Work Text:
Jack Harkness isn’t sure when he last slept, but he knows it’s been something over fifty hours. He may not sleep very much as a general rule, but there can’t have been more than a handful of hours in the last week. All he knows is that he is tired, so very tired. He’s exhausted, but not sleepy, wound tight from yet another evening of chasing the rift’s dangerous refuse, and jittery with lingering worry over Gwen’s near-serious injury. His whole team had been dead on their feet by the time they made it back to the Hub, and he had sent them home to get some rest. He opens a file at random on his computer. Too bad he can’t manage to take his own advice.
The file ends up being a report on maintenance costs that was due over three weeks ago. He sighs, “Oh, the glamorous life of being the boss”, as he sets out to justify the expenditures of the last three quarters. He is not at all sure what the budget office thinks the costs should be to keep a century-old secret underground base up and running, but they seem to have severely underestimated. He has typed about halfway down the page (with no real idea what he has written) when he blinks, and realizes he has lost time, staring off in the general direction of his coat rack.
His hands, however, have not been entirely idle, typing out a seeming random rhythm of diagonal lines.
/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /
He blinks. He really is feeling punchy, both amused and annoyed by their appearance. “Hey, what are you doing in my report?” He goes to erase the lines, but hates to even contemplate going back to work. On a whim he makes the lines dance across the page instead.
/ \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \
It makes him smile. “Yeah, like that. Cut loose. Got to be more interesting than boring old expense reports.”
// \\ // \\ // \\ // \\
This is kind of fun. “Did you just shake your ass at me?” Jack is glad none of his team is here to see him being quite this silly. Still, he can feel the tension that has held him hostage begin to ease, so he continues with the game.
// \\ \\ // // \\ \\ //
“Oh, that’s lively. I like it.” His voice drops into a soft flirty tone out of pure reflex. “But if you are going to be my only companion for the evening, we are going to need to get a bit more creative.”
// // X // \\ X // //
“Flexible. I like that in a partner.” Getting into the spirit, Jack lounges back in his chair, his body relaxing farther, one hand idly stroking the keyboard.
olo
It takes a few beats for his brain to process this new symbol, which is weird, because he must have typed it. Then it clicks, because what else would be on his mind?
He smirks “I do like how you think.”
/ / / / / / / / / / \\ olo //
“All right, all right, give a guy a moment, would you?” Opening his trousers and adjusting himself in his chair, he feels more of the tension recede as he works on giving his computerized little friend what he asked for.
>>> <<< >>> <<< >>> <<<
He works his left hand up and down his growing erection to the same rhythm that appears on the screen in front of him. “Yeah, exactly like that, baby.”
/ / / / / / / / / /
>>> /\ <<< >>> /\ <<<
Jack groans, obeying the typed commands and squeezing himself on the up-stroke. It feels damn good, but he is just too exhausted to keep this up for long, and not quite stimulated enough to cum. “Got any other kinks in that dirty little mind of yours?” he asks the screen.
\\ mln //
“A creature after my own heart I see.” He chuckles. “Why am I not surprised?” He trails his right hand one last time softly over the keyboard before leaning forward in his seat and letting it drift down over his exposed buttocks. He circles his entrance with his middle finger in time with his strokes, and allows his eyes to drift shut when he finally slips just the tip inside. It only takes a few moments for the twin sensations to push him over the edge, and he falls gratefully into orgasm, letting the last of the nervous energy drain away.
He opens bleary eyes a few moments later, resisting the temptation to drop off right where he sits. Instead, he shrugs off his shirt and uses it to wipe up the worst of the mess. Sleep tugs at him, making his limbs feel like lead weights, and covering his thoughts in clouds of dense fog. When he manages to focus on the computer to save his report and log off, he notices one final line of symbols.
| / - \ | / - \ | / - \ | / - \ | / - \ | / - \ | / / * !!! * _ _ _ _ _ _
It isn’t until he is crawling into bed that his fog-shrouded brain thinks to wonder who could have typed them, since he is pretty sure he knows where his own hands were at the time. But long-denied sleep closes over him before he can begin to worry.
The next morning, a much-refreshed Jack Harkness rises just before his team is due in. He dresses and climbs up to his office, fondly anticipating the imminent appearance of a cup of Ianto’s coffee. When he sits down at his desk it occurs to him that he should erase the evidence of his flirtation with his own report, before said report finds its way into the hands of the super-competent Torchwood Archivist, as all reports eventually do. When he opens the document in question, however, there is nothing there except several rambling paragraphs on maintenance costs. The only symbol on the page is just a few characters at the very bottom of the page. ;-)
Author’s Note: What Jack sees as random slash patterns are actually words hang-man style. For those who care, these are the translations.
/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / Hello Captain Jack Harkness
/ / / / / / / / / / Fuck Me Jack
/ / / / / / / / / / So Good Jack