Work Text:
Johnny's heart was fragile - the smallest touch would send it ripping at the seams.
He'd been this way since he was a boy; he got it from his mama, the kindest soul— her love never harsh, her embrace the warmest shelter.
Her words, ever so gentle in his ear, "You can do anything you set your mind to, baby."
Even in his youth he had his mind set on one thing alone: sharing music with the world.
In her final moments, she was his biggest supporter - he'd sing by her bedside, soft and sweet, masking the pain just to see her smile; she'd hold his hand, press her lips to his brow - it took everything in him not to crack beneath it.
And when she goes, he shatters - with shaky hands, he stitches himself back together through gritted teeth, and packs his bags.
He knows she's with him, but it does nothing to stop the ache in his chest - with her love heavy in his heart, he carries on, determined to do right by her unwavering support.
The name Johnny Splash became quickly recognizable - not for his music in particular, per say - but for the way he'd spent countless nights across various stages, wailing high-notes at the top of his pipes to unwilling participants.
Though despite the ridicule, he never gave up— he was sure his mama was smiling down on him from heaven.
Finding his way to a town not much larger than the one he'd grown up in; he made quick use of situating himself at the local saloon, deep in a one-sided conversation with the bartender over his "newest hit".
Mid-ramble over questioning if they allow public use of their stage, he's shot down by the man at the counter insisting that, no, the mic was reserved for their nightly entertainment.
And at the mention of it, his gaze travels to the main floor, his heart nearly coming full-stop in his chest at the sight he's met with; the sight of her.
In turn, he catches her eye from across the room - the epitome of southern charm, her eyes light up from the sight of him. And when she makes her way over, he practically flatlines.
He flashes her a lop-sided grin, managing to recollect himself enough to fully admire her - his fingers ghost across her palm, gently grasping her; his lips brush her knuckles, stars in his eyes when she meets his gaze.
"Wow," he breathes out - the sound of his voice sends electricity through her, "You're the sweetest thing I ever laid eyes on…"
It was so sudden, shocking her to her core - she was used to being laid in the affections of many through her performance, but this man… Oh, he lit a flame in her heart from the sheer tenderness of his touch. Her other hand lays across her chest, cheeks flushing pink - when he lets her go, she's entirely rooted in place, perfectly infatuated.
"What's your name, sugar?"
He leans back, never breaking eye contact - she's the one to look away first, noting the book and pen laid before him on the countertop, curiosity peaking.
She slips back into her usual facade, sidling herself into one of the various open seats; sunset filters into the space - there's no more demand for her up on the stage, so she allows herself this moment to wind down.
"RaspBarry Rouge," she purrs, fingers trailing the length of his arm - he visibly shivers from the touch.
"How sweet…"
"So, what's your story?" From her seat beside him at the bar, RaspBarry leans her cheek into the palm of her hand over the counterspace, gaze burning into him - lashes lowered, sweet and sultry. Her knee barely grazes his, momentarily catching the breath in his throat before he can respond.
Johnny circles the rim of his drink, putting on his usual charm when he finally replies, "Just a small town nobody tryin' to make it big, darlin'," He tries not to crack under her watch, meeting her with equal interest. "Picture this - the name Johnny Splash will be heard far and wide… My music'll capture the hearts of many - and, it'll make my mama so proud…"
He pauses, feeling his lungs threaten to give out - his fingers tighten around the glass in his grasp, the shake of his hand evident, before he shoots an awkward grin her way.
Recollecting himself, he clears his throat. "As I was saying…"
RaspBarry watches him, this poor forsaken fool—utterly enamored by his soulful charm. She shuffles back ever so slightly, lessening her previous advance and instead easing herself into the conversation - with him, she didn't need to be the alluring beauty; a weight is lifted from her shoulders, his voice soothing, pulling her, for a moment, from the usual persona.
It was an honest relief, to say the least.
Like clockwork, they fall into a familiar routine - Johnny in his usual spot at the bar, entranced as RaspBarry graces the stage; they dance around each other's fleeting affections. A lingering touch, a longing glance - subtle, and yet, so exhilerating.
And by the end of each night, RaspBarry finds herself drawn to his side; and when he holds her, hands never wandering, she feels at home - so quickly had he become the prime source of her adoration, and in turn, she became his muse.
His admiration bleeds into his lyrics as she performs. Johnny's a regular sight, paired with a half-full iced tea - mulling over the pages, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth.
Attempting to focus on the task at hand - though his gaze manages to catch her from across the saloon, a smile that brightens the room when she sees him.
She wastes no time; his hand stills when she finds her way into his arms once more - draped so beautifully across his lap. Her fingers graze his chin, tilting him upwards to look at her - and he chases that feeling, willingly falling under the spell of her—lovestruck when her kiss lands to his temple.
"Hey there, gorgeous," He attempts to charm her, though no amount of his flirtations is needed - she's already lost in him.
She laughs at that, and its like music to his ears. She watches, admiring him for a moment, before she speaks, "…You're awful cute, you know?"
Oh, she knows just how to get him going - completely wrapped in the moment, Johnny forgets about his song, on full display across the bar top - until her eyes fall to it, alight with something intense.
"What's this?" Her fingers glide across the parchment, curiosity flashing in her gaze - she leans over the counter slightly, though just as quickly, Johnny swipes the notebook shut.
"Nothin', sugar—" He's flushed red, heat creeping into his cheeks when her gaze meets his once more; there's a tremor in his hand as he fumbles to slip it back into his breast pocket, his heartrate speeding from the close proximity of her.
How cute.
The sight of him entirely flustered over it made her melt, smitten, in total awe - before he'd tucked the words away, a thread of notes had caught her eye, a composite of sappy romantics to pull at her heartstrings.
"Oh, darling…" She smooths her fingers over his curls, relishing in the way he practically swoons from the contact - unbeknownst to him, she was perfectly wrapped around his finger, caught in his silent devotion.
Each day that passes, she finds herself falling deeper for him; a sad smile turns at the corner of her lips at the thought alone, the terrible ache in her chest rooting deep.
If he knew… Oh, she couldn't bear it.
She knew - oh, how she knew she'd signed herself up for the biggest heartbreak, though she couldn't resist him; blissfully unaware of her truth, he holds her close to his heart, showering her in tender adoration.
For now, she allows herself this moment - right now, everything is right.
Over the course of a few days, Johnny pours his heart into his music; soulful rhymes of attempted poetry—his love was a beautiful thing, though he struggled to translate it well into lyric.
He'd never had a direct muse before now - it was easy writing when he'd been on his own, but now…
It has to be perfect.
And so he writes - he wears the eraser of his pencil down to nothing; he writes until his fingers nearly stain grey.
And when it's done, he's elated.
…Though his sweetheart is nowhere to be found - the bartender is of no help either, a vague response when he asks.
"She's not in today."
It was odd - defeated, he retires to his room for the night; the most alluring sound fills his ears when he finds the stairs.
Perhaps he'd been too distracted, too careless; the door to the dressing room hanging slightly ajar, filtering in the chatter from the bar on the floor below.
Positively engrossed in the oasis of his mind, buzzed on the after-effects of performance, Barry's gentle humming fills the space - and with the removal of each accessory, he slips from the familiar facade.
Corset lace untied - a single breath is drawn from his lips, the material falling away from his frame.
From it's place on the back of the vanity chair, a light robe slides over his shoulders, the warmth of it easing the remaining tension he feels.
His mind wanders to the stage - to the thrill of entertainment, the pride of his work.
…And to the warm gaze of the one who'd stolen his heart, that fixes on him without hesitation from across the room each night.
The ache in his chest returns, just as the door behind him creaks slowly open, tearing him from his thoughts.
Johnny's curiousity had gotten the better of him - lured into Barry’s space by the sound of his voice, and the prospect of finding solace in the embrace of the one he'd come to adore.
What he finds, is not what he'd been expecting.
A rosy tint spreads across his features, his hand rubbing the back of his neck as he takes in the sight before him - his eyes fall to the wig on the vanity, before focusing in on Barry's face.
"You're not…"
Barry startles, nearly choking on the air in his lungs when he meets the other’s gaze through the mirror's reflection, robe loosening under the shake of his hands when he turns his head to look at him.
Trying to calm the racing of his heart, he smiles sheepishly, "…Not a woman, no."
He fidgets under Johnny's gaze, though unable to break it, fixated on the flush of the other's cheeks - awaiting the inevitable, for disappointment - or worse, disgust - to flash across his expression, to shatter his fragile heart.
The greatest pain he'd ever endure, to be perceived for who he truly was beneath the confidence RaspBarry provides.
He braces, for a shout, a yell; for Johnny to turn his shoulder on him and walk away, anything—
...It doesn’t come - instead, that gaze that pins him in place remains ever so starstruck, entirely wrapped in his spell regardless. Not for the beauty who graces the stage - no, this pure infatuation was for him.
"...You're beautiful." Johnny is terribly breathless from the sight of him, bringing his palm to rest over his breast, above his heart, "Oh, darlin'— baby, look at you."
That fear of rejection is rooted deep though - the ache in his chest adds to the roaring in his ears, the hot flush of his skin, rendering him immobile. Johnny is the first to make a move - clicking the door shut behind him before stepping in close, fingers finding the material of the garment draped around him; pulling it up and over his shoulders properly once more, and Barry melts.
His modesty warms him to his core - and when Johnny’s arm circles his waist, the tears start without warning. He brings his hand up, pressing his fingers into the corners of his eyes to wipe them - and groans at the smear of black left in its wake, "God, I'm such a hot mess…"
Johnny's thumb catches a stray on his cheek, smile so sweet. "No, sugar— you're radiant."
He's so stupidly charming, that it brings the smallest hint of a smile to the corner of Barry’s lips, a quiet laugh spilling between sniffles. "…You're just saying that."
"It's true."
They're so close to each other - so close that Barry can feel his breath on his skin, the warmth of his lips so near; the way Johnny's fingers curl ever so slightly tighter against his waist.
Despite the mess on his face, Johnny’s adoration never wavers. It draws him in, shuffling further into his embrace as his eyes fall shut, heart fluttering in anticipation - he thinks, momentarily, that the other surely must be able to hear the steady beat of it in his chest.
There's a brief hesitation from Johnny as he hovers over his lips, attempting to steady his nervous breath as he draws back.
He lingers, heartrate quickening from the thought of staking his claim, of feeling the warmth of his kiss; the prospect of being granted a taste of heaven.
No, too soon—
He trembles lightly, deciding against it - his lips find his cheek instead, right beside his ear - and oh, it leaves Barry weak in the knees regardless. Not what he'd been expecting, and yet, it made this moment all the more tender.
He felt absolutely foolish, to think he'd be turned away by this man with a heart made of gold. It was almost frightening, the way he'd allowed himself to fall for him so easily and wholly - but Johnny cradles his heart so gently between his palms, ridding it of any lingering doubt.
They sit in silence for a moment - Johnny is the first to speak.
"So…" He starts, absentmindedly sliding the fabric of Barry’s robe between his fingers - the touch is innocent, just taking in the moment, "Why do you…"
He trails off, and when Barry meets his gaze, a new flush overcomes his cheeks. "I mean-! I'm just curious, y'know… Never seen anythin' like it before— Oh, but there's nothin' wrong with it!"
Oh, he truly was a lovestruck fool; a smile graces his lips at the other’s awkward rambling, and entirely without meaning to, Barry laughs.
It's a pleasant sound that rings in Johnny's ears, catching him off guard and starting a flutter in his chest, "Darlin'…"
"Oh, dear… I'm sorry, I just…" It tones down, as more tears begin to flow - his hand slides up into the curls that peek at the nape of Johnny's neck, and he presses a kiss of his own to his cheek in return. "Thank you."
Hardly a week later, Johnny finds her upstairs once more between shows - focused on touching up her lips, she hardly hears him come in.
"RaspBarry—" He starts, splaying his fingers over the buttons of his shirt, picking nervously at the material; when her eyes fall to his reflection, she lights up with newfound excitement, the events of prior nights still fresh on her mind.
"Yes, darling?"
Her gaze only fuels his nervousness, eyes widening as he stumbles over his words, "I was thinkin'— I never even knew of such a thing before, but it's awful pretty… and I think—"
Truly enamored by his awkward rambles, she leans into the palm of her hand, heart a-flutter from the simplest thing - his eyes fall to the makeup laid beside her on the vanity, and he swallows hard.
"I think… I'd like to…—to try it too."
"Oh."
"Would you…"
She stares at him for a moment, processing the words that had just left his mouth - and right as he begins to backtrack, she's on him immediately, hands flying out to grasp his arms, "Oh, hun, of course. Come— come, sit!"
Buzzing with excitement, she leads him into the chair before he can change his mind, carding her fingers through his hair as she takes in the sight of him through the mirror.
"Oh, darling, I know just what to do with you…"
He'd be more anxious from her words if it weren't for the lovely way she glows at the idea.
Deep in her element, she makes quick work of the other - the perfect hues already picked; she's a sight to behold when RaspBarry is done with her.
Bold red painted across her lips, lashes prominently curled to compliment the blue of her eyelids - the words catch in her throat at the reflection of herself in the mirror. Her heart swells at the sight, something familiar catching her eye.
She was just like her mama.
She trembles, choking out a quiet laugh, fighting tears that threaten to spill. "I'm…"
RaspBarry's behind her in the mirror, the warmth of her touch finding Hosette's shoulder - her gaze is ever adoring, fingers brushing a stray curl from her face, "Beautiful…"
She couldn't agree more.
Displaying her wardrobe, RaspBarry sifts through an array of outfits - the variety is overwhelming, there's so much to choose from—
But when she finds the one, Hosette's eyes light up, a silent breath escaping as she trails her fingers across the material, "Oh…"
RaspBarry's gaze softens, plucking the garment from it's hanger; holding it before her, casting a knowing look - it perfectly complimented her eyes.
"You like it?"
"Yes…"
She smiles, excitement coursing through her as she ushers the other behind the changing screen, "Blue isn't really my thing right now. But oh, darling… You'll look absolutely dashing in it…"
And boy, was she right.
Taking a step back, RaspBarry properly admires her work; the breath is stolen from her lungs at that very first glance at the sight laid before her.
Under the heat of her gaze, Hosette fidgets, curling the ends of her wig between her fingers - perfectly adorned in a sea of white and blue, ribbon and lace - she feels she could drown entirely in her.
She could find a million words, though none would adequately describe the emotion she felt in this moment, in total awe - everything about her left a positive buzz beneath her skin.
"…How do I look?"
The flush of her cheeks only adds to her adoration, her fluster igniting a spark in her heart. RaspBarry grins, grasping at her hands and pulling her in close, "Truly stunning, darling…"
Finding the leather binded pages laid atop the vanity, RaspBarry flips through until she lands on her choice, "For the song, let's go with this one…"
When Hosette follows her gaze to her song of choice, her heart skips a beat - the one she'd completed just a week prior. "…Really? This one?"
RaspBarry beams, dead set on her decision.
"Absolutely. Oh, darling, they're going to love you…"
Moonlight filters in through the windows of the saloon, bringing with it a gentle calm - the bar remains ever lively, though most patrons have long since strayed from their seats, leaving the main floor empty.
Hosette takes it all in; the beating of her heart slows in time, calming from the after-effects of pre-show jitters. A small breath escapes her when she finds the steps of the stage, a slight tremor in her hands still.
It'd been delightful - the wonder of being on that stage, gathering the adoring gaze of many; though only one in particular had her heart a-flutter.
"You did so well," Raspbarry's voice rings sweet in her ear, the familiar warmth of her finding its place beside her, "So beautiful up there."
Her knee brushes her, lightly - the touch sends a shiver up her spine, and she leans into it, fixating her gaze on her alone, "…You really think so?"
Her warmth draws Hosette in. She can't get enough of her; she's entirely devoted, enamored by the feel of her - stuck in this moment here.
RaspBarry's palm slides over her thigh, and she's gone, "Positively so, darling."
Nothing else matters, when their lips meet, sending her straight into euphoria - the taste of her, sweet as honey; the feeling of it, soft and warm, and so right.
Drowsiness catches up with her quickly - the gentle lull of music, the way RaspBarry cradles the back of her neck - when they part, she chases after her once more, feather-light pecks to the corners of her mouth.
"Please," She whispers against her skin, breathless, "Darlin'—"
RaspBarry laughs, pulling her in until her hip is flush against her, finding her lips once more, just to feel the way Hosette perfectly melts into it. "You're insatiable."
It was so endearing - the way Hosette was practically drunk on her love, wanting for more despite her near failed attempts at fighting sleep. And how could she resist?
And so she kisses her again - and again, Hosette is putty, drinking in every little moment until she cant anymore; until RaspBarry wills herself to part from her a final time, taking in the flush of her face.
The sight of her, lips parted as she calms from her affections - red and pink mixed and smeared below her bottom lip - it warms RaspBarry's heart, and she can't resist; a matching smudge quickly adorns her cheek, tying the look together.
Hosette leans into her, cheek finding her shoulder when she lets up her hold, nearly succumbing to her exhaustion. "Oh, baby, you're sweet…"
As nightfall casts its shadow over their little corner, they finally retire upstairs for the night - Hosette feels herself overcome with an overwhelming sense of belonging.
Her heart is fuller than ever - she'd found everything and more in this quiet little town; in the arms of her love.