Martin sighs softly in John's arms, taking what comfort he can in the sympathy, and in being held. He feels miserable, achy and overtired, but at least John's with him, and there's no shyness or restraint about offering comfort like the last time this happened. As silver linings go, that's a pretty significant one.

He lets John guide him to the couch and help him get settled until he's burrowed in a blanket, feeling a little childish and ridiculous, but cozy enough.

He doesn't feel particularly hungry, but he knows he should eat, and he's briefly, pleasantly distracted by the hand in his hair, so he nods before really thinking about his options. "Maybe just some toast for now," he murmurs.