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Summary
“Come in, Martin,” he says, not looking up from his notes.
“Hi, Jon,” he says, and Jon stops writing at the sound of his voice. “We’re out of the green tea, but we’ve got lemon?”
Jon looks at him. Martin smiles at him in his usual tentative way as he sets the mug of tea down on Jon’s desk. Heat spikes so sharply in his gut that he twitches with it.
“Thank you, Martin,” he says, mouth dry, and he stands up.
“Oh,” he says, sounding almost surprised. He smiles again. “No-- no problem-- um, what are you--”
Jon takes Martin by the shoulders, leans up on the tips of his toes, and kisses him.