A/N: Despite being a secular Jew, Christmas is still one of my favorite parts of the year. So, I decided to jump on the bandwagon and do the obligatory Christmas fic. Don't own Torchwood, don't own Christmas, don't own eggnog, although I do have a carton of it in the fridge. Last minute drabble, enjoy. Happy Christmas.
It was December 24th and the Hub was filled with Christmas music. Three members of the team were highly unhappy about this fact, but Jack and Gwen delighted in it, singing along with the words, both very out-of-tune. Owen was throwing dirty glances at them, Tosh had plugged in earphones, and Ianto was alternating between hiding in the Archives and handing coffee out to Tosh and Owen; he had made it quite clear earlier that he refused to supply the others with caffeine if they were going to keep singing. Surprisingly enough, that hadn't stopped them.
"Jack, if you sing 'Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer' one more time you will have decaf for the next month," Ianto threatened finally. Jack pouted, but once Ianto had turned his back, he and Gwen simply started to sing 'Jolly Old Saint Nicholas'. Ianto rolled his eyes and Tosh giggled. Owen muttered obscenities under his breath.
"Ianto," he growled, gesturing to Jack. "Control your woman." He ducked as Jack tossed a wad of paper at him. Ianto only smirked.
The Rift had been quiet all day, leaving the team with nothing much to do; for once, all the paperwork seemed to be done and signed and filed away. They had spent the day not so much working as pretending to work, and even that charade soon stopped when they realized their boss was hardly more inclined to get anything done than they were.
Jack had offered to give them all the day off, but, for once, none of them seemed eager to take him up on that. It soon became apparent that none of them had anywhere to go. Rhys was out of town at his parent's, and Gwen had used the excuse of work to avoid the disaster that would inevitably come from such a trip. As for the rest of them, any family they had they had long since lost touch with, or fallen out of terms with. Jack smiled slightly as he remembered just why he liked Torchwood so much; he was never the only one alone on Christmas. They could all be alone together, and that didn't really count as being alone, did it?
So by noon, they had abandoned all pretenses of saving the world and were gathered around the boardroom table drinking eggnog supplied by Ianto. The threat of withholding the seasonal treat had finally been enough to shut Gwen and Jack up, although privately the other three doubted it would last long.
They had been going around the table playing what had started out as a more Torchwood-y form of Truth or Dare and had morphed into a sort of Christmas version of Never Have I Ever. It was childish, but they were bored, and at least it was better than Gwen's favorite Who'd You Last Snog game.
"Never have I ever…" Tosh paused, considering the question, "woken up with a hangover come Christmas morning." To her surprise, the rest of the team took a drink. "Really? All of you? On Christmas?"
Owen shrugged. "You know me. Christmas or no, s'always a good time to get sauced." Jack laughed.
"Besides. You've seen as many Christmases as I have, one or two spent drunk doesn't seem so bad," he added.
Tosh looked at Gwen and Ianto. Gwen raised an eyebrow. "First year at uni," she supplied. The others "ahh"ed knowingly.
"Ianto?" Jack asked, grinning slightly, wondering what his lover's excuse would be.
"If you'd spent five minutes with my family on Christmas you'd understand," he told them calmly, sipping his eggnog. "It's not something most mortals could handle sober."
Tosh giggled, patting her friend's arm. "Well, I see you're not rushing down to visit them this Christmas. How'd you get out of it?"
Ianto's face darkened almost imperceptibly. "Haven't been down since my father died," he replied, stoic expression never changing. Jack could feel his discomfort, however, and placed a comforting hand on his leg under the table. Ianto seemed to ignore it. "My turn, then?" he asked, brightly. "Well." He played with his glass thoughtfully. "Never have I ever…brought someone home for Christmas."
Owen rolled his eyes. "This game got very depressing very fast," he observed. Gwen was the only one to take a sip. "Let me guess." Owen pretended to think. "Rhys?" She nodded silently.
"None of you? Ever?" Jack asked. "I thought I was the only miserable, pathetic one of the lot of us." He said it with a laugh, though, and the others joined him, having long since gotten used to their lonely existences.
The game went on for a few more rounds, some questions depressing, others humorous, and more than a few completely inappropriate---Jack and Owen were good at questions like that.
They were on the agreed-upon last round, and it was Jack's turn. He stared into his glass thoughtfully, finally having run out of the more lewd questions. Finally he spoke up. "Never have I ever had a nicer Christmas," he said with a smile. The team stared back at him in surprise.
"Jack, we're hiding out in our underground base with spiked eggnog playing a drinking game invented by eighteen-year-olds with too much vodka on their hands sharing depressing stories about how pathetic and lonely our lives are," Ianto pointed out evenly.
Jack grinned. "Yeah, but…we're doing it together."
The others absorbed this, and after a moment Owen did raise his glass solemnly, or at least in an attempt at being solemn. "To Torchwood, the best goddamn job in Cardiff," he offered. The others clinked their glasses against his.
"To Torchwood," they chorused.