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“What I’d like to know is, what kind of insane recruitment do the scavs have?”
“Is now really the time?” Bang bang bang.
“Seriously, where do these gonks even come from?” Johnny continues on like he couldn’t hear V, which was just typical. “And just how stupid are they to be picking a fight with us?”
Somehow , V thinks with what might be fond exasperation or might be just the rising desire to punch Johnny in the face, he’s gotten even worse now that he’s corporeal . At least he’s actually shooting and not just shit talking. V might’ve been forced to engage in some friendly fire if Johnny had acted that useless after insisting he come along on what was supposed to be an easy gig. (Ha.)
“Uh, what?” V gives in and engages; it’s not like he’ll be sensible and shut up if he ignores him. “I think you mean after me , ‘cuz last time I checked, you were not– fuck’s sake–” The sound of an assault rifle interrupts him. V takes the opening between bursts to lean out and quickly fire a couple shots with Archangel. He hits one scavenger in the shoulder and hears her start to scream, only to get cut off. A peek shows a conspicuous lack of a corpse next to the non-existent railing of this makeshift rooftop. Hopefully no one’s down on the street.
They’ve been at this for a while now and while he’s not sure how many scavs there actually are – once they’d spotted him, realized who he was, they’d multiplied like cockroaches in a megabuilding – they have got to be running low on ammunition, at least. V sure is, and he and Johnny have been far more spare with their shooting. And he’s still got a couple grenades up his (metaphorical) sleeve. Though he’s been reluctant to use them in an urban area, he’s rapidly reconsidering that decision.
V’s not actually worried yet, but if they don’t solve this situation soon it might make the jump from ‘annoying hiccup’ to ‘actual problem’. And then no one will be happy.
V dares to look out of cover - tries to scan how many enemies there are left - and immediately has to duck back in lest his face become swiss cheese. Yep, that was not smart.
One of the scavengers screams something incomprehensible, but likely insulting at him.
“Die already!” V yells back, which is useless - he doubts very much they can hear him any better than he them - but sure makes him feel better.
“V, not to question your methods–” Johnny starts, very promisingly, after several moments pass with nothing but the sound of gunfire between them.
“Then don’t.”
“–but you might need to pull out the big boy toys if we want to be done sometime this century.”
“I’m trying to avoid being noticed by every NCPD patrol in Watson. And it’s not my fuckin’ fault they wanted a shootout.”
“Tsk, it’s Night City. Everything ends in a gunfight, you know that.” Bang bang bang. “Case in point.”
Saying so, Johnny shoots one gonk that doesn’t manage to duck quickly enough and looks meaningfully at V when the surviving scavs double their fire.
“Yeah, yeah…” V sighs and pulls out a frag grenade. “Stay down.”
Things move faster after that.
The last woman standing goes down cursing at them in angry Russian and on fire. There’s a beat of silence before they both lower their weapons, feeling the rush of the fight recede.
V sighs and stretches out from the crouched position, Johnny following a second after. Looking around, he’s a bit blown away (pun not intended) by the sheer number of bodies and casings littering… everywhere. Damn, but they’d really given it the old college try.
...Ugh, Johnny phrase.
“ This is what I get for doing a job myself? Every day I understand fixers more.”
“You gonna completely give up solo work now?” Johnny grins up at him from where he’s crouched over one of the early victims of the Malorian. “Spend all your time living it up on the couch at the Afterlife?”
V snorts, quickly patting down a torso that lost its head and left arm to an explosion. No fun loot, damn. “Hell no. I’d go nuts. I’m just sayin’, it makes sense, if any job you take ends with people going outta their way to get at you…”
Johnny concedes the point with a ‘heh’ – what is with the good mood? – and continues to rummage through the guy’s pockets.
(V has to swallow his shit eating grin at that. Personality absorption went only one way – yeah, right. )
He’s idly scanning the area for any stragglers, more out of habit than actually expecting anyone to be left, which is the only reason he sees the guy, half hidden from their position as he is. Blood splattered scav getup and a slight sluggishness suggest that he’s already hit badly, but that doesn’t stop V’s blood from freezing in his veins.
He’s too close and the gun is already up.
Split second decision.
(No actual choice.)
Bang.
The pain is instantaneous.
V struggles to pay attention over it but there’s no need. He hears the sound of Johnny’s gun firing from behind him, startlingly clear. Through the haze of pain, he sees the scav fall, bullet going straight through the skull, and is distantly relieved.
With the threat removed, his knees decide to betray him and give up, but before he can even brace himself, V feels two arms catch him with unexpected gentleness. He… loses some time between blinks and the next time he opens his eyes, it’s to the unfortunately familiar view of Johnny leaning over him, looking halfway between pissed off and concerned.
(Usually, you’re not in his lap, though, points out an unhelpful part of V’s brain.)
“What the fuck , V–”
“You’re not fucking intangible anymore, asshole.” V grits out, because he doesn’t need to listen to this. “Pay attention and watch your back.”
For once, Johnny doesn’t have anything to say in response. In almost any other situation, he’d savor it, but now they have to move . There’s no way the cops didn’t hear him throwing grenades around, and even if they miraculously missed it, the area is hardly so abandoned that no one would call them. The way this day is going, they’ll probably end up with MaxTac on their asses if they stick around long enough.
Some of that must show up on his face, or Johnny just knows his thought process well enough, because he doesn’t protest when V tries to stand up and needs to lean on him for support.
He doesn’t quite manage to bite back a whimper as the shifting aggravates the wound, but he does notice Johnny adjusting his hold. He has the metal arm around V, which is good; he probably couldn’t carry V with the flesh one, given all the cyberware he’s got in him.
“Easy,” he says, and V would pay more attention to that tone, really, but there’s a familiar feeling surging up and spots are dancing in front of his eyes.
He only manages to start saying, “I’m gonna–” before he loses the ability to stand completely.
The last thought V has before the darkness swallows him, looking up at Johnny’s face, is that he really, really did not miss this.
Fuck fuck fuck fuck–
The litany of fucks only increases in pitch as V passes out on him. Johnny gives in and swears out loud.
“V, if you get flatlined by some half-dead scav, I swear to god, I’m gonna kill you in the next life–”
He hovers over V, realizing that there’s absolutely no way to move him, while putting pressure on the wound, that also leaves him a hand free to shoot with. Which is just great.
The wailing of police sirens – far too many for comfort, right now, when usually they make him look forward to a good fight – cuts through the hesitation and makes his decision for him.
Johnny grits his teeth and, as carefully as he’s able, picks up V in a princess carry (and makes a note in the back of his mind to tell him that later to annoy him).
He wouldn’t be able to say later how he did it, but he makes it off the scene of the crime and down in the alleyway without too much of an accident. And then manages to carry V through the back alleys of Watson without dropping him even once.
It’s not until he finds himself in front of Viktor Vector’s clinic that his coherent thought process returns.
It’s empty of people, for once, but even if the alley had been packed full, no one would’ve dared to get in Johnny’s way.
“Vik!” he bellows and only after notices that he’s slipped into calling him that, like V does, when usually he uses his full name.
He’s already all the way down the stairs when the doc appears. Johnny looks up in time to catch his expression slide from confused to alarmed.
“What happened?” he demands, reaching to help carry V.
“Gunshot from a scav. Didn’t go through.” He bites off, before adding with a grimace. “He passed out after standing up.”
At that, Viktor glances sharply up. “The chip?”
Johnny shrugs as well as he’s able. It could be lingering side effects or just V’s pain tolerance failing for once. The doc seems to agree with his assessment and grimaces back.
As they maneuver V onto the gurney, hurried footsteps come from the entrance and Johnny turns, ready to bite off the head of whoever’s about to be distraction–
“Johnny? What happened?” Misty’s voice stops that thought.
Right. She would’ve heard him yelling in the alley.
He sees it as her eyes flicker to V and widen in recognition, then move back to him. She doesn’t need to demand an answer again, he’s already speaking.
“Scavs thought they’d try and take out Night City’s newest legend,” he explains in more detail than he’d said to Viktor. “Thought we’d taken them all out, but one must’ve slipped through. Bastard was half dead already, but still got lucky...”
He… more or less deliberately doesn’t mention that V took the bullet for him. There’s no need to, he argues with himself. It’s not a relevant detail. If V wants to mention it later, that’s on his head.
Misty purses her lips, but only nods at him. She moves around him, ready to help out, and Johnny realizes that, for the time being, he’s only in the way.
He restrains the urge to ask if they need help – they don’t, he knows that – and quietly moves back to sit on the steps. Viktor might tolerate him on a good day, but he’s never quite forgiven him for almost killing V and he’d rather not get kicked out before he knows V’s going to be fine for sure. If anyone tries to come in, he’s going to stop them (... unless it’s something truly important , adds the part of his mind that always sounds like V and he usually ignores.)
It’s not until Misty tries to get his attention that Johnny realizes he’d completely spaced out.
“Vik’s got him now. Do you want to get cleaned up?”
Her words take a moment to get through to him. There’s a gentle smile on her face, contrasting with the blood on her hands, that’s disorienting to have directed at him instead of V.
He looks down at his hands and – yeah, that’s a fair question. If her arms are bloody from helping V, he looks like he’s been rolling in puddles of the stuff.
“Yeah…” he clears his throat, suddenly realizing it’s dry. “Yeah, that’d be good.”
She moves to the back of the clinic and with a last look to where Viktor’s working on V, he goes after her.
Johnny’s dimly aware of what he’s doing, following after Misty and going into the tiny bathroom when she points to it. He goes through the motions, washing his hands and face and then just… stands there, leaning on the sink.
He just needs a minute. To process, or some shit.
Johnny catches the look on his face in the mirror and barely restrains himself from punching it.
Fucking riduclous, is what it is. And yet.
He can’t pretend that he doesn’t know why this is hitting him so hard, even though he’d like to. Spending time in V’s head, where it had been so easy to lose track of what’s Johnny and what’s V, had made him very good at noticing his own thought process. He grimaces – not for the first time, that self reflection makes things more complicated than he’d prefer them.
He’s… afraid for V. Afraid of losing V.
The realization sits uncomfortably.
Oh, he’s long since resigned himself to caring for the kid - how could he not, after all the shit they’ve been through? After all the shit Johnny’s put him through, if he’s being honest which apparently he is now. Not that V’s ever just taken it, of course – he gives as good as he gets, did so right from the beginning; it’s why Johnny couldn’t dislike him even at first, even though he tried.
And sure, he’s stuck close with V these past months, but he’d figured most of the… care was just a remnant of their personalities blending together.
Guess fucking not. He wants to laugh at himself, but resists the urge – there’s no need to make Misty think he’s lost it. More than he apparently has.
Outside, he finds that Misty has procured a new shirt to replace his bloody one.
“It’s V’s,” she explains as he takes it. “It might be a bit tight…”
(He’s only a bit disappointed when she doesn’t take the chance to look at his very bare chest. Damn V’s sisterly feelings for her, that’s definitely his fault.)
It is indeed somewhat small around the shoulders, V’s being less broad than his.
They settle in to wait.
Johnny could leave, technically – there’s nothing for him to do and Viktor might even prefer it if he’s not hanging around. He won’t though. He’d only wind up at V’s place and that’s just too pathetic to be borne.
It’s a few hours later – during which he somehow ends up in a conversation about the differences in Night City between now and the twenties, and doesn’t even hate it, damn Misty’s magic – when Viktor comes back to tell them V’s waking up.
Johnny maybe walks slightly too fast, but that’s fine. No one notices.
“So, here we are again…” V croaks out.
He’s laying on the gurney, torso covered in bandages. Johnny lets his eyes roam, noticing the ashen look to his face and the weak smile nonetheless there.
Viktor chuckles, which is the best reassurance that V is out of danger Johnny's gotten yet. Maybe it’s V’s lingering sentiments, but he knows the ripperdoc wouldn’t make light of the situation if it wasn’t going to be okay.
“Is there even any point to tellin’ you to take it easy?” Vik asks.
“Ah, c’mon, Vik. Not like I got shot on purpose.”
Johnny has to bite his tongue to stop himself from saying that, yes, actually, V did.
“I know, I know,” the doc says, unaware. “But you can’t just go running around like you’re at full health, kid. Just ‘cause you’re not coughing up blood every five minutes now doesn’t mean the chip’s effects on you are gone.”
“I know, Vik.” A hint of steel enters V’s tone despite the exhaustion.
Viktor hears the warning and raises his hands placatingly. “Just in case you forgot. Now, you're staying here until tomorrow. Don't complain.” He glances between V and Johnny, something unreadable in his gaze, before he says, voice adopting a mock-scolding tone. “Don’t fight, children. You’ll aggravate your wound.”
And then he leaves them alone.
“...Okay then,” says V, apparently as baffled by that as him. He looks back to Johnny. “Are–are you wearing my shirt?”
“Well, someone bled all over mine, so I had to change. Misty provided.” Johnny manages to get his voice to sound normal.
Of course, because it’s just that kind of day, that doesn’t stop V from noticing something’s off. He raises an eyebrow, which should not be a compelling expression on someone covered in bandages.
It is.
Johnny blows out a sigh and looks over his shoulder, checking that Viktor and Misty are still in the back of the shop and unlikely to hear them. Resisting the impulse to pace, he moves instead closer to V and simply… looks at him for a few moments.
Finally, as V starts to look worried, he says, lowly enough not to carry, “What the hell was that, V?”
Infuriatingly, V only stares blankly at him for a few seconds and then rolls his eyes.
“V–” Johnny hisses, maybe somewhat desperately.
“What?” He has the gall to look untroubled. “You literally made me tell you if I’d take a bullet for you, you can’t be surprised. Did you think I was lyin’? What, to spare your feelings?” He starts to chuckle, only to choke in the middle and start coughing.
V waves off Viktor before he can come back, as well as Johnny, and takes a moment to bring himself under control. When he does, he looks back up at Johnny, ignoring his hands that are frozen in the air where he was ready to help him somehow.
“If I hadn’t done that,” V speaks more seriously now, voice also lowered. “If I hadn’t done that, you think you would’ve gotten away easy? That trajectory, you’d have caught it in the spine.”
Johnny… knows that’s true. And he’s not going to unpack any of that now. He can’t deal with both V and himself almost dying. Instead, he reaches for the old, familiar rage.
“There’s no way you could’ve known that before, V, don’t–” But he doesn’t even get to start, because V cuts him off. Again.
“Shut up, damn it.” There’s a startling amount of buried anger in those four words. V stops for a second, startled, and takes a deep breath. Johnny’s too surprised to take the opening to speak his own mind. When V continues, his tone is obviously, deliberately more light. “We went through a lot of trouble to get you a body. Would’ve been a shame to lose it.”
And then he fucking smiles at him.
(You’re done for, cackles an inner voice that sounds far too much like Rogue.)
After several long seconds, Johnny finally sighs, letting go of the anger he’d started to build up.
“Fine. Be like that. But you gotta promise me, V, don’t pull this kinda stunt again.” He ignores the way his voice almost breaks at the end.
“Choom, you gotta make up your mind–” V keeps up the light tone, either missing how serious Johnny’s being or ignoring it, and.
Johnny growls. This is not how he was planning on doing this – hadn’t even started to think about that, but–
He kisses V.
It’s not a very gentle kiss, more of a rough pressing of lips than anything. It does shut V up though.
Johnny pulls back, only a few inches, and glares at him.
“Don’t. Do. It. Again.” He enunciates as clearly as he can.
V’s got a dazed look on his face, but that doesn’t last long. His expression changes quickly, to surprise, pleasure, and then finally settles on smug.
“Oh, all of a sudden I’m your type, huh?”
There's nothing for Johnny to do, but kiss him again.