Two weeks later
Jack walks into his office only to find his desk occupied by Isaak who is squinting at the computer screen. In fact, he's squinting at two screens. Jack frowns. When did the second screen get installed? He doesn't remember asking for it, and he doesn't remember allowing Isaak to just… spread out in his office, either. He clears his throat and when Isaak looks up, he gives him a pointed stare and raises his eyebrows.
"You've been taking over my office when?" Jack tries to sound stern but utterly fails as he takes in Isaak's smart waistcoat and crisp white shirt that is left open wide enough to expose the strong column of a tanned throat. The skin surrounding the little mole that fascinates him so has a somewhat purplish coloring and Jack smiles inwardly, remembers clinging to his lover's heavy shoulders and sucking the little purple mark into existence in a fit of frenzied passion. Parts of his body still ache in a most pleasurable way.
Isaak offers him one of his half-grins, pushes the chair away from the desk, stretches his arms and folds his hands behind his head.
"I have repeatedly asked to be assigned a work space of my own," he says lazily. "Given the fact that you have turned a deaf ear, I have decided to use this office when you're not around. Which is more often than not," the last remark is accompanied with a pointed stare that matches Jack's.
"What is it with the second screen?" Jack moves around the desk so he comes to stand next to Isaak. One screen displays the start page to Torchwood's staff files, the second has a spreadsheet with various graphs open. Jack frowns again, a little puzzled. "What on earth are you doing?"
"I'm putting personnel cost together – salaries, headcount, duration of employment, cause of death, injury statistics and so forth. Also," he opens another spreadsheet, "I've started to pull company data, you know, lease cost, car pool, maintenance and repair, law suits – really, Jack, we must work on our overall concept if we don't want Torchwood to plummet into a financial abyss. Besides, where exactly are our funds kept? What about accruals? I need to see our financial files, too, as I have a feeling you have never really sat down to monitor account activities."
Jack leans against his desk, stunned.
"Account activities? Personnel cost? Accruals?" He eyes Isaak. "What are you? A closet auditor?"
Isaak chuckles and swivels in the chair to face Jack. "In my former… line of business, it was crucial to keep books and taxes immaculate. With all that's going on that is not precisely meant for the public, you just can't afford to let things slide. We used to have legions of lawyers and tax advisors and what-have-you," he reaches out and places one hand on Jack's thigh, "but I have always made a point of checking certain things myself. Legwork, you see." His voice drops just a little, and he gives Jack a look from under his ridiculously thick lashes, a little quirk that has yet to fail its desired effect where Jack is concerned.
With one fluid movement, Isaak gets out of the chair and comes to stand only inches away from Jack. He nudges his feet apart and moves closer until he stands between his legs, bends down and murmurs into Jack's ear, "Let me tell you a secret."
Jack swallows as one thumb brushes his cheek and a warm hand travels down and around his arm and snakes along his ribcage until it comes to rest on his back. He closes his eyes and wonders what's next. Isaak gently rubs his stubbled chin against Jack's cheek and whispers, "I have a university degree in business economics."
Jack snorts and the spell is broken. "Tell me you're joking." He searches Isaak's face but is met by a calm gaze. "University of Manchester, Business School," Isaak confirms. "Magna cum laude."
"Fuck me," Jack says with a heartfelt sigh. "Our carefree alien hunting days are over. What now? A business plan, or annual budgets?"
"Leave all that nasty number crunching stuff to me, love." Isaak pulls Jack closer. "As for fucking you, well –" Whatever he has intended to say is cut off as Jack suddenly stands up and kisses him on the mouth, hard. Their teeth clash together and Isaak feels his lower lip split but couldn't care less as he cups Jack's face with both hands and returns the kiss with just as much heat. Jack melts against Isaak's chest and moans into their kiss, but the sound of voices filling the working space outside Jack's office makes them break apart, breathless and regretful. Still, they look at each other and smile. This may not be not the time to play, but there is always the night to look forward to. And their nights have been interesting lately, to say the least. Not only has the Rift enhanced Isaak's healing abilities, it certainly has done wonders to his refractory periods, too, a fact that Jack intends to take full advantage of.
Isaak reaches for his jacket and closes the files he's been working on. He checks his wrist watch.
"Impeccable timing," he says approvingly. "I am scheduled for a video conference with Mycroft in ten."
Jacks rolls his eyes. "Oh yeah, Mycroft," he mocks. "Wouldn't want to keep Mycroft waiting. It's a good thing Holmes has his policeman to play with, otherwise I'd be really worried. You two have so much in common already. Soon you'll be exchanging tailoring tips."
"His policeman?" Isaak asks, intrigued. "Oh, DI Lestrade? They're lovers? Mycroft and Lestrade? Really?"
Jack wiggles his eyebrows. "Yes, the very same. Mycroft Holmes and his silver fox. Sorry, but you'll have to make do with what you've got here."
"Shame. Well, maybe you'll grow on me over the years." He puts on his jacket. "Oh, and the other thing? He has already given me his tailor's address and will have his assistant make an appointment for me when I'm in London for this year's annual strategy meeting." He winks at Jack and saunters off in the direction of the conference area.
Saunters off. Just like Mycroft bloody Holmes. Jack throws his head back and laughs.
Welcome to a new chapter in the history of the Torchwood Institute.
"Beginning something new always pushes us into territories we may or may not be comfortable with; sometimes, though, stepping out of our personal boundaries is enough to teach us that though we may not always be aware of the future, we can at least wrap a hand around our past and decide then and there whether it is acceptable to keep it as it was, or use it as a training tool and push forward into the unknown."
"A wise man once said that you may stand at the end of a stream and watch the water ripple once around the stone you have just skipped across it. It very well is possible that it will take you years or months to finally find that stone—and by then, you have found where the stream begins and that stone…well, it has become a pebble."
-from the Journal of Ianto Jones.
