Title: Fairytale of New York II
By: Jessie Blackwood
Pairing: Jack/Angelo
Rating: PG-13
Series: 1) Fairytale of New York
Disclaimer: Characters owned by RTD and the BBC. I don't own any of it, except maybe the idea for the story, etc. etc. etc., no infringement of copyright intended, no money being made, etc, etc. Any resemblance to any persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
Warning: This is turning more AU with every chapter.
Summary: Jack and Angelo enjoy Christmas morning.

***

"And the bells are ringing out at Christmas time..."
Fairytale of New York
Shane McGowan and Kirsty McColl.

Angelo awoke alone. The fire was cold in the small hearth and the bed even colder beside him. There was no sign of Jack. He lay quietly, wondering where Jack had disappeared to. Angelo could hear bells, he realized. It seemed like all the bells in New York were ringing, peeling in Christmas Day. He lay there listening for a while, worry gnawing at him, wondering exactly what hare-brained scheme had dragged his lover off this time when he heard a commotion on the stairs and Jack's voice calling Merry Christmas. A door slammed, someone called back, there was a snatch of laughter, a dog barking, then silence. The door opened abruptly as Jack shouldered it aside, bearing a large tray loaded with things that steamed gently in the cold air. He placed his burden on the table, humming "Oh Come All Ye Faithful" to himself the while. Then he busied himself sorting things out; pulling the drapes open, coaxing the fire back to life.

"Jack? I was worried..." Jack turned and rolled his eyes at that, grinning.

"You sound like Gerald," he said. "You sure you don't have Welsh ancestry?"

"I don't even know where... what did you call it?"

"Welsh," he said. "Wales. I think you call it Galles?"

"Galles," Angelo nodded. "I know what you mean but not where it is exactly. It is near Inghilterra, no?"

"I guess you could say so, although some people—particularly the Welsh—would say it was too close." Angelo laughed with him.

"They sound like the French, these Welsh folk, from what you say. Nationalistic, proud and maybe a pain the ass."

"Oh, they can be more than that," Jack admitted, his grin undiminished. "Worriers, every man Jack of ?em." Angelo smiled at the epithet and shook his head in exasperation. "Although, Gerald isn't actually Welsh," Jack mused. "Might as well be though. Maybe he's just lived there too long."

Angelo wasn't allowed to get up. Jack served him breakfast in bed; toast, beans, bacon and coffee. This morning the tray bore extra toast and some home-made marmalade. Angelo sat up and tucked in happily, watching Jack sit down to eat his at the table. Snow was falling again by the time they had finished.

"What shall we do today?" Angelo asked. All he really wanted was to stay in their room, warm and comfortable, with Jack. It wasn't a particularly bright day, the snow clouds still hung in the air and made the room darker.

"I want to stay here with you," Jack said quietly, neatly echoing Angelo's thoughts. "Just one day, with you, when we don't do anything else. Nothing to interrupt us, nothing to cause trouble. Just...us. Here. Now. Could we?" Jack's eyes were appealing, needy.

Angelo grinned. "Of course we could. I would like that more than anything."

"Presents first?"

"Alright, presents first, Jack." Angelo chuckled. Jack was so childlike sometimes, full of wonder and awe and excitement. "Although I am getting up now, I'm not ill. Only ill people stay in bed all day..."

"Or people in love..." Jack grinned and it was Angelo's turn to roll his eyes.

Sitting on the mat in front of the fire, they exchanged gifts. Angelo held out two small packages, and Jack, smiling, handed him a rather larger bag with a number of different packages inside. One held a pair of rather fine leather gloves and a cashmere scarf, in matching black. "Oh, Jack," Angelo said. "They're beautiful." The gloves were lined with soft fur. "I haven't much to give you..."

"Will you stop worrying. I don't buy things because I expect things in return, I buy them because I want to spoil you." At Angelo's urging, Jack opened the smallest box he had been given to find a small volume of poetry, an English translation from the Italian.

"It is the book my teacher used to teach me English," Angelo explained. "I don't need it now, but it held the promise of a new life for me. Who knows, it might help you in some way. The written word is powerful in the right hands." Jack was touched by the gesture, and opened the second and larger box in silence. Inside he found a carved wooden figurine; in truth a pair of figures, barely four inches high, brightly painted, leaned together with an arm round each other's shoulders. They had golden halos, and were dressed in what looked like robes, one in red, the other in blue, both holding swords. Jack frowned. This was religious iconography, an odd thing for Angelo to give him.

"They are saints," Angelo said by way of explanation. "I know you are not a religious man, Jack, but these are special saints. Bacchus and Sergius were generals in the Roman army. They were martyrs for their faith, but some say they were also lovers..." Angelo's green gaze met Jack's blue. "They are... the closest thing people like you and me have to a patron saint, Jack. I wanted to give you something to watch over you..." Jack traced a finger over the little figures. "I made them myself, a long time ago, or so it feels anyway..."

"Angelo, that's..." he was lost for words. He knew how precious the object must be to Angelo. "Thank you." He cleared his throat and slid a hand around the back of Angelo's neck, kissing him hard. They rested their foreheads together for a moment, in perfect accord, and then Jack pulled away, lips pulled into a crooked smile. "Go on, open another one," he urged.

Angelo ripped the paper from around the second parcel to reveal a small box, beautifully grained and polished, a carved cross on the top. Inside, nestled on a red cushion sat a string of beads. He lifted it out, looking from Jack to the beads in his hand and back again. "Jack," he managed to choke out. "I haven't...got the words..." A crucifix dangled from the rosary, its warm golden olive wood beads smooth as velvet in his fingers. The Mother of Pearl backing of the crucifix shone in the light from the fire.

"They're olive wood. The man assured me they were Italian, possibly quite old."

Gathering them into his fist, Angelo's lips muttered a blessing over the beads, a Hail Mary if Jack's ears were not playing tricks. Reverently, he placed them back into the box and smiled. "They are... such a thoughtful gift, mi amato."

"There's one more," Jack said and watched as Angelo tore the paper away from his third gift. He grinned.

"You got me chocolates?"

"Of course. I wanted to find something romantic and frivolous," Jack laughed.

"Mi piace il cioccolato," Angelo chuckled, picking a succulent-looking cherry liqueur and biting into it appreciatively. "Especially kirsch," he smiled, and leaned in to kiss Jack, giving him a taste of the sweet on his tongue. Jack deepened the kiss and slid a hand up Angelo's ribs. Warm hands tugged Jack's shirt loose and slid up his back. Both men moaned softly into the kiss, breath coming faster as they sought skin to skin contact. Jack pushed Angelo's shirt off his shoulders, fastened his teeth to the soft point where neck and shoulder met and sucked. Angelo gasped and bucked his hips, thrusting closer to Jack's body as felt Jack's arms bearing him to the rug in front of the fire. Firelight played across his dusky skin, casting shadows across the plane of Angelo's stomach and the ridges of bone and muscle beneath Jack's fingertips. Angelo groaned as the weight of Jack's body held him down and something hard pressed into his groin, mirroring his own erection.

"Should we take this to bed?" Jack growled, grabbing his wrists and forcing them above his head. It put Angelo in mind of the first time they met, Jack on top of him, holding him down to the dusty floor of the Federal Immigration Station on Ellis Island. Angelo shook his head.

"I thought we were doing fine right here." For answer, Jack dipped and fastened his mouth over the hard button of a nipple and suckled. Angelo hissed and arched into the touch, his body tingling with sensation. He struggled free and grabbed Jack's head in his hands, framing his face, drawing him up for another passionate kiss, their tongues duelling for control. Jack pulled away and shed the remainder of his clothes almost desperately. He kicked his trousers off and knelt, fumbling with the waistband of Angelo's trousers with barely contained impatience. He fought the button fly and won, dragging the offending garment off and covering Angelo's body with his own again. Heat flowed across him; heat from the fire, from Angelo's skin, from his own desire. He pressed himself closer, feeling Angelo's teeth on his shoulder, sucking and nibbling on the soft flesh in return, marking him, claiming him. He rolled to lie on his back, silently inviting Angelo to claim him completely, hooking his ankles around Angelo's narrow hips and drawing him closer.

Ever since Jack had first laid eyes on Angelo Colasanto, there was something, some connection that bound them together, more than bodily delights and emotional highs, there was something that had to happen between them. What it was and for what reason Jack had no clue, and yet... Above him, Angelo's intense green eyes burned with passion. Firelight played on Jack's skin, gilding him with flickering gold. Angelo was thrusting into him, almost violent in his desire, a ragged rhythm that brought them both to completion far too soon for Jack's liking but he ran with it as the sensations washed over him and through him, he caught Angelo's suddenly limp body in his arms and stroked his back as he came down from the intense high. He rolled the man's boneless form over and got up, padding over to the wash stand. He soaked a cloth and cleaning himself off. Then he took the cloth and knelt to wash his lover tenderly, drying him off before lifting him in his arms and depositing him in the bed. Jack got in beside him and cuddled close, Angelo's eyes closing even as he turned into the embrace and breathed a sigh of utter contentment.

His stomach growling hungrily woke Angelo up and he stirred to find Jack watching him, as he always seemed to do, if he was still there. Jack never slept much. He was always the first awake, the first to rise, the last to go to bed.

"Hey, sleepyhead. Thought you were going to sleep the night away. Shall we go down to dinner? I heard the bell a few minutes ago."

"Sure." Angelo swung his legs out of bed and went to sluice his face in the water. "That was good," he said with a smile. "How about we go for walk after? In the snow?"

"Sounds good to me." Jack pulled on his trousers and found a clean shirt. "We could visit the park."

0o0o0o0o00o0

"Hey, you can't go out without these," Jack protested as they got ready to go out. They were both full of Signora Benedetti's good food; the Christmas dinner had been fine, with a rather fat goose, lots of potatoes, stuffing and plenty of steamed vegetables. An enormous steamed pudding had followed, stuck full with silver sixpences, courtesy of Jack. Angelo had found one, and it now resided in his waistcoat pocket, a lucky charm against future poverty. Now Jack took hold of one of Angelo's hands and proceeded to pull the fur-lined leather glove over his fingers, the soft lining warm and snug. Jack pulled the other one onto his other hand and smiled. "You need to stay warm." Angelo wrapped the scarf around his neck and clapped his hands together.

"You mother me, Jack." Angelo was exasperated with him. "I'm a big boy now."

"You don't need to tell me that," Jack grinned, lasciviously, and Angelo threw his hat at him with a chuckle.

"This is beautiful," Angelo stopped by the park gates to admire the deep drifts and the tree boughs burdened with white. Everything was quiet. Hardly anyone was about. They walked into the park and along the path, following the familiar routes even though the path couldn't be seen properly. A snowman, with coal for eyes and a carrot for a nose, sat beneath a tree, twig arms spread in greeting. He wore a ragged red scarf which had seen better days and a battered bowler hat. The sight made them both smile. Suddenly a cold ball of snow struck Angelo between his shoulder blades. He yelped and jumped and glowered at Jack who had a distinctly wicked grin in place. Angelo retaliated with a snowball of his own which flew wild.

"Missed!" Jack yelled, gleefully, only to be stopped dead as one hit him in the chest. He looked down, glowering.

"I did not!" Angelo gestured triumphantly. "I hit you! Fair and square!" It was his turn to duck as Jack got his own back. They carried on until they were both covered in snow and Angelo was beginning to shiver. Jack hauled him out of the park and off home.

Stripped of their damp clothes and tucked into bed, the two men dozed in the warmth from the fire and the flickering light from the oil lamp by the bed. "Happy Christmas Angelo," Jack murmured. Angelo smiled, head on Jack's chest.

"Happy Christmas, Jack. This has been the best one of my life, you know that?"

"Surely not..."

"Oh yes. It has. You've made it so. This is the one Christmas when I am truly myself, and not hiding what I am," he admitted. "Well, not from myself anyway. Thank you, Jack, you have done that for me." Jack smiled and sighed.

"Thank you, too. It would have been a bleak mid-winter without you."

"I want you to know..." Jack's fingers on his lips silenced him.

"Don't say it, please," Jack pleaded gently. "Let's just... let's keep it simple."

"I just want you to know, that's all," Angelo repeated. "I want you to know you're not alone..."

Jack smiled. "I think I know that," he joked, but he sobered almost at once, recognising the meaning behind Angelo's words. "Thank you, Angelo, but I... no, that's for another day. Right here, right now is all that matters. You and me, together, here and now. I don't want to think ahead or behind or anything else right now. Please?"

"Okay, Jack. Okay. But one day, you'll understand. When that time comes, don't push him away, Jack. Whoever he is, don't push him away."

"What makes you think it won't be you?"

"Jack," Angelo shrugged. "Who knows, it might be me. But whoever it is, be kind to yourself. I know you've seen things and been places other people, including me, only dream about. You've seen things I can be thankful that I haven't seen. I know you cry out in your sleep, when you sleep, and I cannot but wonder why, what gave you those night terrors? No matter, you do things to save people, Jack, and I want you to know, I am one of those people. You've saved me. You have given me the chance to be me, to find out what it's like to be free, at least a little. One day, Jack, I'll make my way in this world and do great things. I'll make you proud of me. Until then, all I can say is thank you, from the bottom of my heart. Thank you, for the greatest gift anyone could give a man. You've allowed me my freedom, freedom to think, to choose, to live... and love, no matter that you don't want to hear it." Jack lay there, silent. He didn't know what to say. He just lay quietly, holding tight to the beautiful man in his arms. No words came to mind, so he kissed him, deeply and tenderly, trying to make his actions speak louder than words.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

"What's this, Jack?" Ianto held up a small object, colours faded and paint a little chipped. Jack frowned and peered at the small thing, two little figures with their arms around each other. "I wasn't aware you were into religious iconography."

Jack smiled. "I'm not. They were given to me a long time ago, by a very good friend." He smiled at the memory. Angelo would be dead by now, most likely. He felt a little saddened by that thought and took the little figures from Ianto's hand. "Where did you find them?"

"In a case downstairs, some of your stuff I think. There were a few photos too."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, you and a young man, dark haired... wearing clothes from the 1920s I would have guessed." Ianto was affecting a disinterested air which did nothing to fool Jack. He was burning to find out who the young man was and Jack knew it.

"His name was Angelo, Angelo Colasanto."

"Were you two... you know, like you and me?"

Jack allowed his smile to broaden into a grin. "If you mean, were we lovers, then yes, we were." Jack's smile faded and he sighed, fingers stroking the figurine. "These guys are Baccus and Sergius, they were generals in the Roman army. They were martyred for their Christian faith and a few people think they were also lovers so they were adopted as the patron saints of homosexuals."

"Gay saints? I didn't think there were any. Besides, isn't than an oxymoron?"

"Quite possibly. Come on," Jack pocketed the little figures. "Grab your coat, let's go get a coffee from that new place on the Plas and I'll tell you all about Angelo." They took the invisible lift up to the fountain and into the early dark of the December evening. A chill wind was blowing and flakes of snow were trying to fall. Ianto tugged his collar up and huddled deeper into his overcoat. Jack smiled and threw an easy arm around his lover's shoulders. Ianto settled into the embrace, unusually for him. Maybe due to their recent near miss with the Darleks, Jack thought. It was good to be close to someone at this time of year, though. Gwen would be home with Rhys, looking forward to Christmas. The Doctor... who knew after last time. Jack hoped he was at least not alone. They pushed through the door to the coffee shop, finding it warm and welcoming, the low murmur of patrons inside it a surprise. Jack had expected screaming kids and irate parents.

They were guided to a booth with nothing but a flickering candle lamp to light it and a muted uplight on the wall above them.

"This is nice," Ianto observed, appreciatively. "Intimate."

"Buonasera, Gentlemen, what can I get you?"

"Well, he-llo," Jack grinned at the young man in the barista apron and flashed a smile. "Captain Jack Harkness, and who might you be?"

"My name is Niccolo, signor, I will be your waiter tonight." He handed them menus and asked if he could get them any drinks.

"Coffee, for two... thank you." Ianto elbowed Jack as he opened his mouth to speak again. "Jack, do not flirt with the staff, I'm sure it will be frowned on by the management. You wouldn't want Niccolo to lose his job, would you?"

"No, of course not. I'm just being friendly."

"You were flirting, like you always do." Jack grinned and muttered something. "What?"

"I said, so sue me. I like flirting. Are you jealous? You are, you're jealous!" Ianto rolled his eyes and shook his head in exasperation.

"Come on then," he said, in order to deflect the current line of conversation. "Tell me all about Angelo..."

Outside, across the plas, a lone figure tugged his hood up and huddled into the padded coat he wore, then trained a camera with an impossibly long lens on the bright window of the new coffee shop and restaurant. He zoomed in on the two men inside, just visible over the top of their booth. He had managed to take one of two good clear shots of them crossing the Plas on their way and knew his employer would be pleased with tonight's work. By tomorrow, he would be winging his way back to the mansion in Nevada, back to somewhat warmer climes. He had to admit that Cardiff was not the place to be at this time of year. He did not envy the two men their home city at that moment.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

"You did well, Tino," the old man praised, lifting the framed photo in hands lined and gnarled with age. It was a nice one of Jack, with his arm around a younger man, Christmas decorations in the windows behind them. "Do you know who this one is?" He tapped the glass. Tino nodded, smiling.

"His lover, Bisnonno," the young man replied. "I found out that his name is Ianto, Ianto Jones. Lui e Gallese."

Angelo Colasanto smiled as he placed the latest photo on his mantelpiece. So Jack had found himself a young Welshman, had he? He could but hope that this time, Jack would be happy, at least for a while. He went back to his bed and lay down, glad to be horizontal again. He was getting weaker, he knew. How long will I be able to carry on, he wondered? Jack, well, Jack looked as young as he had when Angelo had first laid eyes on him. What it was like to be immortal, he could not comprehend. In a way, he was glad he wasn't. He was tired, not simply tired in body but tired in mind too. God knew what that did to an immortal mind. He tried not to remember how he had found out about Jack and what he had done to the man. He was still ashamed of that.

"Bisnonno, would you like me to bring you anything?"

"No, no, Tino. I don't need anything," he reassured. "You can put the radio on as you leave, and you tell your mama to come see me soon, okay?"

"Okay, Bisnonno." The lad turned on the radio and then went to the door. "Ciao, nonno."

"Ciao, Tino. Grazie mille." Tino flashed him a smile and headed out the door.

Lying there, listening the the BBC world service, Angelo wondered if he would ever see Jack Harkness again. Would it matter? With Jack's knowledge, Angelo had avoided the worst of the depression and made his money, enough to invest and come out a rich man. That was why he could afford to send people like his great-grandson across to Wales to photograph the man he loved, to track his ex-lover's history through the decades. That way, he felt closer to the only man who had ever meant anything to him. The radio started playing Christmas songs and one stirred his memory.

"And the boys from the NYPD choir still singing Galway Bay, and the bells were ringing out for Christmas time..." Fairytale of New York, his memory supplied. Angelo smiled and closed his eyes, willing his memory back to that Christmas night so long ago, to his own fairytale of New York.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

"Angelo?"

"Yes, Jack..."

"I just wish...I wish this moment could last forever."

"Forever is a long time, Jack."

"I know... believe me, I know."

"As long as you remember me. I, for one, will never forget you, no matter how long I live."

"I promise, I'll not forget you, Angelo."

"Good, because I won't settle for being a blink of an eye for you, you know?"

Jack smiled, wrapped his arms around Angelo and pulled him close. "You will never just be the blink of an eye for me, Angelo Coresanto, not for me."

Fin.

***