John lets out a low chuckle, half delight at Martin's willingness to compliment him about this so casually, half bashful self-satisfaction over the compliment itself. He still marvels, sometimes, over how compatible they turned out to be along that particular axis; it had initially felt so unlikely — if not outright impossible — that he doesn't think he'll ever take it for granted. But they've earned this ease, this ability to treat it lightly. And he's far too physically comfortable to get maudlin about it.

"Perhaps," he allows, "but let's not erase your own hands' contributions. They usually play an important role." He grunts softly as Martin locates another knot, then spends the rest of his current lungful of air on a contented purr. "Unsung heroes," he concludes, muzzy but decisive.