Author Note: Originally written for the prompt winning the lottery (under the name of Torchwood) on comment_fic at livejournal.
Happy Days
"We can't claim it," says Jack, pinching the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb.
"I don't see why not."
Owen folds his arms, perches his arse on the edge of the conference table, stretches out his legs and crosses those too. It's an artful display of lounging, but Jack has seen bodies lounging in ways that Owen couldn't even imagine. Hell, he's seen bodies that Owen couldn't even imagine lounging in ways that Owen couldn't even imagine.
"Because it's under the name of Torchwood, that's why."
"Never made any difference with the pizza," says Owen, tilting his head to one side and smirking.
"People will notice this," says Jack. "It's the Euro millions, not a spicy chicken special!"
Ianto brings in the coffee, closely followed by Gwen, as a coffee bearing Ianto often is at this time of the morning.
"What's Owen done now?" she asks, taking in the situation and coming to the right conclusion. She's getting better at that.
"Forget it." Jack takes a seat, Ianto places a cup in front of him, and Jack uses both hands to pull it closer. "I said no and that's the end of it."
"Sorry, so sorry," says Tosh, hurrying in with a bunch of files clutched to her chest. "There were some interesting anomalies on the inverted – well, never mind. What did I miss?"
"You won the lottery." Owen stands up straight, abandoning his pose but not the smirk. "Congratulations."
Tosh places her files on the table, eyeing Owen warily, and slides into the seat next to Gwen.
"In fact," says Owen, "we all won the lottery. Happy days and break out the champagne."
"Which you wouldn't be able to drink," says Ianto, taking a seat himself now that the coffee has been handed out. "What with being dead."
Owen scowls. Jack thinks it's Ianto's 'just being helpful' tone that bugs Owen as much as the constant reminders, or maybe it's that Owen hasn't managed to come up with a good rebuttal yet.
"Sorry," says Gwen, "but going back to the part where we won the lottery?"
"Torchwood syndicate," says Owen, finally sitting down. "Only Jack's refusing to let us claim it."
"Why Torchwood?" Tosh wraps both hands around her coffee mug. "Why not just in your own name?"
"Dead, remember?"
Owen shoots her a nasty look and Tosh stares down at her coffee, as if it holds the key to all the mysteries of the universe, so that she can pretend she didn't see it.
"Why can't we claim it?" asks Gwen.
Ianto shakes his head at her.
"Anything that brings Torchwood to the attention of anyone is a bad idea," Jack tells her.
He takes a drink of his coffee and then deliberately puts the cup back on the table harder than necessary. The noise makes them all look at him.
"Anything that brings Torchwood to the attention of anyone is a bad idea, so stop throwing the name around. Got it?"
His team make various noises of assent and Jack supresses a sigh. The twentieth century may be when everything changes, but the inability of some humans to keep a secret never does.