John goes tense for a moment as Ianto crouches in front of him, like a cornered animal. There's a weird sense of deja-vu about the situation, only before it's always been him crouched in front of Ianto telling him everything was okay. He doesn't know the last time he was on the opposite side of this, but it must have been years. It's disorientating. He looks down either side of himself at Ianto's hands over his own on the edge of the mattress, then warily up at Ianto himself. His expressions are always so earnest, and John wonders if the edges of panic tugging at him are as visible the other man's emotions are.

"Well," he manages, and there's something a little rough in his voice that feels wrong but he can't stop it. "I already told you I want you around because nobody else gets my Deadpool jokes."

That's still true. It hasn't changed. His fingers twitch helplessly under Ianto's, and he doesn't know what he wants to do with them but he wants to do something -- he just doesn't want to rip them out from under Ianto and make him think he's pulling away.