This is the latest instalment in the Ianto Claus verse. I thought this series was done, but Tamaar asked, and this happened. So this is for you, Tamaar, with thanks for bring my muse out of the closet.
"Y'now, if you hadn't wanted to make this exclusive, there's gotta be a more subtle way to tell me," Jack announced, flinging open the bedroom door preparatory to storming into the living room. "Or you could've even been direct, it's not like I'd..."
Jack broke off, struck by the silence which greeted his pronouncement, which was at a level rarely achieved at the North Pole. Sorry, the North Pole analogue within the very edges of the Rift, a distinction for which Jack didn't really feel the need, regardless of the number of cheerful corrections he'd endured. The relatively mild weather conditions were a giveaway in themselves, not to mention the elves and reindeer, or the suspiciously gingerbread-like houses. Or, y'know. Santa. And his successor, with whom Jack shared a bed.
Ianto raised his head from the scattering of maps spread across the table which occupied the far corner of their living area. "Now, Jack?" he asked, with the air of long-suffering that hadn't changed the slightest since the days when Jack used to creep on him in the archives and which was invariably rendered ineffective by the smile that accompanied the tone. "You've had literally centuries, and you want to have that particular discussion now?"
Jack surveyed the room and sighed, internally at least. Externally, he propped himself against the doorframe and let a grin spread lazily across his own face. The elves fidgeting on either side of Ianto blinked themselves out of their wide-eyed stares and began shuffling papers.
"We can finish later," one offered, eyes down and cheeks pink as she tucked a clumsily-folded map beneath her arm. Jack's grin edged toward a leer. They were an attractive lot, these Christmas elves, especially this pair who were Ianto's right-hand, er, well, he'd say men, except one was distinctly female. And they were elves. Right-hand elf didn't have the same ring to it.
Jack had been living here for almost a year now, having returned with Ianto after the previous Christmas, but he still hadn't quite wrapped his mind around it all. Ianto Claus. Reindeer. Elves. Mind you, all those Christmas cards had hinted at something akin to Oompaloompas so it was understandable that he'd need time to adjust to bumping shoulders with these ethereal creatures which might have inspired Tolkien. And possibly had, before finding their way to this haven.
Ianto sighed gustily. "We could use a break," he agreed, shoving his own pile of papers to the edge of the table with scant regard for creases.
"You have the reindeer trials in seventy-two minutes," the female elf reminded him, gamely lifting her eyes to glance at Jack. "You're welcome to attend, of course, Frost."
"Sure thing, Bells," Jack replied, affecting a cheerful tone. It wasn't her real name, but as long as she persisted with Frost he felt justified in giving some of her own back. He wasn't against taking on the Christmassy persona, was looking forward to it actually, but it was supposed to be Jack Frost. A minor point, perhaps, to someone who'd lived so many lives, but he'd liked being Jack. It was Jack who'd helped save the world instead of soil it, Jack who'd won Ianto.
The other elf, naturally, was Jingle. It was his polysyllabic name that had prompted the nickname in the first place, given that Jack had initially mangled it so badly that he'd apparently insulted the dude's ancestors.
Jingle cleared his throat. "Don't be disheartened, Sir," he urged, at which Jack nearly forgave several of the elf's shortcomings. "It's going well. I'm sure we've cut several minutes off already."
"Minutes," Ianto muttered, closing his eyes briefly before smiling his thanks and rising from the table. He hadn't attempted the name either, Jack noticed smugly, though nor had he fallen back on Jingle, an event for which Jack lived in hope. He'd once overheard the pair of elves complaining to Ianto, who'd assured them that the pet names were a term of endearment. The three of them knew better, but maintained a polite conspiracy to avoid upsetting Ianto, either because of their devotion to the man or because an upset Ianto failed to create coffee magic.
Both men moved towards each other as the room cleared, meeting midway across the room where Ianto paused within arm's reach, conspicuously failing to make eye contact as he fiddled with the buttons on his waistcoat.
Jack thought it was cute, which he'd later blame on the fact that Ianto hadn't left his usual morning coffee on his bedside table. "I didn't mean to embarrass you," he offered, cupping Ianto's hands with his own before he worried the buttons right off. "I knew you'd woken before me" – because he'd opened his eyes and arms to a cold, empty bed –"but I didn't know you had company already."
Jack was well aware that it hadn't come across in the playful manner he'd intended, especially combined with his opening comment, but the blush spreading across Ianto's face was every bit as enchanting now as it had been when the reddened cheeks were plump and unwrinkled, so Jack could hardly be blamed for missing the warning signs. Or so he'd claim later.
"After all Jack," Ianto said plaintively. "I only used to see you once a year. Surely it isn't a surprise that I..."
Jack pulled Ianto into his arms, any further speech muffled against his chest while his mind fluttered with something close to panic as it replayed the events of the morning.
Empty bed, no coffee, elves in the living room. And Jack himself posing in the doorway like the poster boy he'd always been at heart, swapping accusations in the guise of banter.
Ianto was right to say this was a discussion they'd avoided. Jack hadn't intended to begin it today, either. Or ever, for preference. Things were different now, of course, but for centuries their time together had been limited to the fleeting chunk of Christmas Eve that Santa spent delivering gifts. Jack, being Jack, hadn't always hesitated to take other lovers during the year, but hypocritical as he knew it was, he didn't want to know that Ianto had done the same.
Especially not with the elves, and it wasn't like there was much else on offer. Not that it'd be a hardship. Long limbs, flowing hair, grace that a dancer would envy, there wasn't a single one of them Jack would have kicked out of bed in his heyday. Even old Jingle still had it.
The mere thought of Ianto with that officious twerp made Jack's stomach twist.
Ianto pulled back and looked up into Jack's face. He was blushing still. He was gorgeous, still and always. Jack quite fiercely didn't want to share him.
"I kind of got used to stuffing my libido into the closet through the year," Ianto said, words escaping in a rush, searching Jack's face as he spoke. "If you could just be patient a while longer...I'm sure it I'll get back into the...the... swing of, well..."
The pressure in Jack's chest released so suddenly he gasped, expelling the air in a gust that escaped as a chuckle which grew into laughter as he traced back along the path of his own panicked thoughts.
His life would probably get easier if he listened occasionally. Or stopped assuming the universe revolved around him, not something to cling to when it had only ever done so due to his status as an irritant. Like the grit in an oyster, Ianto claimed, which was a very Ianto thing to say and reinforced that Ianto was worth listening to, a fact Jack had neglected since arriving in a part of the universe which revolved around Ianto instead. Mostly. Certainly to the extent that his aides might need to consult with him before breakfast.
"Jack?" Ianto asked worriedly.
"Sooo not what I meant," Jack gasped, clutching Ianto to him as he staggered back onto an overstuffed couch. "Assuming I meant anything at all apart from trying to tempt you back to bed, which is something that you, Ianto Claus, should never assume."
"Jack," Ianto protested, laughing as he tried hardly at all to get away. "I've got reindeer trials to attend."
Jack had only just resolved to listen, so he did, carefully enough to note the level of actual protest, which was decidedly minimal.
"Bells said you had seventy minutes, or thereabout," he responded, popping another button open.
"You know her name is actually Amra, don't you?" Ianto chided, while snuggling.
Jack allowed himself a pout. "She calls me Frost. The correct title is Jack Frost," he added meaningfully, before Ianto could get the frown working. "And she keeps taking my clothes, which was what I'd have gotten to if she hadn't been looming over you in our living room."
The frown finished forming. "The elves want your measurements so they can start making things for you, Jack. You should be flattered, really. It took years before they wanted to make anything for me." The tiepin he'd given to Jack, as it happened.
"Making I have no issue with," Jack answered. "It's the mending I object to. Jingle tried to repaint my tiepin, Ianto!" He'd carried that in his pocket for years uncounted, his talisman, every scratch a reminder that those nights with Ianto weren't just the working of his fervent imagination.
"I'll talk to him," Ianto said. That tiepin was important to him, too. Each missing flake of paint had told him that Jack thought of him through the year, and he'd needed that.
"He only had it in the first place because Bells took my coat," Jack continued vengefully. "So she could gild the epaulettes, might I add."
"I'll talk to her too," Ianto promised, trying not to laugh. "No one mends that coat but me."
Jack nodded. "No one touches that coat except you," he declared. "And now that's sorted, we've got just over sixty minutes left, which ought to be long enough to get your libido out of the closet, even if we can't get it swinging."
Ianto giggled. Thousands of years old and he giggled. It was quite possible Jack's universe revolved around him, and that wasn't a bad thing at all.
There are more chapters to come, though I am unlikely to post them all before Christmas. Have a Merry one, won't you?