Title: Loan approvals
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG
Length: 1,071 words
Content notes: None
Author notes: Written for Challenge 457 - Credit
Summary: Ianto has big plans for how to help Cardiff’s alien residents find their feet in a strange new city.


Jack frowned as he flipped back through the pages at random. ‘Are you sure about this?’

‘You've read that thing at least four times,’ Ianto replied, ‘which is approximately four times more than you usually do.’ He managed a smirk. ‘I wish you gave all my reports that level of attention.’

‘Scrutiny,’ Jack clarified. ‘It's not every day someone decides that Torchwood should not only protect the planet from alien threats but also operate as a bank. What do any of us know about that?’

‘Hopefully not as much as we know about protecting the planet from alien threats,’ Ianto quipped.

Jack’s expression turned into a frown. ‘I'm serious, Ianto.’ And he was.

‘So am I.’

Jack lifted up the half inch thick proposal. He wasn't sure why Ianto had given it to him to approve in the first place. Technically Ianto was in charge these days, leaving Jack with the lesser task of keeping Cardiff in order whilst Ianto dealt with the politics and administration of having outposts in different corners of the globe. Who better for that kind of job, really? It certainly wasn't in Jack's wheelhouse. He hated dealing with Prime Ministers and military generals. Give him a good old fashioned weevil chase any day. He supposed that it was merely out of respect for all the years Jack had worked in some capacity for Torchwood, and his extensive knowledge – plus a good deal of caution – that Ianto wanted to run his idea past Jack before rubber stamping it.

‘I understand it in concept,’ Jack said. ‘You want to offer credit to aliens who need to settle themselves here.’

Ianto nodded. ‘We know that it's difficult enough trying to fit in on a strange world, but harder still without a bit of financial backing. We can't just keep buying up houses to fix the problem. Not to mention that many of the races we've dealt with over the years are far too proud to accept any kind of assistance. They'd rather be sleeping under a tree by the river than admit that they need help.’

That was true enough. Even when things were dire, some refused to accept Torchwood's offers of help. And there seemed to be more and more aliens either arriving by accident through the rift, or otherwise ending up stranded here, that needed a place to call home. Where once Torchwood had held over a dozen safehouses, it now had just three, the rest having been surrendered to house aliens on a more permanent basis. ‘So, this is a loan system?’

‘An extension of credit. I'm not saying we're throwing millions of pounds at them, just whatever they need to get going. Maybe it's just a few hundred quid to buy essentials, or maybe it's a down payment on a flat. Either way, they'll be able to repay the funds over time, with interest, just like any other bank.’ Except this bank wouldn't need them to prove their UK National Insurance Number and a healthy credit score, neither of which any of their intergalactic settlers would have.

Jack sighed and thumbed the proposal again, wondering what they'd neglected to consider and doubting Ianto had missed dotting a single “i” or crossing a single “t”. ‘Should we be getting an accountant to look this over?’

Ianto raised an eyebrow at him. ‘You're happy for me to do your taxes for you but not this?’

‘Well, sure, but I mean this is big.’ Not that Jack's taxes these days weren't ridiculously complicated with the number of bank accounts and properties he owned. He'd even dabbled in the stock market for a little while back in the nineties out of a flight of fancy and had never bothered to sell those stocks. Gods alone know what any of them were worth now. ‘What if we run out of money?’ Jack didn't really want Torchwood going broke to have happened on his watch, even if Ianto was technically in charge. Jack felt the responsibility just as keenly as he had when he’d been the one in charge of everything.

‘At the rate we've accumulated it over the years – and that's no small feat considering how expensive this place is to run – even with interest I doubt we're going to fall short any time soon. We're not a charity handing cash out hand over fist,’ he reminded Jack. ‘This is based purely on economic need. And that money will be repaid after all. It's just to get them going until they can't find work and pay their own way in the world.’

‘But an accountant…’ Jack repeated, belabouring the point.

Ianto raised his eyebrows high enough to imply that Jack had never even used the word before and that it was somehow dirty, coming out of his mouth like that. ‘You want some bean counter to crunch the numbers? Would that make you feel better?’

Jack sat up a little straighter. ‘It would, actually.’

Ianto’s response was typically predictable, giving a slight roll of his eyes. ‘Okay. Fine. Just remember that banks have been lending money that isn't theirs for centuries and they still make stupidly large profits. We have the most sophisticated computer system on the planet. If it can't keep track of it all and make sure we're not caught short on paying our council taxes, then we probably shouldn't be in charge.’ Ianto nodded at the proposal on Jack’s desk. ‘Did you have someone in mind? Only I can't imagine any of your old flames being as boring as to file taxes for a living.’

Jack clutched at his chest. ‘It's like you don’t even know me, Ianto!’

Ianto merely rolled his eyes a second time. ‘So go find us a good accountant. I promise I won't do anything earth-shattering with this until you get some overqualified auditor to give it the green tick of approval.’

Jack folded his arms and considered the tenacity that had overtaken his lover. ‘You know, you don't have to revolutionise everything right?’ Jack admired Ianto wanting to make Torchwood even more than just a place that kept its eye on the rift, but he was worried that Ianto might one day bite off more than he could chew or simply become overwhelmed by the mountain of work he'd created for himself.’

Ianto shrugged. ‘I'm the Che Guevara of Cardiff, what can I say?’

Jack saluted him and grinned. ‘Viva la revolution.’