Title: 'Tis the Season
Author: Aeshna
Fandom: Torchwood
Rating: R, slash
Word count: 408
Characters: Jack Harkness, John Hart
Summary: "So, you buy into this whole outdated quasi-religious mumbo-jumbo thing or what?"
Spoilers: None – set somewhere between the end of s2 and CoE
Disclaimer: Not mine, no matter how many DVDs and toys I buy! Everything here belongs to RTD and to Auntie Beeb, who already has my licence fee.
Notes: Written for misura for the 2008 round of fandom_stocking, but it seemed a bit strange to post it back in January when everything went live, so it's going out now! Thanks as always to mimarie for looking this over for me – any remaining weirdnesses are all mine. Feedback of any variety is much appreciated but not compulsory – I'll post anyway! I've suffered for my art, now it's your turn....

"So, you buy into this whole outdated quasi-religious mumbo-jumbo thing or what?"

"Me? You must be joking." Jack snorted and looked down at the December crowds swarming through Queen Street like so many determined and vaguely harassed-looking ants. Brightly flashing lights adorned every shopfront and lamppost, gaudy neon reminders of the season and the commercial expectations of the age, and a group of carol-singers butchered some festive hymn or other from their pitch near Boots. "Still, the whole Christmas thing does have... certain charms."

"You think?" John leaned over the balcony they were using as a vantage point and shook his head. "Just look at them – they've all been brainwashed into thinking that buying complete tat is an expression of affection."

Jack smirked. "Ah, you've just not been around long enough to see the full glory of the office parties."

"Parties?" Suddenly, John looked interested.

"Well, more the aftermath of the office parties." Jack leaned back again the balustrade, a smile of fond reminiscence crossing his features. "Unsuitably-dressed secretarial and briefcase-toting types staggering around the streets after dark in search of more alcohol – a little carefully applied flattery and it's like an all-you-can-eat buffet."

John was considerably more interested now. "Tell me more...."

"Well, then there's the mistletoe – it's considered crass to tuck it in your belt buckle, by the way – that's always good for some fun. And the fixation with stockings and stuffing. And the way that everybody feels compelled to eat everything in sight –"

"Everything?"

"Brussel sprouts."

"Wow." John looked impressed, and not a little queasy. "That's... extreme."

Jack grinned. "Hey, at the end of the day, despite all the frills and commercialisation and religious misappropriation, it's just a good old-fashioned midwinter celebratory blow-out. Everybody gets smashed, eats way too much and gets laid, if they're lucky."

"Uh-huh." John produced a sprig of mistletoe from a sleeve and held it up. He quirked an eyebrow in challenge. "How about you, partner? Feeling lucky?"

Jack looked him up and down, his smile slowly spreading. "Might do..." He closed the distance between them in two quick strides and for long seconds nothing registered beyond the eager battle of lips and tongues and teeth, fingers leaving bruises as they moved through the fierce and familiar dance. Finally pulling back, Jack let his hands drift lower, pulling the other man towards him possessively as oblivious shoppers milled around below. "So, baby, wanna see what's in Santa's sack?"

"Hell, yeah..."

~ fin ~