The lack of intimacy would be disconcerting really, if Ianto could think beyond himself and the wall, and Owen trapped between them, angry and hurt and more than a little physical, emotional, messy.

“Don’t think this means I like you,” Owen hisses, all teeth and angles, even in the half light of the hub.

Ianto doesn’t reply, but it would be rather disturbing to think of Owen affectionately, so he bites him instead, crowds him further and is rather glad for the height difference.