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Published:
2019-12-02
Updated:
2020-07-13
Words:
1,143
Chapters:
5/25
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25 Days Of Torchwood Christmas

Summary:

Trying to write a little Torchwood scene a day up until Christmas (we'll see how well that goes lol).
What it says on the tin.

Edit: I'm now writing this in July

Notes:

Prompt 1: Street Lamp

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter 1: Day 1

Chapter Text

Standing there with his long coat billowing under the street lamp, Jack looked like a God. The sharp cheekbones illuminated in gold, the halo of snowflakes - the perfect moment to admire him.

It was when he started to move, though, that the little cracks in his image spread into a web and then a sprawling mess. The odd unseen to tear in the otherwise pristine coat was joined by his barely hidden limp, and the blood under fingernails became noticeable with the twitch in his hands. And then, as he moved ever closer, you could note (in his eyes) and hear (in his sigh) the despair of a man left alone for Christmas.

But as he jogs through the blizzard to the tower, he turns to you and winks. And he's standing with his body angled so that just for one beautiful moment, you can almost see the wings behind him - until you blink, just for a second, and he's gone.

Chapter 2: Day 2

Summary:

"Don't let the past steal your present. This is the message of Christmas. We are not alone," - Taylor Caldwell

Notes:

Takes place after Jack has left.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

- Ianto -
Ianto shuffled over the Cardiff ice, straightening up as if God were a puppeteer. Tonight was Christmas Eve, and if his spirits were low at the prospect of going home alone, they barely raised when he noticed the fading pub sign above him. Still, he decided, making his way through the heavy door, it probably wasn't a coincidence he'd walked this (slightly longer) way home.

"Alright Emily?" Ianto called out to the fray.

"What? Oh! Ianto! Hi," a laughing woman (Emily) span around from the farthest table. "Gavin's gone out for a smoke but he'll be back in a bit, and Colvin and Erin are just in the car park. We thought you were busy?"

Ianto went to answer but was cut off.

"Still, it's good you're here. All 4 musketeeres, ey?" she smiled, beckoning him to the table they'd taken over.

- Gwen and Rhys -

"Alright! Alright!" Gwen shouted, exasperated. "I was supposed to remember to take the pasta bake out the oven . Things happen! I forgot. Come on, can't we just go out?"

Rhys shifted irritably, inevitably about to concede and agree with Gwen.

"There's that pub, Welsh, uh, what's it?" she tried to recall.

"Welsh Dragon. But there's a close lot in there - usually only regulars."

"We've been plenty of times!"

"We've been once, Gwen. To celebrate the millennium."

"Oh...Well," she cheered, "worth a shot. Come on Rhys, grab your coat"

- Owen and Tosh -

Both Owen and Tosh were still hunched over work benches until long past all the others had left - well, Tosh was. Owen had reclined back with hands placed behind his head and fallen asleep around an hour ago. He awoke blurrily, rubbing at his face and squinting against harsh light to see the time.

"Alright Tosh, this is it. This is ridiculous. Come on, follow me."

"Owen? What're you-"

"It's Christmas Eve, Tosh. Jack isn't here so I'm not fucking doing his work when I could go out and get pissed,"

"Well," Toshiko slipped on a jacket and walked out hand in hand with him , "it's not like you've been doing much of the work anyway,"

Notes:

I did want to end at Ianto's bit but we'll see. Hopefully there'll be a return of his friends. They could all meet in the pub but that's for another fic I've been typing straight into the box and I'm anxious to post it incase it deletes itself.

Chapter 3: Day 3

Summary:

The bigger they are the harder they fall.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Tosh always knew, secretly, that Owen was a fan of the games we play in the snow. She could see him grinning manically now, firmly placed behind a barrier of dense white snow. The battlements sheltered a stock pile of snowball grenades, ready to hurl over at Ianto.

Ianto, the enemy in Owen's eyes, had a much more military set up, with Martha recruited to ffedback on Owen. His snowballs lay in ordered stacks - the best set up for a destructive mission. Having had experience in watching this war in years previous, Tosh was almost certain this would last well through the next few hours. She also knew that it was really only a battle of wills, rather than any skill.

However, usually the champion would be the Ianto, the man who would withstand the temperature that would make snowmen quiver - but this year Owen was dead. As Owen so revelled in pointing out (in fact, the only time he'd seemed OK with being dead) he couldn't feel.

Well, he could, but all he felt was freezing. And he would win.

Notes:

They call it a draw. Owen has to agree to one just so Ianto gives up and doesn't get hypothermia.

Chapter 4: Day 4

Summary:

'How many sweaters do you even need?'

Chapter Text

Ianto was half immersed in a rack of hanging jumpers when he stumbled (almost literally) across the right one.

"Here, Owen," he shifted and smirked, "this one's blue - matches your eyes." Ianto half twisted his torso 'round to look at him, throwing over the sweater in question and hoping it would hit Owen.

"You missed, teaboy. And besides, I'll always be fucking freezing. Is this your pathetic idea of some kind of joke?"
Owen's words were spat with vemon, and though for a moment Ianto wondered if he should even bother to try to help, though his doubts were soon quelled. "'Cause if so you coulda saved it till Gwen's bloody Christmas do!"

"I'm not worried about your health Owen," Ianto passed by to the dresser, "your burnt your arm and the thing looks a fucking mess. Besides," his voice perked up considerably to mask the growing considerstion and fondness, "blue's your colour - I've even found you an old earring to match!"

Over to Owen he tossed a neat black box, which held within an earring Ianto had in fact went out especially to buy him. And at Gwen's 'bloody Christmas do' and all the days following that, Owen looked a lot less likely to collapse in his jumper and the earring made a constant appearence. (He even found that by his birthday a dark woven bracelet accompanied it).

Chapter 5: Day Five

Notes:

Prompt: Cough Syrup

(There's no coherent plot for these since most of them are basically 100 word things)

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Ianto pulled the woolen blanket tightly around himself, steadfastly ignoring Jack's request that he join him in the shower - and subsequent requests that he get up at all.

"Everyone'll be upstairs in an hour, Ianto," Jack busied himself with deciding which colour of braces to wear. "Usually the thought of Owen getting in before you would have you up and away like a shot". He laughed for a moment, though turned back around when Ianto failed to reply. He moved to sit beside him on their bed, "are you, uh, are you alright?"

Ianto simply shifted his face closer into the pillow, letting the weight of Jack's hand on his thigh attempt to ground him. He was vaguely aware of some need to speakk, though didn't like the chances of his throat cooperating even if he had been able to form words. His joints felt achy and heavy, stiff like the button on Owen's underused 'paper work pen'. "Bug," he breathed, squinting against the dim light in the room.

Jack nodded as though he'd never needed to ask. "I could have Owen check it's nothing alien," he said, "Or anything deadly," he added, as if completing Ianto's cynical remark of the morning for him, "but Christmas retconning without multiple team members is going to be an administrative nightmare"

Notes:

Can I finish my lead up to Christmas prompts in July?

Notes:

Hope you enjoyed this. Please leave a comment! (Constructive criticism very welcome)
:)