Work Text:
Tosh erased another line of equation as the numbers jarred each other into non-functionality. With a small sigh, she shifted her eyes from the computer screen to her notebook, and began the calculations again.
The Time Lock Program was turning into her most frustrating, if interesting, project. She had known when she started that it would be no easy task. She was trying to stop time, one of the most relentless aspects of their universe. As malleable as the dimension might be in theory, it was difficult to bend without breaking, and she really wanted to get along without risking the integrity of reality.
Everywhere she turned, she was confronted with the fact that the rules that worked for space were not consistent for time. Every idea that worked came into conflict with one that didn’t, and eventually they had all been scrapped.
But she had endless theories waiting in the wings, and would apply them all until one worked.
She was brought out of her reverie in two phases. The sight of the sandwich she’d asked for (which Ianto must have put on her desk without her noticing) was the first thing to distract her. The sound of crinkling paper was the second. She looked across the Hub, to see Jack and Ianto sitting together on the couch. They were unwrapping their own sandwiches, from the same little shop off the Plass Ianto had found last year, and she could hear their murmured conversation.
“Second time this week I’ll have to take the SUV in,” Ianto said.
“We really need to stop capturing aliens with the tendency to explode,” Jack replied.
“I’ll make sure to deliver your complaints directly to the Rift.”
“Much obliged. At least we didn’t have to retcon anyone this time.”
They didn’t appear to notice her presence. Or at least, they didn’t notice she was watching.
“It was a close thing,” Ianto nudged the top slice of bread off of his sandwich.
“Definitely thought that lawyer would be the type to ask questions,” Jack agreed. He reached over and began snatching little yellow bits from Ianto’s lunch.
Ianto rolled his eyes. “You know, you could always just order banana peppers.”
“And you could always tell the shop to take them off, since you can’t stand them,” Jack countered. “It’s more fun this way.”
“If you say so.”
“Mhm, I do. Want my tomatoes?”
“Yep.”
Tosh smiled to herself as the pair reconstructed their lunches, crossing arms and bumping shoulders as they stole from each other’s plates. It was very like them, she mused, for needless over-complication to become an affectionate gesture. It was difficult for anyone at Torchwood to do things simply, but their relationship was one of the most improbable webs of intricacies that she’d ever seen between two people.
They worked, inexplicably, as two separate entities that created one being. They still stepped on each other’s toes, argued, said stupid things. At times it was hard to know, at least from her perspective, what would bring them closer together and what would drive a wedge between them. But it was also hard to imagine one without the other, and she was fairly certain they thought the same thing.
Their chatter continued, and Tosh was drawn to the way they moved in each other’s presence. Everything seemed less sharp and more relaxed, like they were finally being given room to breathe. She felt a twinge in her chest, the longing for a similar bond with someone, surfacing. If only she could be content with simply watching.
She lost her grip on her pencil and it clattered to the floor. Two pairs of eyes flicked towards her, two demeanors shifted.
“Hey, Tosh!” Jack said cheerfully. “Care to join us?”
“You’ve been working on that all afternoon,” Ianto said.
It felt a bit as though she’d interrupted something sacred. The dynamic she’d glimpsed, that complicated carelessness, had vanished. But they looked genuinely welcoming, and she shoved away the clinging bout of loneliness before it could settle.