Ianto was fuming. Owen could be so childish sometimes.
“Give that back!” He’d got a letter at work, a personal and private letter, which Owen had snatched out of his hand and was trying to read. Not that he’d have much luck; it was in Welsh.
“You think I won’t?”
“You don’t have the guts.”
Well, Ianto would set him straight on that. He grabbed Owen, twisting him into an arm lock as the smaller man kicked and struggled, which was when Jack walked in.
“Boys, boys, is this a private party or can anyone join in?”