Author note: Made the mistake of listening to the Torchwood soundtrack and The Ballad of Ianto Jones is about to make me cry... Hope this cheers up anyone else who needs it. :)
Wrappers
Jack raised his head. Peered across the tiny room. "Ianto?"
Ianto didn't turn. "Jack?"
"What are you doing?"
Ianto grinned into the drawer. "What does it look like?"
"If I knew, I wouldn't have asked," said Jack.
"I'm just tidying. You know me."
"I do, but why are you—" Ianto shifted to the side, letting him see. Jack arched an eyebrow.
"What?" said Ianto, emulating as much innocence as he could wearing Jack's shirt (just Jack's shirt).
"Those don't need to be categorised," Jack said with a smirk.
"I beg to differ."
"I'll bet," said Jack. He crossed his legs under the duvet, leaned his elbow on his knee and his chin on his palm. "What are the categories, then?
Ianto swallowed. Straight faced. Businesslike. "Ribbing, flavour, colour."
"Colour is important?"
"You noticed how often red's been used lately?"
Jack conceded this. "I love it when you coordinate."
A grin. "I know."