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“Hey, Johnny!”
“Yuh?”
“Hey, Johnny-boy!”
“I said, what?”
“You watchin’ me?”
“Yeah, I’m watchin’ you.”
“Watch this!” Gyro shouted again, wearing nothing but a wicked grin on his face as he waded waist-deep in the river they’d stopped by for drinkin’ water and bathing (in that order, to be precise). Johnny wasn’t much one for swimming, on account of his legs and all, so he watched from the banks, heels of his naked feet sinking into the sodden sand, fingers curled up around a rock.
“I said I’m watchin’!” Johnny yelled back, tossing a rock up into the air and watching it splash just a few feet in front of Gyro, who shouted meager protest but ultimately just told Johnny to watch him again. Johnny smirked. “Hand over my heart, I’m watchin’ you, Gyro,” Johnny said with, sure enough, his hand over his heart. He sounded more annoyed than he felt, which was usual for him.
“All right, Johnny,” Gyro said, and then he bent his knees to dip down into the water a bit, gulping a deep breath of air, held in his rounded cheeks exaggeratedly, and then flopped over like a fish to dive down into the lapping river. Johnny saw a nice sliver of his pale ass as he did so, and he covered his face, a little embarrassed. If Gyro saw him blushing though, he’d never hear the end of it, so he tried not to let it show.
Johnny didn’t really know what he was watching for, but he practiced making a straight-faced look of impressment, like usual. Gyro had been under there for a long time now though. Just about fifteen seconds or so. Johnny furrowed his brows a little in concern. Shit. I can’t fuckin’ swim. If I have to go in and drag his ass out of there...
“G... Gyro?” he called hesitantly, knowing full well nothing, not even fishes, could hear him through the water. “Shit,” he whispered, starting to take off his shirt. He couldn’t swim with paralyzed legs, but he’d find a way, surely.
Luckily, he hadn’t even finished taking off his shirt when Gyro leapt from the water, golden hair soaked, looking like one of the sirens that would tempt pirates with sultry, sensual fantasies. Johnny expected a breathless gasp for air, considering how long he’d been underneath there, but then Gyro waded forward.
“What the fuck?!” Johnny said, eyebrows furrowed. Typically he had to fake when he was impressed or amused, or he was just being sarcastic which Gyro didn’t pick up on in English, but now he was trout-mouthed with shock. “How did you do that?!”
Between his gold teeth, Gyro snagged a fish, flopping like the devil had a hold of it, his eyes lazily half-lidded with a relaxed look. It squirmed for all its life had, and he spit it out, clutching the wriggling thing in his hand. “How was that, huh?” he asked, tossing the fish to Johnny.
Johnny caught the fish in surprise and shook his head. Even if he was mighty impressed, he still had to give Gyro a hard time. He looked up at him critically. “You couldn’t have gotten a bigger fish?”
“Well, damn, Johnny!” Gyro laughed. “My mouth’s only so big. You of all people know that.”
Johnny widened his eyes a little and would’ve blushed if it weren’t for his pride. Things of the sexual nature tended to surprise him, and Gyro took advantage if he didn’t hide it. He put his thumb over the bass’s gills. “No, I don’t,” he said pointedly, tossing a rock up in the air and snatching it down. The fish quit struggling so much.
“ Dio mio! Are you trying to tell me something?” Gyro said, splashing his hands in the water in front of him. He was just close enough to the bank now that the water lapped at his hips, the light, blond hair leading up to his stomach drenched dark.
“Now you’re gonna taste all fishy,” Johnny grumbled.
Gyro shoved the water his way and splashed him. “Quit complaining! Gut it so we can have it for lunch.”
Johnny laughed. “You think this is big enough for two people to share?”
“Ungrateful son of a bitch,” Gyro muttered. “Fine. You can have fish and eat like a king.”
Johnny held the fish sarcastically to his heart. “You’d do that for me, eh?”
“ Zuccherino , I’d fish the whole ocean for you,” Gyro promised. Johnny never asked what any of those Italian words Gyro used meant, because he was sure it’d just make him get embarrassed all over. He could tell with how Gyro’s voice got they were really sweet, or else Johnny would have to just kick his ass.
Johnny smirked, his eyes drifting off to the side. “Yeah,” he mumbled, leaning forward to snag a flat pebble between his fingers. “Watch this, Gyro.”
“I’m watchin’,” Gyro said, keeping his hands on his hips.
“Get outta the way. There.” Johnny bit his lip and squinted over the horizon and then cocked his wrist back, spinning the stone out of his hand to skim over the surface of the water, leaping at least ten times before plopping into the water. Sinkin’ to the bottom.
“I bet you I’m better than you at that,” Gyro said certainly. “Toss me a rock.”
Johnny did, and he watched Gyro close an eye, scanning the rock all over, like Johnny might’ve tainted with it or something.
“Stupid, are you scared you can’t beat ten skips?” Johnny said, smirking. He’d been pretty good at skimming stones ever since he was a kid--he was no Nicholas, but, well, no one was. He’d gotten especially better, on account of Gyro’s lessons in spin and all.
“Pah! Funny. All this stone is, is another steel ball, cuore mio ,” Gyro said resolutely with a nod of his head, flicking his wrist in practice before he flung the pebble out of his head, watching it skip, counting its leaps in Italian--“ Uno, due, tre- - porca vacca, fifteen!” He laughed victoriously and knocked up his chin, gesturing with his hand proudly. “Not too bad for my first time, eh, Johnny?”
Johnny puckered his lips. “I guess,” he mumbled, a little pissed that Gyro was so much better at him already. First time, and he got that many more skips!
“Oh, luce dei miei occhi , don’t be mad at me,” Gyro said, putting both hands over his heart, a smile on his face. Johnny hid his smirk behind his hand as he wiped his nose, sniffing, and he glared at Gyro.
“No one knows what the fuck you’re sayin’ when you talk that shit,” Johnny growled, highly captious of Gyro and his Italian.
“Ah, I don’t mind,” Gyro said, letting his hands fall from his heart with a dismissive wave of his hand.
“Yeah, I know,” Johnny said, grinning. “You just like to hear yourself talk, buddy.” He picked up another rock and plunked it into the sand, poking it deeper down with his finger. Then he pushed up the sand on top of it, like a farmer would with seeds. “You’d talk to a wall, I bet, and try to teach it Italian.”
“Sure, if it was open to learning, unlike some asshole I know,” Gyro said, starting to wade forward. Johnny could tell he was cold just from lookin’ at him (he didn’t have to say how he knew, thanks very much!), and he kept his eyes away from Gyro’s naked body, even though he knew how bad he wanted to look. He was sure Gyro was gorgeous in the sunlight; normally, Johnny would only steal looks at his muscular body in the lamp light in their tent at night, when it was safe.
Johnny sniffed and glanced up as Gyro scooped his hair and squeezed out the water, ruffling his hair a bit and sighing.
“Feel better?” Johnny asked.
“Best bath I’ve had in days!”
“ Only bath you’ve had in days,” Johnny murmured, and he said, “Ow,” as Gyro smacked him in the back of the head with his hat.
“Watch it, caro ,” Gyro said, with a smirk, and he turned his back as he walked towards his clothes, which he’d left flung over the branches of a tree. Gyro had gone ahead and washed their clothes for the first time in God knows how long too, but apparently they were still too wet to wear. The only thing dry enough to wear, apparently, was his loyal hat. He stuck it on his head and left the rest of his body bare as a skinned rabbit for all of God and the world to see.
Johnny glanced down his ass and thighs, then pretended he wasn’t staring, and skipped more stones.
“What kinda fish was it anyway?” Gyro asked, gesturing to his catch.
“Small-mouthed bass, I reckon,” Johnny mumbled. “I ain’t too familiar with fishes around here, but it sure is a bass.”
“ Ma cche staje facenn'? 'O ppane?” Gyro asked, gesturing towards it, and Johnny rolled his eyes exasperatedly. He knew what that one meant. Gyro said it so goddamn much that Johnny broke down and demanded what the hell it meant--What are you doing? Making bread? Now, to Johnny, it just meant that Gyro was impatient and gonna be annoying about it until he did what he asked. “Hurry up and gut that thing. I’m hungry.”
“Told you, ain’t enough for both of us. Why didn’t you catch another while you were in there?” Johnny asked.
Gyro sunk to his knees, sitting beside Johnny. He shrugged. “I didn’t think I’d be able to catch the first one, much less a second.”
Johnny widened his eyes and stared for a moment. “You mean you didn’t even--?”
Gyro shrugged his shoulders and waved a hand. “Well, I told you to watch me! I had to do something to get your attention. And, now, you got lunch,” he said, tapping two fingers against Johnny’s cheek and then running them over his lips.
Johnny smirked a little, shaking his head. He laughed. “You know, Gyro,” Johnny mumbled. “I think one of us--and I ain’t sayin’ who--has got rocks in his head.”
Gyro smiled a little and laughed. “I’m not familiar with that one.”
“Huh?”
“Rocks in my head. Does it mean I’m stubborn?”
Johnny reached forward, pinching the rim of Gyro’s hat. “Means you’re stupid,” Johnny answered.
“Oh, we have one like that too.” He put up a finger expertly and said, “ Ttiene ‘a capa ppè spartere ‘e rrecchie.”
“What’s that one mean?” Johnny said.
“That your head’s only there to divide your ears. Otherwise, pbbt.” He blew a raspberry, sending specks of spit flying with a grace only Gyro could have.
Johnny smirked. “I like mine better. Rocks in your head, it’s got a picture to it.”
Gyro laughed and slung an arm around Johnny’s shoulder. “Ah, Johnny. You are an American, through and through,” Gyro said. “But don’t worry. I’m just as much as Italian as you are an American. So we both love our homes. There is nothing but pride in that.”
Johnny smirked, glancing up and down Gyro’s face, his eyes half-lidded, hazy, and love-struck. “Yeah,” he mumbled, licking his lips. He reached forward and brushed his thumb across Gyro’s lip. “Yer pretty.”
Gyro looked away, glancing around them for anyone approaching. It was broad daylight. They were two men by the water, one naked, both in love, which was a dangerous thing to be. Gyro’s eyes were real serious as he looked around, but as soon as he saw Johnny again, his eyes lightened and his lips smiled. He tucked a strand of hair behind Johnny’s ear and whispered, “ Ti amo, anima mia.”
“What does that one mean?” Johnny said, real low and rough, his eyes curious and soft.
Gyro chuckled, knocking his fist against Johnny’s heart. “It’s another phrase we Italians use to say you’re foolish.”
“Bastard,” Johnny growled, shoving Gyro away. He smirked though, letting his hand trail down Gyro’s arm, squeezing his tricep appreciatively. It was as close to hand-holding as Johnny would let himself get.
Gyro knew. He brushed his knuckles on Johnny’s cheeks and let his eyes gaze on him all soft and in love.
Johnny puckered his lips, letting his eyes drift sound. “Your voice was so soft before it sorta sounded like you said you loved me,” Johnny muttered underneath his breath. They both knew how the other felt, so they didn’t risk having others overhear by saying it. They could get away with things by pretending it was just the masculine thing to do, but telling your partner you loved them wasn’t proper. So they didn’t and just looked at each other with the stars in their eyes.
Gyro smiled. “If you listen closely,” Gyro mumbled, leaning forward to press his forehead to Johnny’s, his hand curled around the back of Johnny’s neck, together like flower petals, “I’m always telling you how I feel underneath everything. I’m always sayin’ how I feel about you.”
Johnny had let his eyes shut. Their eyelashes trembled together. “Even when you’re callin’ me stupid, huh.”
“Even then.”
Johnny smirked and tilted up his chin, their lips brushing, noses bumping.
“Well, all right, Gyro,” he mumbled. Which was, I love you.
“Sure thing, Johnny.” That was,
I love you, too.