Ianto allows himself to be spun, stumbling along with him as he does and laughing, harder when John laughs because the sound of it is contagious. He tightens his arm around John again, the other coming to help catch himself before he finds himself spinning off into the mushrooms beyond, fingers hooking in John's tactical vest as he does.

"Good thing," he says, leaning in close, a broad smile across his face, breathless from the laughing and the spinning and the other man's happiness. "Just don't you dare drop me in these mushrooms," he warns, as if John's arm around his waist is the only thing keeping him upright. In a way he supposes it is. "Then you really will be carrying me the rest of the way there."