"Hey. Ianto. Did you ever go by a nickname?"
There came the soft clamor of teacups in their saucers, being passed over and around.
"No."
"Really? Not Yan or Yani or something catchy like that?"
The soft shush of fine fabrics brushing up against one another in Ianto's suit.
"No."
"I mean, Owen shortened wouldn't work, could you imagine calling him Wen? And you can't really shorted Gwen. ... Well, you could, but it'd be Gw- and who wants to be Gw- ? Ianto, though. That has possibilities."
The gentle clinkclank of spoons against porcelain.
"No."
"We shortened Toshiko, though. Tosh. A load of Tosh. Ha! No! I've got it! You could be Yan when you dress down? In those really nice tight jeans you have that show off your butt."
The click of a plate being set down on the wooden conferance table, but not the sugar bowl. He already knew just how much sugar each cup should hold.
"Nope."
"You're just being mean, now, shooting me down like that. Kill-joy."
The very very faint sound of a set of lips laying a kiss against Jack's temple.
"Yep."
And the warm sound of a chuckling laugh, deeply amused and deeply relaxed.
