A/N: This is one in a bunch of Christmas fics that I sent out to some fandom friends, which will be going up here throughout the month. This one went to LJ user Amand-r. She is fantastic. Check her out.

"All right." Ianto smirked, taking the bottle of wine from Jack's hands and leaning over the book open between them. "'Visions of sugarplums'. What does that mean?"

"Hallucinogenic candy. Given to kids to prep them for cult sacrifices."

Ianto laughed and fell onto his back, holding the bottle in the air. The sky was spread above them, stars like shards of ice staring back at them, light from billions of years ago. "You are a horrible liar. You'll never convince me that 'Twas the Night Before Christmas is an apocalypse prediction."

"I'm not a liar!" Jack snatched the bottle out of Ianto's hand and tipped his head back to sip. Wiping his mouth, he said, "You never thought anything was weird about that poem?"

"It's a Christmas poem, Jack."

"Yeah. But, think about it. It was published anonymously. No one knows who really wrote it, because it turns out the guy who said he did might have been lying." He handed the bottle back to Ianto and watched him drink. "And think about the words." He leaned over the book – a childrens' book from the fifties, strangely illustrated and beaten up. He picked it up and brought it closer to his face. "'He was dressed all in fur from his head to his foot, and his clothes were all tarnished in ashes and soot' – uh – 'the stump of his pipe he held tight in his teeth and the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath'." He shook the book at Ianto. "These are rhyming couplets about the devil!"

Ianto almost spat red wine onto the roof of the Millennium Center. He set the bottle down before he tipped it over in his laughter. "Or about Father Christmas."

Jack shook his head. "Definitely Satan. Listen." He flipped a few pages, scanning his eyes over the words. With an a-ha gesture, he read out, "'A wink of his eye and a twist of his head soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.'" He pointed at the page and looked at Ianto. "His head spins around like the girl's in The Exorcist."

"Oh, give me that." Ianto pulled the book away from him and studied the last few verses. "All right then, what does the 'finger aside his nose' thing signify?"

Jack thought for a moment. Finally he said, "Have you ever read The Divine Comedy?"

Ianto nodded, looking up at the stars. "Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch'intrate. Abandon hope, all ye who enter here."

Jack nodded appreciatively. "In the original Italian, even. Okay, you know the last circle, treason? The part where the traitors to God are? That's what it's talking about. Lucifer, with three mouths, chewing on Brutus and Cassius and Judas."

Ianto made an affronted noise. "He touches his nose."

"It requires a little bit of creative reimagining."

"If you mean talking bollocks, then yes, that's exactly what it requires."

Jack threw up his hands. "If you want to ignore the warning for the apocalypse, be my guest."

Ianto took the book and threw it across the roof. "We've had enough of that, now. Remind me never to get you on about Beowulf."

"Grendel is a character foil for-"

"Enough!" Ianto picked up the bottle and swigged, then lay back against the roof. "Anyway, I've been through my share of apocalypses. Apocali."

"Apocalypses."

"Them. And I've come out all right." He looked at the bottle in his hand. "I don't know whether getting you drunker or getting you sober will make you stop talking about the end of the world. It's bloody Christmas Eve." He glanced over at Jack. "Why are you drinking, anyway?"

"It's bloody Christmas Eve," Jack said with a grin. "And that's very good wine."

"It is very good wine." He shook the bottle at the sky. "Thank you for the gift!" He brought it back down, then giggled. "Rift Gift."

Jack laughed, taking the bottle out of his hands. "You're drunk."

"I am that," Ianto sighed, closing his eyes with a smile. "I can't even feel how cold it is. It must be very cold."

"It is very cold." Jack shrugged out of his coat and threw it over Ianto, who laughed.

"Always the gentleman, Jack. But now you're cold." He reached over and grabbed Jack's arm, then with a hard jerk pulled Jack to tumble against him. Ianto lifted the coat and threw it over both of them. "There. Now we've completed two important clichés."

"Two?"

"Coat over the date and stargazing. Can you see Orion?"

"Is Orion even out this time of year?"

"Some space man you are."

Jack smirked over at him. "You don't even know what Orion looks like, do you?"

"Not as such. But I am very drunk."

"Does that help with the stargazing?"

"Orion is the only constellation a man can think of when drunk. Proven fact."

"In a study done by the Ianto Jones University of Stars and Bollocks."

"British slang. You owe a quid to the jar when we get back to the Hub."

"You missed my bloody a few minutes ago."

"You were quoting me. That's allowed."

Jack tapped the buttons on the side of the coat thrown over him. "I think that you make up these rules as you go along."

"Isn't that the way of it?"

"Ah, now we're getting philosophical."

Ianto snorted and rolled toward Jack. "Where the hell is it now, anyway?"

Jack keyed something into his wriststrap and a holographic radar screen appeared floating over it. His eyebrows shot up. "It's just coming over the Bristol Channel. It'll be here in a few seconds."

Ianto threw the coat off and sat up. He seemed to forget how to stand, but Jack hefted him to his feet and they stood like that, Jack's arm curled around Ianto's waist to keep him upright, both of their heads turned toward the sky.

Then, it came; a streak of light, slightly brighter than a shooting star. Jack raised an arm and Ianto waved his own, despite his dizziness, both of them shouting "Happy Christmas!" at the top of their voices.

Ianto added as it went out of sight, "I wanted a new television, remember!"

Jack laughed. "Do you still send letters to Santa?"

"Emails. Much easier, no postage." He sighed, leaning against Jack's chest. "Well, now that's done, I'm tired of standing on the roof."

"We were sitting on the roof until a few seconds ago."

"You'll be tumbling down the roof if you don't start carrying me toward the exit." He glanced at Jack's sudden grin. "No you will not be lifting me up like a bride, Jack. I would probably vomit on you in any case."

Jack made a face. "Nice. Thanks."

"Don't mention it." Ianto grabbed his hand and started back across the roof toward the hatch door. "Same time next year?"

"Of course."

"Still have the wine?"

"Of course."