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The brief moments of past happiness that came into John’s mind, were usually in really uncomfortable situations. Situations that demanded action and not the sour reminiscence of everything that had gone wrong in his life.
Since “that” happened, his mind started to do it all the time, as if triggered by the tension in every mission. Flashes of cozy kitchens and soft lips followed by screams, the warm trickle of blood and that stagnant smell of decay, a nauseating coctel of regrets that couldn't cease to explode inside his head.
A bullet had pierced his left side during the mission, probably just a scratch right above a particular spot on his skin. A big beauty mark over his rib, now corrupted by the bullet’s relentless path.
That spot had seen better times. Warm and cold hands, soft lips and the tickle of breathy smiles. John, deep inside his heart and mind, was convinced that it was the only spot on his body that wasn't made for the harsh treatment of ammunition.
It had been untouched for so long that the recognition of its existence made the memories flood back, while he ran to take cover, his fingers grazing the zone as an automatic gesture of practiced pain. In reality, he was numb, no matter Yelena’s surprised eyes or Ava’s questions about his state, his mind could only focus on what that spot had seen before, when his beard hadn't grown and his body didn't feel sore.
“Really ‘s nothing, it barely touched me” he says to Yelena, dragging his words as he sits on the floor, trying to make sense of her features before the only thing he can see is…Lemar.
So young, with those rich deep brown eyes and that radiant smile, humming in that way of his to let him know that he wasn't convinced by John’s words. It's a memory, taking the place of anything else in his mind, forcing him with a sweet caress to look back into what used to make his life a life worth fighting for.
“Well, I understand she wants to make her own path but you should let her know that she can trust you. Make her feel your support even if you're taking a time off. Before being your girlfriend she was your friend, remember?” Lemar's voice, always patient and serene, takes John back into the sunny days before his service for the country had taken everything that made him himself, away.
It was barely a week after graduating high-school. The heavy silence of Olivia’s departure to college made John feel down, even in that free time, one he wouldn't see again the moment he enlisted.
“I did, but it feels so weird. I’m so used to being with her, and I know she kinda gave me a free pass to go out with other girls but it's too…I don't know” Lemar chuckles, as he puts his hands on John’s shoulders. That little gesture always helped him to ground himself, to stop his exhaustingly active mind of wonder in the mud of facing his insecurities.
Lemar’s presence is a balm to his soul, a sweet comfort blanket for all the uncertainties he’s in at that moment. He wishes that comfort he feels is mutual. Being Lemar's blanket is the only thing that makes sense at the moment in this speed up version of what it used to be his life.
His hand finds Lemar’s and he gives it a little squeeze. Today, more than ever he craves that kind of contact, that intimacy and the absolute knowledge of each other.
He has that with Olivia, and it's a curious thought that becomes even more clear when Lemar’s fingers run across his own in a soothing motion, deliberate and slow, as if he wished to trace each little line of his fingers.
Is it a different kind of love? Almost everyone can spot the difference, but for John it feels the same way. And the brief touches, the easy care, the softness both of them show…it 's the same.
Will it change? They're 18, and the answer seems obvious, but the vulnerability of the moment and the confirmation that his own heart gives him and, above all, the bright smile that Lemar wears make him forget, just for that moment, that the future is right at the corner, pressuring them to fit into adulthood.
No, he wants to make sure that Lemar feels what he feels, as pure as it has been since they were scrawny little things playing with water pistols in Lemar’s parents backyard.
He stands and takes Lemar's face into his hands, they both join at the same time, as if this was something they had done dozens of times before.
Because they don't need a big confession for something that has always been there, painting their relationship with all the bright, reckless colors only passion and youth can harbor.
Lemar’s lips are salty and John can feel himself shaking a little as he leans on further. The anticipation stops aching and weighing in his heart and he finally lets himself be. Many voices had shut down in that moment, Lemar's presence always the shield for the harsh reality, covering John from his own doubts and his dad's cruel treatment.
A kiss, oh, he needs more of that warmth, of that solid weight, more touch and goddammit, he doesn't care about anything else, or any whiny voice at the back of his head that repeats the worst insults, trying to get his attention and swarm him with fear.
In Lemar's arms there was no fear.
When his hands find his waist John can't help but to moan, quickly trying to disguise the sound with a little giggle. Lemar stops and looks at him equally surprised and aroused.
“Did you just moan?” He knows he did, but it's a new sound for both of them so he needs confirmation.
John blushes and rolls his eyes, trying not to think about the myriad of exquisite sensations that currently runs inside him.
But it's impossible when Lemar presses a hand against his ribs under the shirt, warm skin contact and John's world starts to spin so fast they end up on Lemar’s bed, a tangle of limbs and giggles that quickly turns into sweet whispers and open-mouth kisses.
John likes men, John likes this man.
It's not only the loyal, undying love of a friend, it is the all-consuming desire of a lover too but he doesn't feel…that different. Yeah, it might be the final explanation of why his eyes traveled equally as hungry all over the male and female figures on TV , but he already knew that the nature of his love for his best friends was equal.
He felt alive, set on fire and that was everything that mattered.
Lemar's lips travel down to his throat, licking, sucking…was he going to leave a trail of hickeys? John’s fingers tangle on Lemar's hair and he realizes that he doesn't care and that Liv probably won't care either because she has kissed Lemar before and that whatever it happens is going to be ok as long as they're part of Jonh's life.
Lemar goes back to that zone. Big beauty mark over Jonh's left rib, where he touches the skin so slowly John has to bite another moan. Lemar observes with that soft, focused gaze every single reaction he can produce on John, playing him like an instrument, and by the way their bodies sync to receive each other, is like he has known the keys all his life.
His lips, soft, wet, press against that spot and John arches his back instantly. He's aroused, but most of all, he's happy.
His best friend just discovered an erogenous zone.
He can't help but to blush, thinking about his biology and S.E classes, all the secret vulgar whispers about that act and how at a certain point everyone seemed so desperate to consummate it. Are they going to do it? Right now?
He's not sure of anything except that he wants to feel Lemar’s breath in that zone as long as possible, because he feels it reverberating in his bones, paralyzing every aching inch of his body in something he can't just describe as the sweetest catalepsy.
But it is not a week after graduating high-school, and Lemar is not kissing the beauty mark over his left rib, it's a bullet that stayed inside and he's unconscious from the profuse bleeding.
Alexei and Bucky are carrying him to a truck, and he can barely see Ava holding his shield as everyone tries to get John to a hospital.
“It's ok, Valentina has every dime to spend on me” he thinks, bitterly. The seats are cold, he doesn't want to open his eyes and everyone talks too damn loud.
He would love to go back to Lemar’s arms, back when they were 18 and their lives seemed almost perfect and just about to begin. Of course, he had to listen to his father giving him shit barely for breathing but in exchange for spending an evening with Liv and Lemar, it wasn't that bad.
Not like now, when he was bleeding and he was so cold and the pain of having friends gnawed at his insides, full of guilt and sorrow.
Because he can't possibly forget about Lemar, but new sensations are starting to paint his body again and he feels like he's a fucking traitor to what was the best days of his life.
Keep going. Live…of course is something Lemar would want for him but he's so afraid and he's so used to him that feeling gratitude and camaraderie, friendship and maybe even attraction for these new friends of his feels so sudden, so violent…so hopeful.
“It's ok, Lemar?” He asks, he whispers, a voice so small back in his head he thinks he might be disappearing. He doesn't want an answer, he's more afraid of an answer than he has ever been of a bullet.
He fucked up with Olivia and he can deal with anger and disappointment, because his father showed him the exact same emotions…The thought of having morphed into his father for the all-mighty, all-consuming power of depression makes him want to throw up.
But Lemar is gone and yet, everytime he smiles at something Yelena said or he gets scared shitless by Ava suddenly appearing, or Bob asks in quiet interest about his life or even all the times Alexei is being annoying.
Or Bucky, when they bicker back and forth and yet, there's an apology in each glance, for what he didn't see back then…Lemar is there. Nodding, smiling, pushing him to be present in the moment and enjoy this second chance.
John keeps punishing himself. The sorrow should last, the grief is something that made people wear black and close their hearts all their lives, why is he doing that to Lemar's memory? To the love he once shared with Olivia?
He faced the consequences and despite not feeling the guilt everyone wanted over what he did, he faces his own voice each day. And it started to change, to feel more quiet, more like a duty.
His own pain was a duty now, because the memory is persistent and he knows the only way his body could continue was avenging Lemar…but he's starting to let go.
His shoulders feel heavy half the time, heavy for the countless times he begged life to not take away Lemar, despite what already happened. The other half they don't because that unlikely group of weirdos is there.
“Jolene? Really?” Lemar shakes his head, smiling at him “I know Dolly is a treasure but I would have never thought of John Walker of them all singing “Oh I'm begging you please don't take my man” he snorts and John feels his eyes full of tears, his ears accommodating to a sound he didn't hear in god knows how long.
“It didn't work” he answers, his hands going instantly to Lemar’s back, pulling, gripping, caressing. Is he dying? Has his mind started to spiral into uncharted, crazier territories?
“But it's not your fault, and I know you already know it” his soft, warm hands hold John's golden hair, tugging at it softly until their foreheads touch.
“John, you're halfway through and you know this can't be undone. You're not betraying me for having friends and liking someone else. You're at fault with Olivia and trust me, if I could I would beat your ass over that…but that's it. Living your life is not betraying me” he leans and kisses John's lips, the brief touch of a butterfly, as sweet and warm as it always was.
And Lemar is gone. Again.
And John feels cold, but the thick heavy accent of Yelena pierces through his ears.
“I think he's awake” she says and Ava chimes in, that infuriatingly polite british sound.
“I saw his eyelids move, think he's faking it?” John can almost see their knowing smiles.
“It was just a bullet, and he's a strong man. He is fine” Alexei's voice pierces the room, deep yet noisy.
“He can't fake a bleeding like that” says Bob and this time through the veil of his eyelashes John can see his hands intertwined against his mouth in that gesture that is so…Bob.
“John” it's the only thing Bucky says. He doesn't call him by his last name and that makes him open his eyes.
“I think I'm all right, I thought it was just a scratch tho” he says with a raspy voice. Ava gets a little closer, putting a small plastic cup filled with crushed ice against his lips.
He focuses on swallowing it, but he's moved by that and all of these concerned faces that surround him.
As he tries to sit, taking the cup from Ava’s hand, he winces it at the sharp pain etched into his side.
At that even Bucky has his eyebrows joining in the middle for a brief moment.
“Don’t even think of moving again” Yelena pushes his chest back to the bed and he can't help but laugh at her severe tone.
“I can sneak something from the vending machine, what do you want?” John smiles softly at Bob and shrugs “A chocolate bar”
You haven't had chocolate in ages, man. Live a little.
John briefly closes his eyes and Lemar winks.
Lips he knows won't be over that spot ever again and he's going to accept that fact because maybe, just maybe, lips that he didn't know could be there in a future.
He just has to follow Lemar's words