Work Text:
The sun sets to the west of two men who desperately needed rest. The eldest was preparing a pot of coffee, despite how late it was growing while the youngest was reading over a catalogue he picked up in the last town they stopped in. His finger lazily traces over an advertisement for a set of China, his gaze dull from the long day of traveling. The eldest takes a glance over at his companion, a warm grin gracing his exhausted features.
“Coffee’ll be done soon, hang in there.”
“Mm.”
The sound of the Italian’s voice stirs the younger out of his sleepy thoughts, the life returning to his eyes as he flips the catalogue page. He props himself up on his elbows to get a better view of the two-page spread. Cast iron skillets, spatulas, silverware…
“I can’t wait to have my own place…”
“Hm?” The eldest turns around again. His head tilts back, allowing his dirty blonde tresses to cascade down his back.
“Huh?” The American turns his head quickly, a soft blush spreading across his freckled cheeks. He thanks God that it’s too dim to tell that he’s flustered but the knowing look in his friend’s eyes told him otherwise.
“You said something. Something about having your own place?” His words were laced with the sugar that he was now distributing into each mug. The hefty portions always made the younger man twist his face up despite how much he actually enjoyed it.
“I… said that aloud?” The inquiry was followed up with a frown, causing the older man to lighten up on his teasing.
“Yes.”
“S-Sorry… I didn’t mean to.”
“Don’t apologize, Jojo.” The campfire made that golden smile flicker, just the way it did every night. The young man smiles bashfully at the sight and his new nickname.
“It’s just that… I do wish I had my own home. More so a place to call my own.” The blonde flips the catalogue closed then tosses it aside. He pushes himself up into a seated position and leans against a log, his arm draping over the curved surface.
“I have no doubt that you’ll find a place like that. Where are you thinking of settling down?” The eldest amused the idea. Hell, this kid has gone through so much that this was the least he could do for him.
“Somewhere warm. I want all four seasons though.” The young blonde is now looking away as he speaks, his gaze not falling anywhere in particular.
“Somewhere in the South then?”
“Yes, but nowhere too southern.”
“Hm.” The eldest finally pours the hot liquid into each of the mugs, filling them to the rim before mixing the sugar in from the bottom. He lifts one, gives it a quick blow to cool it off, then hands it off to his companion. The blonde receives it with an involuntarily grin.
“Where do you want to settle down, Gy?”
“Haven’t given it much thought.”
“Oh.” The blonde’s lips twist to the side, a sign that he’s contemplating about whether or not he should keep talking. An expression the eldest has seen plenty times.
The older man reaches out to give his arm a light touch. They lock eyes. The golden smile appears once again, gentler this time. A sign that it was okay. The young man continues.
“I figured that you would want to live somewhere that’s similar to your home… climate wise, at least. You’re pretty sensitive when it comes to the weather. I believe a mid-Atlantic state would be best for you. Nowhere north of that would suit you well. You need all four seasons too, not half seasons then long winters and summers. I feel like you would like Virginia a lot, you would probably stay in the city…”
The younger man’s accent coats every word he says, the sound giving the older man a warm feeling in his chest.
The world around the two of them fades away until only his companion, his Jojo, fills his sight.
His slightly bronzed complexion, his pale blue hat that fits snugly over his loose blonde curls- they could use a good wash but the oil makes them limp enough for Johnny to manage them. The older man looks past it for now.
His hands were soft despite all of the hard years of jockeying and tending he’s done, fingernails kept clean and neat, his palms clean enough to handle the mug in his hands. His fingers were only just long along to curve around the mug halfway. He’s much smaller than the Italian, age being a factor in that but something told him that he wouldn’t grow much more than this.
Although they were somewhat altered by the fire, his light blue eyes sparkled with life in a way that was now becoming familiar to both of them. When the two first met, these eyes were dead. They barely moved when the two of them spoke, when they rode, when they fought. Now, they beamed with energy and gave the older man a beautiful sight to wake up to in the morning.
The way his full lips purse and tug over his teeth when he speaks captivates him the most. These lips remained fixed in a permanent frown for the majority of their time knowing each other. The young American frowned when he rode his horse, he frowned when he was thinking of a plan to get them out of harm’s way, he frowned when daydreaming. Seeing those lips tug at the corners into a semi-terrifying smile whenever he felt comfortable enough to be mischievous or seeing the soft grin of gratitude whenever he received coffee was beyond gratifying. Because the older man knew he was the cause. Those lips continuously purse, accompanied by a head tilt.
“…ro?”
“Gyro?”
“Hm?”
“Did you hear what I said?”
“Uh…” A shy smile creeps across the older man’s features in response to the younger man’s unamused frown.
“You weren’t even listening to me.”
“I was too!”
“You were not!”
“Here, quiz me!”
“What city did I suggest you stay in?”
“Um... Charleston?” The younger man rolls his eyes, signaling that the Italian was incorrect.
“That’s not even in Virginia! You weren’t listening to me… Alright, fine.” The blonde turns away to rest his back against the log, his face scrunching up into a different frown. The ‘you don’t care about me’ frown. The older man springs into action, throwing his arms around the smaller man lovingly, a strong nose nuzzling a soft cheek as he chuckles lowly.
“Jojo…”
“Get off me.” The young blonde mumbles into his mug as he struggles to take a sip, the weight of his partner’s arms around him making it difficult to drink.
“You know I care about you and what you say.” The Italian tilts his head upward to whisper into a half covered ear. The blonde leans away. Stubborn.
“Whatever.”
The older man smiles brightly then gives the younger man a warm, lingering kiss on the cheek. There’s a slight struggle but eventually, the two of them lean into each other. The young man sighs in defeat after a moment of silence.
“I know you…” The American trails off.
“Scusi?”
“I know you care.” The young man nearly coughs this out. The older man lifts his hand to tilt the younger’s face toward his.
“I’m sorry I didn’t catch everything. I was… admiring your beauty.” His own accent makes every word he says sickly sweet. The younger man lowers his gaze. In disbelief, the older suspects. “I’m serious.”
“Yeah…”
“Johnny.” He looks up.
“Hm?”
“You’re so pretty when you sulk but you’re prettier when you smile.” The older gives an example by flashing his ridiculous grin. This always makes the young man giggle. This time is no different.
“Sorry for being a brat. I’m just-"
“Tired.” The Italian finishes the sentence for him then nods toward the mug. “Finish it.” And the young man does.
“Sorry.” The guilt ridden American sets his mug between them on the ground, his features still showing signs of the frown that consumed it earlier. The older man shakes his head.
“Stop apologizing. I should be the one saying that, remember?” He obnoxiously brushes their noses together, knowing it will make the younger man flinch.
“You’re right but…”
“Shhh.” The Italian leans in to brush his lips against the tip of the young man’s nose before pulling away completely to start cleaning up. The young man reaches up to hide his reddened cheek.
“How long’ll you be?”
“No more than 10 minutes.” The older man speaks loud enough while hunched over his empty pot and the one mug, the other completely full. The American eyes this mug, that semi-terrifying smile crossing his features. The older man stands then starts to move toward the nearby river, his head turning slightly as he speaks.
“You can have it.”
The American stares at the Italian’s back with wide, innocent eyes. The Italian simply laughs.
The older man knew the younger inside and out. He could predict his actions and moods without even looking. This was a huge change of pace for the two of them compared to their humble beginnings together.
Maybe they could find a place to settle down together. Maybe that’s what Johnny was talking about after all.
Maybe Gyro knew that the entire time.