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Gyro was good at giving Johnny his space. At not hovering when the few with good intentions would, trying to offer help where he didn’t need it. Gyro knew that Johnny wasn’t helpless, he could see the strength in the younger man. A strength far greater and deeper than even Johnny himself could see. He knew Johnny could get himself into the lake to bathe, so he’d left him to it and instead focused on setting up their camp for the evening. Gyro smiled to himself as he listened to the water splash about as Valkyrie and Slow Dancer entered the lake too to drink. He could easily picture the content look on Johnny’s face as he watched them. He adored their horses and in turn, they adored him. It was a beautiful thing to see.
When the tent was finally nailed down Gyro turned to the lake. He might as well bathe too he figured. Nudity had never bothered Gyro and obviously he’d known Johnny would be naked in the lake. Still, the sight of Johnny’s naked back made Gyro falter in his step. His eyes raked over the long pale lines of the youngers back. The way his muscles rippled under his skin as he cupped water in one hand, lifted it slowly and poured it along his other arm. Slow and methodical movements. Sensual and vulnerable all at once. Gyro felt like an interloper, his breath caught in his throat as he watched Johnny repeat the motion with the other arm. His hand dipped into the water. Lifted out, cupped and filled with water. Raised up, water seeping through his fingers. The side of his palm pressed to his shoulder. His fingers uncurled to allow the water to flow down. Gyro swallowed thickly as the water flowed. His eyes followed the path reverently.
There was something about it, about the way Johnny moved, the way the water trailed over his skin that was captivating. That reminded Gyro of the statue of Venus bathing he’d once seen. As he looked at Johnny now, he could understand the sculptor more, he wanted to commit this to stone too. Instead, he settled for committing it to memory, he would never forget this sight so long as he lived. He could be old and grey in the Italian countryside, and he would still be able to remember this. He was certain of it.
Gyro slowly walked toward the lake; he took his time. Gave himself more time to memorise Johnny’s body. The scar on his lower back, that strange birthmark on his shoulder, the dip of his spine and sharp edges of his shoulder blades as he moved his arms. Gyro knew the human body inside and out, had it down to a science but Johnny’s body? Johnny’s body was art in motion; it was beyond human comprehension. Much like the man himself. Johnny lifted his hands, cupped with water, to pour over his head. Gyro held his breath. Johnny released the water into his hair; it clung to the strands turning strawberry to gold. Gyro let out a slow breath as he watched a drop roll down Johnny’s spine. Left a trail along the vertebrae until it joined the lake.
When Gyro lifted his eyes, he realised two things at once. One, He had waded into the lake, up to his shins, while still dressed. And two, Johnny’s eyes were on him as he half turned toward Gyro. His arms bent over his head; hands still rested in his hair. Venus, he looked like Venus as he peered at Gyro from behind his arm. A bathing God that a mere mortal should avert his gaze from. Gyro slowly lifted his hands to unclip his cloak, let it fall from his body, his eyes never leaving Johnny’s. Those brilliant blue eyes held no distrust, no sign to back off. It was quite the opposite actually. Slowly Johnny lowered his arms, head dipped down as he cupped his hands together to draw up more water.
Gyro took the chance, freed from Johnny’s powerful gaze, to strip himself too. He threw the rest of his clothes back onto shore with careless abandon. He was not going to ruin this moment by returning to the shore to strip. Once naked he waded forward again. Johnny’s head was tipped towards him, watching him out the corner of his eye as Gyro came to a stop behind him where he knelt down. He studied Johnny’s back with a devotion that Gyro had previously thought impossible. Gyro’s own hands were pressed tight to his thighs as he knelt in supplication.
“Can you wash my hair for me?” Johnny’s voice wrapped around Gyro, pulling his hands up and out of the water before he even knew he was moving.
“Of course.” Gyro’s voice came out lower than he intended, it even caught him off guard. Yet Johnny didn’t comment on it, just tipped his hair back. As if the small motion wasn’t enough to coil around Gyro’s chest and settle against his heart. Gyro cupped water in his hands, brought it up. Let the heels of his palms brush against the soft strands at the crown of Johnny’s head then part. Gyro carefully threaded his wet fingers through Johnny’s hair and trailed them down. Made sure the water could saturate fully into his hair, to knock loose any debris or dirt from the day. His fingertips grazed Johnny’s neck which earned him a soft shudder in response.
Gyro watched the way the shudder rolled down his back, the way his muscles rippled till it reached his waist where it stopped. Gyro withdrew his fingers to lower his hands back into the water and collect more. This time he let the water go to the left of where he had the first time. His fingers trailed through the strands again. His pinkie finger brushing across the star shaped birthmark on Johnny’s shoulder. That earned him a larger shudder and Johnny tipping his head towards Gyro’s hands. “I’ve never seen a birthmark like this before.” Gyro said quietly. Johnny turned his head towards him, looked over his shoulder at Gyro.
“Most people think it’s a tattoo… my mother and brother had the same birthmark” Johnny’s voice dropped to that tone it took when he talked about his family, about his past. Gyro slowly, so Johnny could stop him if he wanted, splayed his hand over the youngers shoulder blade. His thumb came to rest just under the birthmark. When Johnny’s eyes remained focused on him and he didn’t pull away, Gyro slowly swiped his thumb upwards across the star.
“It’s beautiful, it suits you.” Gyro said softly, even with his eyes focused on the birthmark, he didn’t miss the faint blush that coloured Johnny’s cheeks.
“It’s just a birthmark.” Johnny said as he turned his head forward again, probably to hide the blush Gyro thought. Gyro let his thumb trail back down over the star, feeling the ripple of muscles under his hand as a shudder ran down Johnny’s spine.
“Mhmm, maybe so.” Gyro knew it was more than that. It was yet more proof that Johnny was a God amongst men. A star plucked from the sky and placed on his skin was no mere coincidence. “Tip your head back, I’ll finish washing your hair.” He said as he lowered his hands back into the water.
Johnny tipped his head back again; Gyro lifted his hands again. Then, let water spill out to run over the rest of Johnny’s hair and down his back. As he threaded his fingers through Johnny’s hair, the younger let out a soft content hum. Gyro couldn’t help but smile at the sound, pride bubbling in his chest for having drawn it out. Even though Johnny’s hair was sufficiently rinsed out, Gyro didn’t stop. He slowly pushed his hand back up, fingers splayed to cradle the back of Johnny’s head. Johnny in turn tipped his head further into Gyro’s hand. The sheer trust in the gesture alone made Gyro’s breath catch. His hands were honed to take life as swift and efficient as possible. He could easily kill someone in a position like this, yet Johnny trusted him not to. It was a heady feeling he realised as he looked down at Johnny. His eyes closed, head tipped back, relaxed, and vulnerable. The urge to lean down, to place a kiss on the crown of Johnny’s head gripped Gyro tight.
Gyro carefully drew his hands back at that urge, it felt like blasphemy. More so than what he’d already done by touching the bathing God before him. His hands lowered, to return back to his thighs when he froze again. Johnny leant back. His head on Gyro’s shoulder, shoulders against his chest. It was then that Gyro realised it had probably been years since anyone else had touched Johnny with any kindness. His hands shook in the water as they hovered by Johnny’s waist. Slowly, he brought his hands closer, lifted a bit so the water was disturbed by his movements. Johnny didn’t open his eyes. Gyro took a slow controlled breath in, as to not jostle Johnny as he placed his hands on Johnny’s waist, his thumb resting just above the scar. Johnny tipped his head towards Gyro’s neck, the corner of his lips turning upwards by a fraction. “Thank you.” Johnny whispered, had Gyro not been looking at his lips, he would have missed the words.
“What for?” He asked in a low tone, he didn’t dare speak louder than a whisper for fear of breaking the bubble they were in. Johnny cracked a brilliant blue eye open, the depth of it catching Gyro off guard.
“For washing my hair, obviously.” Johnny replied with a roll of his eye before he closed it again, even as his smile turned almost conspiratorial. It wasn’t hard for Gyro to figure out what the thanks was for nor that Johnny wasn’t ready to talk about it just yet. That was okay, Gyro wasn’t either. He was simply content to hold Johnny as the sun set over the lake. Never once did he take his eyes off the beautiful sight in his arms.