"Fungle," John repeats, and slips his arm back around Ianto in turn -- hooked around his waist since his head is now on his shoulder. He feels warm. John feels distantly concerned he might fall asleep on his feet if Ianto keeps attaching to his side. "We need to get through the fungle," he declares solemnly. "Which means you need to keep your feet under you."

He rests his cheek against Ianto's hair for a moment, absently rubbing at his side as he thinks. How much further is it? More importantly, how much will it be for a room? He may wipe out as soon as he gets there. He gave Ianto most of his money, too. Maybe they should just sleep in the fungle --

"Move," he says finally, and takes a deep breath as he straightens up and tries to encourage Ianto to move with him.