Five Times Jack Harkness Kissed At Midnight, and One Time He Didn’t… Quite
Title: Five Times Jack Harkness Kissed At Midnight, and One Time He Didn’t… Quite
Fandom: Torchwood
Pairing(s): Jack/Ianto, Jack/Estelle, Jack/John Hart, Jack/OCs
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: It's after Christmas, and I still don't own them :(
Summary: Jack Harkness has celebrated New Year many, many times, and there’s one particular tradition he enjoys the most.
Author's Notes: Thanks to angelzbabe1989 and piper08 for putting up with my whining on the phone and MSN the whole time I was writing this, and thanks to katestamps for the wonderful beta job she did.
Originally written for the holiday!bang round at thestopwatch, for prompt number 123. Original posting is here
Five Times Jack Harkness Kissed At Midnight, and One Time He Didn’t… Quite
The Peninsula, Boeshane, 5067
Fourteen year old Jackson Michaels looked around at the party excitedly. It was the first time his mother had permitted him to come to a Universal New Year’s party alone, and he was planning on having as much as fun as possible, just in case she changed her mind by the next one.
Of course, it wasn’t actually the end of the year, at least not in the strictest astronomical sense. As it had on almost all colony planets, the ‘local’ new year had shifted several months from ‘universal’ new year in the decades since the colony had first been set up.
They would have another party for Boeshanian New Year in a few months, but this was the big one. The time when every human colony across the universe celebrated at once. Earth New Year.
Most of the traditions surrounding the celebration came from old Earth customs dating back several millennia, although Jackson sometimes wondered if they had all been passed on entirely accurately.
Tonight, however, he didn’t care how historically accurate the New Year’s rituals were; he was here to party.
When 9.50 rolled around, Jackson’s emotions were a heady mixture of excitement and nerves. He’d spotted Tristan coming in earlier, but had yet to muster the courage to talk to him, and now there were only ten minutes remaining until 10 o’clock. Midnight (at least in Boeshanian time). And according to Earth tradition, that meant a kiss.
Jackson desperately wanted to be the one that Tristan kissed, but he knew it would never happen unless he actually approached him, something he’d been trying to do for weeks. Every time he’d psyched himself up and then chickened out at the last moment.
He was so caught up in building himself up, he nearly missed the tap on his shoulder. Flustered, he spun around and found himself inches away from the very face he’d been considering all night.
“Hi.” Jackson was surprised to notice his own nervousness was reflected in Tristan’s eyes as he spoke. It was several seconds before he realised that he was staring, and hadn’t even replied to Tristan’s greeting.
“Hi,” he managed eventually.
Well that was smooth, idiot.
Despite the loud music around them, it was the awkward silence between the two boys that was deafening. Jackson took a steadying breath and forced himself to meet Tristan’s deep brown gaze.
“It’s, uhh, a good party, huh?”
The nervous tension dissipating a little, Tristan cracked a warm smile and bobbed his head.
“Yeah.” An unexpected spark of confidence appeared in his eyes, and his voice was slightly husky when he continued. “Now it is.”
A warmth bubbling up inside Jackson’s chest, he inched a little closer, his hand brushing lightly against Tristan’s and sending tingles through his bloodstream. “It’s nearly midnight.”
“So it is.”
As if on cue, the crowd around them began the traditional countdown to the New Year.
“Three! Two! One!”
Jackson vaguely registered the fireworks going off outside as the clock hit midnight, but all of his senses were overwhelmed as the sensation of Tristan’s lips pressed against his own crashed over him.
It was a long, glorious moment before either of them pulled back to whisper “Happy New Year.”
Gotta Floco, 4.3/banana/19
Jack looked around at the party he had somehow found himself in the middle of. While many of the activities taking place around him - eating, drinking, laughing and dancing - were familiar, there was definitely something odd going on as well, something he’d never seen before.
He could only assume that it was ritualistic, traditional perhaps, as there didn’t really seem to be any actual point to the actions. It also looked like it should be painful, although there was no evidence of this on any faces. He consulted his wristband and confirmed that the beings performing the activity were the native species to the planet, strengthening his ‘tradition’ theory.
Several long minutes passed before he managed to snag one of the beings to ask what was going on.
“It’s tradition,” she replied, fitting a delicately patterned scale into an empty space on her arm. He’d guessed at least that much correctly then. “Every year, before the year changes, you exchange scales with those who are important to you. That way, you go into the New Year as part of your loved ones, with them as part of you.” She grinned, the expression lighting up her whole face - which was, Jack noted, the only visible part of her not covered in scales.
“New Year, huh?” He smiled back. He’d always loved New Year.
She nodded, indicating the instrument on the wall which Jack vaguely recognised as a time piece. “Not long to go now.”
Before Jack could make sense of the alien clock, the room exploded into cheers around him and he guessed the moment in question had been reached. Turning to his new friend, he leant over and whispered in her ear.
“This is how we celebrated New Year where I’m from.”
Giving her but a moment to prepare, he pressed a chaste kiss to her thoroughly surprised lips.
Skyomah 8, 3435, 39th Time Around
Jack refilled his glass for the 3rd time, or the 184th time, depending on how you counted. He took a sip of the blue-tinged fizzing liquid, letting the bubbles tickle his tongue as he swallowed. He had yet to find adequate words to describe the taste of the drink, which seemed to be the Skyomahan equivalent of Champagne, as the flavour resembled nothing he’d ever experienced before.
He loved New Year as much as the next man - well, maybe not the next man on Skyomah 8, they really went in for a big celebration - but celebrating it every two weeks was beginning to get old. Even worse, only he and Ford, having come from outside the loop, were aware that they were celebrating it every two weeks. For everyone around them it was the first, and only, time.
When they’d been sent in to investigate the temporal anomaly surrounding the planet, Jack had been sure that it would be the work of a few days to figure out the cause, fix it, and get out of there. It hadn’t quite worked out like that. Seventy-nine weeks in, they were nowhere near even discovering the cause of the problem, and their vortex manipulators were useless. Until they solved the issue, they were stuck here. Celebrating New Year. Over and over - and over - again.
The upside was that they had, after the first 8 or 9 loops, discovered the best of all the lavish New Year’s parties.
He grinned tipsily as his partner approached, holding his own full glass.
They joined in raucously as the countdown began around them.
“One!”
Their lips smashed together in a drunken, sloppy, open-mouthed kiss as the New Year began… again.
London, 1942
Jack looked around the dimly lit room, smiling to himself despite the austere surroundings. It wasn’t the fanciest or most extravagant New Year’s party he had ever been to, what with the blackout curtains and rationing in place, but it was no less of a celebration for it.
The room was packed to the rafters with revellers; soldiers, like himself, on leave, young women from the factories, local tradesmen. Outside, the war was still being waged, but in here, just for tonight, everyone was trying to forget that and just enjoy themselves.
Remarkable thing, the human spirit.
As the night continued on inexorably towards midnight, Jack savoured the soft frame moulded to his side.
Estelle.
It hadn’t even been a month since their first meeting, since that first glimpse across the ballroom floor at the Astoria, but Jack knew he was crazy about the girl. For the first time in years, decades even, he was dreading the day when he would, inevitably, have to say goodbye. When the war was over, he would have to return to Torchwood. And more than that, Estelle could never know about his immortality. He could have a year or two with her at the very most, and then he would have to leave her, no matter how much it broke his heart.
Like the war, Jack decided that was something he would ignore, just for now. For tonight.
As the hands on the clock hit twelve, the sound of Big Ben chiming twelve were faintly audible in the distance, below the enthusiastic well-wishing surrounding them.
Drawing Estelle fully into his arms, he whispered his own New Year’s wishes into his ear as his lips met hers for a tender kiss.
Cardiff, 1975
Jack Harkness grinned to himself as he let himself into the Hub, troublemaking alien dealt with. For the first time in nearly eighty years of service, he was actually in Cardiff for New Year, instead of being off on some assignment somewhere. He’d spent the holiday in a lot of places, with a lot of different groups of people, but never with his colleagues at Torchwood.
He strongly suspected the team would still be there, despite the late hour, and was eager to find out how Torchwood celebrated the turning of the year. He didn’t know the current team all that well - he was still sent out on ‘outside assignments’ more often than not - but what he did know of them pointed to a pretty easygoing, fun-loving group, so he expected a decent little party, if nothing else.
What he found, when the cog door rolled back, was rather a disappointment.
Just as he’d expected, the team were all still there - but really, where else would they be, even at 11.45pm on New Year’s Eve? People didn’t just work for Torchwood, they were Torchwood. It wasn’t just your job, it was your life.
Contrary to his expectations, however, there was no party. Not even a little one. In fact, there was no indication at all that tonight was any different to any other night in the year; a lonely strand of tinsel wrapped around a railing the only concession made to the holiday season.
As usual, Debbie was fiddling with the interface to a computer system Jack knew was decades, if not more, ahead of its time. The backbone of the system had been in place for decades, but even with the alien-inspired advances in technology at Torchwood, it hadn’t been until a few short years ago that they’d been able to really start utilising the mainframe.
Claire was down in the autopsy bay, working on, well, Jack wasn’t quite sure what. She’d been experimenting with a variety of concoctions for months, and had been quite close-lipped whenever Jack had tried to pry into her purpose.
Trevor was busy with a long-term project too - dismantling the section of old railway line that still ran through the edge of the Hub, despite the decommissioning of the rail connection between the Torchwood branches over five years before.
He could see Harry sitting in his office, plowing through a mountain of paperwork, and although he couldn’t see Don, he could guess that he was down in the archives, as always.
In other words, just like any other night.
“Hey, where’s the party then?” he called, succeeding in rousing their attention where the sirens of the cog door had, remarkably, failed.
He was greeted by four identical confused looks. “Party, Jack?”
“Well, it is,” - he paused to check his wristwatch - “approximately four minutes to midnight on New Year’s Eve. Most people seem to believe that warrants a party or celebration of some sort.”
“Oh.”
“Oh? Oh? It’s” - another quick time check - “three minutes to the New Year, and all you’ve got is ‘Oh’?”
Purposefully, Jack strode over to the radio, fiddling with the dial for a few moments until the New Year coverage was broadcasting to the Hub.
“Well, I’m going to celebrate, and the rest of you can join in or not.”
Despite their initial reticence, both Claire and Debbie joined Jack when he counted down along with the presenters, and, when Big Ben’s chimes resounded through the underground cavern, Claire accepted Jack’s enthusiastic kiss with little complaint.
Trevor was a little more surprised when he was the next one treated to Jack’s expansive cry of “Happy New Year” as his arms surrounded him and his lips crashed onto his own.
“Always been my favourite New Year tradition,” Jack grinned, as he approached Debbie, who backed away and fled to join Don hiding in the archives.
“No way, Harkness! I don’t know where you’ve been!”
Cardiff, 2008
Jack stalked into the Hub, a fierce frown wrinkling his brow. “Seriously, don’t troublemaking aliens know it’s New Year’s Eve and I’m supposed to be celebrating with my family?”
Ianto limped in after him, his face the picture of enduring tolerance. Jack hadn’t stopped complaining the entire journey back to the Hub in the SUV. “Surprisingly enough, Jack, I don’t think keeping track of the Earth calendar is high on their list of priorities.”
Ianto’s impeccable use of logic did nothing to abate Jack’s annoyance.
“Well it should be.” He pouted uncharacteristically as he led Ianto down into the medical bay and helped him hop onto the edge of the table. “Or they could at least co-ordinate their activities better. One New Year’s call out I can handle, but tonight has just been ridiculous.”
Perched on the autopsy table while Jack searched for a support bandage, Ianto had to concede that he did have a point in that. Three incidents in the same evening was a bit much on any night of the year, let alone New Year’s Eve.
Until tonight, the rift had been pretty quiet for over a week, so Jack, Ianto and Gwen had felt fairly safe in organising something for New Year. Not a party, as such, but a celebration nonetheless. Just the three of them, and Rhys, in the Hub, spending time together like the unconventional (and dysfunctional) family they had started to become.
They should have known better, really; should have known they were tempting fate when they dared to have the audacity to actually plan something.
The first call out had come just before half past nine. Leaving Rhys to watch the Hub (with the unspoken but strict instruction not to touch anything), Jack, Ianto and Gwen had headed out to deal with it. Luckily, to make a change, the problem was little more than a misunderstanding, and it was the work of barely twenty minutes to set the misinformed being straight and get on their way back to the Hub, hoping that it would be the last problem of the night and they could return to their ‘party’.
The peace lasted until around ten thirty. By eleven, there was a new guest in the vaults and Gwen had gone home to Rhys (who had decided when the second alarm went off that it was pointless to stick around the Hub). Jack and Ianto had settled down with the expectation that now they could just relax and celebrate New Year.
It wasn’t to be. The alarms had blared once again at twenty to twelve, and the pair had dragged themselves back out to deal with it.
Two hours, a smattering of gunshots and a twisted ankle (Ianto’s) later, they were finally back. And Jack was not happy about the ruination of his plans.
“I just wanted tonight to be quasi-normal,” he grumbled as he helped Ianto wrap the bandage around his ankle. “See in the New Year with friends and family, like other people do.”
The wrapping secured, Ianto brought both hands up to cup Jack’s face, rather effectively cutting off Jack’s mumbled rant. “Normal is overrated. And if you’re quite through whining, there’s something we seem to have missed.”
“Mmm?” Jack’s eyebrows lifted questioningly.
“It may be two hours late, but Happy New Year, Jack.” With a quick quirk of a half-smile, Ianto pressed a tender kiss to Jack’s lips, and Jack wondered if maybe this New Year wasn’t so bad after all.
fin
Fandom: Torchwood
Pairing(s): Jack/Ianto, Jack/Estelle, Jack/John Hart, Jack/OCs
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: It's after Christmas, and I still don't own them :(
Summary: Jack Harkness has celebrated New Year many, many times, and there’s one particular tradition he enjoys the most.
Author's Notes: Thanks to angelzbabe1989 and piper08 for putting up with my whining on the phone and MSN the whole time I was writing this, and thanks to katestamps for the wonderful beta job she did.
Originally written for the holiday!bang round at thestopwatch, for prompt number 123. Original posting is here
Five Times Jack Harkness Kissed At Midnight, and One Time He Didn’t… Quite
The Peninsula, Boeshane, 5067
Fourteen year old Jackson Michaels looked around at the party excitedly. It was the first time his mother had permitted him to come to a Universal New Year’s party alone, and he was planning on having as much as fun as possible, just in case she changed her mind by the next one.
Of course, it wasn’t actually the end of the year, at least not in the strictest astronomical sense. As it had on almost all colony planets, the ‘local’ new year had shifted several months from ‘universal’ new year in the decades since the colony had first been set up.
They would have another party for Boeshanian New Year in a few months, but this was the big one. The time when every human colony across the universe celebrated at once. Earth New Year.
Most of the traditions surrounding the celebration came from old Earth customs dating back several millennia, although Jackson sometimes wondered if they had all been passed on entirely accurately.
Tonight, however, he didn’t care how historically accurate the New Year’s rituals were; he was here to party.
When 9.50 rolled around, Jackson’s emotions were a heady mixture of excitement and nerves. He’d spotted Tristan coming in earlier, but had yet to muster the courage to talk to him, and now there were only ten minutes remaining until 10 o’clock. Midnight (at least in Boeshanian time). And according to Earth tradition, that meant a kiss.
Jackson desperately wanted to be the one that Tristan kissed, but he knew it would never happen unless he actually approached him, something he’d been trying to do for weeks. Every time he’d psyched himself up and then chickened out at the last moment.
He was so caught up in building himself up, he nearly missed the tap on his shoulder. Flustered, he spun around and found himself inches away from the very face he’d been considering all night.
“Hi.” Jackson was surprised to notice his own nervousness was reflected in Tristan’s eyes as he spoke. It was several seconds before he realised that he was staring, and hadn’t even replied to Tristan’s greeting.
“Hi,” he managed eventually.
Well that was smooth, idiot.
Despite the loud music around them, it was the awkward silence between the two boys that was deafening. Jackson took a steadying breath and forced himself to meet Tristan’s deep brown gaze.
“It’s, uhh, a good party, huh?”
The nervous tension dissipating a little, Tristan cracked a warm smile and bobbed his head.
“Yeah.” An unexpected spark of confidence appeared in his eyes, and his voice was slightly husky when he continued. “Now it is.”
A warmth bubbling up inside Jackson’s chest, he inched a little closer, his hand brushing lightly against Tristan’s and sending tingles through his bloodstream. “It’s nearly midnight.”
“So it is.”
As if on cue, the crowd around them began the traditional countdown to the New Year.
“Three! Two! One!”
Jackson vaguely registered the fireworks going off outside as the clock hit midnight, but all of his senses were overwhelmed as the sensation of Tristan’s lips pressed against his own crashed over him.
It was a long, glorious moment before either of them pulled back to whisper “Happy New Year.”
Gotta Floco, 4.3/banana/19
Jack looked around at the party he had somehow found himself in the middle of. While many of the activities taking place around him - eating, drinking, laughing and dancing - were familiar, there was definitely something odd going on as well, something he’d never seen before.
He could only assume that it was ritualistic, traditional perhaps, as there didn’t really seem to be any actual point to the actions. It also looked like it should be painful, although there was no evidence of this on any faces. He consulted his wristband and confirmed that the beings performing the activity were the native species to the planet, strengthening his ‘tradition’ theory.
Several long minutes passed before he managed to snag one of the beings to ask what was going on.
“It’s tradition,” she replied, fitting a delicately patterned scale into an empty space on her arm. He’d guessed at least that much correctly then. “Every year, before the year changes, you exchange scales with those who are important to you. That way, you go into the New Year as part of your loved ones, with them as part of you.” She grinned, the expression lighting up her whole face - which was, Jack noted, the only visible part of her not covered in scales.
“New Year, huh?” He smiled back. He’d always loved New Year.
She nodded, indicating the instrument on the wall which Jack vaguely recognised as a time piece. “Not long to go now.”
Before Jack could make sense of the alien clock, the room exploded into cheers around him and he guessed the moment in question had been reached. Turning to his new friend, he leant over and whispered in her ear.
“This is how we celebrated New Year where I’m from.”
Giving her but a moment to prepare, he pressed a chaste kiss to her thoroughly surprised lips.
Skyomah 8, 3435, 39th Time Around
Jack refilled his glass for the 3rd time, or the 184th time, depending on how you counted. He took a sip of the blue-tinged fizzing liquid, letting the bubbles tickle his tongue as he swallowed. He had yet to find adequate words to describe the taste of the drink, which seemed to be the Skyomahan equivalent of Champagne, as the flavour resembled nothing he’d ever experienced before.
He loved New Year as much as the next man - well, maybe not the next man on Skyomah 8, they really went in for a big celebration - but celebrating it every two weeks was beginning to get old. Even worse, only he and Ford, having come from outside the loop, were aware that they were celebrating it every two weeks. For everyone around them it was the first, and only, time.
When they’d been sent in to investigate the temporal anomaly surrounding the planet, Jack had been sure that it would be the work of a few days to figure out the cause, fix it, and get out of there. It hadn’t quite worked out like that. Seventy-nine weeks in, they were nowhere near even discovering the cause of the problem, and their vortex manipulators were useless. Until they solved the issue, they were stuck here. Celebrating New Year. Over and over - and over - again.
The upside was that they had, after the first 8 or 9 loops, discovered the best of all the lavish New Year’s parties.
He grinned tipsily as his partner approached, holding his own full glass.
They joined in raucously as the countdown began around them.
“One!”
Their lips smashed together in a drunken, sloppy, open-mouthed kiss as the New Year began… again.
London, 1942
Jack looked around the dimly lit room, smiling to himself despite the austere surroundings. It wasn’t the fanciest or most extravagant New Year’s party he had ever been to, what with the blackout curtains and rationing in place, but it was no less of a celebration for it.
The room was packed to the rafters with revellers; soldiers, like himself, on leave, young women from the factories, local tradesmen. Outside, the war was still being waged, but in here, just for tonight, everyone was trying to forget that and just enjoy themselves.
Remarkable thing, the human spirit.
As the night continued on inexorably towards midnight, Jack savoured the soft frame moulded to his side.
Estelle.
It hadn’t even been a month since their first meeting, since that first glimpse across the ballroom floor at the Astoria, but Jack knew he was crazy about the girl. For the first time in years, decades even, he was dreading the day when he would, inevitably, have to say goodbye. When the war was over, he would have to return to Torchwood. And more than that, Estelle could never know about his immortality. He could have a year or two with her at the very most, and then he would have to leave her, no matter how much it broke his heart.
Like the war, Jack decided that was something he would ignore, just for now. For tonight.
As the hands on the clock hit twelve, the sound of Big Ben chiming twelve were faintly audible in the distance, below the enthusiastic well-wishing surrounding them.
Drawing Estelle fully into his arms, he whispered his own New Year’s wishes into his ear as his lips met hers for a tender kiss.
Cardiff, 1975
Jack Harkness grinned to himself as he let himself into the Hub, troublemaking alien dealt with. For the first time in nearly eighty years of service, he was actually in Cardiff for New Year, instead of being off on some assignment somewhere. He’d spent the holiday in a lot of places, with a lot of different groups of people, but never with his colleagues at Torchwood.
He strongly suspected the team would still be there, despite the late hour, and was eager to find out how Torchwood celebrated the turning of the year. He didn’t know the current team all that well - he was still sent out on ‘outside assignments’ more often than not - but what he did know of them pointed to a pretty easygoing, fun-loving group, so he expected a decent little party, if nothing else.
What he found, when the cog door rolled back, was rather a disappointment.
Just as he’d expected, the team were all still there - but really, where else would they be, even at 11.45pm on New Year’s Eve? People didn’t just work for Torchwood, they were Torchwood. It wasn’t just your job, it was your life.
Contrary to his expectations, however, there was no party. Not even a little one. In fact, there was no indication at all that tonight was any different to any other night in the year; a lonely strand of tinsel wrapped around a railing the only concession made to the holiday season.
As usual, Debbie was fiddling with the interface to a computer system Jack knew was decades, if not more, ahead of its time. The backbone of the system had been in place for decades, but even with the alien-inspired advances in technology at Torchwood, it hadn’t been until a few short years ago that they’d been able to really start utilising the mainframe.
Claire was down in the autopsy bay, working on, well, Jack wasn’t quite sure what. She’d been experimenting with a variety of concoctions for months, and had been quite close-lipped whenever Jack had tried to pry into her purpose.
Trevor was busy with a long-term project too - dismantling the section of old railway line that still ran through the edge of the Hub, despite the decommissioning of the rail connection between the Torchwood branches over five years before.
He could see Harry sitting in his office, plowing through a mountain of paperwork, and although he couldn’t see Don, he could guess that he was down in the archives, as always.
In other words, just like any other night.
“Hey, where’s the party then?” he called, succeeding in rousing their attention where the sirens of the cog door had, remarkably, failed.
He was greeted by four identical confused looks. “Party, Jack?”
“Well, it is,” - he paused to check his wristwatch - “approximately four minutes to midnight on New Year’s Eve. Most people seem to believe that warrants a party or celebration of some sort.”
“Oh.”
“Oh? Oh? It’s” - another quick time check - “three minutes to the New Year, and all you’ve got is ‘Oh’?”
Purposefully, Jack strode over to the radio, fiddling with the dial for a few moments until the New Year coverage was broadcasting to the Hub.
“Well, I’m going to celebrate, and the rest of you can join in or not.”
Despite their initial reticence, both Claire and Debbie joined Jack when he counted down along with the presenters, and, when Big Ben’s chimes resounded through the underground cavern, Claire accepted Jack’s enthusiastic kiss with little complaint.
Trevor was a little more surprised when he was the next one treated to Jack’s expansive cry of “Happy New Year” as his arms surrounded him and his lips crashed onto his own.
“Always been my favourite New Year tradition,” Jack grinned, as he approached Debbie, who backed away and fled to join Don hiding in the archives.
“No way, Harkness! I don’t know where you’ve been!”
Cardiff, 2008
Jack stalked into the Hub, a fierce frown wrinkling his brow. “Seriously, don’t troublemaking aliens know it’s New Year’s Eve and I’m supposed to be celebrating with my family?”
Ianto limped in after him, his face the picture of enduring tolerance. Jack hadn’t stopped complaining the entire journey back to the Hub in the SUV. “Surprisingly enough, Jack, I don’t think keeping track of the Earth calendar is high on their list of priorities.”
Ianto’s impeccable use of logic did nothing to abate Jack’s annoyance.
“Well it should be.” He pouted uncharacteristically as he led Ianto down into the medical bay and helped him hop onto the edge of the table. “Or they could at least co-ordinate their activities better. One New Year’s call out I can handle, but tonight has just been ridiculous.”
Perched on the autopsy table while Jack searched for a support bandage, Ianto had to concede that he did have a point in that. Three incidents in the same evening was a bit much on any night of the year, let alone New Year’s Eve.
Until tonight, the rift had been pretty quiet for over a week, so Jack, Ianto and Gwen had felt fairly safe in organising something for New Year. Not a party, as such, but a celebration nonetheless. Just the three of them, and Rhys, in the Hub, spending time together like the unconventional (and dysfunctional) family they had started to become.
They should have known better, really; should have known they were tempting fate when they dared to have the audacity to actually plan something.
The first call out had come just before half past nine. Leaving Rhys to watch the Hub (with the unspoken but strict instruction not to touch anything), Jack, Ianto and Gwen had headed out to deal with it. Luckily, to make a change, the problem was little more than a misunderstanding, and it was the work of barely twenty minutes to set the misinformed being straight and get on their way back to the Hub, hoping that it would be the last problem of the night and they could return to their ‘party’.
The peace lasted until around ten thirty. By eleven, there was a new guest in the vaults and Gwen had gone home to Rhys (who had decided when the second alarm went off that it was pointless to stick around the Hub). Jack and Ianto had settled down with the expectation that now they could just relax and celebrate New Year.
It wasn’t to be. The alarms had blared once again at twenty to twelve, and the pair had dragged themselves back out to deal with it.
Two hours, a smattering of gunshots and a twisted ankle (Ianto’s) later, they were finally back. And Jack was not happy about the ruination of his plans.
“I just wanted tonight to be quasi-normal,” he grumbled as he helped Ianto wrap the bandage around his ankle. “See in the New Year with friends and family, like other people do.”
The wrapping secured, Ianto brought both hands up to cup Jack’s face, rather effectively cutting off Jack’s mumbled rant. “Normal is overrated. And if you’re quite through whining, there’s something we seem to have missed.”
“Mmm?” Jack’s eyebrows lifted questioningly.
“It may be two hours late, but Happy New Year, Jack.” With a quick quirk of a half-smile, Ianto pressed a tender kiss to Jack’s lips, and Jack wondered if maybe this New Year wasn’t so bad after all.
fin