Multitasking is the name of the game, and John stares in vague wonder even as he rolls on protection. Two fingers isn't enough and Q needs to hurry the fuck up. "Who," he says, almost blankly -- and then changes his mind and starts over -- "Where the hell did you learn to talk like that?"
But he agrees, completely. And can half make it a promise instead. With another fit of impatience he grabs the lube, and doesn't quite make a mess this time, because he's learning. "You're killing me," he decides and all but swats Q's hands away to take over for himself.