“There’s more tinsel than tree,” Ianto says. “Really. It’s enough.”
“All right,” Jack says, sighing. “What about for the door?”
“There’s a wreath,” Ianto says.
“No, but tinsel!” Jack says, waving the blue strand he’d been attempting to drape over the small Christmas tree. Then he winces and holds his side. Five hours ago, he’d gotten between Ianto and a Weevil, and had been gutted for his pains; the freshly-healed wound still aches. “We should put it over the door,” he says, once he’s caught his breath.
Ianto gives him an incredulous look. “Tinsel? Over the door?” he asks.
“People do it,” Jack says with a pout. “Around the wreath. It would look pretty.”
“It’s really not necessary,” Ianto says with slight desperation. His house already has more decorations in it than he’s ever had during Christmas. He’s never even bothered with a tree, ever since he moved out, and he can’t say he’s missed it. Tinsel, in particular. It sheds, and Ianto can’t help but think of the clean-up that lies ahead of him.
“You sure?” Jack asks in evident disappointment.
“I didn’t know you even celebrated Christmas,” Ianto says. Last year, they’d been fucking each other, but they certainly wouldn’t have bothered to spend the holidays together. This year, they were… well, Ianto wasn’t exactly certain, but they weren’t just fuck-buddies. And so he’d invited Jack over for Christmas.
He hadn’t known what he’d be unleashing.
“Not the religious parts, not really,” Jack says. “But the idea behind it, yeah. I mean, it comes down to remembering that someone cares enough to die for us, to save us. And remembering that people are worth that. And being around the people who are worth that. And.” He stops, frowning at the tinsel he’s still holding. “Where do I put this?”
Ianto bites his lower lip and doesn’t respond.
“Ianto?” Jack asks.
Ianto shakes his head. “There’s more in that box,” he says, pointing behind Jack. “Grab another string, the door’s still bare.”
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2010-12-26 12:41 pm (UTC)“That might be enough tinsel,” Ianto says.
Jack turns and gives Ianto a pleading look.
“There’s more tinsel than tree,” Ianto says. “Really. It’s enough.”
“All right,” Jack says, sighing. “What about for the door?”
“There’s a wreath,” Ianto says.
“No, but tinsel!” Jack says, waving the blue strand he’d been attempting to drape over the small Christmas tree. Then he winces and holds his side. Five hours ago, he’d gotten between Ianto and a Weevil, and had been gutted for his pains; the freshly-healed wound still aches. “We should put it over the door,” he says, once he’s caught his breath.
Ianto gives him an incredulous look. “Tinsel? Over the door?” he asks.
“People do it,” Jack says with a pout. “Around the wreath. It would look pretty.”
“It’s really not necessary,” Ianto says with slight desperation. His house already has more decorations in it than he’s ever had during Christmas. He’s never even bothered with a tree, ever since he moved out, and he can’t say he’s missed it. Tinsel, in particular. It sheds, and Ianto can’t help but think of the clean-up that lies ahead of him.
“You sure?” Jack asks in evident disappointment.
“I didn’t know you even celebrated Christmas,” Ianto says. Last year, they’d been fucking each other, but they certainly wouldn’t have bothered to spend the holidays together. This year, they were… well, Ianto wasn’t exactly certain, but they weren’t just fuck-buddies. And so he’d invited Jack over for Christmas.
He hadn’t known what he’d be unleashing.
“Not the religious parts, not really,” Jack says. “But the idea behind it, yeah. I mean, it comes down to remembering that someone cares enough to die for us, to save us. And remembering that people are worth that. And being around the people who are worth that. And.” He stops, frowning at the tinsel he’s still holding. “Where do I put this?”
Ianto bites his lower lip and doesn’t respond.
“Ianto?” Jack asks.
Ianto shakes his head. “There’s more in that box,” he says, pointing behind Jack. “Grab another string, the door’s still bare.”