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Ever since they partnered up, Johnny had been the one in charge of taking care of the horses. It wasn't like Gyro was completely ignorant on the matter, but years of jockey training trumped even the fastest learner. With the snow raging it had become a rather important matter to keep the horseshoes under supervision, and stopping every few hours to make sure that nor Slow Dancer nor Valkyrie had one missing was an acceptable delay.
Johnny had finished the check-up, relieved to see that both were fine, when he felt something hit the upper part of his back. He turned, alarmed and nails about to fire, only to find a grinning Gyro with snow spinning into a sphere in each hand. From beyond the grave, generations of Zeppelis would be frowning at such banal use of their technique.
“What are you doing?” He narrowed his eyes, wondering if the man in front of him was aware of his actual age. Instead, he received another snowball hit, in the middle of his chest. It was light enough to not cause harm, and with the spin effect fading, the snow just slid over his jacket.
“Y'know, I've never been in a snowball fight. It doesn't snow that often in Naples, and it's not like I ever had the chance anyway.” Gyro seemed so excited over something so trivial, he had to admit --only to himself, though-- it was endearing. “But I'm getting a good score so far, don't you think?”
He finished his sentence in time to launch the other snowball, giving Johnny just enough time to cover himself with one arm before being struck again. Now he was annoyed, maybe because they didn't have time for playing around, maybe because he was already falling behind by a couple of points.
“Hey, in case you forgot, we still have a few good miles before the- shit, Gyro! Stop that!”
But Gyro had shot another ball, straight to his face this time, and as Johnny wiped the snow from his eye, he had snuck between the trees nearby. While Gyro had a great control of the spin, Johnny had the upper hand when it came to marksmanship -- maybe if he whooped his ass a couple of times, Gyro would just let it go.
“Remember, no nails allowed!” He heard Gyro's voice from the small dried formation next to them, and focused his attention to that spot.
“I don't even need them, dumbass.”
It was a strange thing, to engage in battle with nothing more than silly pride on the line, or at least it had become so after fighting for not only their lives, but something more valuable than that. Even though his heart raced with the thrill of competition, Johnny’s chest felt lighter.
Preparing small balls of snow over his fingers, he patiently waited until Gyro compromised his position. Being in the open was a risky move, but it would force the other to show up if he wanted a shot at him.
He caught his figure, moving quick to launch the snowball, and he retaliated by firing three smaller ones from his fingers. No nails, of course, as he didn’t expect to be hit by actual steel either. Two of them hit Gyro, and he dodged the one coming for him in the nick of time.
After a few more exchanges, he lost track of Gyro. He didn’t seem to be in the woods anymore, and Johnny looked around, expecting to find him behind the horses or some of the stockpiled snow, but he let go a sort of undignified yelp when he was found instead.
Gyro had tackled him from the side, pinning him against the snow with both knees at each side of his legs, having to lean over him way closer.
“Gotcha.” His face was inches away from his, with an even more idiotic grin at his victory. A half gloved hand reached out to wipe some traces of snow clinging to Johnny’s face and hair. His fingers were wet from the snow, but soft nonetheless. The touch was enough to stir something in him, bringing memories of those smooth hands roaming around his body.
“Congratulations, you caught the guy that can’t run.” Shaking off any distracting thought for the sake of keeping his act, Johnny rolled his eyes, but leaned into the hand that was now caressing his cheek. “Great hunt, you sure you didn’t ever do this before?”
“What can I say, I might be a natural. I got the big prize, after all.”
With now both hands cupping the sides of his face, Gyro closed the diminishing gap between their lips, and Johnny gladly gave in into the kiss. It had been probably just a thoughtless way of putting it into words, but it had been years since the last time someone considered him anything remotely close of a ‘prize’.
A wave of warmth washed through him, and he circled Gyro’s back with his arms, almost willing to forgive his recent defeat. He parted his lips, deepening the kiss, and a pleased moan came from Gyro’s throat. Johnny’s hands traveled over the fabric, slowly going lower and lower.
Distracted as he had been with the display of affection, Gyro only realized what was about to happen a few seconds too late. He probably assumed Johnny was going for not-quite-innocent groping on his lower back, but when he felt fingers hooking up the hem of the layers of his clothes and lifting them he cut the kiss, and anything he would have had to say was interrupted by a short hitched breath as a fistful of snow spread over his bare back.
“Fuck- damn!”
Gyro lifted up immediately, and Johnny dealt the finishing blows, a few small snow bullets throwing him on his back. Immediately he sprung to the side with the spin, alert to the slightest move.
“That’s how it ends. Falling for the charms of the wicked tempter, our hero meets a terrible fate.”, mumbled Gyro in an over-dramatic raspy tone.
“Cut it.” More cautious than the other, Johnny dragged himself closer to Gyro, who had closed his eyes and laid with both arms spread at his side.
“You tricked me.” Gyro opened one eye, closing it immediately.
“You fell for it.” He replied with a shrug. “I guess it’s my win, after all.”
“Incredible, you would play me like that only to- it was just a game, Johnny!” He rose up, shaking off the snow on his chest. He was frowning and had his lips pouted in a rather childish way. “I thought we were in, y’know, the mood.”
Although a win was always a win, Johnny would be lying if he said no part of him thought he should have had played along. Trying to relieve that slight pang of need, he grabbed Gyro by the collar of his coat, leaning in for a short kiss.
“We still can make some good distance before it darkens. But when we camp tonight we’ll pick up from there, loser.”