Kiyote

By some fucking miracle, Johnny finds himself back in a living, breathing body: a perfect clone to his old one. And V is no longer dying either. Though Johnny hasn't got a fucking clue how V managed to make this all possible. All he know is that V is being weird as fuck, and it's probably got everything to do with what happened during the time he was back on that chip. And he himself is being weird too, because even though he keeps trying, he cannot go back to his old way of life. Instead, he feels bored, and maybe even lonely, spending his days in his own apartment, far away from V and whatever the fuck he does all day. But at some point, secrets always start to emerge; for better or for worse.

Notes:

Writing this took ways too long, and I am probably way too late in joining this fandom, but I had fun with this one, so I hope some of you might enjoy as well! :) Also, shoutout to my best friend for forcing a deadline on me so this got finally published! ;)

In good Cyberpunk 2077 fashion, the title of this fic is also the title of a song of the band "Rumspringa"; a song that, for me, could be one of V's theme songs.

Also, if you're interested, there's a link to my Spotify Playlist for this fic.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

Against all fucking odds, Johnny has his body back. Or rather, he’s got a body back. Made with his own DNA, granted, but it’s not the real deal - instead, it’s grown in a tank like a god-damned Avatar, only not as ginormous and also not so hideously blue and cat-like. But, true to this comparison, it’s better than his run-down model: Though not necessarily younger looking like his real one, this one’s got an entirely fresh set of organs. And this even extends to the fact that it’s still sporting two organic arms. A change Johnny still doesn’t fully know what to make of.

“Strictly spoken, no longer Johnny Silverhand, eh?” Had been one of the first things V had said to him when he’d woken up, cold and confused, in the back of Viktor’s clinic. He doesn’t like admitting it, but he’d been scared when he came to. Terrified even, that maybe Arasaka’s got him after all, or that all his time with V had just been the sickest lucid dream slash LSD trip he’s ever had. And humbling as it is to admit the next part too: Seeing V jump up from a chair on the other side of the room, running up to him, talking softly to him, holding him steady so that he wouldn’t fling himself off the bed - fuck, it had been like watching Superman rush in to save you from a burning building or some shit.

So this is another thing: Against all fucking odds, V is alive and kicking, his body no longer failing, healed with a wild mixture of gene technology and cyber technology. He’s running and driving across Night City, being a badass, the preemest merc in town.

He - they have everything they ever wanted, back when they were being forced to share one nervous system. Many times, Johnny had thought about what he’d do should he get his body back: He’d fuck until his dick would give out, he’d visit the most high-end bar and when asked what he wanted to drink, he’d simply say: Yes. He’d buy ten packs of cigs and light one after another. He’d gorge himself with all kinds of drugs until he could taste colors and smell sounds. Simple, really.

And, true to his word, the first thing he did once he got back on his feet in this familiar and yet new and strange body was to dive head first into Night City’s - well … nightlife. Which also meant he dove head first into some chick's pussy. And then dick first into another girl’s pussy, because somehow, the vibe hadn’t been there with the first one. Only that second time wasn’t the charm either, and neither was the third time. If anything, his mind has wandered into strange places instead of focusing on the pleasant present. Weird, Johnny had thought to himself, but then he had carried one with the rest of his plan.

With the alcohol he might have overdone it that first time. Because as it turns out, this body doesn’t have the full Johnny-Silverhand tolerance. Which means his first drinking spree ended exactly like this: With him violently throwing up in a toilet where he’d been bound to catch Hepatitis, blacking out between trash bags in the back alley of the bar, and then thanking God, Jesus, Maria and Joseph when he woke up in V’s apartment, with V giving him a dirty, scolding look but handing him a few painkillers before he had to delta.

His experience with those ten packs of cigarettes had been almost the same, because those lungs had violently disapproved of those gaseous noxa. By now, he’s so far that he can smoke one, maybe two cigs without much problem, but it also seems that this body isn’t really physiologically addicted to nicotine, because smoking doesn’t quite scratch that particular itch anymore. It’s still fun, and cool, so he occasionally indulges, but that’s it.

And drugs … To be honest, Johnny had actively avoided drugs in the end. He’d been tempted for a moment, when everything else just hadn’t hit the spot, but then he’d remembered all those pathetic, sad junkies all around Dogtown, and … He just doesn’t want to waste this body. Not when it’s a gift from V.

So instead he thought of a backup plan: Reconditioning his body to enjoy life like he used to back in the days.

Which brings him to the here and now.

“Wow, nice place you’ve got here.” The woman says as she does a three-sixty in the middle of the penthouse once Johnny’s flicked on the lights. Johnny has no idea what her name is. Doesn’t even know if he asked. But he thinks she looks like a Jessy, so that’s what he’ll stick with in his head.

“Yep, sure is.” He mumbles and punches in the security code. V had tried but ultimately failed to convince him to implant a cyberdeck capable of anything more than money transfers and calls. He has no ambitions to become such a freak netrunner like V, thank you very much. And he has seen what V can do to other people who have cyberdecks, so again: No - no, thank you.

“What did you say you were doing for a living again? Must be doing pretty well for yourself.” Jessy comments and kicks off her shoes.

Hah. Joke of the century.

Johnny lives off fucking alms at the moment. V had gifted him his apartment in The Glen, which is exactly where Johnny had brought this random woman right now. V remits him a fresh batch of eddies every bloody week - the only thing most arguably his is his old Porsche. Which, again, he can only drive thanks to V. Because he somehow recovered that old thing. And, well - because he saved his sorry ass.

“I get by alright.” He says to evade the questions, sits down on the couch, drags her down with him and starts making out with her mouth.

She moans into his mouth and crosses her arms behind his head as she straddles his hips, but it sounds wrong, fake, maybe, or just annoying. He tries not to think too much about it and tries to concentrate on the pressure against his dick, which helps at least a little bit.

“Hey, what did you say your name was again?” Surprisingly, it’s Jessy who asks him. Maybe he should return the favor and ask for her real name, but - nah, fuck that.

“Johnny.” He simply answers, to which she bites down on her bottom lip around a seductive smile and then tucks her head down to press a kiss to his neck.

“Mhm, alright then, Johnny. Make me feel good, hm?”

She pronounces his name wrong. Somehow. Fuck him if he knows how that’s possible, because it’s a real easy name to pronounce.

Instead of gracing that cheesy line with an answer, he gropes her ass and moves them so she is lying down on the couch, him propped up on top of her.

Since when did this chick have blue hair? He thinks to himself as he looks at her for a second before going right back to exchanging some spit.

Which hm - yeah, still boring. Johnny tries to get into the mood by opening her bra and then cupping her tits beneath her shirt. She mewls and presses her thighs into his waist, deepening the kiss.

Oh for fuck’s sake.

He doesn’t know what his fucking problem is, seriously. She’s a pretty enough girl. Big tits, nice ass, doesn’t have these weird, freaky tooth-pick legs - a decent lay, all in all.

Maybe it’s the way she kisses: A little too much, over acted. But then again, that’s the way most joytoys and over-eager groupies kiss and that had never stopped him before. Though, now that he thinks about it, maybe that’s because usually, he would be drunk out of his ass at that point. Or high.

Then again, maybe the way she keeps pronouncing his name wrong when she gasps it out between kisses is what ruins this for him.

But in the end, the hows and whys don’t matter. What matters is that he has to get his rockstar-groove back. So if this shit isn’t doing it for him right now, he will Pavlov it.

Mind made up, he drags his hand down her body, pressing into the soft flesh whereas his thoughts begin to wander, into his past, to better fucks, were he was rock hard and wet at the tip, eager to spill into some mouth, a hand, a pussy, a pair of creamy thighs, anything.

Jessy pulls at his hair, and yeah, that’s more like it. Johnny rocks his hips against her mount, eliciting a slight tingle in his middle.

Good. Okay. Tits. Ass. Faceless women riding his mouth. The haze of drugs and sex, adrenaline still roaring through his veins after a successful gig. He himself lying in bed, arousal brimming in his loins, but it’s forbidden, somehow. Because he is being watched, though not really. It’s more that he isn’t alone, and if he jerks off now, someone else will know. Will maybe even feel it. But oh, is his dick hard. Fuck does it want to be touched, it’s been ages. It’s practically begging for it, and no amount of tossing or turning can mask that. If anything, the brush of his cock against his sleeping pants is making it worse.

Johnny moans, for the first time tonight, and the rock of his hips isn’t deliberate this time.

Fuck.

Lips pressed together, he lets his hand wander down his body, because fuck it if he’s being watched, fuck it if -

With a gasp, Johnny breaks the kiss with Jessy, his dick now a throbbing mess, but shit. Fuck! That ain’t his memory - or at least, not completely. It’s V’s. It’s theirs. He can still remember how he’d watched from the sidelines with bated breath, because he himself had been desperately horny too, with their nerves wired together, and all he’d wanted had been to pop into existence and scream: “God fucking damn it, V, just get us off already, I can’t take it!” But he hadn’t dared, and in the end, V had gotten off, almost silent, but fucking intense, sharp and deep as he’d arched his back and grabbed the blanket with his hand.

Johnny moans without his permission and his hips buck, orgasm dangerously close all of a sudden.

Shit. No. That’s where he draws the line. It’s bad enough that he sometimes still talks to V in his head, especially when he’s here in the penthouse, no way he’ll now start thinking about V during sex and somehow getting off on it.

“Mhm, Johnny, fuck, your cock feels so big.”

Ugh.

He can practically feel his erection flag at that. Seriously, why does his name sound so shitty when she says it?

“Ah! Please, fuck me with it, mhm, please.”

Without verbal reply, he makes quick work of discarding both their pants. She is not exactly shaved and he doesn’t exactly care when he grabs the base of his cock and sinks into her. She moans and tugs at his shirt as she takes him inch by inch and Johnny pleasantly discovers that after his initial difficulties, he is a simple-wired guy after all, and a wet, soft pussy around his cock does feel good.

(Take that, V.)

He fucks her into the couch, the slick sounds filling the room, mixed with their smacking lips and occasional moans.

It goes pretty well.

Until Johnny’s phone goes off on the coffee table. It’s not an instant dealbreaker, because it doesn’t ring for a call. It simply dings once for a text.

But it’s a special kind of notification sound, one he uploaded himself: Three notes strung on the guitar, pretty inconspicuous. Others never make much of it, so doesn’t Jessy. But to Johnny, it means only one thing: V is texting him. For no other reason could his phone make that sound.

No. No, he tells himself.

He is busy now.

Another notification.

Johnny turns Jessy’s face and sucks a hickey into her neck.

Very busy.

E, A, C#. A major. Because V is a major a-

Johnny grabs the phone and keeps kissing her neck, keeps fucking her as he peers over at the screen and hopes his dick is good enough for her not to notice.

Heya Johnny

Whatcha doin?

Busy rn?

Tf you want?

*location sent*

Need your help

Johnny stops what he’s doing, pulls out of the woman without another word and sits back down on his ass, face on the screen. He doesn’t like the sound of that.

V never. Ever. Asks for help like that if it isn’t important.

V, what the hell happened?

“Johnny? Is something the matter?”

He ignores her, finger tapping the edge of his phone as he waits for V to type.

Just a lil mishap

Could you come here?

And could you bring a little ice?

Johnny freezes like he’s the one dumped with ice and he jumps up, pulling on his pants, his eyes still fixed on the screen because V is typing again.

Shit. A lotta ice, if you can manage

For you or a client?

It’s a gonk thing to ask, because if it was for a client, V would get it himself. But if it’s him who’s burning up like a Windows Vista PC forced to run an Action RPG with 60 fps, 240 hz and in 4k, eating up every last bit of RAM it has, only then he’d ask for someone else to help.

“Fuck. I gotta go.”

“Mhm. Yeah. Figured. Don’t worry, I’ll delta as soon as I’m finished, Johnny.” Jessy murmurs, her fingers drawing tight circles around her clit, determined to get herself off. Seriously, good for her.

Johnny couldn’t give a shit.

He’s just in the elevator when he gets another text from V.

But johnny, no worries, ill be alright

in cold water rn, will hold out

dont fuckin drown u piece of shit.

f u

Johnny throws his phone on the passenger's seat of his Porsche and pushes his foot on the petal.

~***~

In moments like this, he’s glad the NCPD is a bunch of useless fucks, because otherwise, he would be in a detention cell instead of at the door to the address V had sent with the way he drove here.

Or quite simply shot, given where they are.

The door slides open as soon as he walks close, three large bags of ice cubes in his arms, which are heavy and biting against his exposed skin.

“V? You still breathing?” He calls into the small, shitty apartment.

“In the bathroom!” V calls out to him, the words in itself not helpful at all, but like this, he can follow the sound of his voice.

One of the lights in the bathroom is broken, but the second one almost directly shines on V lying in the bathtub with most of his clothes still on. Only things he took off beforehand were his shoes and the Samurai jacket Johnny had refused to take back, both now lying on the closed toilet lit.

Johnny wastes no time kneeling down on the bath mat in front of the tub, putting a hand in the water.

“That shit is lukewarm. How is this supposed to help?” He grumbles and reaches deeper inside the tub to drain it, lest the ice fucking melts instantly.

“Wow, straight to being a nagging bitch, hm Johnny?” V rolls his eyes. His face is flushed and Johnny is pretty sure the wetness around his hairline is sweat and not water.

“Well, apparently I have to be, because you’re unable to handle yourself.” Johnny grits out between clenched teeth, plucks the drain again and lets fresh, cool water flow in just as he rips open the first pack of ice, throwing it in.

V hisses as the ice cubes fall onto his stomach and crotch before they get elevated by the rising water level.

“Was cold five minutes ago, I swear. And even lukewarm water is better than nothing.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, V, what the fuck did you do that you brought cold water to room temperature like that?”

The next pack of ice refuses to be ripped open easily with his fingers, so he uses his teeth, causing sharp pain to rush through his bones as the coldness comes in contact with them. He’s always been sensitive about this, and apparently his new body is too.

“Had to pull the client out of some complicated ass firewall, some corpo pigs at my tail the whole time. Speaking of, could you check on her please? She’s in the living room.”

Johnny ignores V’s request and opens the third and last pack of ice, dumping it before reaching in to distribute the cubes in the water.

Fuck, that’s cold. He’s glad as hell he doesn’t have to sit in this. V’s dick must be the size of a walnut at that point.

“Johnny.” V says with clattering teeth, shaking hands gripping the edges of the tub. “Go look, please. It’s twenty thousand eddies lost if she kicks the bucket.”

He doesn’t give a flying fuck about twenty thousand eddies right now. So instead of checking on the client, Johnny reaches out to press his fingers against V’s neck, feeling for his pulse. It’s fast, but not clinically tachycardic, which calms him a little bit. That client can die for all he cares, but if V - No. He doesn’t even want to think about it. V dying on him could not be balanced with twenty million eddies.

“Johnny.” V huffs out, exasperated as he pulls Johnny’s wrist away with an icicle of a hand. “I’ll be fine, go check her pulse, for fuck’s sake.”

Albeit grouchily, Johnny complies, though only to keep V from being an annoying shit.

True to his words, the client is lying on the sofa in the living room, unconscious and also a little warm, but in no comparison to V’s current body temperature. Johnny checks that she’s breathing and her heart’s still beating. He even slightly elevates her legs on a bunch of pillows and opens the window to let in a bit of fresh air. Princess treatment, if you ask him.

Grabbing a bottle of some isotonic drink, he rushes back to V, finding him with his eyes closed, body rocking ever so often with slight tremors as he inhales and exhales in a calm, controlled manner, still clutching to the bathtub for dear life.

“Here.” Johnny gruffs out, handing V the bottle before he sits down on the bath matt again, crossing his legs.

V blinks slowly before accepting the item. With his wet, cold and still trembling fingers, he struggles to open the cap, which Johnny watches unfold in front of his eyes for two seconds before he can’t take it anymore and snatches the bottle back, opening it.

With a wry smile, V brings the now opened bottle to his lips.

“Thanks.”

“Whatever.” Johnny huffs out, arms moving to cup the back of V’s neck, helping him into a more vertical position as he slowly sips at the drink.

“Jesus, kid you’re still burning up, how is this possible?” Because shit, the skin of his nape is burning where it hasn’t come in contact with the ice water. V just shrugs, which brings Johnny to his next point. “Hope that bitch back there is worth it. You didn’t fall for yet another sob story, did you?”

Rolling his eyes, V takes one last, bigger gulp and then puts the bottle on the floor, leaning back again so his chest is covered with ice once more. Reluctantly, Johnny pulls his hand back, now letting it rest against the tub right next to V’s head.

“It was a job. Plain and simple. And even if: Am not gonna apologize for a lil empathy, Johnny.”

Johnny scoffs, heartfelt and bitter. “Empathy? Here in Night City? Please, that’s a death sentence.”

“Without my fuckin empathy, you wouldn’t be sittin’ here right now, so shut the fuck up, asshole.”

And Johnny actually does shut up, because well shit. That’s check-mate for him, because it’s the sad, sad truth. If he’d ended up in literally anybody else’s head, they probably would have just seen him for the bitter, fucked-up, narcissistic son of a bitch he is. They would have done everything in their power to get rid of that brain parasite and find a cure for themselves.

V on the other hand saw something else in him. Still does, probably. Hopefully. Johnny thinks he can sometimes still see it in V’s eyes when he looks at him almost affectionately. It’s a sad trade-off for these fluttering rushes of fondness he’s felt coming from V’s core whenever he would pop into existence for a smart comment back then.

“Hey, uhm - I hope I didn’t interrupt you in doing important shit by the way.” V changes the topic, gently nudging Johnny’s shoulder with his fingers. When he stops talking, his jaw is still shaking violently, lips bobbing pathetically, but he still tries to give a small smile.

“Nah. Just at home scratching my balls on the couch.” Johnny lies without missing a beat. V buys it and squeezes his shoulder. Johnny just so manages to suppress the urge to put his own hand on top of V’s, brushing his thumb over the cold skin.

“G-good.” V pulls his hand back and then takes a deep breath as if bracing himself for something. “Okay, no way around it, I gotta put my head under. Ugh. This is gonna suck.”

“Come on, you’re already mostly submerged in ice, diving under is just water on a hot stove at this point.”

“You wanna put your head in? Be my fucking guest.” V grouches and scoots down an inch.

Rolling his eyes, Johnny readjusts his position too, bringing a hand to V’s torso, cupping his ribs, forefinger perched against his shoulder blade for better leverage as he puts the other on V’s shoulder.

V raises his eyebrows but doesn’t push him away.

“What, think I won’t be able to come up for air by myself again?”

Johnny gives him a long, unimpressed stare.

“You get ten seconds under water.”

“I can hold my breath for more than ten seconds.” V laughs and pushes his ass even further down the tub.

“Ten seconds, V.”

He rolls his eyes, takes a breath and goes under. Johnny counts from 21 to 30 in his head, and then he is pulling V up again.

“One more time.” V says as soon as he’s above water, not bothering to open his eyes as he takes another breath.

He dunks his head five times in total before he sits up straight again, flicking the water from his eyes, holding onto Johnny’s arm.

“Phew. Okay. Better now.”

“Oh yeah? Brain no longer pudding?” Johnny asks nonchalantly, whereas on the inside, he takes a huge breath of relief.

“Fuck off.”

Johnny helps him out of the tub, and it seems that twenty minutes in ice water did take more of a toll on V than he lets on, because he leans and holds heavily on Johnny, whole body tense, slow and shaking. It’s only when Johnny is sure he won’t simply keel over that he lets go of him.

“Okay, now strip.”

V barks out a laugh, but he is already peeling off his shirt. “Wow. Take me out for dinner first at least.”

“I’ve seen and felt you take massive shits, V.” Johnny retorts with a certain disinterest as he digs through the cabinet for a towel.

“Yuck, Johnny. You are disgusting.”

The next time Johnny turns around, V is standing fully naked in the middle of the room, arms crossed in front of his chest and walking on the spot to bring some life back into his limbs.

And Johnny cannot help himself, he has to take a peek at V’s cock. And again, not able to help himself, a shit-eating grin finds its way to his face.

“Now that’s just sad.”

V throws him a heartfelt middle finger and then wraps himself in the towel, furiously rubbing himself dry and also to get the blood flow up and running.

“I’m gonna get you some clothes.” Johnny announces before he gives in and grabs a second towel to brush over V’s skin.

“‘ve got some in the trunk.”

When he comes back a few minutes later with a fresh set of clothes, he finds V sitting on the toilet lid, his shoes on the floor next to him and the jacket thrown over his shoulders while still also wrapped in the towel, which is pulled up so high his nose brushes against it. His eyes are closed as he absent mindedly moves it back and forth against the fabric, in a similar rhythm to how he brushes his legs and feet against each other to generate some more warmth.

It’s almost adorable.

“Here.” Johnny announces, holding out the clothes.

For the next few minutes, he feels like some kind of underpaid butler, holding onto the jacket and V’s clothes as the other man slowly dresses himself. Unbidden, Johnny’s eyes fall on the - his - dog tags dangling around V’s neck, brushing against his sternum. They disappear from view momentarily when V pulls a shirt over his head, but then he reaches inside to pull them out again. For a moment, his fingers linger on them, fingertips ghosting over Johnny’s name. Something clenches in his chest when he thinks of the mirror image currently dangling from the rearview mirror of his Porsche - the pendant made from the bullet that knocked V’s lights out once upon a time.

When he’d first discovered it on himself, way back in Viktor’s clinic, when he and V had waited for the ripperdoc to check up on him, he’d been confused, had gotten ready to give it back, but V had just pressed his hand over Johnny’s, that has been gripping the string.

“Keep it,” V had said “You’re the reason I didn’t flatline because of it, so I want you to have it.”

A stupid fucking notion, giving the fact that whereas it was true the relic saved him from dying that one time, in the aftermath, Johnny had been the reason V’s been withering away, in a current state of fear to take his last breath, the next painful, gut-wrenching attack around every corner. Johnny really didn’t miss that putrid feeling of cholesterol and adrenaline burning through V in panic, mixed with blood on his tongue and a sharp pain in his lungs - all of it accompanied with pangs of his own guilt.

But on the other hand, being gifted that pendant had felt gratifying, soothing even, and Johnny often catches himself holding onto it in thought. To know that V in turn is wearing something that belongs to him is another thing entirely.

Fuck, it’s like they’re wearing friendship bracelets and he likes that. What kind of sentimental shit has he become?

“Alright then. Back to business.” V says mostly to himself once he’s fully dressed, just about done slipping into his shoes. Johnny steps out of his way and then follows him into the living room, where V picks up the client bridal style to carry her out of the building.

“Hoping she’ll give you a tip for that?” Johnny comments just as V gently lowers her into the passenger’s seat of a car Johnny doesn’t recognize. Probably the clients. Which is a bit odd, considering the whole fucking artillery of cars V owns.

“Nope, got told to bring her to a hospital after, so that’s what I’ll do now.”

“Mhm. Okay then.” Arms crossed in front of his chest, Johnny rolls a single pebble around with the tip of his boot. In front of him, V stands next to the car, slowly dragging his hand through his hair.

V is going to leave now.

Drive out alone into the night to finish his job.

Without Johnny.

The pebble crunches hard against the asphalt as Johnny drags it back with his feet before kicking it away.

It shouldn’t bother him.

But … He doesn’t want V to leave, doesn’t want them to part ways. Even though he’s mostly been fretting about V’s well-being, he’d been more at ease in these past minutes than he could have ever been with that - what was her name again? Eh. Don’t matter. Part of him just wants to get into V’s car, put his feet onto the middle console and hear V bitch and nag about his behavior but ultimately not do much to stop him. Part of him wants to watch V haul his clients ass into the ER while he himself tags along, poking fun at V, at the client, the situation, maybe just the receptionist's hair, whatever.

Anything but the alternative.

“Hey, uhm, actually -” V starts, to which Johnny inwardly perks up like a fucking dog hearing the words “Do you want to go for a -”.

“Hm?” He then prompts when V stops himself and doesn’t continue.

“Uhm. Nevermind.” V mumbles as he visibly deflates and walks around the car to the driver's seat.

Johnny violently pinches his upper arms with the thumbs and forefingers of his crossed arms and presses his lips together in a last attempt to save his dignity by running after V like a desperate school girl.

The sound of the car door opening rattles through Johnny’s head, and for a moment, V looks at him like he feels the same reluctance to separate them. But it’s fleeting, and in the end, V simply slaps the roof of the car once.

“See ya, Johnny.”

“Take care, V.”

Then he falls into the driver’s seat, the engine roars to life, and the tires scrunch over the asphalt as he turns the wheels and drives away.

Johnny himself feels numb as he walks back to the Porsche, locking the doors as soon as he’s inside. In the distance, he can hear sirens and the shots being fired in true Night City fashion, but it’s dull, muffled by metal and glass..

Quickly, his hand flashes over to turn on the radio.

“... And now for an oldie but goldie: Never Fade Away by Samu-”

Johnny slaps his whole fucking hand against the ‘Off’ button.

“No, fuck that.”

With a sigh, he bumps his head against the steering wheel.

It had seemed like a good idea back then, to insist on living on his own when V had given him the choice. The mature one. The logical one. They weren’t forced to share a brain anymore, so of course he should go live his own fucking live and let V live his. They could still be friends, of course. But - normal ones. Not joined at the fucking hip.

And this god-awful emptiness he felt whenever he wasn’t near V - it should have disappeared by now.

Joke’s on him it seems.

But: Potato, potahto. No point in crying about it now. He will get over it soon enough.

Probably.

Johnny starts the car. One hand on the steering wheel, he rests his free elbow against the car door, scratching his beard. Without the radio which he refuses to turn on again, it’s still awfully quiet around him. At a red light, he uses the opportunity to let his eyes wander. He sees the trash, these unhinged ads, blinding neon lights and - people. So many fucking people, walking around despite the time of night. Small people, tall people, people with almost no chrome and people one visit to the ripperdoc away from looking like a robot. Gay people, straight people, men wearing dresses and men wearing a shirt and something that looks like god damned underpants.

At every time of the day, he is surrounded by millions and millions of people. Even in his penthouse, there’s always at least a couple fighting, friends laughing or someone fucking.

And yet, here he is: Sitting in his Porsche. Feeling fucking lonely like a loser. And no amount of fucking and partying would ever heal that wound.

Hadn’t worked in his previous body, either.

Behind him, someone honks and leans out of their window to scream: “Fancy car but cannot move your ass? Fuckin’ drive, ya gonk!”

Realizing that it’s green already, he hurries to get the car moving, but not before putting his hand out to flip that asshole behind him off.

Getting back to his apartment doesn’t make things any better.

Jessica … Tina? Cassidy? Whatever - that woman from before seemed to have been true to her word and left. He doesn’t even bother checking if she stole anything. The only two things he actually gives a fuck about are the bullet necklace and his Porsche anyway.

Once more, it’s mostly quiet. Yes, he can hear muffled sounds from his neighbours, yes, he can hear a helicopter fly by, but still. When he was still in V’s head, it was never this quiet. There had always been thoughts and feelings that weren’t his own, memories he could browse through and most of the time, V had been open to chatting about everything and nothing at all.

Fuck. He really needs to stop thinking about V so much.

Walking over to the couch, he flicks on the TV before sinking down on the cushions. Like this, with Watson Whore playing on the flatscreen, he can almost pretend he’s sitting here with V again, lounging next to the merc and begging him to please, please, please light a cigarette or at least get the tequila and -

… What was that about not thinking about V so much?

With a groan, he fully rests his head against the backrest.

“You’re fuckin’ pathetic.” He tells the ceiling.

And then, as if to prove himself right: A. E. C#. A-fucking-major.

His fingers are on his phone before the last note even hits.

Hey

You got home ok?

Yep

Same

Preem

And Johnny does not keep staring at the screen of his phone, hoping another text will pop up. Or the notification that V is typing. No. Absolutely not.

Hey Johnny?

Thanks again, srsly

No prop

But its 10 eddies per ice pack btw

dickhead

now go to sleep v

yeah …

u too johnny

gnight

With a sigh, Johnny gives up. He lies down on the couch and goes to sleep, lulled in by the sound of actors play-fucking and moaning like it’s the best thing they’ve ever done.

~***~

He doesn’t see much of V for the following week. If not to say that he doesn’t see him at all and what he hears from him are just the occasional texts.

But this shouldn’t - no - it doesn’t matter, because Johnny has other friends beside V. Period. Enough of this clingy bullshit, enough of him still feeling the after effect of having their psyches joined.

So when Kerry invites him to a fancy, high-society party in his fancy, rich-man house, he stands on the doormat just in time with a grin and a bottle of expensive tequila, easily accepting the hug Ker offers, no questions asked.

And when Kerry approaches him some time later, once the party is up and running, Johnny scoots over from where he is sitting on the stairs leading to the garden, allowing him to take a seat next to him.

“So - how are things, Johnny?” Kerry opens the conversation, twirling his cocktail in the glass, ice cubes clinking against it before he takes a sip.

It’s fucking unreal, how he looks not a day older than fresh-out-of-college, when in reality, that bastard is in his late fucking 80s; an age that would have him pushing around a walking chair in a nursing home in the past century.

“Can’t fucking complain, Ker. I’m alive and back in the City of Dreams - what else could I wish for?” He answers as he leans back, resting his elbows on the step behind him, looking up at the sky through his sunglasses.

“Hm. New body still treating you well too?” Kerry asks, trying to appear nonchalant, but the way he peers over at Johnny betrays how he’s actually very interested in the truth.

“Yeah, no worries. Your investment wasn’t for nothin’.”

Kerry taps his finger against his glass. “Whaddaya mean?”

“Oh, please, Ker. I ain’t stupid.” Johnny scoffs and knocks his foot against Kerry’s calf. “Healing a body from its genes crumbling, somehow getting hold of my DNA and then 3D printing it to build a full-fledged body in a tank - that shit’s expensive. Ain’t no way V paid for it all by himself. And you’re one of the richest guys he knows.”

“Whaaat? No, I didn’t, I -”

Johnny simply lifts his sunglasses and raises his eyebrows at Kerry.

“Yeah okay, fine. But you’d be surprised, y’know? I mostly only helped V when he was still … well.”

“Still dyin’?”

“That, yes. But after that - he did most of the dirty work himself, I mean, fuck, Johnny, you should have seen him, he was like - like that one guy, in that movie, you know were he used to be an assassin but stopped but then goes full berserk because the people he wanted to get away from killed his dog? Shit, what was it called?”

Johnny can only shrug when Kerry looks at him in search of answers.

“Eh, doesn’t matter. What matters is this: V was like a one-man army back there. And turns out that his cars are worth a lot.”

It stuns Johnny for a moment and he blinks stupidly at Kerry from behind his shades, watching how the man downs the last of his drink, opening his mouth wider for a bit of ice on which he chews afterwards.

“... V sold his cars?”

“Most of ‘em, yeah.”

“Damn. V loved his fucking cars.”

At this, Kerry only laughs.

“I think he and I would both agree that having you alive is more important than a few precious rides.”

Johnny doesn’t know what to say at that. In truth, he doesn’t even know how that sentence makes him feel.

“Speaking of V - how is he, by the way?” Kerry asks and puts the glass down on the stairs next to him, turning some more to face Johnny, who’s still leaning back on the stairs. “He seemed a little down last time I spoke to him over the holo.”

Johnny almost holds his breath for a moment, now sitting up not like a total douchebag, resting his elbows on his knees. “... When was that?”

“Uhm … Tuesday or something?”

He readjusts his glasses, hoping it would distract Kerry from noticing how he purses his lips at hearing that.

“In this case, you know more than me. Didn’t see that gonk since Saturday, and after that we only texted a bit.”

Kerry stares at him for one, two seconds, before he fully turns around, almost kneeling in front of Johnny on these damn stairs.

“Really?! I - huh. I thought you two were like … y’know.” He makes a vague gesture with his hand. “Inseparable or something.”

Johnny bites down on his own teeth and looks off to the side.

“Whatever gave you that idea?”

“I don’t know - with everything you two went through, with everything you shared and did for each other, it just seemed logical.”

What Johnny means to say when he turns to face Kerry is something like “What did I ever do for V?”, but what comes out of his mouth in the end is something entirely different.

“You sure you’re not romanticizing things, Ker? Or projecting, cuz you still wanna get inside my pants?”

Ah … fuck.

But instead of hurt flashing over Kerry’s cyberlifted, pretty-boy face, he just sighs, like some fucking disappointed parent, right before he huffs out a laugh and shakes his head.

“You really must be the most narcissistic son of a bitch alive if you think that even 50 years are not enough for me to get over my stupid crush on you. World doesn’t always revolve around Johnny Silverhand, y’know?”

“Ker …”

“No, no - it’s fine. I mean, it’s not fine, per se, but whatever. You’re an asshole, but you’re still my friend.”

With a sigh, Kerry grabs his glass and stands up. Johnny watches him, feeling torn between saying something and not giving anything away about how he actually feels bad.

“Well. I’ll see you around, yes?”

Just as Kerry turns around, Johnny hurries to stand on his feet too.

“Ker.” He says, walking down the few steps just as Kerry actually stops and turns around. “‘m sorry. Was a gonk thing to say, seriously.” He says, reaching out to briefly squeeze Kerry’s arm.

Kerry blinks at him, tilting his head to the side. “I - uhm. Okay? I mean - water under the bridge, Johnny, no hard feelings. Appreciate you saying this though. Being in V’s head made you soft, huh?”

Frowning fiercely from behind his shades, Johnny crosses his arms in front of his chest.

“Fuck off, Kerry.”

“Uh-huh.” Kerry chuckles and bumps his fist against Johnny’s shoulder. “Now go enjoy the party, choom.”

~***~

You see - Johnny tries to enjoy the party, he really does. But all the women he flirts with keep asking him if he’s some sort of Silverhand-hardcore fan, and who his ripperdoc was because his facecard looks impeccable, and how all this was possible in the first place, because wasn’t his face a trademark? Not a single one asks if he wants to drink a tequila shot from between their tits.

He must have lost his groove way harder than he thought.

In the end, he somewhat gives up and sits down on one of the loungers by the pool, crossing his ankles as he stalks people from behind his sunglasses.

Before he can think twice about it, he sneakily snaps a pic from two women whispering among themselves, peeking over at him occasionally.

*picture attached*

You wouldn’t believe the amount of times I got asked if I’m a Johnny Silverhand impersonator and yet theyre still starin

Oof. Must be a blow to ur ego, huh?

wouldn’t mind much, but they still havent asked for a threesome, so yeah im a lil cross

Oh no. The horror. 😐

u at kerrys?

jup

u didnt get an invite?

i did actually

then why are you not here?

busy, got a gig for Dino rn

how long do you plan on stayin?

dunno. for a few hours at least

can u wait for me? ill come by if i can

what, you miss me or somethin?

oh, yes, johnny, so, so, sooooo much :cccc

🖕

Now, if Johnny then gets up to sit down on he couch in the living room, where V was bound to walk past and stayed there put for the next few hours, craning his neck every time the door opened, that’s his fucking business, okay?

And when V, true to his promise, actually does show up some time later, and Johnny all but jumps up and walks towards him as he’s already searching the crowd, so fucking what? Johnny will answer no further questions without his lawyer, thank you very much.

V smiles, and his shoulders drop ever so slightly when he sees Johnny, now also making his way towards him.

Johnny can feel himself grinning at that gonk before he knows it, but all at once, that grin falls from his face, because holy fuck-!

“You look like shit, V.” He states, an angry edge to his words as he watches V’s expression turning sour.

“Gee, thanks, Johnny. What a warm welcome.”

From where V takes the audacity to feel insulted by the truth is lost to Johnny. And V does look like shit. There are deep purple bags under his eyes and -

Johnny's hand surges out and he grabs V’s chin, turning his head upwards.

“V, what the fuck, is that blood under your nose?”

With a grunt, V slaps his hand away and then brings his own fingers to the space beneath his nose.

“Aw, fuck.” He huffs out, sounding annoyed as he pushes past Johnny, making a beeline to Kerry's bathroom. His personal one, not the guest bath, which is probably occupied by a horny couple getting each other off anyway.

Without a word, Johnny is already on his heels, holding the door open for a second so he can slip in behind V. Once they’re both inside, V locks it via hacking like the god-damned freak he is.

“Dude, could you not breathe down my neck like that?” V grumbles out after he’s splashed his face with water by the sink, giving Johnny a pissed-off look through the mirror.

“What the fuck, V?” Johnny hisses out, anxiously pulling at his hair once as he starts walking up and down the bathroom just as V leans over the sink once more, rubbing away the dried blood. “I swear, if you’re still dying and you wouldn’t tell me for some fucked up reason, then I’ll -”

V makes a cut-off, affronted noise that’s muffled behind his hands and the towel he dries his face off with.

“What, a bit of exhaustion and I already look like I’m dying to you? Wow, thanks a lot, choom.” Rolling his eyes, V puts the towel back on the hamper.

“Don’t fucking start with me. I was there when your body slowly gave out. I remember how it started and this -” Johnny steps closer to V once again, pointing at the dark shadows under his eyes. With a disapproving sound, V leans back, scowling and holding onto the sink as he tries not to have his eyes poked out. “- this was exactly how it started. I remember how you tried to cover it up with eyeshadow and shit, and I remember how you couldn’t hide it anymore when your cheeks started to hollow out. And if this blood came from a nosebleed, if you’re back to coughing your fucking lungs out, then -”

“Johnny.” V interrupts him, expression not angry anymore as he grabs the hand currently pushing at his chest. “I am not dying. I promise you. I didn’t sleep well these past days, and at the same time, I had a lot of jobs. Today, some gonk punched me in the nose with the handle of his gun. It broke, it bled, I had to set the bone back straight and then it healed. And I forgot about the blood and just came here. Simple as that, okay?”

The tension that had curled around his chest like a claw lets up on him, and he doesn’t pull his hand away when V hooks his fingers under Johnny’s, thumb brushing over them.

“Well … Good. You’d better. You’re not allowed to die. You can’t just pull me back from the dead and then leave me here all alone in this goddamn shit show. Late 21 th century sucks even more balls than the first half.”

V huffs out a laugh and then pulls Johnny’s hand down before he lets go of it, turning around to look in the mirror once more, gingerly touching his nose.

“This doesn’t look crooked to you, does it?”

Still standing quite close to his back, Johnny ever so slightly leans forward to scrutinize V’s nose through the mirror. This time around, V doesn’t seem to care about him breathing down his neck.

“Nah. Looks fine to me.” Johnny decides. And just as he wants to back off, something else catches his attention. Furrowing his brows, Johnny takes a quiet, cautious sniff.

Sure enough, it smells like cigarettes, and not too little of them, the odor clinging to V’s hair, his skin and especially his clothes.

Just to be obnoxious, Johnny jams his nose right into V’s shoulder and takes a loud, long whiff of air.

“Jo, Johnny what the hell, man?” V almost screams, jumping to the side and shoving at him.

“You reek of smoke, V. Don’t tell me you were at some club or another party before now? Better don’t let Kerry hear that, it’ll hurt his feelings.”

“You’re absolutely impossible, Johnny. But speaking of, I should probably say hi to him, right?”

~***~

Kerry is overjoyed when V and Johnny walk up to him. He hugs V, and afterwards, he keeps one hand low on his hip as they speak.

Johnny sometimes wonders if these two are fucking. Or at the very least, if they had been fucking in that time where Johnny had been back on that chip, in a meticulously cooled down container.

He thought Kerry had been tempted, shortly after he met V, and he had felt V being tempted in turn, but he’d refrained from going through with it. Some weird solidarity towards Johnny, it had seemed. The actual reason had felt muddy, not quite clear to Johnny, but whenever he’d tried pushing against it to make sense of it, he had popped up, so he just assumed.

Maybe fucking Kerry had been on V’s bucket list should he ever succeed in getting rid of Johnny, just like Johnny had had his own bucket list. And Johnny wonders if V had been successful in completing it. Or if it was more like Johnny’s current luck.

… Johnny should probably not break his head so much about it. And he shouldn’t be so fixated on the way Kerry keeps touching V, and he shouldn’t feel the need to pull V away from it.

And never ever should he feel that satisfied, like a cat stealing the fish right from a human’s plate, when after a few minutes, V leaves with Johnny alone to stand at the balcony, enjoying the view of Night City, a little closed off from the rest of the party.

“So, what have you been up to lately?” V asks after a moment of silence, leaning to the side to bump his shoulder against Johnny. “Anything noteworthy happened?”

Not in the slightest. Johnny had just been living into the day, time and time again.

He’d tried with some more partying, but every night had been entirely unfulfilling, followed by a hangover so bad not even another shot could fix. (Really, it had worked wonders in the past.) So in the end, he’d spent most of his time at home, in front of the TV. Then, he’d given writing new songs a try, but his muse seems to be on vacation. If he ever had a muse to begin with. Maybe it had been bitterness and anger, and the problem is that right now, he just feels dull, most of the time.

“I - uh - I cleaned the Porsche.” He answers in the end, because this is the least depressing thing he can think of.

V raises both eyebrows in surprise.

“By yourself? Didn’t hire any lightly clad strippers to do it?”

Unbidden, Johnny’s mouth falls open and he stops breathing for a second, before he lets out a long-suffering groan and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Fuuuck, V. That’s genius. Why didn’t I think of it? Fucking missed opportunity right there, fuck.”

Shaking his head, V laughs and then braces his elbows on the railing. “There’s always a next time, buddy.”

Humming, Johnny mirrors V’s pose, hoping to get away with studying V’s profile for longer than necessarily appropriate. Without the blood under his nose, V looks a little less worse for wear, but he’s still not carrying himself with his usual conviction.

“How about you, V? Said you didn’t sleep well - any particular reason?”

V fleetingly looks over at him, before he pushes back from the railing, bumps the tip of his shoe against the floor once, and sighs.

“Nothin’ important.” He mumbles and then reaches for his back pocket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. Blinking dumbly, Johnny watches how V pulls one out for himself before he inclines the opened package towards Johnny.

“Want one?”

Once upon a time, Johnny would have screamed: “Now you’re fucking talking!” and helped himself. But now …

“Since when do you fucking smoke?” He asks, but accepts the offer anyway, though not without squinting at him suspiciously.

V gives him a blank, annoyed look and puts the pack back.

“Seriously now? Back then, you were begging me smoke all the fucking time and whenever I did, you basically kissed my feet in gratitude.” He grumbles and brings a lighter up to his face.

“And may I remind you that you only ever indulged me at best? You never offered first.” Johnny rebuts, having a first row seat to watching V suck in the small flame until the tip of his cigarette catches embers.

“Yeah, well. Seems I indulged you a little too often, because by now I’m pretty sure I’m addicted.” Closing his eyes, V takes the first real drag, tilts his head back and slowly breathes out a whiff of smoke.

Johnny cannot take his eyes away, just as he cannot shake the feeling that this is wrong, wrong, wrong.

“Here.” V says softly, pinches the cigarette between two of his fingers and holds the lighter up to Johnny’s mouth. Leaning forward and bringing his hand around the lighter to shield the flame from wind, Johnny lights his own cigarette.

And he tries to be cool about it, really. But the smoke tickles his throat, irritates his lungs and he has to cough, eyes tearing up as he turns his head and coughs some more until he’s calmed down.

“Uhm.” V comments dumbly, watching the show.

“Eugh. Fuck. Fucking lungs of a toddler this fucking body, I swear.” Johnny hisses and waves his hand in front of his face before he carefully pulls at the cigarette. This time, it doesn’t throw him into another coughing fit, thankfully. “Seriously, V. Shitty ass, boring as fuck body you gave me. Couldn’t have done better, did ya?”

“Uh-huh. Better not look a gifted body in its mouth, choom.” V chuckles, but for a fleeting moment, Johnny thinks he can detect something like hurt in his expression. He mentally bitch-slaps himself.

“Yeah. Well. You’re probably right.” He mutters, patting V’s shoulders before remaining on his body for a moment longer, pressing his hand to V’s neck with gentle squeeze.

There is the subtle give of some tension in V’s shoulders and he hums.

“Your hand is warm.” He comments with a soft smile and pulls on the cigarette.

Johnny’s eyebrows fly up and he takes his hand away.

“Okay?”

V shrugs. “‘s nice.” Then, he looks away, like nothing happened. Johnny blinks, then does the same.

The next few moments pass in silence, with both of them once more leaning against the railing and with V casually going through his cigarette, occasionally chuckling when Johnny fails to cover up another cough.

Johnny also cannot help but notice how V loses his tense edge with every drag.

Shit. Seems like Johnny really did push him into this addiction.

Johnny throws his cigarette on the ground and kills it with his boot before he’s even halfway through. When he looks back at V, and how he lifts his hand and lets it fall against the railing again, his eyes fall on that stupid, silly tattoo on his lower arm, only barely poking out from under his rolled back sleeves.

Despite himself, it brings a grin to his face and his now free hand moves to V’s arm, gently touching it before he turns it some more and pushes V’s sleeves up to fully reveal the arrowed through heart bearing their initials.

V eyes him curiously but easily complies as Johnny turns his arm, switching the hand to hold his cigarette with.

“You know,I never expected you to just keep it. Figured it would piss you off and then you’d run to the nearest ripperdoc and have it fixed.”

V just snorts and takes another drag of his cigarette, not questioning the continuing touch when Johnny idly brushes over the ink.

“Nah man, I had more serious shitpiles to worry about. Getting mad about a silly little tattoo really wasn’t worth the energy.”

“Uh-huh. Sure.” Johnny pauses for a moment, watching how V steps out his own cigarette now, which is nothing more than a sad little stomp at this point. There’s the subtle trace of a smile on his face. “Oh my god. You like the tattoo, you little sentimental pussy.”

This brings another snort out of V, and he turns to lean against the railing with his back, elbows resting on top of it. “Maybe I do. So fucking what? You like that I like it, so be quiet.”

“Hah. Yeah, as fucking if, V. Couldn’t give a flying fuck about what you like or don’t like.”

V rolls his eyes.

“You’re all bark, no bite, aren’t you, Johnny?”

Straightening his back, Johnny turns to stand right in front of V, poking his chest with his finger. “Now listen here, you little punk, I-”

“Woof.” V barks with a disinterested, blank face and an even more nonchalant tone.

“... I can’t fucking believe you right now.” Johnny grumbles and turns around to walk away. V simply moves to follow him.

“Yes, that’s right. Down, boy. Good doggy.”

~***~

A few hours later, while most of the guests are romping about the pool, bathing in either the actual water or simply the moonlight of a much later hour, Johnny and V are sitting on the couch in the living room, together with Rogue, Kerry and some other sad old fucks that have aged unnaturally well.

Next to Johnny, V is nodding off, just barely resting his head on his fist, arm propped up on the armrest.

“V …” He whispers, gently nudging him in the side, to which the other makes a face and grunts. “V, maybe you oughta head home.”

“Mhm … Tired, lea’ me ‘lone.” He grumbles, huffs out a breath and promptly beds his head on Johnny’s shoulder, where his breathing is evening out almost instantly.

Johnny freezes for a moment. At the same time, his heart all but kickstarts in his chest, the short burst of adrenaline urging him to shake at V once more.

“Okay, c’mon big guy, let's go home.”

“Hush, Johnny.” Rogue shoots him a deeply disapproving look. “Let the poor guy sleep. I’ve tried making him take a break for weeks.”

“Yeah, seriously. He looks beat. Maybe we should just put him in my guest room for the night.” Kerry’s brows are furrowed in silent worry and while his reasoning is sound, something churns in Johnny’s stomach at the image.

“And let some chick puke on him in his sleep when she doesn’t find the door to the bathroom? Nah, man. I’m taking him to one of his apartments. Which one is nearest again? Ugh. It’s the Plaza one, isn’t it?”

At this, Kerry exchanges a somewhat uneasy look with Rogue.

“Uh … Yeah. About that, Johnny … He’s only got the Megabuilding unit. Sold the rest.”

“... Of-fucking-course. Well. Watson it is then.”

Carefully this time, Johnny shoves V off of him, eliciting another unhappy grumble from the other man.

“Do you need help?” Kerry is already about to stand up, only falling back to the couch when Johnny shakes his head.

“Nah, I’m good.”

He’s not as good as he thought, though. It takes great effort to pick V up, he soon finds out. The guy is way heavier than he looks, which, in retrospect, shouldn’t come as much of a surprise, as chromed up as he is.

But Johnny somehow manages to carry V into the Porsche without blowing his back out from his neck to his ass.

Inside the car, V momentarily opens his eyes but then quickly falls back deep to sleep, head smudged against the window.

“You look like a pathetic moron like this.” He keeps his voice purposefully low and upon starting the car, his hand rushes out to turn the radio off lest it causes V to wake up to a heart attack.

Johnny carefully pulls out of Kerry’s driveway, minding every bump and pot hole, driving like a fucking granny.

But it’s almost meditative, to softly glide though the dark streets, looking left and right at intersections, stopping at red lights to sneak a glance at V's sleeping form, who’s now and then muttering in his dreams.

“I’ve always wondered, V - how did you ever pass your drivers exam? Or is that just not a thing anymore in this godforsaken city?” Johnny turns the indicator and brings the car around the corner once the light changes color. “You always drove like the street rat you are, I mean honestly, how you never got a ticket, uselessness of the NCPD aside, is a fucking miracle.”

Another mumble, and then V’s head lolls to the other side, which Johnny takes as his hint to continue.

“And how did you learn to drive anyway? Your parents just threw you in the driver's seat one day, once your feet could reach the petals?”

V’s body starts to sag further into sleep before the lack of support causes him to flinch awake.

“Wha-? Mhm, shit, what?” He mumbles, blinking as he looks around. “Johnny?”

“Go back to sleep, V.”

“Ugh …” V makes a face, turns his body just a bit to the door, smushes his face against the now stained window and then he’s out like a light.

Johnny goes quiet after this, only drumming his fingers against the steering wheel.

They’re near Johnny’s place now. He could literally just take one more turn, pull into the parking lot and move V into a comfortable bed while sitting on the couch or lounging on the beanbag himself.

Or … Or he could stay in the car. Continue driving until he reaches Watson, maybe even take a few unnecessary detours along the way.

Just like this. With V slumbering and snoring right beside him.

He opts for the latter.

~***~

But time isn’t infinite. And at some point Johnny has to admit to himself that he’s also getting tired, which isn’t the best thing when you’re behind the wheel. And so his little journey ends when he rolls into the garage beneath V’s apartment complex.

“Here we are then.” He kills the engine and turns towards V, resting his lower arm on the steering wheel. In the following silence, V’s breathing reaches Johnny even louder.

Now that they’re no longer moving, Johnny doesn’t quite know what to do. He hasn’t quite thought so far ahead. The most logical course of action of course would be to pick V up once more and carry him to bed like some child or a passed-out drunk. But if he’s completely honest, he cannot promise not to drop the poor man at the halfway mark. So it would be smarter to wake him up - only that this feels like a crime somehow. Johnny can tell that he’s somewhere deep in REM sleep right now, his breaths deep and slow.

Cannot be helped, though.

“V.” He says, proud of how decisive and loud his voice is. “Can’t carry your sorry ass to bed, you gotta wake up now.”

The man on the passenger seat doesn’t move a single muscle.

“V!”

Still nothing. Not even when he touches his shoulder and softly shakes him.

“Jesus.” He pulls his hand away. “I remember you having a way lighter sleep.”

Chewing on his lip, he rethinks his next action, looks around the dark garage, like the answer would pop out somewhere.

This is stupid. He used to wake Kerry up by putting his heel to his ass and literally kicking him out of bed while screaming: Wake up, Samurai!

The fuck is wrong with him? Seriously.

In a rush of anger at himself and his lost bite, he grabs V’s shoulder and shakes him earnestly this time.

“V! V, wake up for fuck’s sake, naptime is over ya gonk!”

And then, when V’s body bounces like a broken ragdoll, but still doesn’t wake up: “Vincent! Get up, damn you!”

“Guh - uh? Wha’s goin on?”

Sluggish and bleary-eyed, V returns to the land of the living, albeit slowly as he sits up normally again, wiping over his face.

“That’s it, princess. Rise and shine.” Johnny pats his shoulder, to which V grunts and shoves his hand off.

“Don’ talk to me, woke me up, you pisshead. Ugh.” He throws his head against the headrest and stares at the roof of the car, apparently rebooting. Maybe even literally.

Johnny gives him a moment, feeling rather generous.

After a few seconds, V sighs and leans forward, burying his face in his hands.

“... Sorry.”

“Huh? What the fuck for?”

“Called you a pisshead.”

Johnny stares at him for a flat second, mouth slightly agape before he starts to laugh.

“Hah! Damn, V, still not fully there, huh? Since when are we apologizing for shit like this?”

“Ugh. Fuck. You’re right. Don’t even know where the fuck we are and how got here. Not fully convinced this is real too, by the by.”

Johnny reaches out once more, and this time, V doesn’t push him away, only turns his head to look at Johnny. Elbows still resting on his knees, he’s resting his chin on his crossed fingers.

“You dozed off at Kerry’s, so I hauled your sorry ass back to your place.” Without thinking, his fingers glide to V’s neck, softly massaging him there, to which V’s eyes flutter closed in silent enjoyment.

“Hmmkay … Thanks.”

“Anytime, V.”

… Anytime, V?

… Anytime, V?!

What the fuck is wrong with him?!

And the worst part: Now that he’s started, he cannot stop touching V.

Neck? Massaged.

Shoulders? Caressed.

Scalp? Scratched.

Does he want to stop? No.

“If you keep going, I’ll fall right back to sleep. Not complainin’. Just sayin’.”

“Yeah, okay. Probably should get you to a real bed, though. Come on, V.” And with one last slap to his shoulder, Johnny gets out of the car, with V following soon after, though a bit hesitant. Or maybe just still bone-deep tired.

“Getting slow, aren’t we?” Johnny asks as he’s waiting by the elevator, tapping at the touchpad while V trots over, yawn so big something cracks in his jaw.

“Fuck off.” V bumps against Johnny on purpose before stepping in the arriving elevator, before heavily leaning against the wall once inside, closing his eyes and swallowing. Which Johnny only knows because he stares at his exposed neck for a moment before choosing V’s floor.

V continues to look like he’s ready to fall asleep standing, and Johnny has to nudge him once the elevator stops at their destination and the doors open.

“Uggghh, fucking finally.” V groans once they reach his unit. He’s quick to kick off his shoes and throw his jacket on the couch before he all but faceplants on his pillow in the bed, one leg an inch from falling off the bed in this position, but he doesn’t budge, only turns his head to breathe and closes his eyes.

Nibbles meows and jumps off the windowsill, walking towards Johnny with his tail high and friendly.

With a grin, Johnny squats down and lets the cat sniff and then lick his fingers.

“Hey you little mole rat, good to see you again. V treating ya well?”

“Fuck off, I’m spoiling him.”

“Sure you do.” Johnny watches Nibbles bump his hand one last time before he retreats, curling into a donut on a heap of dirty laundry right next to V’s bed, which is only one of many hints that V only visits this place to feet the Iguana and the cat - and maybe sleep, though Johnny isn’t entirely confident about that. Which is all a nice way to say that his room is a hot fucking mess.

When he looks over at V again, he’s surprised to be met with a pair of open eyes. The way V behaved before, he’d figured the guy would just instantly log off.

“Well then. Imma let you sleep now, V. Good night. Call you tomorrow, okay.”

And then, it’s like his words completely flipped the switch in V’s head. He sucks in a breath, and for the first time in hours, he looks wide awake somehow, as he swallows and sits up again.

“Oh. Uhm. Kinda thought you’d stay, to be honest.” He’s avoiding Johnny’s gaze now, looking out of the big window, with his fingers digging into his knees.

Johnny on the other hand cannot help but stare at V. Which is exactly why he can see his pulse racing in his neck, mirroring Johnny’s own heart rushing inside his chest in a similar fashion.

“And why the fuck would I do that?”

V clenches his jaw and then turns even further away from Johnny. “Yeah. Stupid of me, I guess. Good night, Johnny.” He lies down again, this time with his back facing Johnny.

And he knows a “Fuck off” when he sees one, so he leaves.

The door appears to be louder when it closes behind him.

There is another resident waiting for the elevator when he comes back there, but when it’s time to get inside, the guy just awkwardly steps a few feet away and lets Johnny go in alone. Which is a good fucking thing, because like this he can stomp up and down the small space as he pleases, without having to hiss a “The fuck you looking at, motherfucker?!” at the poor, jittery looking gonk.

“Why the fuck would I do that? - Why the fuck would I say that?” He mutters under his breath, kicking the wall before he pinches his nose with a groan. “Great fucking going, you stupid pathetic idiot.”

He’s in his car in a few quick strides and then pulls the door shut unnecessarily harshly, causing the whole Porsche to quiver. With his teeth bitten together, he starts the motor, causing it to howl to life.

It smells faintly of cigarette smoke.

Johnny looks over at the empty passenger seat.

He stares.

And then he stares some more, the smell still clinging to his nostrils.

Then he looks ahead again, puts the car in reverse and scoots back a few feet before he stops again, and thinks about driving back to his apartment. Thinks about taking a detour at some club to bang some random chick. Thinks about throwing back a few shots, feeling the buzz of music in his bones.

In the end, his thoughts wander back to the image of V lying turned away on his mattress.

“Fuck.”

The tiles screech as he forces the car forward again before pulling a hard stop, killing the engine and rushing back to V’s apartment.

To his surprise, he doesn’t even need to test out if V still hasn’t changed the security code to his flat. Because instead of finding the other inside, he spots him braced on the half-wall facing the atrium of the Megabuiling complex.

He’s smoking again. And he's so engrossed in it that he doesn’t hear Johnny approach at first, only stares dead ahead, his hands ever so slightly shaking, both when he brings one up to his mouth or just lets them hang over the edge of the wall. He looks exhausted, but the way he rushes through taking drag after drag spells ‘stressed’ in very clear letters.

“What are you doing out here, V?” Johnny props his elbows on top of the low wall, his back towards the gaping hole in the middle of the building. It's quite cold out here in the open, even more so with Johnny only wearing a light shirt. It's clear that V on the other hand has planned to stay here longer, his jacket once again sitting on his shoulders.

V pauses mid-drag. Blowing out only a bit of smoke, he gives Johnny two one-overs, clearly not having expected to see him again.

“Could ask you the same, y’know.” Now that he’s certain Johnny actually is standing right next to him, looking at him is no longer necessary, so he’s back at looking into the void.

Johnny ignores that V ever opened his mouth.

“You were ready to pass out for a week not ten minutes ago, what’s this all about?”

“Easy.” He blows out another breath and flicks off the ash, where it’s ready to join all the other garbage and dirt of the megabuilding’s center. “Can’t fucking sleep.”

Johnny scoffs. “You managed just fine in my car and at Kerry’s.”

“Well, I wasn’t fucking alone then, was I?!” With a scowl, he throws the whole damn cigarette away, where it hopefully doesn’t start a fire by landing in a heap of flammable carbage.

“Shit.” V reaches for his pocket and promptly pulls out another cig. He has to snap the lighter a few times before managing to light this one.

“What, you need someone to read you bedtime stories nowadays?” A whiff of cold night air blows from down below, causing Johnny to cross his arms in front of his chest, hiding his fingers below his armpits.

V pulls at his cigarette and then turns his face away, shoulders slumped.

“Fuck off, Johnny.”

V continues to have a smoke in silence, and Johnny lets him, though with every passing second, the urge to simply snatch the fucking cigarette away and throw it as far away as possible becomes stronger and stronger.

As does the urge to simply drag V back into his apartment, because the cold of the night creeps even deeper into his bones, triggering the occasional shiver.

“What changed your mind anyway? To come back here I mean.” V finally kills his cigarette and scratches the back of his neck absentmindedly while looking down at the buzz of people down below, which might be a bit quieter, but no doubt still there.

“Dunno.” Johnny shakes his head as another subtle shiver goes through his body and he turns around, arms still crossed in front of his chest as he too shifts his attention to the people on the ground. “Guess I was getting a bit tired too. And it’s still a way from here to the Glenn.”

V doesn’t say something to that, only hums and nods to himself, before he straightens up and turns around at Johnny, gently putting his hand to his arm.

“Come on then, let’s - Jo, what the fuck?” With a frown, he reaches around Johnny to get a hold on his other arm, effectively forcing him to turn around. “Y-you’re cold as fuck, Johnny, the hell -?”

Johnny can only raise a single eyebrow.

“The fuck you expect, dipshit? It’s colder than a witches tit out here, don’t you know how physics works anymore?”

“Christ, Johnny. Could have said something.” He rubs up and down his arms for a second, before he quickly shrugs off his jacket and in the very same move, throws it around Johnny’s shoulders.

“Chill, V. That’s a bit overkill now, your apar-”

“Don’t tell me to fucking chill, Johnny! Don’t you fucking dare!” V doesn’t meet his eyes as he snaps at him, only holds the jacket closed in front of Johnny’s chest with trembling fingers. Closing his eyes, he forces himself to take a few calming breaths before stepping away with a low curse on his lips, leaving Johnny speechless, confused and all warm and cozy under a jacket infused with V’s body heat and the smell of cigarettes that apparently follows him and not Johnny these days.

V continues to simply stand there for a moment, looking anywhere but Johnny; appearing to be frozen while also ready to bolt into the next best direction, before he jerkily nods towards his door and leads them inside.

Nibbles meows once again as he sees them, but he doesn’t move from his spot, only slow-blinks at them before hiding his face beneath his paw and going back to sleep.

V instantly walks over to the thermostat, and for a moment, he actually struggles with the controls, which tells Johnny that something is seriously wrong.

“Fuck …” V mutters under his breath before he finally manages to turn the heat up with shaking fingers.

Johnny isn’t equipped for shit like this. It was a bit easier back when they were sharing a brain. Whenever V panicked or got scared back then, which only ever seemed to be during a Relic-episode, he would simply pop into existence or wrest for control so he could bring V somewhere safe. It had also been easier to predict where V would draw the line between playful banter in a stressful situation and actual emotional hurt.

Now, he cannot even tell if his presence is helpful or entirely unwanted.

“You’re being weird as fuck, V.”

Blowing out a deep breath, V bumps his forehead against the wall.

“I know.”

When V doesn’t move again after that, Johnny carefully approaches him, leaning against the wall too, facing him.

After a millisec of hesitation, he taps his knuckles against V’s temple. “What’s going on in this head of yours, huh?”

Instead of answering, V hesitantly reaches out too, touching Johnny’s arm. When his fingers come in contact with his newly reheated skin, he takes the biggest sigh of relief Johnny has ever seen him take.

“Yeah, you see now? All warm and toasty, me. No need for theatrics.”

“Thank God for that. Couldn’t take a repeat of last time.”

… Say what now?

V squeezes his arm one last time before he heads to his wardrobe, pulling out some comfy clothes he hands Johnny.

They get changed in silence, with V actively avoiding Johnny’s eyes, his movements small and unimposing, like he wants for Johnny to forget he’s even there.

Whereas Johnny cannot stop staring at V.

Because what the fuck.

Not being able to sleep when alone. Selling his cars. Selling his apartments. Working himself to the bone. Becoming so sloppy as to let some rando fuck up his nose. And now this weird-ass stunt right now? “A repeat of last time?”

The time between being pulled from V’s head and getting shoved back into his own is nothing but a black fucking box to Johnny, as he’s once more being reminded.

He had never fully questioned it before. Or maybe he just didn't want to know the answer before.

Now, though - he's beginning to think this was a mistake.

Johnny grabs a blanket from the couch and then crawls onto the bed, scooting over so he's next to the wall. V doesn't move, only stands in the middle of the fucking room like a total gonk.

“I swear, V, if you don't come into bed right now and get the fuck to sleep I will knock you unconscious myself.”

“Yeah … yes. ‘course.”

Once he's in bed, he pulls the covers up to his chin and then hacks his lights and the window shutters to engulf the room in total darkness.

It's mostly quiet after that, as quiet as things can be with the distant buzz of music coming from another unit, with people yelling and flying cars going by.

V’s breathing becomes calmer and more unhurried with every passing second, and Johnny also feels his eyes growing heavy.

There's still this fuckery about V’s behavior, but he figures if he stays put, tomorrow he'll find a good opportunity to corner him and squeeze every bit of information out of him.

Somewhere beside them, Nibbles is purring in his sleep.

It's peaceful.

Johnny doesn't remember him ever feeling like this before going to bed since he woke up in his new body.

And with everything he's learned today, he begins to think that V can't either.

A few more seconds pass, in which Johnny starts to drift off into sleep.

He's just at the threshold when V reaches out, his fingers slowly creeping over the mattress and beneath Johnny’s blanket, where he makes their pinkies touch. The contact is incredibly timid. And at the same time, undeniably deliberate.

Johnny almost misses a beat in his breathing rhythm. For a second, he opens his eyes, staring at the ceiling through the dark, before he remembers V having night vision with his Kiroshis and he quickly closes them again.

V’s hand presses closer, and closer still, until he puts his hand on top of Johnny's, slowly brushing his thumb over Johnny’s little finger.

He can hear him swallow. “Johnny?” His voice is hushed, clearly not meant to wake him up but only check if he's still awake.

Which he is.

But he feints to sleep.

Another audible swallow, and then V scoots his whole god-damned body over, right until their arms start to touch.

Johnny doesn't move a single muscle, not even when V honest to God intertwines their fingers and, with a deep, satisfied sigh, turns around just enough to jam his nose in Johnny’s shoulder.

Now wide awake, Johnny waits, counting V’s breaths until he’s fully certain the gonk is somewhere deep in dreamland.

Only then does he dare to open his eyes. Only then does he dare turn around ever so slowly, before he puts his free arm around V, who’s now safely tucked beneath Johnny’s chin.

V’s warmth, his breath ghosting over Johnny’s collarbone and his ribcage moving against his hold - it’s almost enough. Enough for him to feel like they're sharing a nervous system again. Enough for him to feel like he’s never really alone in this forsaken century.

V mumbles something beneath his breath before his breathing halts for a moment. But before Johnny can have a meltdown about him having woken the other up and revealed his own pathetic self, V actually scoots closer, hugs Johnny in turn and even goes so far as to wedge his leg between Johnny’s.

“Thank you.”

Johnny only squeezes his eyes shut and holds V closer, already gaslighting himself into thinking this is all just some fucked up, pathetic dream he’s having.

Wouldn’t have been the first time, anyway.

But what the hell - everyone is having dreams about cuddling/fucking their friends at least once, right?

~***~

Gaslighting yourself into thinking your latest cuddle sesh was nothing but a cheap soap opera made up by your posterior cortex and limbic system does prove to be tricky when you wake up with your head not on a pillow but rather on a rather comfy shoulder, with your whole body half-thrown on top of your supposed dream-cuddle-partner the next morning.

Johnny does his best to ignore this when he carefully pulls away and crawls out of the bed, doing his best not to wake V.

He somehow actually manages to succeed in this, because even though V does mutter a bit and frowns, he then promptly turns around and buries his face in Johnny’s pillow before going quiet and still again, sprawled over the whole bed like a starfish.

On tiptoes, Johnny walks over to the small coffee machine to brew himself a cup right before Nibbles meows and struts over at him with his tail high and demanding.

“Hush you, don’t wake up V you little nuisance.” He hurries to smack a heap of catfood into a bowl which he then presents to the feline, who seems pleased with this offering before he also decides to give the lizard some of his food.

With him rummaging around the apartment, he fully expects V to wake up at some point only to be surprised when he doesn’t, not even after the window shutters automatically open at eight.

Johnny is starting to get bored out of his mind.

And nothing good happens when you’re bored.

It makes you have stupid ideas.

In Johnny’s case right now, he cannot stop looking over at V’s phone.

It had announced an incoming message not five minutes ago, and now Johnny cannot stop thinking about it.

Not about the nature of this particular message, mind you. More like the messages he might find V sent, say - five months ago, which would be somewhere deep in the “let’s get Johnny a body to get back into”-timeline.

Johnny shouldn’t.

He knows this.

But then again, this situation between him and V is something special, isn’t it?

Time used to be where there had been no secrets between them. Where Johnny had known and felt V’s body in a way you only know and feel your own. He’d felt it breathe. He’d felt it when he’s gotten a pebble in the shoe. He’d felt his stomach ache after a bad burrito. He’d felt him getting a random as fuck boner in the middle of the street for fuck’s sake.

And he knows things he knows V never planned to tell another soul.

He knows about his massive crush he’s had on Jackie. About the jealousy he’s felt and sometimes still feels of Misty, as well as the guilt about being jealous in the first place. He knows that V cannot for the life of him get through that one particular episode of Watson Whore without crying his eyes out. And he knows how V ever only wanted for Viktor to give him a hug and tell him everything would be alright, back when the Relic had been killing him, all while he’s put on a brave face in front of the ripperdoc and made stupid jokes.

So what’s snooping around his phone with all this in mind?

“Stupid fucker didn’t even change his password.” Johnny mumbles to himself, now looking right at the starting screen of V’s phone.

He opens the messenger app.

The message that brought all this attention to the phone seems to have been from Wakako about a possible gig, so Johnny doesn’t touch it. He’s an asshole, but he doesn't want one of V’s best fixers to think he’s left her on read.

What is more interesting to him anyway is the fact that apparently, him and Kerry had been texting last night.

Kerry Eurodyne

Jo V 🙂

Hope when youre reading this

youre well rested and its the next

mornin

just wanted to tell you i was happy

to have you tonight

and that i hope youll start taking things

a bit slower soon

loweky worried about you my guy

…

youre typing.

why the hell are you typing?!

Hey Ker

first of all: dont worry. im fine

second: happy i could be there too <3

third: johnny got me home alright, but then

he fucked the fuck of

which shouldnt surprise me i guess

but fuck…

V, please just go to sleep

you looked like you need it

badly

yeah okay

im off to bed then

liar.

sorry ker

yeah well

still love you though, kid

dont you forget it

Johnny stares at the chat for a bit longer before he looks over at V’s still sleeping form.

He’s never seen him stay asleep for this long.

Makes him wonder just how little sleep V’s gotten as of late.

Shaking his head, he exits the chat. He probably could get a few more interesting things out of it, but he isn’t fully confident he wouldn’t stumble on some sexting or shit like this at some point.

And knowing just exactly how V’s orgasms feel aside, this is something he wants to stay being Schroedinger’s cat.

A chat he’s confident wouldn’t jumpscare him with dickpics however is the one with Panam, considering V’s raging gay ass.

With her, he has to skip through a fucking shitload of messages and on his way up, he also stumbles on several calls that were at least one hour long. Often way longer. One particular stands out though.

And Johnny has to double check.

But yeah. No. Sure enough. There is one call that went on for twelve fucking hours.

Panam Palmer

hey panam

got a moment?

sure 🙂

call started - 10.02 p.m.

call ended - 10.37 a.m.

hey uhm

thanks again, panam

really

and im sorry

didnt mean to fucking cry half the time

or lowkey have a panic attack

and thanks that you left the call open

after i fell asleep

hope i didnt snore too bad

anytime, v <3

im here for you, no matter what

thanks

how are you holding up?

dunno

went to the columbarium earlier

left a memento in his niche like i did with the others

couldnt bring myself to stay and watch

Vik to fuckin recycle his body again

i mean i know he has to

organic matter aint cheap and all that

still

No, I get it, V

A picture is starting to form in Johnny’s mind.

One he doesn’t like one bit.

Mouth parched all of a sudden, swallows and scrolls down further, only scanning the chat before something catches his attention again.

Panam

PANAM!

FUCK!

WE DID IT

WE REALLY FUCKING DID IT

HES ALIVE

JOHNNY IS FUCKING ALIVE

AROSE ON THE THIRD DAY LIKE FUCKING JESUS CHRIST

I-

hgiopauefhvaknvaovhf

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

Shut up!

Fuck, V!

Thats fucking awesome!

You sure this time?

Really really sure?!

I think so?

Passed every test Vik threw at him

alive and kicking for five consecutive days

no mishaps

being his pissy old self

nagging about me being mother hen every chance

he gets?

a fucking win in my book, honestly

Hes right back to nagging, huh?

I swear, if i ever meet him, ill give

him a piece of my mind

he should be on his knees, sucking your

cock in gratitude for all the shit you did for him

too bad he’ll never know then

not if i can help it

… uh huh

yeah

you know my opinion on that

yeah yeah

still dont get you on that part

i know

but whatever

i dont want to rain on your parade rn

just happy your happy for now

but no promises should i ever meet him

just sayin

fair warning: if you yell at him, he’ll prob

just think ur hot stuff

maybe you should keep that in mind though ;)

Panaaaaam

sorry, sorry xD

never should have told u…

yeah :D

that was stupid

…

almost as stupid as falling in love with him in the first place ;)

u know what

im so happy right now i dont even care

Aaaw, V

Ur cute

Johnny blinks. Then re-reads the last few messages.

But nope. He read it right the first time.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Johnny freezes.

There’s a split second where he thinks - hopes - that was just his imagination. But every hope vanishes when he looks up and sees V staring directly at him.

With his tousled hair, still mostly lying in bed and just propped up on one arm, blanket still hugging his waist, he shouldn’t look as scary as he does, but his laser focus and the pissed set of his jaw makes up for the rest.

“I -”

V throws the blanket away and flings himself out of the bed before he’s in front of Johnny in an instant with inhuman speed, courtesy of his cyberware, to snatch the phone from Johnny’s grasp.

Half turned away, he takes a look at the chat Johnny’s stuck his nose in.

His mouth moves around a silent curse before he crosses his arms in front of his chest, phone still in one hand as he looks outside the window.

“... Snooping around on my phone now, Johnny? Seriously?” He doesn’t scream, doesn’t throw a fit. Like a disappointed parent, he doesn’t grace Johnny with so much as a glance.

Johnny remains sitting on the couch. From there, he watches how Nibbles knocks his head against V’s ankle, dragging his body over the skin. And then he watches how V doesn’t react to it one bit.

“Well. Apparently I have to, since you won’t tell me shit anymore.”

V bites down on his teeth.

“Seperate bodies, seperate lives. That’s what you said, wasn’t it?”

And yes. Okay. That maybe really were his words, way back when Johnny had declined V’s offer to come live with him for a start.

But since Johnny is Johnny, it still rubs him the wrong way, if only because he’s regretted that decision a bit more every day.

Doesn’t matter that this isn’t V’s fault. Not in the slightest.

“Oh, come off it now, V. You’re just butthurt about this since apparently you’re unhappily in love with me. You and Kerry should start a self-help group.”

…

Shit.

V doesn’t react for a moment, and then, he shakes his head with a hollow, sarcastic laugh.

“Wow. Okay. Great.” He bends down to pick up a few random pieces of clothing from the ground which he then hugs to his chest. “I’ll go take a shower now. And I better not see you after I’m done.”

The door to his bathroom slides shut behind him, and then the LED jumps to red.

For a moment, Johnny just keeps sitting on the couch.

Oblivious to it all, Nibbles purrs and grooms himself, sitting on V’s unmade bed.

A few more seconds pass, but there is no sound of running water coming from the bathroom.

Briefly, Johnny debates just further sitting there. He debates getting up and knocking on the door.

But in the end, he just gets dressed and leaves.

He still doesn’t hear the shower turning on.

~***~

That afternoon, Johnny enters the Afterlife when it’s still mostly light outside.

With a sigh, he sits down at the bar with a sigh, putting his phone on the counter, his display facing upwards.

“Tough day?” Claire approaches him with a friendly smile, polishing a glass before putting it in front of him, bracing herself on the table.

Johnny has spent the entire day sitting on his ass at home, playing all of his old songs very loudly on repeat. His fingers and voice strings hurt, but it’s not necessarily a tough day.

“Dunno. Could use a drink, though.”

“Coming right up. What can I get you?”

He shrugs and unlocks his phone for a second, only to check if there are any messages he might not have heard.

There are none.

“Surprise me.”

“Sure. Would be my pleasure.”

Johnny watches her prepare the drink and checks for new messages again.

“Here ya go.”

“Thanks, Claire.”

“How do you know my name?” She raises her eyebrows at him at that, which confuses Johnny for a moment. It's only then that he realizes that she never introduced herself to him. And she sure as hell has no idea that they've met before, if only during Johnny's time as the parasite inside V’s brain.

“I'm no stalker. Just … I know Rogue. And V.”

“You know V? How is he? Haven't seen him in a while. And when I did, he just rushed to Rogue’s booth and then straight back.”

“He's fine. Sick of people asking me about him.” He averts his eyes and takes a sip of his drink.

Vodka.

Lime Juice.

Ginger Beer.

He lets its sit in his mouth as he realizes and only swallows it with great difficulty.

Claire's made him a fucking Jackie Welles.

When he looks back up at her, he's met with an angry frown, her nice bartender-mask gone like the wind.

“Uh-huh.”

He clears his throat.

“How much for that?”

Claire huffs and nods towards the corner of the bar.

“Nothing. Was paid for by that guy over there. Though I'm not sure you deserve it.”

Johnny's heart skips a beat. Hope creeps up his throat like a vine, though he's not really sure what he hopes for.

He only knows that once he sees who paid for that drink, the little spark of good mood in his chest dies out in an instant. A total stranger is sitting there, and from the way their eyes lock instantly, it's clear the guy had been staring for a good while, waiting for a reaction from Johnny.

When Johnny looks away again, the words: “Flattered, but not into guys” are lying on his tongue, ready to be spoken. Only that he quickly realizes he would just say them to himself, because Claire is on the far end of the bar, tending to another customer. And the guy isn't in hearing reach either.

Johnny looks at the Jackie Welles. He spins the glass for a moment, watching the ice cubes tumble in the liquid, before he checks his phone for messages again.

And then, another thought comes to him.

Why the fuck not, actually?

If he's completely honest, he hadn't really minded the experience of gay yaoi fucking back when he was inside V’s brain. Fucking women hadn't really been the shit lately anyway, so why not fuck around with a dude for a change?

This is a free City, after all.

Johnny takes another sip of the cursed drink. It burns when it comes down his throat and then settles warm in his stomach. He ignores the way it fills him with just enough confidence to pick the drink up, stand up and then walk over to the man.

He's young, Johnny realizes. Cannot be older than 25, which puts him around the same age as V.

“Little birdie told me you paid for this.” He nods towards the drink and then sits down next to the guy, who grins and turns to face him.

“Yeah. Thought you're hot. Impeccable style, by the way.”

Johnny gives a surprised laugh.

“Wow. No beating around the bush with you, huh?”

The guy rolls his eyes and puts his hand on Johnny's leg.

“Eh. Ain't got time for that.”

“Uh-huh. Can see that, kid.” His eyes flicker to the hand on his leg for a moment and than he takes another sip of his drink.

“Don't call me that, you're not that much older and I sure as hell am not a kid anymore.” The man frowns, flirty grin leaving his face for the moment. Interesting. Come to think of it, V never complained about the nickname. In time, it became even welcomed, filling him with just a but of warmth. A warmth Johnny felt in turn. And V sure as hell doesn't behave like a kid, no matter his - undebatably - young age.

Johnny raises his eyebrows.

“Ooof. Fragile ego much?”

It's gives the guy a pause for a moment. Then, he simply laughs, smile all shiny white teeth.

“Oh my god, you're an asshole. Perfect. Double hot.”

“That your kink, huh? Well. Whatever floats your boat.”

The guy - Johnny's not going to ask him for his name, but he thinks he looks like a James, so this what he'll call himself in his head now - Okay, so: James squeezes his leg and then takes a swing of his own drink before he points to Johnny's almost empty glass with his beer bottle.

“You want another?”

“Nah. We can just go straight to the fucking if you don't mind.” Better to act quickly, like ripping off a band-aid.

James laughs again and empties his beer.

“A man of my own heart. Come on, I know a place.”

Turns out, when James says “I know a place”, he simply means some shady alley not far from the bar, where he wastes no time pressing Johnny against the wall and making out with him.

Rude, to be honest. Johnny at least always takes his temporary outputs to a place somewhat private, like, say, the bathroom of the club. Or a rented cabin. Or his car. Or sometimes even his place.

But whatever. He'll just go with it for now.

James at least is a decent enough kisser. Not too much tongue, not too sloppy. Maybe a tad too hungry, with a little more biting than necessary, but Johnny can work with that.

If he's completely honest, he likes this a little more than how lately, the women he's been with all acted like they languished for Johnny like he's some ancient Greek God or something.

Johnny puts his hand on James' waist and tilts his head, purposefully slowing down his own lips, which takes some wind out of James’ sails.

He'd once witnessed V doing exactly this with some random dude at the club, which V then kept doing - kept slowing things down while simultaneously touching the dude more and more until he had the man all desperate and horny, rutting against his thigh while whining into V’s mouth. And V - the bastard - just started grinning. But Johnny knows it wasn't a mean grin. V just thought the guy was cute like this.

Johnny opens his mouth. Slowly. And James wasted no time sucking down his bottom lip.

He closes his mouth again and leans back further, squeezing James’ side, to which the man grunts and pushes further into Johnny's space. He puts a hand to Johnny's shoulder and applies pressure to keep him in place. There's more strength behind it than it should, the way he's generally normally built.

Which can only mean that James has Gorilla arms.

Just like V.

And Johnny vividly remembers how V once used those Gorilla arms to pin down Tiny Mike and fuck him into oblivion, right into the satin sheets of his Plaza Apartment.

Because of course V always took the guys he planned to go all the way to pound town with into one of his nice apartments.

James keeps holding him in place. And with his other hand, he quite unceremoniously starts groping Johnny's dick through his pants.

Johnny keeps up with the kissing. He feels James’ hand on his dick.

But his mind is somewhere else entirely.

It's way back when V was towering above Tiny Mike, who was on his knees in front of him, his hands crossed behind his back, face pushed in the pillows. He remembers the soft slide of V’s dick, and how whenever Mike would try to wiggle out of his hold, V would make low reprimanding noise and hold him down further, just by pressing down on his wrists.

Johnny remembers sitting on the sidelines, and how - together - they felt the simmering arousal in V’s gut, or how hard and sensitive his dick was.

The memory of him alone causes Johnny to moan and his dick to fill out. Certainly not … whatever it was James does with his hand there. James certainly thinks so though, as he groans and blindly opens Johnny's belt and zipper, and just like this, his hand is on Johnny's cock.

Johnny should probably concentrate on that.

Instead, he gets lost in the memory of the way V's body felt as it moved. The even slide of his hips. The tenseness in his legs and lower abdomen. How his chest vibrated when he moaned and groaned and cursed and whispered praises into Mike's ears.

Johnny remembers quite literally breathing down V’s neck while also doing his hardest not to make his presence known. Not to quip in with comments or suggestions. Because after approximately three awkwardly subdued masturbations, they made the deal for V to be able to fuck in Peace - either himself or others - in turn, Johnny would get to experience bone-tingling orgasms.

And with all the jokes he would make about V never being able to reach Johnny's sexual prowess even though they had joined psyches, he has to admit: V knows what he's doing.

In fact, he always thought that V fucked like he fought - efficient and precise. And Johnny enjoyed feeling and seeing both. But Johnny also remembers the actual giddiness and pride V would feel after making someone come, and how he only picked guys he didn't just think were hot but which he also liked on a personal level, at least to some degree.

So while V could have easily overpowered Mike, and everything could have easily turned sour, it simply didn't.

Because V kept apt attention to his body language, kept his ears tuned to hear even the smallest whisper of ‘Red’. And at the same time, he kept aiming for Mike's soft spots, kept his thrusts powerful, but never painful. He petted his side, he squeezed his ass and if need be, he bent over to kiss his temple and whisper sweet nothings into his ear.

And all this finally led to Mike whimpering and cursing and drooling into the pillow. It had his whole body shake and him coming untouched, jizzing all over the mattress.

Johnny brokenly moans and his free hand digs into a brick of the wall behind him, his fingers pressing against a sharp corner.

“Fuuuck, your cock is so fucking big.”

Johnny stops. He opens his eyes, pulling as far away from James as possible. He blinks. Then, he pulls James' hand out of his pants.

“Time-out.” He says, tucks himself in as much as possible with his dick still mostly hard and closes his pants.

“Huh?” James is confused enough to actually comply as he pulls away. Which is a blessing, considering that he probably isn't as much of a gentleman as V and would make quick use of his cybernetic strength to force Johnny into obedience.

“I just realized that I fucked up. Big time.” Johnny slips away and starts walking backwards out of the alley. “I have to go. Sorry, kid.”

“What? I'm not a fucking - you-! Fucker! Fucking tease, should have fucking known!”

Johnny turns around and throws him the middle finger over the shoulder before he rushes off into his car.

Inside, he locks the doors and then rests his forehead onto the steering wheel, holding onto it so hard his knuckles turned white.

And there is one truth he cannot shake: This right now wasn't just him getting off on a memory instead of something right in front of him. This wasn't even appreciating good sex. It was appreciating V. It was wondering how - no - it was wanting to be fucked by V.

Johnny swallows and then pulls out his phone to check for messages.

There are none.

Which is no surprise. He would have heard. Because there is only one ringtone that matters. And it's etched into his brain: E, A, C#. A major.

~***~

Johnny drives around town aimlessly. At every stop, he picks up his phone for a second and contemplates simply calling V. But in the end, he doesn’t, time and time again. Simply because he is the biggest coward to ever walk this planet because he doesn’t want to experience how V doesn’t pick up. Or, which would be even worse, him simply declining the call the second he sees Johnny’s name pop up.

So Johnny drives. And he drives. And drives.

And while he does so, he feels restless. He's switching between Radio Stations. He tabs the steering wheel or the arm rest. He scratches his head and rakes through his hair.

At some point, he ends up at Jig-Jig street, with absolutely no recollection about how he got there.

He stops the car for the time being, watching the buzz of people and contemplating whether he should get out for a bite to eat.

However, before he can so much as touch the door handle to get out of the car, he sees him.

Right there, beneath the neon sign and sitting on one of the barriers, is V, waiting for someone.

Mouth suddenly dry, Johnny is just about to rush out of the car with absolutely no plan whatsoever and go up to him, to - Johnny doesn’t know what for.

But once again, he doesn’t even get the chance because some shady as fuck looking Maelstrom-chick is coming up to him.

It seems the woman is exactly the person V has been waiting for because he isn't surprised and easily picks up on the conversation.

Though it quickly becomes obvious that that chick isn't happy with whatever V’s saying to her as she huffs and puffs and crosses her arms in front of her chest, shaking her head.

It would be funny watching V give her the cold shoulder repeatedly if it weren't for the even shadier looking man coming up from behind him, because only a second passes between Johnny spotting him and the flash of silver and V having a knife to his throat.

Johnny's heart drops and he already has his hand on the door handle before he makes himself stop and think.

Because let's be real, what could he possibly do?

Jump up and startle the man so he would be even quicker to slide V’s throat?

Jump up and manage to dissolve the situation only to make V even more pissed because he thwarted some giant master plan of his?

Then again, what if V really is in trouble, what if -

V’s eyes flash blue and the man behind him winces, his cyberware spitting sparks, causing him to let the knife fall and his whole body to stumble backwards.

With a manic grin, V catches the knife in the fall, jumps from the barricade and then he's the one with a knife to another person's throat, which in this case is now the chick he started talking to.

They exchange a few more sentences before the woman hands V a small shard with a very prissy looking expression, picks up her still cursing mate and runs off.

Johnny takes a deep breath of relief, adrenaline still rushing through him, whereas V simply slots the shard in his head, eyes once more glowing blue as he reads through it, possibly cracking some mean security in a matter of seconds before he pulls it out again and pulls out his phone, his fingers flying over the display as he sends some texts.

Running his own fingertips over the inseams of the steering wheel, Johnny keeps staring, unmoving. His heart is still beating wildly in his chest, but there is a different kind of anxiety, of anticipation at work now.

V wraps up whatever conversation he’s had via text. He then takes a deep breath, pulls out a cigarette and starts smoking.

The first drag looks like he needs it badly. He closes his eyes, eyelids fluttering shut as he lifts his head to the sky and blows at the smoke, taking a deep breath of the night air afterwards.

Then, he takes another drag and starts walking.

Johnny unconsciously sits up straighter in his seat, following V’s every move.

V looks left and right before he crosses his street. But before he puts another step forward, he stops as their eyes meet through the windshield of Johnny’s Porsche.

Johnny blinks. V’s mouth opens just a bit in surprise, before he rolls his eyes and turns away. He never crosses the street after all, and just starts walking in the opposite direction as Johnny.

Without thinking, Johnny starts the car and drives after him.

He rolls down the window and gets instantly insulted by the noise and smell of Night City.

“V!” He calls out but it gets drowned out as a motorbike drives past him on the opposite line. “V!”

Still smoking, V keeps on walking, and the road between them could very well be a massive concrete wall.

“V! Could you stop for a second for fuck’s sake?!”

“V!” This time, he even goes so far as to put his head out of the window, but to no avail.

“V! Please, come on, don’t be like that!”

Taking another drag of his cigarette, V looks over at him, all unimpressed.

”Fuck off!”

“V, please, I just -”

Behind him, someone honks at him. When Johnny, now leaning halfway out of his window, looks back at the guy behind him, he sees him gesticulate wildly through the windshield.

Rolling his eyes, he turns back towards V.

“Please kid, I just wanna talk!”

V angrily scrunches his nose.

“Well, tough shit - I don’t wanna talk to you right now.”

Another mad honk, this time from someone on the other side, because distracted as he is, Johnny almost drives into the opposite traffic. With a low curse, he pulls the wheels around, tires screeching before he finds a straight line again.

“V, pl - I know I fucked up, okay? I just -”

The guy behind him honks again, cutting him off as he starts honking and doesn’t fucking stop.

Johnny puts his head out of the window again. “Oh my fucking god, just drive around me if you’re so fucking busy, you fucker!”

The guy rolls down his window too, looks outside and screams: “Either pull over or fucking drive, man!”

“As I said: Drive! Around! Me!”

With a huff, the man points to the street.

“Solid line!”

Well. Apparently there are still Karens in a City like this, where criminality is off the charts. Who would have thought?

With a scoff, Johnny chooses to ignore the guy. If he wanted to make his own life miserable like this, so fucking be it.

“V, could you please just give me a chance?”

“Dude! He doesn’t want you, get the message and fucking drive!”

Johnny turns around so hard he almost pulls the steering wheel all the way over as he looks outside.

“Mind your own fucking business, asshole!”

“Me, asshole? No - no - you’re the asshole, holding up traffic and wailing across the street.”

“Just stop being a pussy and drive around me!”

This seems to be the final straw for the man behind him as he pulls back into his car and throws every one of his own principals out the window as he makes the motor cry out and speeds around Johnny before driving into the night.

“Now was that so fucking hard?!” Johnny screams after him, knowing full well he won’t be heard.

The time he wasted arguing with that prick was enough to buy V some time to run along, and it takes Johnny a moment to find him on the opposite pavement.

Speeding up, he catches up to him again.

“V!”

Several people in V’s direct proximity turn their heads at him, and V groans, exasperated, but otherwise doesn’t even grace him with a look, only angrily flicks his cigarette on the ground and steps on it.

There is a turn coming up, leading to heavier traffic and several lanes, meaning more possibilities to wreck both his car and his body and get drowned out in the noise, as well as giving V even more openings to escape.

“Shit …” Johnny pulls over, uncaring how he almost knocks over some random woman not paying attention as her eyes are glued to her phone. So much so she doesn’t even register the car pulling up only mere inches next to her.

Throwing caution in the wind, Johnny only takes a fleeting look through his side mirror before he jumps out of the car. He doesn’t lock it, only slams the door behind him and then he’s running across the street and after V, bumping into a dude screaming obscenities at him before he hurries after V, who, to his own surprise has come to a stop, turning around.

“What the fuck Johnny, are you trying to get yourself killed?!” He actually meets him halfway, only to get close enough to push him as he says it.

“V. I know you’re pissed at me. Hell, you have every right to be. But please, I -” Words fail him and he stops. But for the first time since trying to get his attention tonight, V is listening to him as he is standing in front of Johnny, patiently waiting. Not saying something now isn’t an option. “I’m sorry, okay? For what I said this morning. It wasn’t what I wanted to say. And that’s no excuse, I know, I -”

V is still not saying a word. But his angry frown is faltering, his posture relaxes. Johnny thinks he maybe almost has him, useless babbling aside. Maybe just a bit more of sugarcoating and -

“I - I mean - Oh Jesus fuck, V. Could you just stop being the trying to appear hard to get, pissed housewife and get into the fucking car with me?”

… Well. Or that.

Oh, he fucked up.

V blinks.

Oh, he fucked up really bad.

“You’re impossible, Johnny. Just fucking impossible.” V starts walking, giving Johnny only a second to step out of his way. But he doesn’t go far. Instead, he comes to a stop on the edge of the pavement, checking for cars. Relief washes over Johnny, making his knees go weak and his head dizzy.

“You’re the one actin all prissy and making me chase you like some guilty dog.”

V scoffs and then quickly stretches out his arm, keeping Johnny from walking on the street. Shortly after, a car he didn’t see coming drives by.

“What did you expect? That I’d just come crawling back to you the second I saw you earlier?”

“Admit it, V. You simply enjoyed having me begging for your attention out in the open like that.” They’re at the car now, and Johnny already has his hand on the door handle. Standing on the opposite side of the Porsche, V lifts his hand to throw Johnny the middle finger.

“I hate you so much right now, Johnny.” They both fall into their respective seats at the same time, and then pull the doors closed. “But whatever. Here we are now, I guess. You wanted to talk, yeah? So let’s fucking talk.”

Johnny chews on his lips for a moment, trying to search for a good way to start this conversation. He hadn’t planned on meeting V so soon after today, and if he’s being honest, he hadn’t expected to get so far as to get V into his car, willing to talk.

“What exactly happened, V? When you tried getting me back I mean.”

“No. Oh, no, no, no. We’re not talking about that.”

“Why the fuck not? Don’t be such a pussy, V.”

“Fuck you. I don’t want to talk about it. And it doesn’t fucking matter anyway.”

Johnny knows he should be looking on the street, but he can’t help it. He looks over at V, who has his arms crossed in front of his chest and looks out of the side window. It appears that he’s actively debating just rolling down the window and jumping out of the moving car.

“These past few days, or - hell no - ever since I got back, you’ve been behaving like a total nutjob at times. I believe that whatever happened matters quite a bit.”

He sees V squeezing his own arm before he directs his attention back to the traffic again.

“... I will answer one question about that time.”

Well. Better than nothing.

But Johnny is a piece of shit, so:

“What exactly happened, from the moment you got me out of your brain to me waking up in Victor’s clinic?”

“You -” He hears V whipping his head around, and then he feels his eyes on him. “One specific question, you fucking asshole.”

Worth a shot.

“Alright. How about this: I know that I - that this body wasn’t the first try, so: What happened with the rest?”

“No. No, Johnny, fuck. Anything but that. That part is off-limits.”

Johnny angrily clenches his jaw and takes the next turn unnecessarily harshly.

“Okay then, we won’t be talking about this then, I guess.”

“Yeah! No, we won’t. Finally you get it, Johnny. Sheesh.”

“Fine. Back to you not telling me shit anymore then, V.”

“Yeah! Yes, exactly.”

“Fine.”

“Fine!”

“Just fucking great!”

Silence stretches out between them as the city rushes past, with its neon signs, its people, all the trash lying around.

“Where the fuck are we heading, anyway?”

“Not a fucking clue, V.”

“You’re the one driving.”

“Ironic, isn’t it?”

V huffs out a soft laugh. “Idiot,” he whispers, mostly to himself, which sounds like an endearment.

They fall into silence after this. A silence that would be comfortable if it wasn’t for all the things Johnny wanted to say, wanted to apologize for, but couldn’t find the right words for.

When they come to a stop at a red light, he sees V rest his arm right next to the window, drumming his fingers on the car door. Johnny’s fingers tighten on the steering wheel, and he pays more attention to V next to him than the traffic lights. He fears, and half-expects V to use the momentarily pause in his driving to declare: “Well, this is my stop.” And leave. This time for good. This time while making sure he cannot be followed.

When V doesn’t move, and the lights switch to green, Johnny takes a deep, calming breath and drives on.

And there it is: The smell of V’s cigarettes assaulting his nostrils.

“Did sharing a brain with me really make you addicted to smoking?” He blurts out. The sudden rise of his voice surprises even himself.

V even more so though. With a subtle jump of his body, he brings a hand to his face, rubbing his fingers over his mouth. For a moment, he doesn’t look like he’ll ever answer.

“... No. No, you made me smoke like - what - three cigarettes?” He huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. “I’ve smoked more with Jackie back in the days; before Misty convinced him smoking is bad for his chakra, and after that I didn’t care for the stuff no problem.”

“Okay? So what changed?”

“I lost you?” His voice breaks at the end, making it sound like a question. Johnny damn near crashes into the car in front of him before he remembers brakes are a thing. V doesn’t react to the almost-accident, his gaze even more unseeing than Johnny’s as he stares out of the windshield. He takes a shaky breath.

“I lost you. I had to put you back on that chip. I didn’t know we’d ever manage to bring you back. Hell, the first few months I didn’t even know if I would make it. And y’know - a part of me wasn’t even that sad or that scared about it because at least that would mean I wouldn’t have to live feeling this … this empty without you. But then I actually was fixed, only we didn’t make any progress in getting you back so I still felt like - like someone had ripped something from deep inside of me.” He stops himself with a humorless laugh and shortly looks over at Johnny, who cannot see what his face looks like, too focused on not crashing them.

“Fuck, sorry, that was a bit melodramatic. My point is: I was in a bad place without you. Call it needy, call it pathetic, call it whatever you like, but it’s the truth. I missed you so fucking much, I’ve forgotten how it felt to be alone inside my head. I kept talking to you, but you weren’t there, so talking to you made things only worse for me because the silence that followed reminded me of the fact that you weren’t there. I kept dreaming you were back and when I woke up and realized it really was just that - a dream, I wanted to scream. And I mean; I wasn’t alone: I had Viktor. I had Misty. Fuck, I had Ker and Panam and a whole lot other friends but that didn’t change the fact that I still felt so fucking lonely it hurt.” V coughs and rearranges himself in his seat before taking a calming breath.

“And one day, I snapped. I ran out, bought a pack of cigarettes and inhaled one after the other. And for some fucked up reason, everyhing about that: Pulling a cigarette out of the pack. Lighting it. Inhaling it. Holding it between my fingers. The smell. The flick of the lighter. Everything - it filled that hole … Somewhat. Remind me of you, because it was like I was reliving part of your memories I saw back then. It was enough to keep me going. So I kept doing it. And before I knew it, I couldn’t stop, even if I wanted to. Not that I ever wanted to. Not when … Not when I kept losing you. Over and over again.”

Johnny almost doesn’t dare breathe, only sucks in air shallowly to make himself as quiet and invisible to V as possible. All in hope it would keep V talking. He seems to have fallen in some sort of rant; or maybe even a confession.

“... Stop the car, please.” V swallows audibly after he says it and it’s so quiet Johnny almost doesn’t catch it. He could probably just keep driving and claim he hasn’t heard without making V angry.

The indicator ticks as Johnny pulls into an abandoned, dirty parking lot and stops the car. The rumble of the engine falls silent as he turns the key and pulls the handbreak. He puts both hands back on the steering wheel even after he’s parked, looking out through the windshield.

It would be quite the way back home for V, but since he’s buddy-buddy with the amnesiac-Delamain, it wouldn’t be a problem. Still, Johnny is already wrecking his brain for things to say; things to do to keep V from leaving should he try to.

“There were six other bodies before this one.”

Johnny lets go of the steering wheel as if burned and turns around at V, who stoically stares right ahead.

He falls silent again after this, which Johnny doesn’t quite know how to deal with. His mouth opens and closes with aborted questions.

A wry smile falls on V’s lips and he relaxes just a bit as he briefly looks over at Johnny.

“You can speak, Johnny, I’m not gonna bolt.”

“So we are gonna talk about that now? Or do you just end it at this cliffhanger?”

V presses his lips together and looks down to his legs, pulling at a lose thread of his pants.

“No … If you really want, we can talk about it.”

“Well, I do. So spill - what happened to those six failures?”

V gulps and keeps pulling at the thread, which has stopped budging. “The first three weren’t even viable. Testruns, which Viktor used for calibrations or some shit. He didn’t want me to be there for them and I didn’t hate myself enough to make me watch. But I still knew what happened behind the walls of his clinic and it still hurt.”

He lets the thread be and instead balls his hands to fists, resting them on his knees as he looks out of the window to his side, avoiding Johnny’s gaze as much as possible in the tight space.

“I was there for number four, though. Watched it grow; or get printed or whatever you want to call it. Watched it get assembled; layer after layer. Bones. Muscles. Nerves. Sinews. Skin. Everything.” V chews on his bottom lip for a moment, gathering his strength. “And then I watched it have an epileptic episode and drown in the tank’s fluids.” He shakes himself and clears his throat. Next to him, Johnny starts to feel sick in his stomach. His hand twitches to reach out to V, but he stops himself.

“I saw everything anew for number five, except the drowning. This one made it out of the tank, even looked like it could breathe on its own, but once we put the relic inside, it flatlined and we had to put your conscience back on ice.”

He relaxes his hands and rubs at the corner of his eye.

“And then; with the body before this one; it all looked so promising. We got it out of the tank; we put the relic in no problem. Everything looked good, especially when you actually opened your eyes and … You were there, Johnny. Truly there. You recognized me. You talked. You nagged at me for reeking of sweat and cigarette smoke. You asked if I took good care of your Porsche and I was thrilled.”

He breaks off as his voice starts to quiver, then stares off into nothing for a moment until he starts anew.

“Right until your teeth started clattering and you said you were cold and when I touched you, your skin was like ice. And it all went downhill from there. Because no matter what we did, you couldn’t get warm. We put you beneath heating blankets, we cranked up the room temperature - nothing. I crawled under the covers with you and you clung to me, begging me to make you feel warm again and I couldn’t do nothin’. I just lay there with you, holding you, sweating bullets myself and feeling like I was being cooked alive and yet you still felt cold to the touch, because your body couldn't generate or hold heat for shit.”

There is another pause where he almost aggressively rubs over his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, face downcast before he speaks again.

“And then you died. Froze to death in a room hotter than the sun and we were back at square one. Viktor took a break for a few weeks after that, reviewing everything and I -”

He stops and shakes himself.

“Fuck. I don’t know why you don’t remember that but I’m just fucking glad for it. And I’m glad that you’re here, now. Alive. And warm. I don’t know what I would have done had there been more failed tries after that. I don’t even want to think about that.”

He is silent again after that, before he exhales loudly and tiredly, looking over at Johnny.

“So there you have it. That’s what happened.”

They stare at each other for a moment before Johnny starts to nod and breaks eye contact, briefly looking at the radio before he finds V’s face again.

“Okay. Okay, but why the secrecy?”

V shrugs, like it’s not that big of a deal. Johnny kinda wants to punch him for that.

“Didn’t know what good that would do. Didn’t know how to start. Didn’t want to make you feel like shit, or like you owe me. I know how bad you felt about you making me sick before, robbing me of my own body. Didn’t quite see a reason to make you feel like that again. Also wasn’t particularly thrilled about the prospect of having to put it all into words. Relive it again.”

“Yeah, well. But I do owe you, don’t I? Even in the classical sense. How much money did it all cost, anyway?”

“Eddies don’t matter.” V’s voice is hard. It’s a statement written in stone, still, Johnny begs to differ.

"Yes, they do. Shit, V. You sold your cars, your apartments. You love your cars. You were so proud of your apartments. The way I see it, you’ve collected debts from every one of your fixers.” When V doesn’t meet his eyes at that, he knows he’s right. Something churns in his stomach. “Seriously, how could I ever repay you for that?”

“Ah, fuck off, Johnny! That shit don’t matter. Did you listen to a thing I said? I couldn’t - I can’t live without you! Bringing you back, that’s the only thing that mattered. I gave a lot for that, yes. But I would have given even more if I had needed. Do you truly think I mourned a single car I sold? A single eddie that left my account? That the first thing I would think of was to stand in front of you and cry you a river, just to have you fall down on your knees and kiss my feet in gratitude? That I’d send you the whole bill, saying we should split it?”

Johnny stares at him, long enough to realize those weren’t rhetorical questions.

“... No. No, I guess that’s not your style.”

V huffs and looks back down to his pants. He starts pulling at the loose thread again and remains silent.

“You know V; this whole thing about separate bodies, separate lives - it’s bullshit. I was talking bullshit. And I didn’t mean it. Never started to mean it. I just thought that’s what I had to do, you know? That for once I shouldn’t be selfish, should do the right thing. Give you the privacy you always claimed you wanted back.”

V janks at the thread violently, which is the final nudge it needs to get pulled off entirely.

“Never really wanted that.” V whispers and starts to fiddle with the thread in his hands. “Even before, I - When Songbird temporarily separated us and I didn’t feel you anymore, I couldn’t talk to you, couldn’t see you, I, I - fuck, I hated it. I hated it so much I had half a mind to yell at her, demanding for her to revert it. That was the point where I knew I was fucked either way. That I would either die or you would be gone and I couldn’t say what would be worse.”

V throws the thread away, which is now crumbled to a sad little ball.

“You were right about one thing, though. When you told me you wanted us to start living apart; to live the normal way - I was butthurt. I tried not to be, but …” He sucks in a breath, his eyes flick over at Johnny and then, he sits up straight, only to lean forward, almost folding himself in half as he buries his face in his hands. When he speaks up again, his voice sounds muffled. “But I still miss you. Because even though you’re back, it’s not the same. I still feel like I have to smoke to be close to you and I hate that. I miss the closeness we shared. It was something precious, I know that now more than ever. It’s a miracle to have something like this with another person; even more so in a City like this and. And I do love you.”

He sounds sad; like a kid that just got chewed out for doing something wrong when it has never learned how to do it right in the first place. Johnny doesn’t quite know how to breathe anymore.

“I don’t know if it’s just because we shared our thoughts all those weeks. If it’s just some fucked up Stockholm-Syndrom situation. But in the end it doesn’t matter I really don’t fucking care.”

V gasps out a breath, having pushed out the last few sentences with all the air left in his lungs. He swallows, and his fingers are shaking subtly. Johnny feels like a deer in the headlights, staring at the man beside him.

“You’re an asshole, but you know me better than anyone else does. I could always be myself around you. But lately; not so much. Which is my fault, I guess, for keeping stuff from you. And that pisses me off more than you know. So yeah: I love you, Johnny. Against better judgement, I do. Do with that what you will.”

Johnny stares at V, who’s sitting there like he’s waiting for the executioner. It is difficult to believe at this moment that the same man is capable of clearing out a Gang hideout in a matter of minutes, leaving only blood and guts in his way. Johnny doubts any of his fixers even suspect V to have such a vulnerable side.

V tenses when Johnny reaches out and tugs at his wrist, but he lets Johnny pull his hand away, even though it means he is taking away his refuge.

“I truly don’t deserve your loyalty and your kindness. Sure as hell don’t deserve your love.”

V frowns, looking ready to throw another set of curses and reprimands at him.

“But I want it all the same.” Johnny cuts him off before he can even start, leaving him sitting there with his mouth open like an idiot.

“What -” V drops his hands in his lap when Johnny pulls away. “What are you saying?”

Johnny breathes in. Reaches out to cup V’s cheek, who freezes, but then puts his hand around Johnny’s wrist, holding him in place. Only then does Johnny breathe out.

“I love you, Vincent. And I meant what I said earlier: I am sorry for what I said this morning. I lashed out because I was angry at myself. And I was angry at myself because I was the reason we lived apart these past weeks. Everything you said before, about missing me - I feel the same for you.”

The fingers around Johnny’s wrist tighten and V turns further towards Johnny, who in turn starts scooting closer to him in his seat. Like this, he can smell the cigarette smoke clinging to V’s clothes even more, and he really hopes that V will quit this shit sooner rather than later.

“So …” He starts, brushing his thumb over V’s cheek as he crowds closer. “Can I kiss you know? Seal the deal that sharing a brain with you managed to turn me gay?”

V rolls his eyes and huffs out a laugh.

“Oh please. Those skinny-ass jeans?” He reaches out, putting a hand on Johnny’s knee, rubbing over it. “Your runway-strut? The nail polish?!” His hand wanders from the knee to Johnny’s hand not on V’s face, and he scratches over his nails. “You were always a lil’ queer, Johnny.”

Johnny scoffs, but keeps petting his cheek. “Just answer the question, dipshit.”

V grins in light of the insult and fuck - this alone is almost enough for Johnny to break without having gotten the ‘go’.

“Yes, Johnny. Of course you can kiss me. Do you even have to ask?”

Now, Johnny has kissed a whole lot of people in his life. And it had always been like this: Fast. Heated. Hungry. Demanding. Even with Alt, he’s never truly dared to be … soft.

But this is V. The guy who can sucker-punch a grown man fifty yards away; but only to keep him from robbing a poor unfortunate soul. The guy who never gave up on bringing Johnny back. Who thought that this was the only thing that mattered.

So Johnny leans in carefully, to all but brush his lips against V’s, who wastes no time to press his mouth closer, squeezing Johnny’s wrist still trapped between his fingers.

With his heart knocking against his ribs, Johnny turns his body further towards V, tentatively moving his lips against V’s now.

It feels like it's suddenly so damn quiet in the small car, despite the rushing traffic and the occasional honk.

Johnny pulls away from the kiss for a moment and swallows, which sounds louder to his own ears than it probably is.

He doesn't open his eyes, keeps his face close to V’s and keeps on rubbing circles to V’s cheekbone.

V takes a shaky, careful breath, which Johnny can feel fanning over his skin. It's almost enough to make him shiver.

Then, V turns his face. He briefly bumps against Johnny's nose with his own and lifts his hand to bury it in Johnny's shaggy, long hair.

Johnny swallows again, his throat clicking quietly around the motion as he gives into the urge to brush his nose against V’s on purpose, and he is glad their faces are so close and his eyes not open. This way, he doesn’t have to see the amusement in V’s face, which he can only expect at the cheesy gesture.

However, he begins to suspect he thought wrong when he cannot feel even the hint of a smile or smirk on V’s lips when he moves in to kiss him again.

He's only met with a soft gasp around slightly parting lips, which then gently close around Johnny's bottom lip.

Something jumps in his chest. Something he didn't think still existed in this hate-ridden heart of his and he blindly grabs for V’s waist, crawling under V’s open jacket so he can be closer to the curve of his body.

V shivers and tenses, but then only leans in closer, moving his lips against Johnny's more insistently.

Johnny answers in turn, enjoying how the rising heat of the kiss makes V tug at his hair.

Sucking at V’s bottom lip now, he lets his hand wander up V’s body until he reaches his ribcage, where he can feel an equally hurried heart beating.

Johnny knows it's not a fully organic one. It's part robot, like most of V. But it still betrays his emotions like a real one would.

Still kissing V, he moves his hand to the front of his chest, pressing his palm directly over his heart as he opens his mouth further, tongue darting out to wet V’s lips further.

With a loud gasp, V pulls away, far enough to have their eyes meet.

Johnny swallows and straightens up a bit, but keeps his hand to V’s chest.

And damn. Only V would be able to put real emotions into his Kiroshis like he does into a partly artificial heartbeat.

Johnny doesn't fully like what he reads into this though.

Because there is the slightest sliver of doubt in them.

“You're serious about this, Johnny? Like, fully serious? Because I … fuck. I could take this not happening. But I don't know if I could take …” He stops, shakes his head and swallows, eyes pleading now. The rest of the sentence goes unspoken, and yet it doesn’t remain unheard.

“I am serious.” Johnny slides the hand on V’s cheek down to his neck. V lets go of his wrist at that, both of hands now resting in his lap. “And I meant what I said: I love you. And I ain’t gonna let you go. Made this mistake before.” He shakes his head, feeling V’s slowly steadying heartbeat beneath his fingers. “Don’t plan on making it again.”

“Okay.” V relaxes, then nods. There’s sympathy in his eyes as he takes Johnny’s face in his hands and pulls him in for a kiss. “Okay.” He whispers against, their lips touching around the word.

One of his hands goes into Johnny’s hair again, and the other slides farther, until it's draped over his back as he kisses him.

This kiss quickly becomes more like the ones Johnny is used to. There is more tongue, for one. And V keeps grabbing and tugging at Johnny’s hair, and whenever Johnny pulls at his bottom lip particularly hard, he gives the quietest moan and scrunches up Johnny’s shirt. So naturally Johnny learns to do this more often, because he himself is rewarded with a pleasant tug in his lower stomach when he does.

V’s heart starts hammering against his ribcage once more, which Johnny now both feels against the hand still on his chest and the fingers resting against the side of his neck, directly over his pulse point.

The warmth of his skin is tempting, and before he knows it, his mouth is on V’s jaw. His kiss-ridden lips tingle as they catch on the stubble there. V sighs and stretches his neck, twirling a strand of hair around his fingers.

He mumbles something when Johnny reaches the spot just beneath the edge of his jaw, directly under his ear, but Johnny cannot quite comprehend what he says, he rather feels the vibration against his mouth, to which he promptly urges closer, licking and biting the spot before he downright sucks at it, his hand now rubbing V’s shoulder.

V makes a sound close to a whimper and then all but pulls Johnny closer to him, nearly janking him into the other car seat, directly into his lap.

Johnny’s whole body jolts at the manhandling, and his legs fall closer together. His - okay, V’s got a point there - tight skinny jeans rub over his dick and with an almost surprised moan, he finds himself fully hard in them.

He cannot remember the last time he managed to sport a boner this effortlessly. Come to think of it, in his past encounters since waking up in this body, he always needed to think back to V having sex to get this far.

This probably should have told him something much, much earlier.

“Fuck.” He groans into V’s skin, rubbing his whole face into the side of his neck like he wants to mark his territory as he moves his hips again, once more bringing friction to his erection.

“Uh-huh.” V janks his head up by his hair and Johnny moans - a sound that is quickly being swallowed by V’s hungry mouth, who kisses him with abandon now, lips and teeth putting a claim to Johnny in a way that would make his knees go weak if he were standing right now.

Johnny wriggles in his seat again and shudders like a horny teenager touching his first real boner. He manages to pull his knees under him, and then has to take a moment to collect himself so as not to come in his pants - again; like a horny teenager would. In these few seconds, he breaks the kiss, his lips hovering above V’s as he pants against him, the hand previously on V’s chest now clutching his hip as low as can be.

V gives him the moment, but only just; then he is already jutting his chin closer to Johnny. Their lips don’t quite touch like this, but Johnny can read the question in the movement. With him now towering above V, he leans down and kisses him.

Once more, he craves V’s skin. His warmth. So he puts his hand under the shirt, rubbing on top of his hip bone.

It’s a simple touch, but V still moans and writhes in his seat, licking over the roof of Johnny’s mouth. He then shivers when Johnny’s hand wanders alongside his waistband to the stretch of his lower stomach before he leaves the smooth skin to cup his dick through his pants, which is equally as hard as Johnny’s.

This has V doing three things at once: He moans unabashedly into Johnny’s mouth, pulls him closer and bucks his hips into Johnny’s hand.

Johnny’s head is becoming woozy with both V’s unfiltered, honest reactions and his own arousal brimming deep in his guts. He still manages to open V’s stupid, way-too-colorful pants. V hisses when the zipper drags along his dick and digs his fingers into Johnny’s shoulder, but he doesn’t shy away, only clings to him while Johnny pulls his dick out blindly.

Johnny then breaks the kiss and looks down, right into V’s crotch.

And it’s a bit funny, Johnny muses as he closes his fingers around the top of it, thumb circling the head, that he knows how that feels. He knows what V likes. How he likes to hold it when he jacks off in the shower, one hand braced against the wall and panting against the fogging air as hot water patters down his shoulders. How he likes getting it sucked, leaning against a wall or sitting down on his couch, or lying in his bed - his hand in his partner's hair in every one of those positions.

V makes an almost pained sound and rests his forehead to the back of Johnny’s head as a drop of precome wells out of the slit.

And yeah - Johnny knows exactly how that just felt for him.

He lets go of V and pushes him into leaning back in his seat, right before he grabs for the seat’s handle and pushes it as far back as possible. Which, granted, isn’t all that much in this small ass car.

V blinks at him in surprise when Johnny awkwardly crawls into the space in front of him on the ground. He has to fold himself like a pretzel, but manages to find a kneeling position, from where he puts both hands on either of V’s legs as he looks up at him.

“Uhm ... What is happening?”

Johnny tugs at the waistband of his pants, looking up at him like V isn’t all that bright in the head.

“Wanna suck you off. Obviously. That alright with you?”

“More than. You sure you’re up for the task though, Mr. I’m not gay, you only made me that way?”

“Well. All my experience about sucking cock comes from being inside your head, V. So I’d watch my mouth if I were you.”

The teasing smile on V’s face dies with every word before he can only clear his throat and look to the side for a second, caught red-handed like that.

“... That point goes to you.”

“Yeah.” Johnny hums, entirely too pleased with himself. “Now ass up, V.”

V obliges without a second thought, giving Johnny the room he needs to pull his pants down for better access. Automatically, Johnny starts groping the newly acquired naked skin; his hips and his upper thighs, to which V squirms. The sway of his hips makes his dick bob ridiculously, from where it proudly stands on a patch of neatly trimmed pubic hair.

Johnny grins, mostly to himself and reaches for V’s shirt, pushing it up to reveal the line of his abs, accentuated by the coarse hair of his happy trail.

His stomach bumps against the car seat as he leans forward and starts to mouth at the exposed skin of V’s stomach. It flutters against his lips between shaky breaths and the echo of his pulse thrumming through his whole body. Johnny thinks it's really a bit bizarre, how mad he is for touching V’s skin, for exploring it with his lips and licking it with his tongue, tasting the salt of his sweat and the copied taste of his cheap plastic-based clothes.

“Johnny …” V complains above him when Johnny doesn’t stop caressing his stomach. His hips buck with badly concealed impatience and the movement causes the tip of his dick to poke the underside of Johnny’s jaw. V whimpers at the unexpected contact and his hips tense to do it again, but Johnny quickly puts his hands to them, holding him down.

He then lowers his lips, but only to give the line of his hips and what he can reach of his thighs the same treatment as his stomach.

“Fuck, Johnny, don’t be such a tease!” He groans and once more tries to buck his hips, only Johnny doesn’t let him. With a squeeze of his hips, he reminds V to stay put as he pushes his nose into the skin just shy of V’s pubic hair and looks up at him, grinning as he kisses him, just inches next to his balls.

“Don’t act like you don’t like it.”

V groans, but this time it’s more of a pissed-off type of groan.

“You’re impossible, Johnny. Just impo - oh! Oh, fuck!”

He slaps his hand against the car door when Johnny, without any kind of warning, puts his mouth around the weeping tip of his cock, coating his own tongue in V’s precome.

With another loud moan, he puts the hand that just assaulted the car door into Johnny’s hair, this time with a lot more care.

“Shit, Johnny, you - Aw, fuck.” He bites his lips, muffling a moan that way as he then pushes his head back far into the seat, exposing his throat that bobs around a gulp. Johnny shimmies in his place on the rug and twirls his tongue around the sensitive tip, before reaching out to put his hand around the bottom of V’s dick.

Another series of muffled moans escapes V while he still keeps his eyes locked on the roof of the car. Or maybe they're closed, Johnny cannot really tell. The only thing he can tell is that he wants those eyes back on him, so he swallows down all the saliva that has gathered in his mouth and then bobs his head down to gather more of V in his mouth, carefully pulling his teeth out of the way.

“Fuck. Johnny. Gnh.”

And.

Oh God.

Finally someone who pronounces his name right.

Johnny nearly moans in turn. He definitely hurries to reach down between his own legs to open his belt and the zipper, pulling out his dick just enough that it can escape the constrictment that has started to really hurt.

Then his hand is back on V’s hip, not really holding him back this time and rather petting over the quivering muscles.

V moans his name again, which has no right to sound so good, and then he finally - fucking finally - looks back down at Johnny when he starts moving his head up and down, tongue never staying still for long and instead lapping at whatever patch of skin he can reach when there’s enough room for it to move.

“That - fuck. Feels s’good, Johnny. Sofuckinggood.”

Johnny hums and doubles down even further, moving as far down as to come in contact with the fingers holding onto the rest of V’s dick.

V gulps and scratches over Johnny’s scalp. He’s being a bit harsh at first, the gesture punctuated with a rough tug at his hair before he takes a steadying, yet also very shaky breath that has him gather enough strength to let his fingers move around gentler. Almost apologetically, he rubs his thumb over the base of Johnny’s skull.

Johnny doesn’t quite dare to form an opinion on that, so instead he distracts himself with pulling off V’s dick just enough so he can gather all the spit and spread precome with his hand, using it as a makeshift lubrication to start jacking off what he cannot reach with his mouth instead of simply holding it.

V’s eyebrows scrunch together as his mouth falls open into a deep, long moan. Johnny swallows again before he starts moving his lips and his fist in tandem up and down V’s dick, which twitches at the combined treatment, fresh precome sticking to Johnny’s tongue.

“Johnny …” V whispers almost in awe, his hand now picking up a bit of a frantic pace of combing through his hair.

Johnny’s dick twitches as it produces a bead of precome of its own.

Well.

Would you look at that.

Johnny Silverhand, sitting - no - kneeling in the crammed space of his Porsche, sucking another guy’s cock and wet at the tip just from having his name moaned.

He closes his eyes at the overwhelming absurdity of this train of thought and withdraws his hand to instead cup V’s balls as he carefully takes more of V’s dick in his mouth.

With a high, keening gasp, V’s hip buck upwards.

Coughing, Johnny pulls away when his dick reaches the unprepared parts of Johnny’s throat.

“Shit, sorry! Sorry, I’m so sorry!” V is leaning forward quickly, his hands now both on Johnny’s face, brushing over his beard and cleaning his lips from spilled over spit.

“‘S fine.” Johnny is surprised at how raspy his voice sounds. Determined, he pushes V back into his seat and readjusts his own position.

“Wait - I’m really fucking close, you don’t have to -”

Johnny shuts him right up by taking his dick in his hand again, thumb rubbing over a fat, protruding vein there.

“Nah. You can shoot your load in my mouth if you want, V.”

V’s eyes widen at that.

“Stop … Stop saying shit, Johnny.”

“I take that as a yes.”

Keeping his eyes on V’s face, he takes his dick back in his mouth.

He kind of hates how much he likes sucking V off.

Everything about it.

The heat of it. The hardness which is only cushioned by a bit of spongy softness covering the core. The unfiltered smell of V’s sex, blessedly void of cigarette smoke. He even likes the taste, which he didn’t think he would.

But most of all, he likes the sounds V makes, and how his body moves without him thinking about it, though Johnny can tell V tries to keep himself from making Johnny choke on his dick like that again.

With every second that passes, V’s voice rises higher around his moans and Johnny has to help keep his ass to the seat by pushing down on his hip as he is back to using both his hand and mouth to get V off.

Above him, V has started blabbering. An incoherent jumble of moans, praises and broken off curses as he struggles to keep his eyes open, his hand making a mess of Johnny’s hair while the other is busy holding onto the door handle for dear life.

It’s when the high-pitched, repeated mutters of the word “Please” join the mix that Johnny knows he almost has him, and he’s proud to say that nobody but him has ever seen this amount of pathetic near-nut behavior from V, which is reserved to him masturbating all on his lonesome.

This pride makes him feel bold, and he hollows his cheeks and sucks, pulling the delicate flesh of V’s cock into the hot, wet cavern of his mouth.

V tenses and the hand in Johnny’s hair freezes in a hard, desperate grip, right before he comes with a long, tight “Fuuuck!” that ends in a series of quick, high moans as his dick twitches and fills Johnny’s mouth with spurts of thick, hot come. He does his best to swallow each one, but a bit of it still spills out of the corners of his mouth. He barely manages to keep it from dripping on the car seat by holding up his hand, gathering what he cannot swallow to then smear his hand clean on his jeans.

Feeling quite accomplished, Johnny carefully pulls off of V, but just so far that he can kiss a slow, straight line down V’s thigh, studying him as he catches his breath, the hand in Johnny’s hair now simply resting there all limp.

“Jesus.” V wets his lips and swallows, straightening up in his seat. “Okay. Your turn now. Out, clothes off and back inside. Now.”

Not giving Johnny much time to react, V has pulled his pants up just enough so that he can open the car door and crawl out of it, from where he offers Johnny a hand. After a second of digesting his confusion at the change of pace, he gladly accepts. Johnny lets himself be pulled out of the car and out in the open. V watches him like a hawk while he shrugs off his jacket and chucks it into the driver's seat, and then he’s doing the same with his shirt. A lot more care is reserved for him pulling off Johnny’s dog tags, which he then places onto the dashboard.

But before Johnny can even so much as think of doing the same, V is on him, crowding him against the car, kissing him, all while tugging at his shirt until it comes off too. He moves away just enough to throw the shirt into the back of the car, then he’s back to relieving him from his pants too.

In a matter of seconds, they’re both naked and then, Johnny is being ushered back inside the car. This time, it’s him who’s sitting in the passenger seat, while V somehow managed to fold himself into his lap.

He pulls the car door closed, shielding them both from the outside world again. Or at least that’s what it feels like; there is still the matter of the windshield directly facing the passing traffic after all.

For a moment, they’re back to kissing each other unhurriedly, until the softness of V’s lips and the feel of the vast expense of V’s naked skin beneath his hands remind Johnny that he is in fact still rock hard and wanting between his legs.

V seems to remember in the exact moment that Johnny does, and pulls back with one last kiss against his cheek, sitting on Johnny’s thighs, both hands resting against his hips.

“So, how’s your stamina with this body, Johnny?” V wags his eyebrows, squeezing Johnny’s sides.

“Better than any Mr. Stud any day.”

V huffs out a laugh. “Well, if you say so. You’ve got lube in your car?”

“Who do you think I am?”

Hugging one arm around V’s lower back, Johnny leans forward to open the glove department, from where he pulls out a pack of lube.

“What’s your plan?”

V snatches the lube from Johnny’s hand.

“Gonna ride you.”

Johnny gulps, his dick twitching at the thought.

“Then we’re gonna need those too.” He rummages around once more, fishing out two packs of condoms.

V frowns at them as if they offended him on a deeply personal level.

Johnny lifts an eyebrow as he leans back against the seat, a teasing grin plastered on his face.

“What? You want me to fuck you raw so badly, V?”

“Fuck off.” V paws against his face to keep Johnny from looking at him.

“Come on.” Johnny catches V’s wrist and pulls his hand down. “Just don’t wanna make a mess of my car. We’ll get another opportunity later, huh?”

“Yeah, okay, fine. But why two though?”

“Barely managed to keep your jizz from my seats before, V. Or can you not get hard again?”

“Who do you think I am?”

“Okay then, Prince Charming. Do your worst.”

Johnny grins, but this time V joins in, which ends in a soft laugh as V leans in for a kiss again, quickly finding himself in Johnny’s embrace, in which he’s being held until the bottle cap of the lube clicks open and V drizzles a bit of it on his fingers, adjusting his position and pulling away as he reaches behind himself.

V is good at fingering himself open.

He’s a damn fucking pro at it.

When he’s first done it after their little arrangement, Johnny has almost suffered two heart attacks in quick succession: The first from the act itself and the second soon after, once he realized how fucking good it felt.

He’s come to accept it. And then to like it.

And now, he has to squeeze the base of his cock to stave off his excitement before V has even really begun, just because he knows what’s gonna happen.

And sure enough, there are the noises, the breathy whispers to himself. There is the arch of his back, and the way he stops every now and again to refine the angle, only to make even more desperate noises shortly after.

What’s new is how Johnny can see the faces he makes, and how every now and again, their eyes meet, which is like a punch in the guts every time. As is the fact that Johnny can touch now, which he hurries to do, own dick momentarily forgotten.

And then there are V’s reactions to those touches, how he turns his head and kisses Johnny’s lower arm when he pulls at his shoulders, or how he gasps out his name when Johnny’s hand wanders lower and lower still, until he holds V’s dick in his hand once more, which is soft at first but then starts to fill out and harden under both Johnny’s slow, gentle strokes and the stretch of his own fingers.

Johnny’s breath hitches and his own dick jumps, because apparently, having V’s dick come to life under his hand is a giant turn on for him.

“Okay, I’m good.” V announces, both too soon and not soon enough.

He clears his throat and then opens the first pack of condoms, which he rolls onto Johnny’s dick with shaking fingers and jittery hips, because Johnny is still languidly jacking him off.

V then puts more lube onto his open palm, warming it up to feel comfortable before he starts stroking Johnny with equally slow, gentle movements.

Johnny freezes and lets go off V’s dick as he composes himself, staving off his moan against a closed fist.

“Shit, V.” He groans and steadies himself by holding onto V again. His cock has definitely been neglected too much - now everything is too sensitive to even the slightest of touches.

V shushes him and crowds closer, kissing his cheek as he keeps spreading the lube - way more than strictly necessary. “If you wanna come like this, that’s fine too.”

“Nah. I ain’t no pussy.” Maybe if he says it out loud, he’s going to start believing it himself.

V hums, then kisses his nose. (What’s up with that?!)

“I think a pussy can take a whole lot more than a dick, y’know?”

“Fuck off.”

V chuckles and then stills, looking down at Johnny’s dick, and how it aches against his hand.

Johnny follows his eyes, and for a short, awful moment, he fears V is going to say some shit like: “Fuck, Johnny, your cock is so big.”

He doesn’t.

When Johnny tentatively looks at V’s face, he finds him only smiling softly at it, like he thinks it’s something precious. Like he thinks Johnny is something precious.

And okay, given what Johnny has learned about V’s Odyssey of bringing him back, he probably really, really does.

“I’m good now.” Johnny says, echoing V’s words before he kisses V, who hums and answers in kind, only pulling off to put the other condom onto his own cock.

Rubbing small circles into V’s lower back, Johnny watches how V takes his dick into his hand again and then scoots closer those last few inches possible. Steadying himself by holding onto Johnny’s shoulder, he aligns his dick with his lubed, stretched hole.

“Ready?”

“Sheesh, V, yes. Now get on with it, would ya?”

Johnny says it like he doesn’t care what happens next, but he’s fixated on V’s hips lowering onto his dick. He takes note of V’s stuttering breath, and then rubs up and down his side to remind him to breathe. And the second he feels himself being enclosed by V’s tightness, he cannot take it anymore. One hand still on V’s hip, he janks his head down and starts kissing him.

V gasps and moans and mewls at the stretch, like Johnny knew he would since he’s only done the bare minimum of prepping his ass.

“That’s it, V. Nice ‘n slow.” He drawls, peppering kisses onto V’s cheek when he pauses halfway through, those nails on Johnny’s shoulder digging into the flesh. “Yeah. You’re okay. Just take it easy.”

V shudders, then relaxes and exhales against the side of Johnny’s face, before his lips find Johnny’s again and he slowly, carefully, lowers himself all the way.

“Fuck.” V’s voice is choked off, clearly overwhelmed once he’s bottomed out, while Johnny can only groan and tense his lower back so he doesn’t fucking move.

“You’re okay, V.” Johnny repeats and kisses him again, hands now soothingly brushing over his back.

V puts his other hand onto the car seat just behind Johnny’s shoulder, tenses his thighs and lifts his hips. They moan together at the pull of their bodies against each other at that. He starts off careful and slow, rather dirtily grinding against Johnny without pulling far away from his dick at first, his lips never quite leaving Johnny’s.

“Yeah, that’s it. You’re doing good, V.” Johnny mumbles the moment he feels the last bit of resistance wash out of V’s features.

V gasps and becomes more daring, now that he can rely on his body doing its thing without hurting anymore. The rise of his hips becomes higher, and higher still until Johnny cannot keep from grabbing his ass firmly, jutting his hips up into V right as he plops back down on Johnny.

Which is just the combination that has V’s head knock against the roof with a sickening thud.

“Ow.” V complains but then just goes over to bending his neck, which doesn’t look comfortably in the slightest.

“Wait - wait.” Johnny fumbles for the seat settings to make the backrest go back. Slowly. Maybe even comically so.

V watches and snorts, with Johnny’s dick still buried deep inside him, as his hands migrate from his shoulders and the car seat to his chest.

“Come on.” Johnny urges and gently nudges him to lie on top of Johnny.

V has to rearrange his limbs a bit, clutching Johnny’s middle with his knees and cybernetic strength to slide up and down Johnny’s body, to fuck himself on Johnny’s cock. And very quickly, the amusement drains out of his face, and he pants against the side of Johnny’s neck. Almost sobs, before he holds onto the seat with one hand again, keeps dragging his body up and down, face hidden in the crook of Johnny’s neck.

“Fuck. That feels so good. Y’feel so fuckin’ good, Johnny, shit. Fuck. This is amazing; you’re amazing.”

V dampens Johnny’s skin as he pants those words into his neck.

And shit.

Johnny’s loves his fucking voice. Loves how deep it is, now rumbling against his chest with how close they are. He loves it in general, loves his stupid little accent, his street slang. He loves the teasing lilt in his voice when he calls Johnny a big old softie or some such, loves how grouchy it gets when they bicker and the dryness of his sarcasm.

He thrusts up into the wet, welcoming heat of V’s body, to which V whimpers and uses one hand to simply touch Johnny’s throat; the contact featherlight, while straining his own neck so they can exchange sloppy kisses.

There is no skin on the palm of his hands; courtesy to his gorilla arms, and he could snap Johnny’s neck with them in a heartbeat if he wanted; but he doesn’t - and that simple fact really shouldn’t turn Johnny on as much as it does.

Johnny feels his throat getting dry. Because apart from that, there is also the weight of V’s body, the power written in all his movements as he’s doing most of the work for them without breaking so much as a sweat. Johnny swallows, then hugs V’s lower back and rakes a hand through his hair.

He kinda wants V beneath him like this. On his knees in front of him like this. He kinda wants to be this for V, in every position there is. He wants to be back inside V’s head, so he can feel what he feels.

And he definitely wants that fucking rubber on V’s cock gone. Really, really fucking badly wants to feel his cock slide against his abs. Because then maybe; just maybe, it would be enough. Enough so he can almost pretend he’s back inside V’s head, their nerves and thoughts aligned as they should be.

He wants to feel the soft skin of it, wants to feel his abs starting to get wet from precome; prepare him for when V comes all over his stomach. He still remembers how V felt when this was done for him. How he moaned and shivered when some random guy jacked off all over his kneeling form, painting his skin like he was a fucking piece of art.

With a gruff noise, he reaches between them and promptly pulls the condom off of V’s cock.

V huffs out a laugh but then breaks off into another moan at the sensation of even more glorious skin-to-skin-contact.

He then doesn’t even comment further, eyes falling closed as his movements become erratic and blurred. He doesn’t lose strength rather than coordination, to which Johnny plants his feet more firmly on the ground, holds onto V’s body and starts meeting his thrusts more punctuated.

“Fuck! Yes, shit, Johnny! Yeah, just like - oh fuck - like that!”

V goes back to babbling around moans and moaning around babbling as their bodies feel close to melting together through perfectly timed movements, whereas Johnny has to work really hard on catching enough air between his own moans, V’s impressive weight, and his kisses thrown in between.

And then, with a perfectly timed thrust of both their hips, V tenses, airy gasps leaving his mouth in quick, short successions as he comes, clenching around Johnny’s cock and painting Johnny’s stomach with his come, the liquid thankfully not spilling over with their bodies this close together. V moans and shudders on top of Johnny until he breaks off into an honest-to-god laugh, drunk on post-orgasmic bliss.

With a jolt of something akin to panic, Johnny grabs V’s head again and smashes their mouths together, just so that he himself doesn’t have to hear the pathetic noises he makes as he comes too, hips fucking into V short and fast.

They both need to catch their breath after that, and they do so in silence.

V is the first to recover, and he carefully peels himself off of Johnny’s chest, reaching behind them both to grab his underwear, which he then uses to clean the mess of their stomachs, before he carefully pulls off of Johnny’s spent dick and disposes of the condom too, leaving the conjoined mess somewhere in front of the backseat.

Johnny watches V move around all the while, and something cold starts to spread at the thought of V simply leaving him once he’s done, to simply slide over into the driver's seat.

He barely manages to hold in the sigh of relief when V doesn’t. When, instead, he lies back down on Johnny’s chest, their legs all tangled up.

Gathering his courage, he waits for a few more seconds before he carefully pushes his hand against V’s palm, intertwining their fingers, like he used to do with Alt after sex sometimes.

V just hums and cuddles his face closer to Johnny’s shoulder, playing with Johnny’s hand, rubbing thumb against thumb, right until Johnny squeezes his hand and puts their joined fingers somewhere onto his chest, looking up at the roof of the car.

“Do you miss your silver arm?”

Johnny has to ponder on that question for a moment.

“Nah. I thought I would, at first. But it’s not like I wanted to have it back then, y’know? Lost my arm, somewhere in that fuckass war.”

V takes a deep breath, like that answer relieves him from some unknown burden.

“Okay. Thought about just giving you one before we woke you up, y’know? But after all that’s happened; simply couldn’t bring myself to do it. Felt like I would mutilate you.”

Johnny’s stomach clenches, and he hugs V closer.

“You’re such a fucking pussy, Vincent.”

V snorts, then ducks his head up to nudge his nose against Johnny’s chin.

“Again with my name, huh? Want me to call ya Robert, too?”

“Ew, no. Fuck that.”

A pause, then, Johnny juts his shoulder up - the one where V is currently resting his head on. With a questioning hum, V raises his head.

“You’ve got a problem with me calling ya Vincent?”

V smiles and shakes his head. (And again; Kiroshis and emotions - how?!)

“No.”

“How about Vince?”

“If you want; sure.”

~***~

They drive away from the parking lot a short time after, this time with V behind the wheel and Johnny lounging in the passenger seat. The radio is playing softly in the background and Johnny reaches to the backseat in order to pull V’s jacket into his lap.

He rummages around it before he finds what he was looking for.

The window comes down on the click of a button, the airstream booming against his eardrums as he, without another word, throws out the pack of cigarettes and closes the window again.

He feels V’s eyes on him as he does so, but he doesn’t comment, only quickly puts his attention back to the traffic.

Johnny puts the jacket back on the backseat and then pulls up one leg, resting his lower arm on his knee.

“One more question, V: What kind of mementos did you leave in my niche? For those other bodies I mean.”

“... Guitar chips.”

“Guitar chips. Of course.”

~***~

So yeah. Against all fucking odds, Johnny has a body back. It’s not his original one, but he’s made it his own.

He’s made it his own by using it to hug V, to kiss him - to fuck him with it. To fall asleep next to him and then wake up the next morning; sometimes from V kissing him awake, sometimes from Nibbles licking his nose with a scratchy cat tongue.

He uses this body to spend time with Rogue and Kerry, and - after a whole lot of bargaining - he uses it to help V with his gigs, or to do some on his own, to participate in a race with V; in order to pay off those debts.

He - they - have everything they ever wanted; and then some.

~***~

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