Chapter Text
By this point, it was a matter of pride.
The rain fell in sheets, hammering into the ground with a level of force normally not associated with liquids. The sound had long ago transformed from a soft plink-plink into a constant low roar with the frequency of the drops. It hadn’t been a warm day to begin with, but the weather made the cold about ten times worse.
And Johnny knew no matter what, no matter how bad the rain got, he could not be the one to admit defeat. Gyro would never let him live it down.
He wanted to stop. They had been riding for hours, since sunrise and it was now nearing late afternoon, and the rain hadn’t let up for a second. It was unpleasant, cold and wet and just plain miserable. Most of the time, Johnny didn’t mind rain. In fact, he rather liked it. Rain created a nice background noise. Kept the world from feeling as empty as it normally did. But this wasn’t a normal rainstorm. This was a full on Biblical flood, and they were caught right in the middle of it.
The challenge had been unspoken but immediately understood, as many things between them were. The first person to suggest looking for shelter would be fair game for the other to mock. Afraid of a little rain. Weak. The last thing Johnny wanted was for Gyro to think of him as weak.
And so he rode on, all but plastered to Slow Dancer in an attempt to protect himself from the spray whipped up by the wind because on top of everything else, of course it was windy. Johnny was surprised it wasn’t hailing as well, just to add that extra ‘fuck you’ from nature itself.
He looked over at Gyro. Well, tried to look at Gyro. Through the veil of rain, he could make out a shape that was probably his friend, but it was pretty hard to tell.
A sudden, worrying thought struck Johnny. If he or Gyro were to be attacked in this storm, the other might not be able to notice immediately. The background roar wasn’t loud enough to completely drown out a yell, but if the attacker was a Stand user they might not get the chance to yell. Even without the interference of a third party, there were the horses to worry about. Limited visibility could be very hazardous when riding. The terrain up until this point had been very flat, but that could change without a moment’s notice.
Reluctantly, Johnny turned Slow Dancer towards Valkyrie. He had no choice, really. It would be dangerous to continue. Gyro would still give him shit, but that was more of a hobby for both of them than a real concern.
He doesn’t think you’re weak.
Gyro looked up when he noticed Johnny approaching. Despite the conditions he smiled, the cheerful bastard, and waved him over. “Enjoying the weather, Johnny-boy?”
“Sure am,” Johnny answered. “What a lovely summer day.” He still wasn’t sure if Gyro understood sarcasm in English, but it was too much fun to stop.
Now was his chance. Johnny swallowed hard and went over the words in his head. It was for the horses. Too dangerous to continue. Not for him, not because he couldn’t keep going. Not because he was weak.
“Hey, Johnny,” Gyro said. “The rain’s getting pretty bad. How about we find somewhere to rest until it lets up?”
Johnny could have kissed him. Instead, he muttered a quick “Yeah,” and felt the weight lift off his chest.
—
It took them at least an hour to find some semblance of shelter. The land was flat, the sort of barren plains that made up about half of America, and offered very little in the way of cover. Fortunately, they eventually managed to stumble across a suitable location, and not just a grove of trees, an actual building for once. It was an old shed, rickety and leaking in places, but probably sturdy enough to weather the storm.
Johnny sat next to the fire, holding out his hat in a vain attempt to dry it. Now that he was inside, he had realized how cold he actually was. Out in the rain he just been numb, but now he felt like cold metal was pressed up against every inch of his skin. Well, every inch he could feel.
Behind him, the door creaked open. “Want some coffee?” Gyro asked. He had been outside, tying up the horses. There wasn’t enough room for them in the shed.
“Sure.” Johnny didn’t bother turning around. Frowning, he turned his hat over in his hands. The rest of his clothes were slowly drying, but the hat was still thoroughly soaked.
Footsteps hit the packed dirt floor with an intentional softness. “Gyro, what are-“ Johnny managed to get out before his companion’s intentions became very clear.
“Fuck you!” Gyro had grabbed him from behind in a bear hug, lifting him slightly off the ground. He was dripping wet and freezing, even more so than Johnny. “Let go, you asshole! I was almost dry!”
“I’m cold,” Gyro said, as if that would somehow justify the rainwater now dripping down Johnny’s back. His face was buried in Johnny’s hair and his warm breath tickled the back of his neck. Gyro was strange like that, completely comfortable with being so close to Johnny physically. It was probably an Italian thing. Johnny didn’t complain, though; it felt… nice.
Johnny didn’t protest further, and Gyro seemed to take his silence as approval. He sat down and pulled Johnny onto his lap, changing his position so his chin was perched on Johnny’s shoulder and his hand stroked the other man’s hair. They stayed like that in silence for what felt like an eternity, but in reality was probably closer to a handful of precious minutes.
Before he met Gyro, Johnny had hated being held. Even during his days as a playboy willing to try anything in the bedroom, cuddling hadn’t been on the list. He’d even lost a few girlfriends over the issue. Sex was sex; he didn’t need them snuggling up against him afterwards, and he certainly didn’t need it the other way around. He knew how they would look at him, those pretty round eyes so full of pity.
But, as with so many other things, somehow the fact that Gyro was involved made it different. Being in his arms felt natural, like the world made more sense with him to frame it.
Still, he couldn’t banish the image of those pitying eyes, not completely. Back then, his girlfriends had known something Johnny himself hadn’t realized until after they were gone. That none of it had meant anything, not the sex, not the fame, nothing. That there was something broken inside of him, something he couldn’t ever fix, and everyone else could tell. That he had been weak enough to let it break.
He doesn’t think you’re weak.
Other people certainly did. They looked at Johnny’s slender build and his delicate features and his useless legs most of all, and they assumed he was helpless. Johnny was used to people thinking he was weak, but like so much else, it was different with Gyro. He needed to be sure.
“Gyro?”
“Hmm?” Gyro was smiling. Johnny didn’t need to see his face to know; he could hear it in his voice.
“When we were riding, before you said anything about it, I was going to ask to stop for the day.”
Gyro laughed softly. “You can’t steal my idea, Johnny. We both know I said it first.”
“It’s not that. It’s just-“ Johnny took a deep breath. He had to ask, and he didn’t know any other way how. “You don’t think I’m weak, do you? Because I couldn’t keep going?”
It took a moment for Gyro to answer, and in that moment Johnny could practically hear the thread that held his world together fray. But finally, he did answer. “No. It was the right call. Continuing on would have been too dangerous.”
Johnny sighed, quiet enough he hoped it had been inaudible, and leaned back against Gyro’s chest. In response, Gyro tightened his hold on him. The embrace was no longer as freezing as it had been at first.
“Johnny,” Gyro said, suddenly. “I want you to listen closely because I’m only ever going to say this once in my life.”
“I’m listening.”
“You could kick my ass and I know it. You’re not weak.”
That made Johnny feel strange, like the room’s temperature had suddenly gone up a few degrees. It took him a minute to figure out why. He was happy.
But he still couldn’t resist the opportunity. “What was that? I don’t think I heard you. Could you say it again?”
“You little shit,” Gyro said, and leaned in for a kiss.