[Okay. So I don't know about 'kickass,' but they're shooting things? And it's kind of cracky. I hope you like it anyway!]
santa’ll come a-calling
“Well, this is interesting,” Ianto says.
“That’s one word for it,” Jack replies, firing wildly into the sky.
“Flying reindeer,” Ianto says, changing the clip in his gun. “What next, a fat man in a red suit?” He fires upwards as Jack scrambles into the house with him.
“That’s always creeped me out a bit,” Jack says conversationally. Ianto kicks the door shut, and they take a few seconds to breathe. “I mean, how often do you want someone to sneak into your house?”
“Exactly never,” Ianto says. “Mum read me the Three Little Pigs when I was little. With the wolf falling into the hot water in the chimney, right? And I always imagined that happening to Santa.”
“Um,” Jack says.
“Oh,” Ianto says.
“Ho, ho, ho?” the Santa says. Then he coughs on a cloud of soot. “Shit, don’t you people ever clean your fucking chimneys?”
Ianto looks helplessly at Jack.
“So, who are you?” Jack asks.
“Who does it look like,” the Santa snorts. “Look, you’ve already gone and shot Donder and Blitzen, and those were my fastest guys, you know.”
“Oh, god,” Ianto says. He does not get paid enough for this.
“No, I’m not Santa fucking Claus,” the Santa says. “Just got spotted by a few people when I was flying by a few centuries ago, okay? And then the stupid reindeer decided to change their names, for verisimilitude, they said, who needs verisifuckingmilitude anyway, and –”
Ianto interrupts, because to let the Santa go on is to destroy the last shreds of his sanity. “So you’re an alien?” he asks.
“Duh,” the Santa says. “Look, those fucking idiots went and got into, I don’t know, some sort of green shit, and they ate it and then they went nuts, okay?”
“Your flying reindeer are high on drugs,” Jack says.
“Yeah,” the Santa says. “You know how to stop them?”
“Shoot them?” Jack says, raising his eyebrows.
“Other than shooting them,” the Santa says. “I need at least a couple of the fuckers to get back home!”
Jack heaves a deep sigh. “Okay,” he says, and points at the Santa. “You, stay here. Don’t move.”
Ianto joins Jack at the window. “So,” Ianto says.
“Yeah,” Jack says. “I’m going to run for the SUV, see if I can get the tranq gun and knock them out. Cover me?”
“Okay,” Ianto says. “Must you really leave me alone with him?”
“Don’t have a choice,” Jack says. “They’ve already caused enough damage. They’re going to rip up the rest of Cardiff if we leave them any longer.”
Ianto sighs and cracks the window open, noting where the reindeer are.
“I’m off, sweetheart,” Jack carols, and then dashes out the door.
At least, Ianto tells himself as he lays down covering fire, it’s an interesting Christmas.
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2010-12-25 08:16 am (UTC)santa’ll come a-calling
“Well, this is interesting,” Ianto says.
“That’s one word for it,” Jack replies, firing wildly into the sky.
“Flying reindeer,” Ianto says, changing the clip in his gun. “What next, a fat man in a red suit?” He fires upwards as Jack scrambles into the house with him.
“That’s always creeped me out a bit,” Jack says conversationally. Ianto kicks the door shut, and they take a few seconds to breathe. “I mean, how often do you want someone to sneak into your house?”
“Exactly never,” Ianto says. “Mum read me the Three Little Pigs when I was little. With the wolf falling into the hot water in the chimney, right? And I always imagined that happening to Santa.”
“Um,” Jack says.
“Oh,” Ianto says.
“Ho, ho, ho?” the Santa says. Then he coughs on a cloud of soot. “Shit, don’t you people ever clean your fucking chimneys?”
Ianto looks helplessly at Jack.
“So, who are you?” Jack asks.
“Who does it look like,” the Santa snorts. “Look, you’ve already gone and shot Donder and Blitzen, and those were my fastest guys, you know.”
“Oh, god,” Ianto says. He does not get paid enough for this.
“No, I’m not Santa fucking Claus,” the Santa says. “Just got spotted by a few people when I was flying by a few centuries ago, okay? And then the stupid reindeer decided to change their names, for verisimilitude, they said, who needs verisifuckingmilitude anyway, and –”
Ianto interrupts, because to let the Santa go on is to destroy the last shreds of his sanity. “So you’re an alien?” he asks.
“Duh,” the Santa says. “Look, those fucking idiots went and got into, I don’t know, some sort of green shit, and they ate it and then they went nuts, okay?”
“Your flying reindeer are high on drugs,” Jack says.
“Yeah,” the Santa says. “You know how to stop them?”
“Shoot them?” Jack says, raising his eyebrows.
“Other than shooting them,” the Santa says. “I need at least a couple of the fuckers to get back home!”
Jack heaves a deep sigh. “Okay,” he says, and points at the Santa. “You, stay here. Don’t move.”
Ianto joins Jack at the window. “So,” Ianto says.
“Yeah,” Jack says. “I’m going to run for the SUV, see if I can get the tranq gun and knock them out. Cover me?”
“Okay,” Ianto says. “Must you really leave me alone with him?”
“Don’t have a choice,” Jack says. “They’ve already caused enough damage. They’re going to rip up the rest of Cardiff if we leave them any longer.”
Ianto sighs and cracks the window open, noting where the reindeer are.
“I’m off, sweetheart,” Jack carols, and then dashes out the door.
At least, Ianto tells himself as he lays down covering fire, it’s an interesting Christmas.