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Johnny was sitting in absolute darkness, his knees drawn to his chest, his head leaning against the wood behind him, gathering some first-hand knowledge of what a canned sardine would feel if it were still alive to grasp its situation, wondering why stuff like this always had to happen to him.
It had seemed like a good idea at the time.
Honestly, he still thought the idea as such was pretty amazing, it’s just the execution that - well.
In a nutshell: He was stuck in his own locker, the door jammed on something so firmly he couldn’t get it open no matter how much he pushed against it, limited as he was by the lack of space. He figured it was probably his jeans that did it, which he’d just tossed into the bottom at the start of his shift because he’d been late again and he figured he could take the time to hang them up properly later.
And now he was well and truly stuck, and it wasn’t even his fault, really. If you stopped to think about it, it was really Chet who was responsible for this whole embarrassing mess. Chet, who’d not only decided to rig up Johnny’s locker with a water catapult again, but who’d been stupid enough to talk to Marco about it within Johnny’s earshot. “Phantom”, ha! Nothing stealthy about this mustachioed menace. Of course, Johnny wasn’t about to just sit back and accept his fate, so he’d figured he’d hide out in his locker and wait until Chet showed up to teach him a bit of a lesson. The deluxe version of his tried and true CPR dummy prank, so to speak.
Clearly, he wasn’t off to a brilliant start.
He’d tentatively called out Roy’s name once or twice, hoping for his partner to get him out of this, but he didn’t really want to draw too much attention to himself - the other guys would never let him live this down, he was sure of that, and the locker was actually kinda cozy, really, so in the end he’d decided to simply wait and hope that Chet would stop by after all and inadvertently save him. If he was lucky - if he was very lucky - the stuck door might even seem like he’d done it on purpose. Or at least he really hoped so.
He just hoped Chet would come by before anybody noticed he was missing.
--
“It sure is nice and quiet and peaceful today,” Hank thought to himself, sitting on the rec room couch with the newspaper, one arm resting on Henry’s back.
He paused.
Mentally backtracked.
It was quiet and peaceful, and only the rhythmical clacking of Roy and Mike playing table tennis out in the engine bay was interrupting the silence.
Why on earth was it so damned quiet in here? Something had to be going painfully wrong somewhere.
His eyebrows furrowed as he took stock of the situation. Chet and Marco had gone to buy groceries, Mike was in the engine bay with Roy, and Johnny-
where the hell was Johnny?
He folded his newspaper and put it on the armrest of the couch, carefully scraped the dog off of his lap, and went out into the engine bay.
Mike acknowledged his presence with a quick nod and a smile when he saw him approach, but otherwise didn’t react, and Roy completely failed to notice him at all until he cleared his throat.
The paramedic threw a quick look over his shoulder, seemingly mildly surprised to see him standing there, caught the ball straight out of the air and turned around fully, his face slightly flushed from the exertion.
“Hey Cap,” he said, “what’s the matter?”
“I’m not sure,” Hank replied, stroking his chin. “Do you know where Johnny is?”
“Huh?” Roy asked. “Isn’t he in the rec room?”
“Nah, the rec room’s empty aside from the dog. He hasn’t gone with Marco and Mike, has he?”
“No,” Roy simply replied - not exactly unexpected, but also not exactly helpful. “One moment,” he added, and then he turned around again and called out for his partner, loud enough to be heard throughout the entire station for sure. Silence. Roy furrowed his brows and tilted his head, waited for another moment. Still nothing more than silence.
“Huh. Maybe he’s...” Roy pointed in the rough direction of the latrine.
“That’s a possibility,” Cap replied, “but I haven’t seen him at the very least since I sat down with the newspaper, and that was a good half an hour ago. So unless he’s fallen in, I don’t think that’s it.”
“Alright,” Roy said after considering that for a moment, “so what do we do - do we look for him?”
A search party for Johnny inside their own station seemed more than just a little embarrassing, but then again, what if something had happened to him, unlikely as it was?
“I don’t know, pal,” he finally said, “he’s your partner, what do you suggest?”
Delegating - one of the definitive upsides of being a captain.
“Let’s do it,” Roy replied. “Just in case he managed to knock himself out with a basketball or something like that - I wouldn’t put it past him.”
He tried so hard to make it sound casual, but Hank couldn’t help but notice how his entire posture shifted, the way he suddenly seemed to focus.
“Alright,” Hank said. “I’ll check the dorms and my office, you do the locker room and the latrine. Mike, how about you check outside?”
Mike seemed to barely stifle a long-suffering and totally justified sigh and then nodded. “Alright, sure,” he simply said and got to work, and Hank and Roy quickly followed suit.
--
Johnny was bored. Really painfully, utterly bored, all alone in the dark and quiet of his locker, stuck without a single thing to do except curse his own rotten luck. And sure, that had kept him busy for a while, but he’d run out of words eventually.
And then, after an absolute eternity (about half an hour, according to his watch) he heard footsteps in the locker room. He was almost certain he recognized Roy’s footsteps, and his first instinct was to say something, to ask Roy to please help him out, but on the other hand he really didn’t want to explain to his partner how exactly he’d gotten stuck. Besides, Chet would hopefully stop by and try to rig his locker any moment now.
“Johnny?” Roy called out and he sounded almost worried. In retrospect this had really been Johnny’s last good opportunity to say something, but at that moment he’d been stunned into silence because damn it, they had noticed that he was missing, and by the sound of it they were actually searching for him. He hadn’t expected anyone to notice until they were called out on a run. It was nice, kinda. It was real nice.
More steps, halting and unsure.
The quiet sound of the locker room door swinging shut.
Well, shit.
--
About five very fruitless minutes later, Hank, Roy and Mike were standing around the ping-pong table again, their worry and confusion evident.
“So,” Hank concluded after a long silence and leaned on the table with both hands, “Gage went missing in our own station. That’s just perfect, that is. He really couldn’t have gone out with Chet and Marco, right?”
“No way,” Roy replied. “For all of Johnny’s -“ he made some kind of indistinct, fluttery hand gesture - “well, you know - he would never just leave without telling us exactly what he’s up to. I don’t think that’s something he’d just forget, either.”
“Right, right. Well, I’d say we do another sweep of the station, together this time, and if we still don’t find him then, we… well, I guess we’ll have to call it in, then, see what HQ says.”
“Yeah, alright, sure,” Roy muttered absentmindedly, and Hank got the distinct impression that his thoughts were already running laps around the station, scanning for places they hadn’t checked yet. He really hoped this would end well, for all their sakes.
--
Johnny knew he’d really managed to blow it when he finally heard something outside the locker again. Several sets of footsteps. Voices. Definitely not Chet with one of his stupid water-filled tin cans, which was kind of a huge problem. Then, Cap’s entirely-too-concerned voice: “did you remember to check the toilet, Roy? I swear if he slipped on a piece of toilet paper and cracked his head on something in there I’ll quit ‘n move to the countryside and become a goat herder.”
A badly-stifled sigh.
The sound of a door creaking open, then closing again.
“Well, he’s not in there,” Roy said.
“And all of goatkind rejoiced,” Mike added in his best deadpan tone.
“Johnny?” Roy called out once more, and Johnny remained silent. They seemed really, genuinely worried, and he had the oddest feeling that he’d somehow disappoint them by just having gotten stuck in his own damn locker, like somehow a concussion from hitting his head on a toilet bowl would’ve been vastly preferable. At least they would’ve been right to worry, then.
The second they were out of earshot again, he redoubled his efforts to free himself - he’d worried that he’d break the door if he was too rough with it, so he hadn’t quite given it his all until now, but at this point, a broken locker was the least of his problems, even if he’d end up having to pay for it. After some awkward shifting, he managed to get one foot flat against the door. He pulled it back a bit, and then he gave the door a good kick.
Nothing happened.
For the first time since he’d gotten stuck, Johnny was feeling the slightest hint of actual panic.
He kept at it, tried to be subtle about it so that nobody would hear, until he finally had to take a break. His leg was starting to protest the awkward angle and he was out of breath, the stale, hot air in the locker almost suffocating after so long.
After a while of just leaning against the back wall with his eyes closed, trying to catch his breath, he gave the door another short, sharp kick.
What he hadn’t expected was the startled scream that followed.
Chet.
Goddamnit.
Of course he’d finally show up now that Johnny’d given up on it, and of course he’d pick the worst possible moment for it and of course Johnny hadn’t even heard him come in. Chet was frantically scrambling out of the room and loudly shouting for Cap before Johnny had the chance to say anything, and he knew at that moment that he wasn’t gonna get out of this with his dignity intact. And alright, fine, forget about his dignity, but Cap was going to kill him. All the guys were, probably, especially Roy, and he couldn’t fault them for it. He’d never meant to worry them.
His heartbeat was pounding in his ears and he was not okay - he didn’t mind narrow spaces, never had, he’d always found them kinda fun if anything, but he felt trapped now and all of this was beyond his control and he knew he was breathing too quickly and he knew he should get a grip already but-
More voices outside his locker penetrated the panicked haze.
“You sure you heard something?” Cap asked.
“Yeah, aside from the loose screws rattling around up there,” Marco piped up.
“Shut up, Marco, I did hear something. Kinda like a pounding noise?”
“Alright, pal. Where’d it come from?”
“Over there - the lockers. No, further towards - yeah.”
A locker door opened. Fell shut again. Then the next. And then-
Somebody tried to open his locker.
“Stuck,” Cap remarked simply. A pause. “There’s a pants leg stuck in the door, I think that’s what’s jamming it.”
“Maybe there’s a raccoon in there,” Chet said, sounding like he was seriously entertaining that possibility, and despite everything, Johnny couldn’t help but roll his eyes.
Another pause, a long, heavy one this time.
“I really don’t think it’s a raccoon, pal,” Cap said, and he sounded like he’d have vastly preferred the raccoon.
He could tell that somebody was messing with the locker door, tugging at the snagged denim, and a few moments later the locker was flooded with light, searingly bright after all the darkness, and a cool breeze swept over him and he just sat there and breathed.
Right in front of him, he saw, as his eyes adjusted, stood Cap. To Johnny’s surprise, he didn’t seem angry (yet, his mind helpfully supplied), just deeply concerned. Roy was right behind Cap, trying to weasel his way around to get a better look at him - to check him over, too, probably, like he’d been injured or gotten sick and hadn’t gotten stuck in his own locker like an idiot.
“Are you alright, pal?” Cap asked, his voice gentle, but with a sharply worried edge to it.
Johnny nodded hastily.
“Y- yeah, I’m fine,” he croaked.
“Alright,” Cap said, still in that soft tone he absolutely didn’t deserve. “There’s a reason why you’re in there, right?”
Johnny stared at him, lips slightly parted, brows furrowed, with absolutely no idea what to say.
Cap took a deep breath. “It doesn’t have to be a good reason. I just - I just want to hear that you haven’t cracked and that I won’t lose you to some damned psych eval.”
Oh.
“That’s- uh. No, I’m fine, I just.”
He could feel himself blushing furiously, which was a feat, really, since he’d been flushed from the heat already. Even his ears were burning with embarrassment.
And then Chet spoke up, the top of his curls barely visible over Cap’s shoulder
“You heard me talk to Marco in the morning, didn’t ya.”
“Uh. Yeah.”
Cap turned around and looked at Chet, and then he looked back at Johnny and his relief was palpable.
“Say no more,” he said, “I don’t think I want to know what happened.”
“Wait, you’re not mad at me?” Johnny asked.
“Can’t be mad if I don’t know what I should be mad about,” Cap just said, and looked Johnny up and down once more. “Roy-”
“Yeah,” his partner replied, and even in that single word Johnny could hear his voice crack, “yeah, I’ll make sure he’s really alright.”
“Okay, good. I’ll be in the rec room - and if I ever have to put together a search party in my own station again, I’ll take three months of unpaid vacation and make sure you all get stuck with Hookrader in the meantime, see if he puts up with this.”
There it was, a flash of that anger Johnny’d expected all along, and he suddenly felt cornered inside the locker, too aware of the wood against his back with no room to move.
But then, Cap simply took a deep breath. Sighed. Reached into the locker and patted Johnny’s sweat-damp shoulder while Johnny tried not to flinch.
“Honestly, I’m just glad you’re alright, pal.”
“Thanks, Cap,” Johnny muttered. Cap acknowledged him with a curt nod, before turning to shoo everybody but the two paramedics out of the locker room.
“Kelly,” Johnny heard him say as they left, “I’m sure the thing you said to Marco this morning was how much you’d love to volunteer to do the dishes for the next three shifts, right?”
Johnny thought he could barely hear a downtrodden “yes, Cap,” before they were out of earshot.
He suddenly became aware of Roy looking at him, head slightly tilted.
“Uh. Hi, Roy,” was the only thing he could think of saying.
“How about you get out of there and sit down?” Roy asked calmly - but it was the same kind of calm he’d sprung on Johnny the last time he’d accidentally (accidentally!) eaten Roy’s last donut, that calm-before-the-storm kinda serenity. Johnny’d gotten off easy with Cap, but clearly he was out of luck this time.
“Sure,” he said and slowly slid to the front of the locker, unfurling himself until he could stand up. He had pins and needles all the way up his legs and he suddenly realized why Cap had asked Roy to make sure he was okay when he caught a glance at himself in the mirror - almost feverishly flushed, wide-eyed, sweaty and disheveled, he looked like a wreck.
Roy clearly thought so, too, because he suddenly had a hand on Johnny’s arm and one on his back and gently but firmly guided him onto the bench in front of their lockers.
“Alright,” he said, while he took Johnny’s wrist and put cold fingertips against Johnny’s overheated skin, “what happened?”
“Overheard Chet plotting to booby trap my locker - again - and figured I’d teach him a lesson,” Johnny muttered, “‘n to get the locker door closed from the inside you gotta really slam it shut and pull your fingers out of the way in time ‘cause there’s no handle on the inside and… well, I slammed it on my jeans, and I think you know the rest.”
Roy gently brushed Johnny’s sweat-damp hair away from his forehead, put the back of his hand against Johnny’s forehead to test his temperature.
“And you didn’t call for help because…?” he asked.
“‘Cuz I got stuck in my own locker, Roy,” Johnny replied, more than just a little exasperated, “and I was worried you guys would never let me hear the end of it.”
“And how the hell did you think you’d get out of there?”
The briefest touch against Johnny’s cheek as Roy pulled his hand back, belying his pointed words.
“I was hoping Chet would try ‘n mess with my locker after all,” he admitted quietly. “And after some point I think I kinda stopped thinking at all.”
“Yeah. Cap thought you were lying somewhere with a skull fracture, and I -” Roy abruptly paused, cleared his throat. Johnny got the idea, anyway, and despite everything, he was maybe just a little bit flattered.
“And what am I supposed to do about that now?” he asked.
Roy sighed.
“You could start by telling me how you feel.”
Johnny barely fought down the urge to say something clever.
“Slightly sweaty, kinda sore from being curled up so long, otherwise fine.”
“Honest? You looked pretty rough when Cap finally got the door open.”
“Yeah, I’m fine, honest.”
“Alright.” Roy let his shoulders droop, the tension dropping off of him. “I wouldn’t have teased you too much if you’d told me to stop, you know?” he finally said, after a long pause.
Johnny’d never even thought about that.
“I kinda knew that, I think,” he said.
“Kinda,” Roy repeated back at him.
“Look, I-” Johnny stopped short. He wasn’t gonna admit that he hadn’t even considered that somebody might listen if he told them to stop, it made a stupid amount of sense now that Roy had mentioned it.
“Alright, next time something like this happens I’ll get help straight away, okay?” he said instead.
“Okay,” Roy simply replied.
“Good deal,” Johnny grinned - and that was that, he hoped. He got up, and was just about to join the others in the rec room when he noticed that his locker door was still open, so he walked back over and gave it a good flick of the wrist, only registering Roy’s hasty “Johnny, wait” when the door closed with an oddly dull “flump”.
Johnny just stood there for a moment, utterly dumbfounded, and stared at the bottom left corner of his locker door and the piece of denim wedged within it. He tried to open his locker. The door didn’t budge.
“For what it’s worth,” Roy said airily, “I’m still glad you didn’t crack your head on the toilet bowl.”
“So you’re gonna help me fix my locker door again, right?” Johnny asked and threw Roy the most charming look he could muster.
Roy just grinned at him.
“Right.”