Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

As it turns out, when you and your friends are wanted criminals it’s hard to land a normal job without anyone who recognizes you and cares enough to report you. It’s even harder to find one that actually works normal hours, though it may actually be to their benefit that less people are out and about when they are.

 The only job John could find that actually worked with his skill set was at a casino. Unfortunately this had the unintended side effect of him working late into the night. Usually he was the only one awake when he got home, but as his boyfriend began working later and later, John began to see more of him. As thankful as he is to have someone to talk to at the end of the day, he doesn’t want to deprive his partner of sleep. 

Arlo, ever the workaholic, doesn’t care of course. He’ll continue to stay up whether John wants him to or not. Or at least that’s what he was saying yesterday. He doesn’t look so tough now, slumped on the sofa, his laptop open and precariously sitting in his lap and his head tilted off to one side. He fell asleep with the lights on and judging by the full, but lukewarm cup of coffee sitting at the coffee table in front of him, he’s been like this for a while. John walks over, a tired but fond smile gracing his face. He gently closes and moves the laptop to a safer place, being sure to plug it in. He also finds Arlo’s phone and plugs that in too. Then he grabs the coffee cup and dumps out the cooled drink, placing the dirty glass by the sink. He grabs some blankets and pillows, setting them off to the side before gently moving his boyfriend so he is laying. He placed a pillow below the other's head and laid some blankets. Finally, he kisses the other lightly on the forehead. For all his wisdom and experience, the other has yet to learn a healthy work-life balance. The black-haired boy heads off to bed.

Alas, despite his good deeds, his past continues to haunt him. John is woken up in a cold sweat, nightmares and memories flashing behind his eyes and voices ringing out in his ears. He might as well get up. He definitely didn’t sleep as long as he’d prefer to(nor as much as he should), but beggars can’t be choosers. He quietly gets dressed in athletic wear and goes for a run. Normally, runs like these, with the brisk morning air and streaks of orange dancing across the sky are all he needs to lose the shake in his hands. Unfortunately, he doesn’t have enough energy to run as long as he wants to, so he returns to his shared apartment a little earlier than he’d like. With jittery hands and stuttered breath, he takes a shower, washing the sweat away.  Arlo’s going to get up soon. He makes The Coffee . 

The Coffee is a project that John began shortly after they made amends and tried to be friends again. John had remembered that Arlo (allegedly) liked his coffee black and decided it was unacceptable. Over the course of several months, later accelerated by their coffee dates when they started dating, John gradually figured out Arlo’s real favorite way to have his coffee. The other isn’t a fan of sweets, he wasn’t lying about that, and while he does like the flavor of coffee, taking it black is too bitter and just a regular cup isn’t caffeinated enough anyways. That led to cappuccinos, a little bit milky, but not like lattes. Arlo also secretly liked vanilla. This was obvious from his favorite flavor of cake to the things he puts in his tea. The last part was something John’s not sure Arlo even knows himself, he likes just a pinch of sugar. Almost unnoticeable, but still all the difference.  Anything less was “wrong in an indescribable way.” With his boyfriend’s coffee made, he started on his own breakfast. He had just begun making his omelette when a warm pair of lanky arms circled his waist, pulling him into a familiar chest. The touch startled him and he jumped a bit before his boyfriend began resting his chin on John’s head.

“Morning.” 

The taller whispers, sleep clinging to his voice.

John only hums as he cards the whisked eggs and vegetables to the pan. He gently adds some seasonings. He can feel the taller curling around him. He can also feel the way the other adjusts his head to smell John's damp hair. He finishes making the omelet, splitting it with Arlo. Before Arlo pulls away, John feels Arlo’s arms tightening around his body, pulling him impossibly closer for only a moment before the cool morning air brushes against the area where he was previously held. The two sit together at the couch, John’s hands still shake from this morning but only barely and the eye bags under both of their eyes have yet to let up, but here in this moment where they’re quietly eating pressed hip to hip, shoulder to shoulder, John knows everything is going to be okay.

Chapter Text

Part of Arlo was thankful that masks were socially acceptable to wear. It does a great job concealing his identity and it kinda keeps his face warm in the chilly winter air, but the other part resents the thin layer of sweat and condensation that forms from having such a thing so close to his face. He probably shouldn’t complain though, he’s on his way back to his apartment, so it won’t be long until he can take it off and see his boyfriend. His fingers slowly grow more numb as he continues his trek home. He wished his job was closer to home(or his home closer to his job), but two fresh adults don’t make nearly enough money for things like that, not to mention the fact they’re wanted for treason. 

Arlo makes his way up the steps of his building, mentally cursing the still broken elevator. Normally he’d call them out on their lack of accessibility, but he doesn’t need more government eyes near his house, assuming they’d even do anything for this part of town. Finally, he reaches his door and unlocks it. Once the door clicks behind him, he removes his mask and gets to work warming his hands. His shoes slip off and his mask finds itself on the table by the door. It’s colder than it’s been for a while and, thanks to their abrupt… departure from Wellston, they don’t exactly have access to their old winter clothes. He rubs his hands together and looks around his apartment. His boyfriend is supposed to be home, but is mysteriously absent. He almost misses the black hair poking out from the unmade bed. 

As he gets closer, he can see John’s face partially tucked into the warm blanket, only his lidded eyes peeking out. Arlo is all too eager to slip off his dress coat and slide into the warm covers. Cold hands find a warm waist and Arlo nuzzles his nose into his boyfriend's hair. He breathes in the soft scent of vanilla and mango. He can’t imagine a life without the man. 

When Arlo first met John, sure, he thought the other was attractive, but he was so hellbent on shoving him into the hierarchy, he brushed his feelings aside. Then, when John became king, his whole brooding persona was hot, but Arlo’s own rage kept him from the angry king. When they finally made up, Arlo learned of a new problem, with no negative feelings to distract him from the boy, he found himself terribly smitten. The moment his boyfriend’s golden eyes light up and his grin spreads across his face, Arlo’s already gone. If he thought brooding John was hot, he was not ready for Happy John. Happy John could have his soul. He pulls his boyfriend closer as he recalls the way he forgot everything about him.

  One of his first solo missions as an EMBER agent, he was tackled by a vigilante in a black mask and knocked out. He woke up tied to a chair with cuffs around his hands. The vigilante had been sitting across from him, his mask discarded. All Arlo could think about was how familiar the other looked. When he started speaking, it was almost distracting how much Arlo recognized his voice. John worked to bring Arlo back to himself, asking him questions about his past and promising an escape with the right answers. Obviously there were questions Arlo refused to answer, it was only through a mixture of teasing and promises of freedom after every question was answered, the blonde began to answer. “Do you recognize the name Remi?” John would ask, and Arson, as he was not yet Arlo again, would reply something about a waste of time and insist that, “It must be a name he read somewhere or heard in passing because, while familiar, it certainly doesn’t mean anything now.” John would look down at the notepad sitting in his lap and scribble something down then ask his next question. Slowly Arlo was forced to remember himself, who he was, what he’d done. 

When Arlo was finally untied, he asked the other out. Arlo remembers blushing when John laughed incredulously at him. John had told him later that he thought Arlo was joking or, at the very least, not remembering everything yet. It took a couple days for Arlo to ask again, but they’ve been close since. Arlo takes another sniff of his boyfriend’s hair before slipping his arms under the other’s shirt, feeling his warm, muscular torso tense under his chilly hands. He pulls John closer yet. Arlo’s nose finds the crook of his boyfriend’s neck, nuzzling the soft flesh by the other’s collar bone. John squirms a bit as chilly hands explore his body, stealing his warmth. Slowly, the pair drifts off to sleep, what-ifs lost in the cozy haze of sleep.

Chapter Text

After a long day at work, Arlo is thankful he can lay with his boyfriend. It’s one of his favorite parts of his day, just the pair enjoying silence together. Unfortunately the silence allows his mind to wander. He really doesn’t deserve the other’s trust, not after everything he’s done. Intentionally or not, he triggered the other’s PTSD and retraumatized him, then dragged him into his worst nightmare and to top it all off, pitted his best friend against him. 

Despite what John says, Arlo knows he hasn’t made it up to him. Arlo knows he’s not deserving of the man that lays beside him. Sure, John’s done some shit, the black haired boy has hurt a lot of people, but he worked so hard to fix his mistakes. Even today, despite his prickly exterior, the other is so kind and so sweet. What is Arlo? Grouchy and ungrateful? Cruel and dense? He doesn’t deserve the other’s forgiveness. No matter what John says, he knows the mental wounds Arlo left didn’t just disappear when he apologized. He sees the mornings where John is stuck flinching and every hand and rubbing his wrists. 

Even now, John will mention or explain part of his past and Arlo is left stunned by the sheer quantity of shit he’s had to put up with. With the trust he doesn’t deserve, Arlo has learned the intimate details of every trauma in his life from his mom leaving as a child to the more creative ways he was bullied in New Boston and in Wellston. What if Arlo uses it against John? It wouldn’t be the first time his past was used against him. Hell, it wouldn’t even be the second! His wonderful boyfriend is making the terrible, terrible mistake of entrusting his most personal and vulnerable moments to someone as careless and callous as Arlo. The worst part? Arlo is still so selfish as to not pull away himself. Despite knowing that he’ll only hurt John, he can’t bring himself to pull away. The warm embrace is too welcoming and for a snake like himself, it’s perfect. 

He curls into his boyfriend, the late afternoon sun warming the pair as they lay on the carpet. One day soon, John will remember that Arlo is not to be trusted. He will remember the pain Arlo has caused, and he will leave. Until then, Arlo will selfishly stay by his side, lying in wait for the other to wake up. 

As if sensing the ideas racing through Arlo’s mind, John reaches up and kisses Arlo’s forehead. Then his lidded eyes drift shut and Arlo is left yet again in silence with rosy cheeks and a busy mind. Arlo’s just manipulating John again, he must be, because why else would someone with so much love and care choose someone as cold as Arlo? There is no good reason, truly, for someone as horrible as him to end up with someone so thoughtful. 

Lost in thought, a sleepy voice startles him, “I can almost hear you thinking from here. It’s not that hard for you, is it?” Beneath the teasing tone, there is an air of concern that fills Arlo with guilt. He is not someone to be concerned about. He’s fine. In fact, Arlo should be concerned that John is worried about him. There’s nothing to worry about, so he must be falling deeper into the trap Arlo layed for him, and that can’t be good. Arlo’s supposed to be pushing him away, not pulling him in. 

He’s interrupted again by a warm hand holding his face. His vision clears and he realizes his boyfriend is suddenly a lot closer than before. He flinches back as concerned golden brown eyes look up at him. “I’m fine, John.” John doesn't reply, his eyebrow quirks up as his head tilts to the side. Arlo wouldn’t call himself a bad liar, but the way John sees through him says otherwise. Finally the other says, “If you don’t want to talk about it, I won’t make you, but I’m worried about you.”

“You shouldn’t be.”

Brown eyes narrow, “You can't tell me what to do.”

“Real mature,” Arlo says, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, I am mature. Listen. If you don’t want to tell me what's going on, you don’t have to. I know these kinds of talks are hard for you. However, you’re acting weird. You can’t stop me from being worried, it’s just not going to happen, but you can tell me what’s up or at least that you’re okay. Okay?”
Arlo stays silent for a moment before taking a deep breath. Everything that had been running through his head, spills out of his mouth. 

“I’m kinda scared that I’m going to hurt you. Again. I know. I know. You forgive me. You’ve said that. I just don’t think I’m really deserving of that forgiveness and honestly I’m pretty sure I’m manipulating you to be with me, because why else would someone like you want to be with someone like me?” John stares, surprised, as Arlo continues, “I’m so selfish. Really, I am. Because, even though I know I’m making you be with me because you’re too good for me, I still stay because I want to be yours. I’m sorry. I am so sorry. I just-” 

Arlo’s words are caught in his throat as he’s tackled into a hug. Tears that he hadn’t even realized had started falling soaked into the t-shirt his boyfriend is wearing. Arlo continues to sob into the other’s shoulder as he’s swayed back and forth, held tightly in his muscular arms. When Arlo finally pulls away, slightly embarrassed for crying, John moves his hands up to the blond’s face. 

“And to think that I worry you’re too good for me.” he whispers. 

Tears well up in Arlo’s eyes, but a soreness in his throat warns that he’s cried enough today. John looks him right in the eye and says, “You’re wonderful. I guess I’ll just have to tell you that more often.” Calloused thumbs gently wipe away tears and Arlo lets himself be held. Maybe he still doesn’t deserve it, but then again maybe one day he’ll understand what makes John care for him so much. 

Chapter Text

Sometimes Arlo wakes up and his boyfriend isn’t next to him. Usually the other is out running, or getting ready, or just in the other room, but it usually means that it’s going to be a bad day. The bad day is never the shorter man’s fault. It just means the nightmares and untreated mental illnesses are a little worse than usual. John’s great at covering it up, much to Arlo and Sera’s disdain. When John is having a bad day, his actions rarely show it. It’s really only the worst kind of day that something changes.

Arlo walks groggily to the couch where he finds his boyfriend pressing his hands into his eyes. John doesn’t hear the other walk in. This is apparent in the full body flinch when Arlo places his hand on the other’s back. John whirls around to face the other, his eyes watery and wide. It takes a moment longer than Arlo would like for John’s eyes to fill with recognition and even then, he can see the faint edges of mistrust and paranoia. 

Even though they’ve worked through their problems, what Arlo did still scarred the other and it’s on days like this that Arlo’s reminded of that. Worse than that, he knows how much guilt fills the other knowing this. “I want to trust you. I want to trust everyone, but it’s just never worked out well for me.” The shorter had admitted one night. Arlo didn’t know what to say then, even now, he doesn’t know what to say. One of his favorite things about John is his ability to fill space. While he may not be the most articulate with his emotions and inner thoughts, John never seems to run out of things to talk about. Arlo on the other hand has always struggled with such things. Some odd mix of the unprofessionalism of the skill and his being much too busy to form hobbies and opinions left Arlo painfully lost. 

The silence stretches on and Arlo can only watch as John’s walls slide back into place. The other wipes his eyes and rubs his face before looking up at Arlo with a nervous smile that would almost fool the blond if he didn’t know John so well. “I- uh I’m sorry about that..” 

Words are still lost in Arlo’s throat, but it seems his instincts are not, as Arlo grabbed the other’s wrist before he could pull away. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing! I’m fine!”

John manages to look sheepish at Arlo’s eyebrow raise, but he still doesn’t answer.

“John. Don’t bottle this up.”

“It’s stupid, so it shouldn’t even matter. It’s not like you can do anything about it anyways.”

“If it matters to you, then it matters.”

“I just- fine. I miss my dad, okay?” 

Yet again, Arlo finds himself at a loss for words. What do you even say? ‘Sorry for your loss??’ He knows that doesn’t help. When Rei died, every ‘sorry’ was enraging. Sorry doesn’t change anything. Hell, Rei’s the closest thing Arlo’s had to a death in the family, and even then, he wasn’t his only family. He didn’t have to mourn his only real parent alone. He didn’t have to find out he was legally an orphan as well. At least Arlo has some to blame, even if that someone is a person he considered family once too. John has the entire government, and that’s not including the things that have been done to his mother, to himself.

Arlo grabs his boyfriend's broader shoulder, bringing the other into a side hug. At the contact, John’s false smile falters and the deep sadness that always seems to linger in his eyes threatens to spill over. 

“Remi says it gets better, but I don’t know if I’ll ever forget my dad.”

Finally, Arlo knows what to say, “Getting better doesn’t mean forgetting him, it just means learning to live without him.”

“I don’t know if that’s something I can do,” the other admits. “What did you do when Rei died?”

“I did… a lot of stupid things, but I wasn’t as close with Rei as you were with your dad. I didn’t find out like you did.” 

John lays his forehead on the other's shoulder. It’s only when Arlo feels his sleeve dampen that he realizes John’s crying. Arlo holds his boyfriend until the black-haired boy pulls back, wiping his eyes. John doesn’t try to put his walls up, not yet, but when they go out with the rest of the group, John’s acting like it’s not bothering him again. Arlo wants to tell Sera. Arlo may be his boyfriend, but Sera knows him better than anyone. John’s not particularly fond of his most private moments and thoughts being shared, even if it’s between people he trusts. Arlo’s too fearful of losing the other’s trust again to tell, especially given how difficult it was to regain. Luckily, it seems, Sera can still read her best friend like a book, because she quietly slides next to the blond, “Bad day?” She asks, motioning to John. Arlo nods, “What gave it away?” 

“You did.”

At Arlo’s surprise, she continues, “You’ve been following him around like a worried parent all day. You’re not nearly as subtle as you think.” Arlo groans, dragging his hand down his quickly heating up face.

“I’m glad he has you, you softie,” Sera adds. 

Arlo swats at her, still covering his face with his other hand. I’m glad I have him too. 

“Anything you can tell me?”

“Only what you figured out yourself.”

Sera hums, looking out into the group to see John approaching the duo. His careful mask wanes for a moment, his smile more nervous. Then, the moment ends and the cheerful grin he’s been wearing  all day takes over. Arlo watches John’s eyes scan his face, a mischievous smirk forming on the black-haired boy’s face. Arlo barely has a moment to figure out what that means before his boyfriend’s mouth opens.

“Wow sera, flirting with my boyfriend? How could you?!” John places the back of his hand on his forehead and falls back before gasping dramatically and turning to Arlo with a look of shock on his face, that playful look still present in his amber eyes. 

“Arlo! Falling for my best friend! I can’t believe it”

“I- No.- I” Arlo stutters out, but John continues without him, “Why else would you be so red?”

Sera snickers beside him and Arlo’s face grows warmer. John drops the act, his false betrayal melting into giggles. Just because the day started bad doesn’t mean it has to stay that way.