Ianto was working late in the archives. With Christmas less than a week away, the Rift was being extra generous, donating an ever-growing pile of ‘gifts’ to be sorted, identified where possible, catalogued, and shelved.
The radio was playing softly in the background to make the task less tedious and he was so engrossed in what he was doing that he didn’t hear Jack approach.
“You know what they say about all work and no play.”
“I believe that saying refers to you.”
“So it does.” Jack gave a courtly bow. “May I have this dance?”
How could Ianto refuse?