Chapter Text
They were laying on the floor of Johnny’s bedroom. Both were lost in music, singing along to it as “Give Him A Great Big Kiss” played from the corner. They have been laying there since dinner. With Angie not being home during dinner time, the boys had left the table as it is and went upstairs which got them told off once she returned from her friend's house. She'd found them precisely as they are now, at almost midnight, and decided to leave them alone to do what it was they were doing.
Neither of them felt tired nor sleepy. Johnny had a habit of staying up until the sun begin to climb up and Morrissey would do anything to spend two more minutes with him when he got him all to himself.
Morrissey was turning his head from side to side, eyes closed and moving along with the rhythm dramatically. Johnny’s hands were in the air, shaking and twisting, playing an invisible drum. He felt a great deal of joy, sharing a song from one of his favourite bands with someone special who happened to love it just the same, if not more.
He was startled by Morrissey’s coy laughter. As he turned towards him with questioning eyes, he wondered what he might have found funny this time. Morrissey often laughed at things extremely normal, or something he thought about and told no one, only admiring his own humour. He found the singer staring back at him. He was shaking uncontrollably, eyes were burning into Johnny's.
“What are you trying to achieve? To cast a spell?” Morrissey asked after he saw the confused expression on his face. He seemed to find what he said even funnier, for he started to laugh harder. Johnny decided to play along.
"You're only saying that because you're jealous."
"Of what, exactly? You being a sorcerer?" Johnny had no doubt he thought himself as the funniest person ever to breathe. He agreed.
"Come on now," he said nudging his arm, "we all know who the best dancer of the band is."
"That would be me."
"You? All you do is trying not to fall on your lovely arse when you stand on only one of your legs and wave your arms around."
Morrissey watched him as he did what Johnny apparently though was a great impression of Morrissey's moves from the place he was laying. He took a note of the word "lovely" to think about later when he would daydream as he tried to go to sleep.
"And you? You simply swing your arse to me as you circumambulate me."
"Circumambulate? Don't flatter yourself, darling."
Morrissey didn't reply, he simply smiled and closed his eyes and continued listening to the song. He hated when Johnny called him that, he hated that it meant nothing to him to say it when in return it made his insides do a tango dance.
"Got your attention then? Me bum."
Morrissey giggled before turning his head to face him. Johnny had a mischievous look in his eyes. Morrissey knew what he was doing. He was flirting with him. Johnny flirted with him constantly. To not end up being horribly hurt, he chose to believe his mind when it said it was innocent, that it was the way he simply was. But on rare occasions, from the looks Johnny gave him sometimes or touched him for a second too long or wrote some heavenly tunes thinking of him, he dared to believe his heart which said he felt the same. Sometimes he dared to hope.
"Mine has certainly gotten yours."
"What makes you say that?"
"You called it lovely."
Johnny, who mentally yelled at himself for talking before thinking, as he always does, narrowed his eyes and smiled smugly. He was caught off guard, only now realising he had said that. A light shade of pink had decorated his cheeks for barely a second, which did not go unnoticed by Morrissey, before he had recovered.
"What's it to you if I did?"
"Well, it happens to be attached to me after all." He reached out to touch his butt to, perhaps check if it was still there, or to prove his point, causing Johnny's eyes to follow.
"Fair enough."
It took about three seconds before the eye contact was broken with a fit of laughter from the both of them.
Johnny watched him, taking in the look of him. He was smiling with his head turned to him, resting it on the floor. One of his hands were on his stomach while the other was laying on the ground, slightly closer to Johnny's side. Johnny tried not to think of how close their hands were. If he'd reach out just an inch their fingers would brush. It was a far too familiar touch to look suspicious but in Johnny's case, not so innocent. Johnny had a feeling that Morrissey knew it too.
The record had stopped playing and the room was filled with the calming sounds of it spinning. Johnny was well aware he had been staring an awful lot but he was too lost in his vivid blue eyes to care. Morrissey was radiating warmth through his eyes with his smile that made Johnny wish to fight anyone and anything threatening to make it go away.
Morrissey suddenly jolt up. He went to the record player, put the record to it's place and looked for another one. Johnny had closed his eyes. He sighed with relief for he had been a second away from doing something incredibly reckless. Although it would be a lie to say he did not feel slightly irritated by Morrissey running away, it only seemed fair.
"Where is your Chicory Tip record?"
"Which one?"
"Good Grief Christina."
Johnny lifted his head from where he laid, looking thoughtful for a moment before his eyebrows raised with remembrance.
"I had loaned it."
Morrissey looked at him as if he had done an inexcusable crime and to him it actually was. He was sure Johnny had lost his mind. In fact he was sure he hadn't one to begin with.
"Were you ill? Why would you do that for?" he asked in a high pitched voice.
"I needed the money. We weren't big then. Sold or swapped a bunch of them." replied Johnny. He got up from his place at once, feeling dizzy for they had been laying there for hours. "That one went to a lady, some lunatic, she was. Her entire life story, she told me. Lives in Brighton, had come to visit her cousin or something. I saw her outside the record shop. I needed to hear some new LPs so asked her if she wanted any of mine."
"Why haven't you bought another yet?"
"Hadn't thought about it, to be honest." he said, walking towards him. He begun to go through the records, looking for something else to listen. "Now you made me wanna listen to it, well done."
"Let's go get it back."
The words had left his mouth before he had a chance to think them through. However he didn't think it was a bad idea. In fact he thought it was something brilliant.
"Yeah, right." Johnny chucked in that sarcastic manner of his. He turned to roll his eyes at Morrissey which led him to do a double take after noticing the serious expression on the man's face. "You serious?"
"Yes! Wouldn't it be nice to have the same one back after all these years?" said Morrissey. Wouldn't it be nice to spend an awful lot of time together, driving in peace, just the two of them. He tried to make him see his point. "It would have a story of it's own."
Johnny had a mischievous look in his eyes. He felt drawn to the idea all of a sudden, now that Moz had mentioned it like that. "You know we can just go to the record shop and buy another one."
Morrissey smiled at him knowingly as he crossed his arms. "Yes," he said, "but it wouldn't be as fun, don't you think?"
Johnny smiled right back at him. "I think you meant to say it wouldn't be as dramatic. You tend to romanticise things."
Morrissey raised his eyebrow, "So what?"
"Nothing. I just happen to like it."