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The Red King's Hand -- Martyn, Doc reminded himself -- looked Doc up and down, sizing him up.
"Are you cheating on me?" Martyn asked, turning to Ren. "Well," he amended, as Ren spluttered for an answer, "at least you have taste. He's a hunk, what can I say?"
Doc's feet were rooted to the spot, and his head was dizzy. What the hell was going on? Ren seemed to be struggling for words.
"I - We - we're not dating," Ren forced out, "I promise - well, the king is, but I'm not!" An embarrassed flush was welling up in his gray-skinned face, almost unnaturally.
Martyn grinned, throwing an arm around Ren's shoulders and dropping a loud, smacking kiss on his temple. Ren buried his face in his hands.
"You can date him, I don't mind," Martyn told him very seriously; and then, turning to Doc, "Are you free tomorrow night?"
Doc found himself stiffly nodding a yes.
"It's a date, then," Martyn declared. "Don't bother wearing a shirt, you look too good without one."
And just like that, as easily as he stormed in, Martyn ran off.
Ren's face finally emerged from his hiding place of shame.
"I'm sorry about - that," he murmured. "Martyn is… something else." His face was filled with so much affection and adoration that Doc faked a gag.
"That's gay, bro," he joked with a friendly bump to the shoulder. Ren grinned and bumped Doc right back, using his metal arm this time.
"Says you! You're going on a date with us tomorrow!"