Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Hey,” Matty says one evening as they cruise down the road, two weeks after the three of them have begun their search for Doris. “You two wanna stop for food?”

Ethan glances over at him. “I could eat,” they say. They’re not actually that hungry, but they’re pretty sure they heard Matty’s stomach rumble earlier and they don’t want to be the asshole who keeps him waiting.

“Johnson?” Matty looks over his shoulder.

“Mhm,” their reclusive member says as he lights up another cigarette.

Matty swerves into the parking lot of the next diner they come across, a small place with a flickering neon sign just barely glowing in the fading light of day.

“Let’s just get it to go,” Matty says, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. “I want to get to a fucking bar before midnight. Johnson?”

“You got it,” Johnson says, stepping out of the car and heading inside. It occurs to Ethan that he hadn’t actually asked what either of them wanted to eat, but they really shouldn’t have expected anything else.

Silence settles in the car. Ethan glances over to see Matty rolling his shoulders back and flexing his wrists, likely trying to work out the stiffness from holding the steering wheel for so long. His hair is mussed from riding with the window down, and even though he’s been driving for hours his eyes are alert as ever. Ethan tries to stop staring, and can’t. Each time they look at him, or at Johnson, they can’t seem to tear their eyes away.

The three of them haven’t talked about… well, it. About Matty and Johnson giving up everything they’ve ever known for Ethan. They don’t know if they ever will. Hell, maybe it’s better that way. Easier. Ethan has had enough thoughts about betrayal and their own part in it.

In the back of their mind they know that something’s got to give, eventually, but they push it away quickly.

“You’re staring,” Matty says, startling Ethan out of their thoughts.

Ethan clears their throat. “I’m not.”

“Yeah, you are.” Matty grins. “You’re still doing it.”

Ethan pointedly averts their eyes. “Sorry.”

“Oh, I didn’t say I minded.” The teasing in Matty’s tone is enough to draw Ethan’s gaze back to him.

“Oh,” Ethan says softly. They don’t know what else to say to that. It’s blatantly flirtatious, which….well. It’s not something Ethan is prepared for, to be quite fucking honest.

This isn’t exactly new, whatever’s growing between them. A tension different than anything Ethan’s really experienced before, even with Meredith. She’s a lovely girl, sure, but she never could have related to what it’s like to travel so long and so close along the river with people you care about. And Ethan does care, so fiercely it almost scares them. They’ve killed a man for Matty, and would kill several more. They would do anything for him, for them, Matty and Johnson both. They’d even give up Doris, if those two asked.

There is a word for that, Ethan knows. A word they are much too terrified to even think of. But when Matty smiles, their heart tightens in their chest.

In any case, Ethan is almost ninety percent sure that Matty and Johnson are more than partners in crime. Probably long before Ethan arrived. So clearly, they’re misreading the situation.

...And yet, they still want him. That makes them kind of a horrible fucking person, right? To want someone they can’t have? As long as they don’t act on it, maybe it’s okay. Maybe...

Matty flashes them another grin, and Ethan is undone.

“Matty,” they begin, “I—”

They don’t get to finish, because Matty has leaned across the car to kiss them.

Ethan nearly startles out of their seat, but Matty’s hands grip their wrists and hold them firmly as he tilts his head to get at Ethan’s mouth properly. Ethan’s lips part in surprise, and Matty takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into their mouth. Finally they remember to kiss back, and when they do Matty hums happily, and all doubt is suddenly banished from their mind.

Matty is like a wildfire, every action explosive, and his kissing is no different. He presses Ethan further against the leather of the seat, seemingly intent on exploring every inch of their mouth. One hand lets go of their wrist in order to run through their hair, pulling not-so-gently. Ethan doesn’t mind at fucking all, and a moan escapes them.

Then Matty is pulling back, still grinning, hair falling in his face. He brushes a hand across Ethan’s cheek in a gesture more affectionate than Ethan would have expected from him. He leans back over to his own seat, tilting his head from side to side, and Ethan hears the faint pop of him cracking his neck.

“Um.” They try to find their words and draw a blank. “That was…”

Matty reaches over to squeeze their hand. “You’re sweet, you know that?” he says.

“You—”

“Let’s go,” Johnson says, nearly killing Ethan on the spot. He’s got two paper bags in one hand and is opening the back door with the other.

“Fucking finally,” Matty groans as Johnson slides back into his seat. He reaches back blindly for one of the bags.

“You want it faster, you go get it next time,” Johnson says, handing him a tinfoil-wrapped sandwich. “I’m not giving you the whole bag. You spilled it all over the floor last time.”

Ethan is still reeling even as Matty pulls the Cadillac out of the parking lot. Johnson offers them a sandwich and coffee and they take it numbly, trying to ignore how their lips are tingling even now. They try their best to focus on their food and ignore the fact that Matty has just kissed them like his life depended on it. God, they just hope that Johnson didn’t see.

Then they catch a glimpse of themself in the rearview mirror and cuss silently. They look a fucking mess, hair ruffled and cheeks flushed, pupils way too dilated. There is absolutely no way Johnson hasn’t noticed.

It’s fine. He probably won’t say anything.

“You two have fun?” Johnson asks, and Ethan swears they can hear a smirk in his tone.

Well, fuck.

Chapter Text

Sometimes it feels like this cross-state search for Doris and her crew will never end. Ethan’s pretty sure it’s taken longer than any of them anticipated. Granted, the routine of driving day and night is not much different from when they were running the river, but goddamn can that woman be hard to find.

And yes, they still get drunk every night. They deserve it, Ethan thinks, and he’s still not sure Matty wouldn’t have a nervous breakdown without the booze to soothe their nerves, so better safe than sorry. Finding bars they’re welcome in is a bit harder now, but they manage.

Ethan’s getting better at managing his hangovers, too. It’s only ten in the morning and he’s barely got a headache, though it probably helps that he gets to sleep in a bit now. He still wakes up earlier than he’d like, though. They’re not on a schedule anymore, but habits die hard. Sometimes he still expects Johnson or Matty to shake him awake, telling him to get his ass up and get in the car before they get told off for being late on a delivery.

The motel they’re staying in is a dingy place with broken-springed beds and shower water that never runs hot, but it’s a place to sleep, and it’s honestly no worse than their usual spots from before. They’d checked in around three am and Ethan had promptly fallen face-down onto his bed, not waking up until eight. Less sleep than is healthy, for fucking sure, but it’s what he’s accustomed to. He’s awake now, though, and trying to be subtle about how he’s staring at his companions. The kiss is not leaving his thoughts anytime soon. But Matty hasn’t said anything, and if Johnson knows—which he surely does—he certainly won’t comment either. So Ethan stays quiet, and steals glances.

“I feel fucking disgusting,” Matty announces from where they’re lounging on one of the worn-down chairs they’ve got in the room. Ethan looks up from where he’s lying on his uncomfortable bed with his arms crossed behind his head.

“S’cause you slept in your clothes,” Johnson states dryly as he lights up his third cigarette of the day. “I told you to change before passing out.”

Matty snorts. “Yeah, yeah. You were right. Fuck.” They stretch their arms above their head. “I need a shower.” They stand up, yawning loudly. “Hope the piece of shit actually works.”

They disappear into the bathroom, leaving Ethan and Johnson alone in the main room together. Ethan is not really a fan of this arrangement, because now he definitely can’t help blatantly staring at the other.

I kissed your boyfriend. Are they your boyfriend? Your partner? Who is technically also my partner but not in the way that I’m pretty sure you two are? Ethan’s not sure how long he can keep those thoughts contained.

“You’re thinking too hard,” Johnson remarks, taking a drag of his cigarette.

Don’t you dare say it.

“I kissed Matty,” Ethan blurts out, and immediately panics. “I mean, they kissed me. I mean… fuck. It happened. You know.”

Johnson is quiet for an uncomfortably long amount of time, during which Ethan has about three heart attacks. “I know,” he says finally. “You two are kind of obvious about it.” Smoke curls in the air when he exhales.

“You don’t mind?” Ethan is flummoxed.

“Nope,” Johnson says simply.

“Oh.”

Johnson takes another drag of his cigarette. Ethan continues staring.

The silence rules again until Johnson sighs. “You worry too much,” he says.

“I just thought, you know, they were…that you two were like, a thing. Maybe.” Recently, Ethan has been finding himself unsure of everything.

“We are,” Johnson confirms, which does absolutely nothing to help Ethan’s confusion. If Johnson’s fine with it, then it must be okay, right? Ethan hasn’t got the faintest fucking idea how relationships work, especially not when it comes to people like Johnson and Matty.

He feels like he’s got to say something in response to that. Something that proves he’s totally chill about this whole thing.

“Okay,” he says.

...Well, better than nothing.

Now that’s settled, for the most part, but something’s still weighing on Ethan’s mind—has been since that day. Not the kiss day, but the other day. The day the River Phoenixes gave up everything they knew for him. Johnson had said, quite casually, that the Brawlers knew. Which meant, of course, that he had known too. Ethan has no idea what to make of that. When had he figured it out? Why not turn him in the moment he pinned Ethan as the traitor? He’s never been as close with Johnson as he is with Matty. That doesn’t mean Ethan doesn’t care for him—he cares for him a whole fucking lot.

Regardless, he’s already made it awkward, so he should probably just leave it alone for now.

But he’s curious, and Ethan has never been the best at controlling his impulses.

“How long have you known about… the other thing?” he asks into the silence. “That I was working with her?”

Johnson inclines his head. “A while.”

“And you didn’t tell.” Ethan is a little breathless, and more than a little awed.

“No,” Johnson says slowly, “I didn’t.”

“Why?” Ethan asks, though he’s half-sure he already knows. He thinks it’s the same reason why Matty and Johnson helped him dispose of Avron rather than let him be punished, why they turned on the Brawlers to save him. But if he’s wrong then he’s a fool, so he asks, because he must be certain.

Johnson stares at him with those dark eyes that know so much but say so little. He removes the cigarette from his mouth, and Ethan makes a valiant effort to not fixate on his lips. (He fails.) Johnson reaches over to toss it into the ashtray lying on the bedside table before returning his gaze to Ethan, tilting his head. That might be a smile playing at the corner of his mouth, but Ethan can’t be sure.

He’d like to see Johnson smile for real, sometime. He’s not quite sure that’s even possible, but fuck if he won’t dream about it.

Then Johnson’s hand is on the back of his neck, pulling him in, but slowly enough that Ethan has plenty of time to pull away if he wants to.

Ethan doesn’t want to.

Johnson tastes of cigarettes—which is not a fucking surprise at all, if Ethan is being honest—and the coffee they had this morning when they’d dragged themselves from the hotel room to the little diner across the street. He isn’t fervent like Matty was; he simply holds Ethan in place as he kisses him. It’s leisurely, but not careless, because nothing Johnson does is careless.

Ethan’s hands come up to clutch at Johnson’s patterned shirt, then he rethinks it and lets them hover awkwardly in the air. It’s really hard to think when Johnson is doing that with his tongue. Finally his arms move without his permission and settle on Johnson’s shoulders, and he leans further into the kiss. He makes a soft sound of want despite himself and feels a puff of air against his lips as Johnson huffs in amusement.

It’s over too quickly, in Ethan’s opinion. Johnson pulls back and Ethan thinks briefly of how Matty had pinned him to seat and held his wrists down for what seemed like hours. Ethan wants Johnson to do that too—hell, maybe both of them at the same time, but if he continues down this train of thought he is not going to be able to stand up for a minute thanks to the weakness in his knees.

Johnson, for his part, looks unbothered, although that’s really par for the course. The way he’s still got a hand on the back of Ethan’s neck is reassuring, though. Ethan closes his eyes for a moment and just lets himself feel.

When he opens them again, Johnson’s still looking at him. Ethan never wants him to look away.

“Get it now?” Johnson drawls.

“Yeah,” Ethan whispers. “I get it.”