"I, oh," Martin stammers. Christ, must he blush so bloody easily? John is no better off; he seems flustered, which is distantly adorable, but Martin isn't sure what to do about it. He wants to answer Yes; it's what John wants, it's what he wants, it should be simple. John's nervousness is more endearing than worrisome, but for his part, Martin wonders if he can trust his own motivations. Is it for his own comfort, or because he can't bear to say no to John — which would be doubly ridiculous when John so clearly is trying not to pressure him? Or is it because he just wants this, wants so many inconvenient things he never thought to imagine, much less grasp?

Would it be wrong for that to be the reason?

"I... wouldn't mind either," he says. His thoughts are too difficult to untangle; the words, settling the churn of his gut at the thought of rejecting the offer, those are easy. He smiles, faint and a little terrified, still hidden from view against John's shoulder. "I'd like that," he amends.