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Johnny was sitting on the DeSoto’s lawn, legs crossed, elbows on his knees, sticking slightly to a still-damp speck of paint on his bleached, worn-out jeans. Behind him, the sun was just starting to set, and he knew he probably should get going already, back home to his own place, should try to figure out what he was gonna make for dinner, but he could hear the kids playing out in the front yard and Joanne was puttering around in the kitchen, and it was nice - peaceful, domestic in a quiet kind of way.
He kinda just wanted to pretend he was a part of that for a little while longer.
… No.
He was just exhausted from an afternoon spent painting the porch together with Roy in the already searing late spring sun, and he didn’t feel like moving yet. That was all.
The air smelled like hot olive oil and garlic and still-damp paint by the time Roy rounded the corner of the house and stepped into the yard, wearing a clean polo shirt and pants that didn’t look like they’d been through an explosion at the paint factory, his hair still slightly damp from his shower, hands and face still a little ruddy from all the scrubbing he’d been doing.
“Oh, there you are,” he said, and slowly walked up to Johnny, a soft smile playing around his lips that Johnny wouldn’t let himself notice. “I was wondering where you’d gone off to. What are you doing, there, anyway - watching paint dry?”
Johnny shrugged.
“We repainted these floorboards a solid half a dozen times today,” he said. “I’m watching this thing like a hawk.”
Roy’s expression was indecipherable as he lowered himself down to the ground next to Johnny, and it seemed almost sacrilegious - Roy looked immaculate (and smelled even better, but he wasn’t allowing himself to think about that, either), and Johnny couldn’t help but think of the grass stains he’d be picking up now, the little bits of dirt and plant that were gonna be sticking to him after he got up.
“You know,” Roy slowly said, “I kinda expected the kids to muck up the paint in some way or another, but Joanne was a surprise.”
Johnny laughed. “Yeah, Joanne, the neighbour’s cat and you.”
Roy was actually blushing - it was faint in the warm evening light, but it was there, Johnny could tell by how red his ears were.
“Look, old habits die hard, junior.”
“Yeah, but butt prints on the porch stairs die harder. Maybe if you’d’ve sat down a couple more times, it might’ve looked like modern art or something. You coulda had the most stylish porch in the west, pally.”
Roy gently nudged him with his elbow for that, and Johnny just chuckled softly. Chanced a glance over at his partner, bathed in soft light, looking settled and at ease. Licked his lips and looked away again. The evening was beautiful - beautiful and dangerous, and Johnny was afraid he’d say too much if he tried to talk now.
Thankfully, Roy didn’t seem to expect him to, and for a while they just sat there together, staring at the slowly drying porch. It was kinda nice, actually. Relaxing. Made his racing thoughts slow down for a while, even if it wasn’t doing anything for his racing heartbeat - he’d have sworn that he could feel the warmth radiating off of Roy to his left.
“You know, the shower’s free if you want it,” Roy said after a while. “Dunno how much good it’ll do you without a change of clothes, but…”
“Nah, I can just as well go home and shower there.”
He heard Roy shift, and when he looked over, Roy’d turned around to fully face him, looking… worried?
“Aren’t you gonna be staying for dinner?” he asked.
“Dinner?”
“Did you- did you really think I’d have you help me with the porch all day long and then toss you out without at least some food to thank you for it?”
Oh. Huh.
“I, uh. You didn’t say anything, so I just assumed-”
“Johnny, you’ll never cease to amaze me.” Roy shook his head, but Johnny could tell he wasn’t mad or annoyed or anything, even if Johnny had no idea what he was on about. And then he smiled, fondly amused in that soft way he had sometimes, the one that gave Johnny a particular kind of weird, fluttery feeling.
“Would you like to stay for dinner?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Johnny replied, an answering smile slowly spreading across his features, “yeah, I think I would.”
“Alright, good…” Roy got up, wiped his hands on his thighs. Reached out, and Johnny took a moment to understand that Roy was offering to help him up. Completely unnecessary, but Johnny happily slipped his paint-stained hand into Roy’s firm grip anyway.
“Let’s get you cleaned up,” his partner continued after he’d pulled Johnny up. He hadn’t let go of Johnny’s hand yet. “I don’t think Joanne’s gonna mind the outfit, but she’s probably gonna draw the line at the paint on your nose.”
“I’ve got paint on my nose?”
“big ol’ smear, right across the bridge. Now come on, Joanne’s making spaghetti.”
Roy let go of his hand, looped an arm around his shoulders instead, and gently nudged him in the direction of the front door, towards the laughter and the bustle of the DeSoto home, towards the inviting smell of garlic and olive oil and pasta, towards all that family that Johnny was gonna let himself pretend he was really a part of, just for an evening.
The smile Roy gave him as he ushered him inside was a thing of beauty, like Johnny was the best thing that’d happened to Roy all day, and Johnny didn’t really know what to make of it, hadn’t really figured out all the little intricacies of his partner even after over two years of working with him, but he liked to think that he would, one day.