They fall into a comfortable synchronicity as John moves in, as Martin folds his arms around him and hugs him close. There may still be a facet of novelty to the exact particulars, but when all is said and done there is still nothing that feels more natural or familiar than this: the two of them holding each other, warm and safe.

There is still a piece of Martin that feels astonished — he suspects it will never truly fade away — that this is familiar, that it's so natural, that John trusts and loves him so much. But it's a quiet background murmur, scarcely worth his attention. John has his attention right now: how nicely he fits in Martin's arms, how peaceful and relaxed he feels, the warmth of his breath, his lips.

"Love you," Martin whispers between each slow, patient kiss. And again: "Love you."