Martin barely manages to stifle a laugh at John's grumbled objection and ensuing struggle to haul himself close once again, but his amusement fades back into contentment as John pursues his unspoken request.

And then, with that muffled assessment accompanied by a little pat, Martin feels himself blush, and a soft, absurd, "Oh?" escapes him. He chuckles — giggles, really — and peers down at what little he can see of John's head. "Glad to have your approval," he says warmly.

He shifts once again, now scooting down so they're more on eye level, the better to brush his fingers along John's cheek. "You're pretty good yourself."