Disclaimer: Being a bloke who likes to slash pretty men doesn't make me RTD, I don't work for the BBC, and as much as I might like to, I don't own Jack or Ianto or any part of Torchwood. I do, however, order pizza under that name on principle.
Pairings: Jack/Ianto implied
Notes/Summary: Sometimes, 21st Century culture leaves Jack feeling homesick. Fortunately, someone in the office is really quite good at finding him what he needs.
One of the more enigmatic things about Jack -- in Ianto's view, at least -- was how the man drew his pay. He didn't bank normally. As far the main payroll system was concerned, Jack didn't even draw a salary. Instead, he drew a per diem out of an impossibly old expense account, and this money was transferred not to a normal bank account, but into a second, numbered Torchwood account.
Also, the per diem amount hadn't been adjusted for cost of living since 1962.
This would be a problem, he mused, if Jack didn't appear to be living off of the interest. Ianto could pretty much tell by the numbers when Jack ran out of necessities, or if he'd gone to a bookstore, or bought a new shirt. Overall, though, the account was virtually dormant. Jack lived at the Hub, he ate with the team, he drove the SUV. The man's entire life (barring shampoo and lubricant) was a professional expense.
So when he noticed the account balance drop nearly £200 on a Tuesday night (and all of it in 79p and 99p amounts that transferred into a perfectly normal bank account), he took it upon himself to stage an intervention.
"Do you know," Jack began, without even looking at him, "how difficult it is to find a love song that doesn't assume either heteronormativity or exclusivity?"
"Excuse me?" Ianto's eyebrows shot up.
"It's impossible. This -- THIS -- is why nobody listens to late Twentieth Century popular music. It's not just boring. It's depressing." Jack sighed and rubbed his eyes, then leaned back in his chair to sulk.
The next morning, Ianto handed Jack a silver CD-R in a paper sleeve with his coffee.
"What's this?" Jack gave him a questioning look, turning it over in his fingers.
Ianto shrugged. "Play it."
Jack dropped the disc into the boardroom's workstation drive and opened the .mp3 file on the disc. A slightly grindy bounce-beat filled the small room. After a few seconds, a sultry but playful woman's vocal joined in.
"In my dreams, I can see us in a tight embrace
Doin all the things that we never really did
I think I'm in love with you
Must we go run through our lives with our eyes closed
To the loving happiness that we can share
I think I'm in love with you and your friend..."
"I think you'll find the Twenty-First Century is when it all changes, sir." Ianto smirked as he stepped out and trotted down the stairs into the main Hub to finish the morning coffee round.
There was an e-mail waiting for him when he returned to the tourist office.
From: "Jack Harkness" <email@example.com>
To: "Ianto Jones" <firstname.lastname@example.org>
Date: Thursday, November 20, 2008
Subject: So...So, got any pretty girlfriends?
[note:] Song lyrics are from "You and Your Friend" by Snake River Conspiracy. It's a good song!