Ianto was somewhat perturbed to realise he couldn’t find a pair of socks. Or put more accurately, he couldn’t find a pair of his own socks. There were socks aplenty, his sock drawer was half full of them, but all of them were Jack’s.
“Jack, where the hell are all my socks?”
“In your sock drawer?”
“No, those would be your socks.”
“Socks are socks, can’t you just wear a pair of mine?”
“No. Yours are too thick; my shoes won’t go on over them. I can’t believe I’ve run out of socks! I didn’t think I was that far behind with the laundry.”
“Why are you apologising.”
“I’ve just been grabbing the first pair of socks I find every morning. Didn’t think it mattered.”
“You’ve been wearing my socks?”
“Well, yeah. Isn’t that what people do when they live together? Wear each other’s clothes?
“Not their socks!”
“Oh.” Jack reached for his foot, “Do you want this pair back then?”
Ianto looked horrified.
“Not when you’ve been wearing them!”
“What’s wrong with that? My feet have been intimate with yours plenty of times.”
“Good point. Give ‘em here. And wear your own socks in future!”