re getting kind of bored with the sheep next door!”
Ianto began to tune out the song, but watched Mica dancing. He noticed Jack dancing along with her, attempting to mimic the actions, and he was torn between a desire to pretend not to know them both and an urge to pull out his phone and video it. Martha and Gwen would kill to see this, and it would be a good tool for bribery in the future. Before he had made a decision Mica stopped singing and looked up at Ianto expectantly.
“Was I good?” she said.
“Brilliant,” Ianto said. “Best cow I’ve ever seen.”
“Do you think Father Christmas will like my song?” she asked him.
Ianto was unsure how to respond, but Jack swept Mica up into his arms again and she giggled as she flew through the air.
“I don’t think Santa will have time to hear your song today, but he can see you all the time,” Jack said, “So I’m sure he already knows how great you are at being a cow.”
Ianto snorted.
Mica frowned down at him. “Uncle Ianto, you shouldn’t make rude noises. It’s not very nice.”
Ianto chose not to comment. They shuffled a little further forward in the line; they were getting nearer the front now, Mica’s song and dance had past the time nicely, and kept her suitably distracted from all of the shiny and breakable things that were occupying the shop floor.
Mica rested her head on Jack’s shoulder – worn out after all the excitement, no doubt - and Jack shot Ianto a grin that Mica couldn’t see. Ianto gave a tired smile back; it was nice, he supposed, to see Jack enjoying himself this much, especially after the year they’d had. It didn’t mean that he wasn’t still a little angry at Jack (or at least pretending to be) for telling Mica they would be coming here when Ianto had been obviously resistant to the idea. But they were here now, and Jack and Mica were having fun, and it really wasn’t that awful.
Eventually they reached the front of the queue and Jack put Mica back onto the ground. She led the way into meet Father Christmas with all the heightened bravery of a four year old girl. Ianto followed, Jack at his side. He tried to push away the idea that this was a middle aged man in a stupid suit pretending to be a fictional character in order to impress children and to enjoy it for Mica and Jack’s sake.
Mica marched straight up to ‘Father Christmas’. “Can I sit on your knee?” she said, and grinned when the man nodded.
“You have to smile now, Santa,” Mica said. “Uncle Ianto’s going to take a picture to show my mummy.” Then, as though remembering who she was taking to, she gave a sickly sweet smile and said “Please.”
Father Christmas chuckled and looked in Ianto’s direction while Ianto fished out the camera and took a photograph.
“So,” Father Christmas said, “What’s your name?”
“I thought you knew everyone,” Mica said, looking disappointed.
“Oh, well, I meet an awful lot of girls and boys and I am a very old man, sometimes I forget names.”
“Then how can you bring people the right presents?” Mica asked, and Ianto had to admit that she had a point.
“My reindeer are very, very clever,” Father Christmas told Mica with a wink. She looked placated.
“My name is Mica,” she said. “And I’ve tried to be a very, very good girl. I only hit David if he hits me first and I give Mam and Dad lots of hugs and I asked Uncle Ianto to my Christmas play and I said Jack can come too.”
Jack and Ianto both laughed along with the man, and Mica grinned.
“So for my Christmas present I would like a Princess Barbie and,” she glanced at Ianto before she stage whispered her next request, “I want Uncle Ianto to come to my Christmas play and wear his happy face.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Father Christmas said, tapping Mica gently on the nose. “You be a very good girl and I’ll see you on Christmas Eve.”
Mica jumped down from the man’s lap, then turned to look at him, a serious expression on her face. “Father Christmas?” she asked.
“Yes?”
“Do you like cookies or mince pies better?”
Much later, when Mica had been returned to her mother and Jack and Ianto were home and had warmed up from the bitter cold outside, Ianto pulled out a box of brightly coloured baubles while Jack fiddled with the radio, trying to find a station that was playing Christmas songs.
Jack turned away from the radio, having found something suitable. Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas was playing softly in the background when Jack spotted the baubles and grinned. “No colour scheme, Ianto?”
Ianto shrugged. “It’s Christmas.”
Jack smiled and walked over, he lifted the first of the baubles from the box and examined the tree, deciding where to hang it. Ianto moved behind him, placing a hand on his back. “Thanks, Jack,” he said.
Jack turned his head, looking down at Ianto. “For what?”
“Nothing,” he said, pressing his lips to Jack’s for a chaste kiss before moving away to collect baubles of his own, avoiding Jack’s eye. “Everything. Just all this. Christmas.”
“You had fun today, didn’t you?” Jack teased.
“You’ve had worse ideas,” Ianto conceded.
Ianto could feel Jack’s grin without even turning to look at him. “Rift allowing we’ll make it to Mica’s nativity,” Jack promised.
Ianto said nothing, but began to decorate the tree, not dwelling on how domestic it all seemed or how different this Christmas was from the last. He looked at Jack through the branches of the tree and smiled to himself; as soft as it sounded, he didn’t need to ask Father Christmas for anything.