Ianto was working busily in the archives, filing, when two red-clad arms wrapped around him from behind and white whiskers tickled against his ear.
“Ho ho ho,” a sexy American-accented voice whispered as a hand slipped lower to grope him. “What do we have here, a gift for Santa? Tell me, have you been naughty or nice this year?”
“Seriously Jack? Are you planning on corrupting every childhood memory I have?” Ianto turned to see ‘Santa’ pouting.
“Just thought it might be fun.”
That pout got him every time. Ianto sighed then smirked wickedly.
“Oh, I’ve been very bad, Santa!”