Work Text:
When Johnny saw Gyro walk out from the swinging double doors of the hospital he was happy, but confused. He was happy because he really, really didn't want to enter that dumb place to begin with, and he was happy because Gyro was okay and alive. He was confused, because the man's wounds were severe enough that he really shouldn't be up and moving so soon. He especially shouldn't move like the pain was nothing but a speck in the corner of his eye.
"Johnny!"
His grin was wide and easy. Did Hot Pants get to him before Johnny could? He really needed to thank that woman later. She'd done a lot more for them than he probably deserved.
"Gyro?" he eyed the man warily. Gyro walked with a small limp, but it was hardly noticeable. His hair, which usually flowed freely down his back, was tied up behind him in a fat bun of golden locks. Other than that, he appeared normal. "Are you okay? Did Hot Pants heal you?"
"Huh?" Gyro's step faltered. He looked confused, before his eyes twinkled with some strange emotion. "Y-yeah! He did!"
Johnny almost snorted. Gyro still hadn't realized it. Oh well. It wasn't his place to tell.
"What's with that face?" the Italian's eyes lit up. "Are you that happy to see me?"
His feet stopped just an inch in front of Johnny's chair. He looked like he was expecting something. Johnny wanted to respond with some snarky comment, but the man had almost died, so he supposed he could go easy on him. Just this once.
"Yeah," the American didn't smile, but his chest fluttered peculiarly. "I am."
He was glad for his decision when Gyro smiled, even larger than before. He looked like the sun, and the strange flutter turned into galloping feet that made his cheeks feel warm. He didn't understand the emotions tugging at him, but it felt nice. He'd been so scared when Valentine raised his hand and fired. When Gyro fell he thought, this is it. His best friend was gone forever and Johnny would never hear one of his silly songs or bad puns again. Like it always happened, he'd lost everything that mattered to him. He couldn't even pretend he didn't expect it.
It never felt so good to be wrong. He sniffed. Oh, great. He was crying now. Like always. He was such a baby. He was lucky Gyro put up with all his bullshit.
"Mi amore," Gyro cupped his left cheek. His hand was large enough to cover half his face, but there was only a sense of safety behind it.
"S-sorry," Johnny tried to pull away, but Gyro's hand followed his movements. "I'm such—such a crybaby."
Gyro placed his hands on each side of his face like a shield, guiding him carefully until Johnny was forced to look at him. The Neapolitan's lips pulled up high on his cheeks, forming small dimples, and his bright eyes scrunched up at the corners.
"Don't apologize."
He closed his eyes and moved his head up close against Johnny's. Their lips connected and the boy tensed, confused. Gyro pulled back, ghosting his mouth over Johnny's as he whispered.
"My little crybaby."
He kissed him again. Johnny burned a furious crimson, and he punched his fists weakly against the other man's chest. Gyro pulled back with a chuckle, eyes glittering with mirth.
"Ouch, ouch! So violent, caro!"
Johnny's hand flew up to his mouth, flattening against the back of his palm. They felt like they were on fire.
"W-what the hell was that?!"
"Hm?" Gyro cocked his head. Johnny thought he might be messing with him, but the guy looked genuinely lost. "What was what?"
"Kissing me, you dumbass!" he crossed his arms over his chest and glared at the X they formed. He was too embarrassed to face the other. "Is this a gag? Did the blood loss get to your head and turn you into a moron?"
Johnny used the all the strength of his perturbed anger to glare at the man. Gyro returned it with a pout, looking like a pitiful little abandoned critter.
"I missed you," Gyro said, poking his fingers together nervously. He looked so very disappointed. Johnny huffed out an irritated breath. He still felt hot, and his chest just might burst open any minute. "...are you upset?"
Gyro's eyes were big and round, and ugh, dammit. It was really hard to stay mad at that.
"...no," his tense muscles relaxed. His arms fell into his lap. "It was just… unexpected. So give me a warning next time you do something like that, alright?!"
The somber look on Gyro's face vanished like it'd never been there to begin with. He beamed. "Next time?"
"Next time."
Gyro's arms wrapped around him. His hug was crushing and he pushed his nose into Johnny's neck, almost pulling the boy out of his wheelchair.
"H-hey!"
"Johnny!" Gyro cried out, voice muffled against his skin. His breath was hot and wet and Johnny shivered slightly. It wasn't a comfortable sensation, but he didn't hate it. "I love you so much, my little piagnucolone!"
"A-ah!" any protest Johnny might have had flew away like the wind as the breath was knocked out of his lungs. His pulse coursed through him so fast he thought he might pass out. "...dumbass."
It wasn't what he meant to say. He wanted to return those words, but he was too flustered. Maybe later, when his heart wasn't beating so fast, and he could think clearly.
Gyro continued to hold him in his death grip, and Johnny didn't have a choice but to stare over the man's back and down to his hips. The jockey's eyebrows pulled up on his forehead and he blinked. There was still one question in mind.
"What's with the guns?"
He nudged Gyro's torso and the man let go. Johnny studied his expression. It was impossible to read, and the Neapolitan glanced down at the two silver revolvers like he'd forgotten they were there.
"Oh, these?" he snatched one out of its holster and twirled it in his fist. Johnny squinched as the light reflected off of the blank surface, irritating his eyes. Gyro kept glancing between him and the weapon, looking for… Johnny wasn't sure what. "I… found them at the hospital! They were just laying there and I couldn't help myself! Now, let's get out of here before anyone catches on, nyo-ho!"
It was a flimsy excuse. Johnny knew that, but he only questioned it for a second before he chose to believe it. What else was he supposed to think? He didn't take Gyro for a thief, especially not with something that was clearly very valuable. But he'd lost both his steel balls in the fight against Valentine, and maybe he just wanted the security of knowing he had something to defend himself with until he could replace them. It was understandable, and after all they'd been through… he couldn't blame Gyro for being paranoid.
"...okay," he turned on his wheels. "But if anyone catches you, remember… I saw nothing."
Gyro cackled.
"I'd never sell out my partner in crime! You can always trust me, amore!"
"Are you going back to Italy?"
Gyro rested with his back against the bed. They'd rented a room for the night in some okay-ish hotel. Not fancy, but not check-the-mattress-for-bed-bugs sleazy. His hair had been pulled out and he rested his head on his hands, crossed behind him on the pillow. He looked completely relaxed, and Johnny hated to ruin it. But he had to know.
"You didn't finish the race… that boy…"
"It's alright."
Johnny looked to Gyro in surprise. He didn't mean that, did he? After everything he did to save the life of some poor kid he hardly even knew… that's not something you can just brush off, not like that.
"You don't have to pretend. It's okay to be upset. I know how hard you fought, and well… I know I'm not the best person for this, but if you want to talk… or anything—"
"It's alright."
Gyro flipped over to his side. He leaned his head into his hand, elbow stretched out over the pillow. Johnny was in his own bed, opposite from the other. Their eyes met, and Gyro didn't look troubled. Well, maybe a bit, but it was the kind of gloominess you felt after already accepting a situation and moving on.
"Thank you for thinking of me, caro, but there's no need to worry. I think… staying in America might be nice. What do you think?"
That fluttering was back in his chest. He was afraid to hope, but… "Why're you asking me?"
"Because we're going to be staying together, silly. You wanna stay in America? Or do you wanna see the rest of the world? Anything's fine with me. Home is wherever you are."
Johnny must've made a face, because Gyro laughed.
"Sorry… too sappy?" he schooled his face into a serious expression. "...you do want to stay with me, don't you?"
Johnny had to swallow before he sounded too excited. "Y… yes. I'd like that, yes," he fidgeted with the long sleeves of his hoodie. "Um. I'm not really sure what I want to do… I never considered it during the race. Ask again tomorrow?"
"Sure," Gyro flopped back down with his head on the pillow. He looked content as his eyes closed. "Take as much time as you need."
Gyro said it didn't bother him, but Johnny wasn't convinced. The man lost the race because of him. It'd be pretty cruel to not at least try to make it up to him.
He felt a bit silly when he rolled through the door of the toy shop, but he ignored it. Gyro was a silly man. It was only fitting.
The door shut behind him with a jingle. It was the kind that pushed inward, which made entering easy, though getting outside again might be a bit of a challenge. This wasn't a planned trip, but he'd woken before Gyro, and the idea just struck him. He'd left a note that said he would go out for a bit and be back soon, but he still hurried. He didn't want to make Gyro worry unnecessarily, and there was a possibility of the foolhardy man missing the note completely and freaking out with no idea where Johnny was.
Shit, maybe he should've woken him up after all. He just wanted to surprise him. Whatever, it was too late now.
He picked a green one. The fur was a vivid pastel shade and easy on the eyes, though he mostly picked it because it reminded him of the man himself. It had a round blue bow tie and a fat white belly. Johnny poked it and his finger squished into it easily. Perfect.
The cashier was an old, kindly looking man, with perpetually ruddy cheeks and deep crow's feet from too much smiling. He rang Johnny up and put the toy down in a small paper bag. At the boy's request, he tied a black bow around the top. He pushed it towards him, and when Johnny asked how much extra that would be, the old man insisted it was free.
Usually when people treated him kindly, Johnny assumed it was due to pity for his broken legs. But this man had that old grandfatherly vibe about him that said that maybe, he'd treat Johnny the same regardless of his condition. So, he let it slide, pushed over a few dollars for the bear, and accepted the brown bag without argument. Only a soft, "Thank you."
He left, finagling with the door for a bit, but was saved the trouble when another customer entered the shop. He rolled out behind her and started his treck back to the hotel briskly. It wasn't a long walk, about five minutes, give or take. Most people had the sense to get out of his way, but he bristled when a freckly and gangly looking paperboy stepped in front of him and waved today's news in his face without a hint of shame. Johnny pushed his irritation down, not wanting to give some brat the power to ruin his day. He flicked him a coin, before ripping the paper out of his hand. The kid scrambled to catch his change and Johnny pushed passed him without preamble.
He put the paper down in his lap under the gift and rolled carefully, hoping he wouldn't drop anything. Eventually, he made it back to the hotel safely, and he knocked on the door rapidly. His knuckles hardly touched the wood before it swung open. A tired, almost wild looking Gyro stared at him, but his wide eyes relaxed immediately once he saw who waited on the other side.
"Johnny!"
He hugged him, and Johnny let out a noise between a squeak and a yelp.
"Ugh, Gyro," he complained as the man held him way too tight. "I left you a note. You didn't miss it, did you?"
"I saw it," Gyro mumbled into his hair. "I'm just glad you're here."
He let go and stepped back into the room, allowing Johnny to roll passed. The boy did, placing the newspaper on the nightstand, before spinning around with a hand resting on the bag in his lap.
"Um…" he ran a finger over the armrest of his wheelchair nervously. He held the gift out for Gyro. "I got you something."
Gyro appeared taken aback, but his face was quick to light up, shining like those silver revolvers he insisted on keeping. He'd yet to replace his steel balls, but Johnny supposed they'd been busy with figuring out what to do next. The tall man shut the door behind him, before scrambling to sit on Johnny's bed with an expectant gleam.
"Yeah?" he pressed. "Show me! Show me!"
"Calm down, you big child," he presented the brown bag, almost shoving it into Gyro's chest. "Don't tear it open."
He did so anyway, at least the ribbon. It fluttered to the ground sadly, discarded and forgotten. Johnny almost felt bad for it.
He was quickly distracted from somber thoughts when Gyro let out a squeal that should never leave a grown man's mouth. His grills took up half his face as he regarded the cute little teddy with enough love to make Johnny jealous.
"It's adorable, tesoro!" he praised, smooching the pink button nose. "Almost as cute as you! Maybe even cuter, nyo-ho! Thank you."
"Don't make me regret this," Johnny folded his arms and tried to look serious, but it was hard. He felt his facial muscles twitch from the strain. "I'm not gonna let you cheat on me with a stuffed animal."
Gyro chortled, pulling his partner into a one armed hug. Johnny had to grip his wheels to stay seated.
"Aw, don't be jealous," Gyro pecked his cheek. "You'll always be my number one."
Johnny blushed. He tried to remain stoic, but he knew he was failing. "Yeah, yeah…" quietly, he added, "...you too."
Gyro walked over to his bed, tucking the little bear under the blanket next to its pink and ragged cousin. Their stuffed cheeks touched, and Gyro looked pleased.
"I'm going to name you… Signore Soffice! You two get along, won't you? No fighting!"
He returned to Johnny's bed, making himself at home on top of his sheets. He had a subtle, satisfied smile that pulled on his green lips gingerly. He placed a hand over Johnny's, still holding onto a wheel, and just breathed. It was very domestic.
"This is nice," he said, echoing Johnny's thoughts. "I think… we're going to be fine."
"Yeah…" Johnny nodded. "I think we will."
Gyro squeezed him. Johnny squeezed back. The man started to lean forward and his mouth opened to say something, when Johnny's stomach growled. It ruined whatever intimate mood they were having, and Johnny cursed his traitorous body for the thousandth time.
"Breakfast!" Gyro exclaimed, jumping up from the mattress. It screeched with the force. "You wait here. I'll go see if I can't smuggle something inside, nyo-ho."
He was gone before Johnny could intervene, and the boy sighed. He parked his chair under the room's small window. The glass had been yellowed with age, and it tinted the place in a soft warm glow. To kill time while he waited, he pawed at the nightstand and pulled up the newspaper he'd been coerced into buying. Might as well put it to good use.
He opened it and eyed the articles without any real interest. Most were about the recently completed Steel Ball Run Race, while the front page announced the missing president in big bold letters. A blown up picture of Valentine's face, taken at some press conference, rested under the words. Johnny scowled at it. He'd seen enough of that bastard's dumb mug to last a lifetime.
He flipped to the next page and almost dropped the paper in shock.
"G…" the sound died in his throat. "Gyro!"
"Johnny~ Honey love~" he chuckled at the pet name. "I'm back~"
He nudged the door open with his foot and elbow. His hands were busy trying to balance a platter of food he snatched, and it was a whole ordeal to not drop anything.
When he entered the room, Johnny wasn't looking at him. His chair was turned around with his back to the door. He didn't even so much as twitch to acknowledge Gyro's entrance. The older man's stomach clenched with worry, and he shoved the lamp off of the nightstand, sending it tumbling onto the bed harmlessly, before dropping the platter onto the newly emptied surface.
"Hey… something wrong?"
Johnny didn't answer. The boy's shoulder slowly began to tremble, and Gyro could only watch, frozen, with not idea what was happening or what to do.
"Johnny? Hey…"
His muscles thawed and he could move again. He took a step towards his Johnny. Abruptly, the boy turned, and his expression was so dark, it sent shivers down Gyro's spine.
"...Gyro," he bit out between taut lips. Gyro looked down at Johnny's lap and saw The Good and The Bad resting on his blue clad thighs innocuously. Johnny threw something at his face, and Gyro caught it one-handedly before it could smack into his nose.
"Wha…?"
"Page three," Johnny commanded. "Open it."
Gyro didn't dare disobey. With pooling dread, he pulled the pages open and studied the text with befuddlement. His hands shook, and his voice even more so, when he said, "J-Johnny… I can explain—"
"Please do," Gyro flinched at the harsh tone, "I'm just dying to know."
Gyro looked back to the paper. His lips trembled and he swallowed. The words staring back at him felt like an accusation. He supposed it was.
Racer Gyro Zeppeli found shot to death in hospital, no witnesses
"I…"
I knew there was something off about you," Johnny pressed on, cutting off any excuses. His voice was hard and even, but it was slowly increasing in volume. "You just found these guns, huh? In the hospital? When you should be too injured to move? And you decided it would be a great idea to steal them, just like that?"
Johnny glowered at his legs. He grabbed one of the weapons and pointed it at Gyro. The Bad.
"Is this how you killed him?" he demanded. "Which one did you use? This one?" he dropped it and picked up the other. "Or this one?"
"Please, Johnny—"
"Answer the goddamn question!"
"...the other one."
Johnny sobbed. He dropped the revolver onto his lap and it clattered against its companion. Gyro was glad he put the safety on, though the way Johnny threw them around still made him nervous. He really ought to be more careful.
"Who are you?" the American's words were gravely as he forced them through his thick throat. "Who the fuck are you?!"
Gyro wanted to hug the poor boy and kiss his tears away, but he was afraid Johnny might actually shoot him if he did. He needed to be careful. He had to make him understand.
"I'm Gyro."
"You're not Gyro!"
"I am!" Gyro flinched at his own raised voice. Quieter, he added, "Just… not the one you used to know."
Realization dawned in the boy's sweet baby blues. He whispered, "V-Valentine…"
He grabbed his wheels. He tried to pull back, but didn't get far when his back bumped into the bed frame.
"...why?" Gyro had to strain his ears when Johnny spoke. "Why did you kill him? Why?!"
"I had to," Gyro nodded to himself as if that was the truth, because it was. "I missed you. I needed to see you again. I couldn't let him get in our way."
"I-I—oh God…" Johnny heaved. "I… I need to leave! Don't follow me, or I swear I'll kill you!"
He pushed passed Gyro, shouldering him in the side. He took the guns with him. Gyro let him. He couldn't blame Johnny for his shock. He needed some time to cool down and think.
He'd be back.
Johnny wasn't sure how long he spent rolling down the streets aimlessly, trying to put his thoughts in order to figure out what to do next. He considered just running away. Maybe get on a train or boat and never look back. Wouldn't be the first time. In the end, he did neither of those things.
The sun was high in the sky when he returned. He stopped in front of the door, and he sat there for the longest time. The weight of the guns felt heavy in his lap, despite the numbness of his limbs.
Gyro turned to him when he entered. "You're back," he looked relieved. He didn't have any right to. "I knew you'd return to me."
The confidence in his voice pissed Johnny off. He wanted to throw himself at the man and tears those stupid grills out of his face. His nails dug grooves into the wood of his armrests.
He'd been ready to kill him. He was going to shoot him with the same gun that killed Gyro, his Gyro, but somehow. This face that looked just like the man he used to love. It made it impossible. It would be the last time he saw it.
It was to no one's surprise that he was crying again.
Gyro stood up.
"Carino. Come over here."
Johnny followed the instructions without thinking. Gyro took the guns from him and put them on the small table by his bed. He picked Johnny up by his torso and sat back on the mattress, settling the smaller man in his lap. Johnny was too tired to argue.
"I'm sorry for making you cry," Gyro kissed his wet cheeks. "But please believe me when I say that I love you. More than anything."
Johnny sniffled. "You're not Gyro."
"I'm whatever you want me to be."
His lips hovered over his skin, soft like the flutter of a butterfly's wings. If Johnny closed his eyes, he could pretend this fake's eyes was the same green as his Gyro's.
"Hey… Johnny?"
"...what?"
"Can I kiss you?"
Johnny was silent.
"...please?"
"Whatever," he breathed. "Do what you want. It doesn't even matter anymore."