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The bar smelled like gasoline, cheap beer, and bad decisions.
Johnny didn’t like it.
Which was exactly why he was there.
Across the room, Gyro was laughing - laughing - with a group of bikers Johnny didn’t recognize. One of them had a hand on Gyro’s shoulder like they belonged there.
Johnny’s grip tightened around his glass.
Hard enough that his knuckles turned white.
The guy leaned in closer to Gyro, saying something that made him grin, and that was it. That was too close.
Johnny stood.
“Uh oh,” someone muttered nearby. “Blondie’s moving.”
Johnny ignored them, weaving through the crowd, boots heavy against the floor. He didn’t stop until he was right behind Gyro.
“Having fun?”
The purple-clad man turned, smile still there, until he saw Johnny’s expression.
“…Hey,” he said, a little softer. “You disappeared.”
“I didn’t disappear.”
Johnny’s eyes flicked to the hand still resting on Gyro’s shoulder.
It didn’t move.
The other biker glanced between them. “Everything good here?”
Johnny didn’t even look at him.
“Move.”
The word was calm.
That made it worse.
The guy hesitated, then slowly pulled his hand away, raising both hands in mock surrender. “Relax, man. Didn’t know he was taken.”
Johnny’s jaw ticked.
Gyro stepped in quickly, voice low. “Johnny-”
“Outside.”
Equally low.
Not a suggestion.
Gyro exhaled through his nose, then nodded. “…Yeah. Okay.”
The night air hit sharp and cold.
Johnny was already by the bikes, pacing once before stopping dead.
Gyro followed, shutting the door behind him. “You’re overreacting.”
Johnny laughed, short, humourless. “Am I?”
“It was just a conversation.”
“With his hands on you.”
Gyro rolled his eyes, but there was a flicker of something else there. “You don’t own me.”
The second the words left his mouth, he knew.
Wrong move.
Johnny went very still.
Then he stepped closer.
“Say that again.”
Gyro swallowed. “…I said you don’t-”
Johnny grabbed the front of his jacket, not rough, but firm enough to stop him.
“I heard you,” Johnny said quietly. “I just don’t think you understand what you’re saying.”
Gyro’s breath hitched, just slightly.
“You let people get close like that,” Johnny continued, voice low, controlled, “and then you act surprised when I don’t like it.”
Gyro frowned. “You don’t get to decide who I talk to.”
“No,” Johnny said. “But I do get to decide what I tolerate.”
That landed.
Hard.
For a second, neither of them spoke.
Then Gyro sighed, tension slipping just a little. “…You were watching the whole time, weren’t you?”
Johnny didn’t answer.
Didn’t need to.
Gyro huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “You’re unbelievable.”
“And you let him touch you.”
“That’s what this is about?” Gyro stepped closer now, closing the gap on his own. “You jealous?”
Johnny’s eyes darkened. “You think this is funny?”
“No,” Gyro said, softer now. “I think you’re bad at saying what you mean.”
A pause.
Then, quieter,
“…You could’ve just said you didn’t like it.”
Johnny’s grip tightened slightly on his jacket.
“I don’t like it,” he said.
Gyro held his gaze.
“Then say it properly.”
Johnny exhaled slowly, like it cost him something.
“…I don’t like anyone else touching you.”
Silence.
Gyro’s expression shifted - less teasing now, more… something else.
“Okay,” he said.
Johnny blinked. “Okay?”
“Yeah.”
That wasn’t the reaction he expected.
“You’re not arguing?”
Gyro shrugged, a small smile tugging at his mouth. “Didn’t say you were wrong.”
Johnny stared at him.
Processing.
“…You’re serious.”
“Yeah.”
Another step closer - close enough now that their boots nearly touched.
Gyro tilted his head slightly. “You get like this a lot?”
“Only when you give me a reason.”
Gyro laughed under his breath. “So all the time.”
Johnny didn’t deny it.
Didn’t move back, either.
Gyro’s voice dropped, quieter now. “Then maybe I should stop giving other people reasons.”
Johnny’s eyes flicked to his lips - just for a second.
That was all it took.
He pulled Gyro in, kissing him, smudging his green lipstick against blue - less hesitant than before, more certain, like he’d already made up his mind.
His tongue tangled messily against the roof of Gyro's mouth, caressing his chin where some stubble had accumulated.
Gyro made a soft sound against it, hands coming up - one tracing Johnny's thigh, the other resting against his side like he didn’t quite know where to put it.
Johnny steadied him, hand sliding to his waist.
Possessive.
Not rough, but unmistakable.
When they pulled apart, Gyro exhaled, a little breathless. “…You’re intense.”
“You didn’t stop me.”
Gyro smirked, just faintly. “Didn’t want to.”
A beat.
Then Johnny leaned in again, slower this time.
Gyro met him halfway.
From inside the bar, someone cracked the door open just enough to peek.
“…Told you,” a voice whispered. “Blondie’s got it bad.”
“Yeah,” another replied. “Other guy too.”
The door shut quietly.
Outside, neither of them noticed.
Or cared.