I don't want to, he thinks, and also thinks it should be pretty obvious. But physical contact came into his life unexpectedly and carved out a place there, first with Oswin and then with Euri, and love carved out another, and now they're hollows in him that he wishes he'd never allowed in the first place. He can almost hear wind whistling through them some days, and can definitely hear how the whistling has diminished with those hands on his stomach.

It's rising and falling rapidly as he tries to decide what to say, how to deal with this, his body rigid with confused tension.

"Why. What's it mean. Just - just this?" He doesn't honestly think there's any more - they're a couple, deeply in love, and Connor is touchy to the point of being uncomfortable but not actually into him. He couldn't be. John just needs to make sure.