Work Text:
Johnny was half-dozing by the campfire when he suddenly felt something poke him in the chest.
He blinked, coming back to full alertness. There was nothing and nobody in front of him, just the empty stretch of the desert. And yet he felt the poke again. What the hell…?
Johnny twisted around. A few feet away from him, Gyro was sitting cross-legged, staring intently at something in front of him: the little pink thing that emerged from Johnny’s arm not too long ago. As Johnny watched, Gyro poked the thing a third time with his forefinger. And Johnny felt it, as if Gyro had been touching him instead.
He slapped his hand over his chest with a frown. “Hey. Cut it out.”
Gyro looked over at him in mild surprise. “Oh, hey. Thought you were asleep.”
“Stop poking it,” Johnny said.
Gyro looked back to the thing, then to Johnny again. “What… is it, exactly?”
“Beats me.” Johnny beckoned to the creature. “C’mere, you little shit. Get back in the arm.”
But Tusk— that’s what Johnny had started to call it— ignored his commands. Instead, it floated up near Gyro’s face, like it was observing him or something. Its large, watery eyes blinked slowly and its weird appendages waved as if underwater. Its size and floppy ear-like things reminded Johnny of a rabbit, but bright pink and without any back legs. It was like a child’s unfinished crayon drawing come to life. To be honest, he was kind of weirded out by it. He didn’t like the thought of it living in his arm.
“Chumimi,” it said. Johnny had no idea how it made those sounds because it had no visible mouth. That shit was unnatural in every sense of the word.
Gyro snorted, pushing it away gently with two fingers. Johnny could feel said fingers on him as well, right above his collarbone. He dropped his chin self-consciously.
“I said stop touching it,” he snapped.
“It’s the one that’s obsessed with me,” Gyro protested. “What does it want?”
“I dunno!”
Tusk hovered slightly away from Gyro, tilting its head in curiosity. If it could be curious, that was— Johnny didn’t know if the thing had thoughts or feelings or what was going through its oversized skull.
“Va,” Gyro said, shooing it. “Go back to your master.”
“I’m not its master,” Johnny said, folding his arms over his chest. “It won’t listen to anything I tell it to do.”
“Isn’t it your ability?” Gyro asked. "Mountain Tim said you had a Stand."
“It came with the arm, I think,” Johnny said. He didn’t see how his Stand would be able to move his legs if he couldn’t do it himself. It had to be some saintly power that could move his lame feet. “I don’t even know if it’s a Stand proper or… another thing.”
Tusk got up in Gyro’s face again. It appeared to be trying to touch its nose cone to Gyro’s own nose. Gyro chuckled, leaning away.
“It’s really… friendly,” he said.
Johnny blushed a little. Why did his Stand have to fixate on Gyro so much? Of all people, for God’s sake.
“Tusk, cut it out!” he ordered, but the creature ignored him again. It spun around in a circle, wiggling a little. Johnny got the inexplicable feeling that it was… showing off for Gyro or some shit.
“Nyoho, Tusk? Is that what you call it?” Gyro asked.
“Don’t laugh,” Johnny said, frowning. “It’s ‘cause my ability is, y’know, stronger than a regular nail—“
“I think it’s a good name,” Gyro said.
“...Really?”
“Yeah, it’s cool.”
“Oh. Thanks.”
Johnny sat back in silence as Tusk flitted about around Gyro, chittering its nonsense. Gyro watched its antics with an amused expression, eyebrows raised and a half-smirk on his lips. Johnny watched Gyro.
“It speaks Latin, right?” Gyro asked.
Well, speak was probably a strong word, but— “Yeah, I guess.”
“Hm. Let’s see what I can remember…” Gyro tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Salve, Tusk. Quid facis?”
Tusk blinked its wet eyes, and then closed them in the closest thing that Johnny had seen it express to pure happiness. It had no lips to smile with but it was beaming. “Chu~!”
It flew up and rubbed itself against Gyro’s cheek like a pleased cat. Gyro laughed.
“Nyohoho, you liked that, huh?” he asked. “I know, it sucks when nobody speaks your language.”
Tusk leaned in towards Gyro's ear. Gyro's eyes widened.
But Johnny didn't notice. He wasn’t listening; he couldn’t understand them anyway. He was too busy pulling his hat down over his face, trying to hide his flush. He could feel that— Gyro’s cheek against his own. It was faint, a sensation once removed, but warm and even a little stubbly so Johnny knew it was real.
“Come on, stop messing with it,” Johnny muttered. “It’ll never leave you alone if you keep this up.”
“It’s kind of cute though, isn’t it?” Gyro said. “Like a living teddy bear.”
Cute? Johnny had never thought of it that way. He was surprised that Gyro thought so. Then again, Gyro had unusual taste.
Gyro held out his hand and Tusk flew right to it, pressing itself against his palm. Before Johnny could say anything Gyro took hold of it, both hands under its tiny arms. He smiled fondly at the strange entity. Tusk’s ‘ears’ twitched back at him and it closed its eyes again, happy to be in Gyro’s grasp like a little weirdo. Gyro’s smile widened and he squeezed Tusk gently.
Johnny was not so cheerful. He squeaked indignantly at he felt the same sensation around his midsection, like Gyro had his hands on his hips.
“Okay, that’s enough!” he barked. “Cut it out, for real!”
Gyro looked over at Johnny, furrowing his brows. He didn’t let go of Tusk.
“What’s your problem, Johnny?” he asked. “Don’t get mad just because your Stand likes me better than you—“
“It’s connected to me, idiot!” Johnny said. “I can feel whatever you do to it!”
“Oh— oh. Shit.” Gyro immediately released Tusk, pulling his hands back like they were suddenly burned. “Sorry.”
Tusk opened its eyes again, and its gaze looked wetter and sadder than ever before. It literally looked like it was on the verge of tears. Well, it always looked like that, but especially now.
“Chumiiii,” it said mournfully.
“Aw, man…” Gyro frowned, but held his hands back, hovering in uncertain fists. He looked at Johnny, who was glaring at his Stand, and his frown deepened. He dropped his hands to his sides.
“That’s… enough messing around for today,” he said. “We should get some sleep.”
Johnny looked away and cleared his throat. “Yeah. You’re right.”
Gyro got up and kicked sand over the fire to put it out, then went about setting up his bedroll. Johnny tried to will Tusk away with all his might as it stared longingly after his racing partner. Luckily it didn’t seem able to move outside of a certain range of Johnny, so it couldn’t go literally chasing after Gyro as he lay down on the opposite side of the fire pit.
“Night, Johnny,” Gyro said, pulling his hat down over his eyes.
“Night,” Johnny said.
“Chu…” Tusk drifted down towards where Johnny was curled up on his side, its eyes downcast.
It was an incredibly sad sight, but Johnny had a hard heart. He was just about ready to strangle the little bastard. He didn’t care if it floated around or whatever, but it couldn’t be so fucking obvious.
Johnny squeezed his eyes shut. He thought of something that Mountain Tim had said to him while they were traveling together before being ambushed by Oyecomova. He wasn’t sure if Gyro had been listening, but Johnny sure was. He’d been trying to absorb as much information about his new ability as possible.
“A Stand is the manifestation of one’s soul, I reckon,” Tim said. “I only met a few other users, but that’s the best way that any of us have been able to describe it.”
“I don’t get it,” Johnny said. “Your Stand is a rope, and mine are my nails. How does that represent either of our souls?”
Tim shook his head. “Y’ain’t seen it yet, but a lot of the time, Stands ain’t just what they can do,” he said. “They have form. Like ghosts. Ya can’t always see ‘em, but they’re always there. Standin’ with ya. Hence the name.”
Johnny had been ready to accept that explanation without problem— and then, Tusk had showed up. If it was really his Stand, then… was that really what his soul looked like? A pathetic, whiny little malformed thing? For God’s sake, it looked like a hairless baby rat or something. He didn’t want a Stand like that. He didn’t want a soul like that!
Maybe it’s what I deserve, Johnny thought, stewing intensely in the silent desert night. Maybe Tusk actually was a good representation of Johnny— pathetic and miserable. The way it pined uselessly after Gyro was accurate, too. Maybe there was a reason that it resembled a young mouse…
“Chu…?”
Johnny cracked one eye open to find Tusk hovering in front of his face. He scowled and swatted at it.
“Go on, get,” he whispered. He didn’t want Gyro to hear him essentially talking to himself. He was sure that the other man already thought he was a basket case anyway for thinking the Spin could help heal his broken spine.
But Tusk was insistent. It rested its nose cone on Johnny’s forearm.
“Chumimi,” it repeated. Then it nudged him, as if asking for something.
“Whaddya want?” Johnny hissed.
He lifted his arm to try and dislodge it, but to his surprise Tusk darted right under it. Its heart-tipped appendages brushed by Johnny’s nose as it floated down to settle against Johnny’s chest. Once pressed up against him, it nuzzled him with the side of its face.
Johnny stared at it. It wanted to… cuddle?
He craned his head to look over at Gyro, but the other man wasn’t moving. He might've been asleep already, probably holding onto his stupid teddy bear. At first, Johnny had no idea why a man like Gyro would keep such a childish toy. But then, after learning a little more about him and his past, Johnny realized that it was because Gyro hadn’t been allowed to have a childhood of his own. Johnny could relate to that— it felt like his own childhood had been torn away from him when his brother died.
Since then, Johnny had done nothing but lose. His home, his career, his legs. More and more was taken from him. Until Tusk and the corpse came along. Until Gyro came along...
He looked back to Tusk. The entity was looking up at him with shining eyes as if it was concerned that he might kick it out or cast it aside. Johnny suddenly realized that he couldn’t do that.
Johnny begrudgingly settled back down, placing his arm overtop Tusk in a half hug. When he did that, he could feel a slight pressure on himself as well, like he too was being hugged by someone larger than him. It gave him a sort of comfort that he thought that he no longer needed.
“What the hell,” he muttered. “I dunno what you are, but if Gyro likes you, then… you can’t be all that bad, right?”
“Chumimi…” When it made that sound, it rumbled against Johnny like it was purring. It wasn’t a bad feeling.
Cute, Johnny thought. That's what Gyro had said. Johnny could almost see it. Almost.
“Yeah.” Johnny shut his eyes. “G’night, Tusk.”
---
The next morning, Gyro peered over at his still-sleeping companion. He was surprised to see, wrapped in Johnny’s arms, a little pink creature: Tusk. Its eyes were also closed, and it snuggled close to its user’s chest. It didn’t look like it had wriggled its way into Johnny’s grasp, either— no, Johnny was definitely holding onto it. Rather protectively, actually.
Gyro had to admit he was surprised last night when Tusk seemed to respond to his poor conversational Latin. Even more surprising, though, was that when Tusk had rubbed against his cheek, it had said something to him. Something that he suspected Johnny didn’t hear.
“Amo,” it peeped. “Amo Iulius.”
Gyro really had to work to hide his astonishment, lest Johnny ask questions. Somehow, it knew his name— his real name, that was. That definitely couldn’t have come from Johnny. Nobody on the American continent knew him by that name. So maybe the two really were separate. With that said… maybe Tusk was what Johnny needed.
He chuckled to himself and went about making his coffee. In any case, Johnny and Tusk had one thing in common: they were both really cute.