The joke is both so obvious and so terrible that John almost regrets not making it himself, though he supposes that being able to groan in protest and give Martin's back a light, playful swat is a decent consolation prize. "Shameful," he murmurs into Martin's shirt, nuzzling close and breathing him in.

His smile softens as Martin kisses the top of his head, and eventually puts the same question. "I don't know how I could possibly follow that stellar response of yours," he deadpans. "You took the only good answer." He tips his head back enough to gaze up at Martin, realizes with some slight consternation that he's no longer particularly well-placed to kiss him, and goes for the only convenient compromise: lightly nuzzling against Martin's chin.