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"So, what's the deal with you and Steven?" Andy asked around his mouthful of chips.
"What d'yer mean?" Johnny replied with a furrowed brow. He had gone with Mike and Andy after practice to get chips at one of the local fish and chip shops. He was beginning to regret it.
Mike and Andy shared a glance. Andy cleared his throat. "Y'know, how yer always together an all. Lookin at each other. Talkin." Andy raised an eyebrow to indicate suspicion. Mike giggled beside him like he was still twelve years old. And in many ways, he was.
"Well, we aren't right now, are weh?" Johnny pushed his sunglasses up the bridge of nose, barely containing his irritation. He could already feel a headache blooming behind his eyes.
Andy swallowed the chips he had been obnoxiously chewing, and instantly stuffed several more in his gullet. "You don't normally get pissed, Johnny." He pointed out with a smirk. Johnny had to agree with him on that. For some reason he felt like he had to get defensive whenever Morrissey was brought up in conversation.
"I'm not pissed. Just tired, mate." He pinched his nose in an attempt to dull the growing pain. They had been practicing for about seven hours today, and God knew that Johnny always got some kind of headache afterwards.
Mike stole one of Andy's chips. "Do yer like 'im?" He asked, somehow sounding genuinely curious as well as amused. "Y'know, like, like-like 'im?"
"Fuck's sake Mike, we aren't in secondary school." Andy wacked him on the back of the head, then quickly stole a couple of his chips. He peered at Johnny. "But d'yer?"
Johnny had no idea why this was the chosen topic of conversation for today. I mean, yeah, sometimes he spent a relatively small portion of his time in the studio looking at Morrissey. And he did look forward to talking with him. It was exhillarating to have those melancholic eyes fixated on him during a conversation, looking at him as if he were the only thing worth looking at...
"No. I dunno what yer on about, y'daft sods." He mumbled half-heartedly. He grabbed the glass of water which he had left untouched up until that moment, and downed it like a fresh pint of beer on a Friday night at the pub.
Mike and Andy stared at him. Even Andy stopped chewing for a moment.
"Din't mean to upset yer." Mike began, but Johnny shook his head and rose to his feet. He needed sleep to shed this headache. And he couldn't deal with this conversation. He'd only lash out and give them both something to giggle about later.
"I'm gonna go to bed. See yers at practice tomorrer." He waved a hand, then turned to leave when Andy suddenly leaned forward conspiratorially. "Have yer kissed him yet?" He whispered, for once looking dead serious.
"Fuck's sake." Johnny mumbled, and left his question largely unanswered as he walked towards the door.
Andy sat back down, watching him leave. Mike hummed.
"Y'think he 'as?" He murmured, chewing on a chip thoughtfully.
"Nah." Andy shook his head. "But he wants to, dun'ee?" He smirked, causing the other to laugh. "I'd be willin to bet, mate."
~~~
Johnny was exhausted by the time he got home. He slumped onto his bed without bothering to change his clothes. With his head buried in the soft, familar sheets, he felt his headache ease off slightly.
In the quiet air of the late afternoon, his mind began to wander back to what Andy and Mike had been saying.
Morrissey.
Something within him changed whenever he thought about him. Maybe a tightening in his chest, or a dropping sensation in his stomach. Even the softening of his features. Yes, that was it. His expression somehow felt lighter at the mention of him. Morrissey. His eyes slid shut.
Mike and Andy had been spurting a load of shite, right? He didn't like him, not in the way Mike had implied. He didn't want to... kiss him, as Andy had so bluntly put. He didn't think any of those things, never in relation to Morrissey. Of course he didn't.
Johnny laid very still on his bed.
"Fuck." He mumbled into the mattress. All be could picture in that moment was Morrissey, tall and brooding, with that patronising little smile and teasing lilt to his thick eyebrows. And Johnny knew that given half the chance he would...
He would kiss him.
His cheeks suddenly burned at the thought of it. He felt silly with how giddily his imagination took that idea and ran with it. He was picturing things that burned into the afterimages of his retina, so much so that he feared he may never exist again without catching a glimpse of that bookish face.
He fisted his hand into the bedsheets. Could Andy and Mike really be that perceptive? And more importantly, if they had noticed something, had Morrissey also?
He was surprised to find how exhilarated that made him feel. That Morrissey could have an idea about just how much he liked him. He wanted to tell him, flat out. He wanted Morrissey to like him back. He wanted... well, he wanted a lot more things after that.
Johnny finally slid onto his back and wearily checked the time on his watch. Four thirty. Hm, maybe he should go and ask what was for tea...
He fell asleep.
~~~
The next day, Johnny stepped off the bus and into the streets of Manchester town centre. He felt rather well rested, although sleeping through tea and until seven the next day had irritated his mother, who had to put foil over his meal to save it.
He checked his watch and hurried through the familiar streets to the studio that they used for the time being. For some reason he felt brighter today, like everything was going to be alright. His guitar bag banged like a fast paced heartbeat against his side.
It was because he was going to see Morrissey. He knew that was the real reason why. He didn't know if he had fully accepted it yet - he toyed with the pleasant realisation nonetheless as he walked over cobbled road and pavement.
He spotted Mike and Andy up ahead, hanging outside of the decrepid building in which they practiced. And just behind them, Morrissey.
Johnny dared not let himself smile too much, lest Andy or Mike see him and snicker. Or worse, give something away to Morrissey.
"Hey." He greeted, slowing down once he reached them. Andy was about half way done with a cigarette. "Mm, hi." He waved a hand. "I'll finish this before we start, if tha' s'alright?" Johnny nodded. He patted Mike on the shoulder, who simply smirked at him and to his horror jerked his head back towards Morrissey. Johnny burned.
He did not need to be told what to do. And definitely not with such a suggestive smile.
He glared at Mike, but the sight of Morrissey in his peripheral vision, looking as if he was hanging back from them all, made his heart twist and he left the two men to greet him.
"Hey, Moz." He grinned, heart thumping as Morrissey stopped pretending to be interested in the framework of the building. Was it his imagination, or did his pale blue eyes brighten as he looked at him?
"Johnny." Morrissey nodded, with his usual air of embarrassment. "How are you today?"
Johnny shrugged and looked away. "Ah, just fine." He answered. Oh God, that looked and sounded weird, didn't it? He was trying way too hard to appear casual, when he felt anything but. "You?"
"Mm. Good." He murmured. He didn't say anything else, so Johnny began to wonder if he had found something more interesting to look at. He glanced at him.
Morrissey was staring right at him. He diverted his gaze hastily as soon as Johnny looked to him. The thought that there was even the slightest possibility that he had made the other flustered greatly excited Johnny.
"Ah, I couldn't help to notice you aren't wearing your sunglasses today." He said quietly. He sounded almost... tentative?
Something settled within Johnny. A deep seated affection, perhaps? He smiled and shook his head. A sudden surge of confidence made him utter the words: "Do yer like it?"
Morrissey froze. His gaze snapped to Johnny, wide and surprised. A light flush had settled over his cheeks. "Well, in many ways, yes." He murmured, a sort of intrigue settling in his eyes. Johnny was sure he could become lost in that hint of interest forevermore.
Johnny gave him a quick look up and down. "Is that a new jumper?" He asked, softly. He was being bolder now.
Morrissey followed his gaze steadily. His eyes appeared heavier as he responded to him. "No, not really." The faintest of smiles clung to the corner of his mouth. Were they actually... flirting?
Johnny hummed. "It looks good on yer." The spark in Morrissey's eye thrilled him greatly. He took a step closer. "Want to... start practin early?" He asked quietly, gesturing to Mike and Andy who were caught up in a chat. Andy had started another cigarette, likely having forgotten his promise to start practice once he had finished his first.
Morrissey did not look at them. He only looked at Johnny. "Yes." He replied, also quiet.
Johnny turned and began walking into the building, Morrissey behind him. He tried to appear chilled, but his heart was pumping like mad. And he was certain that he was blushing in some manner.
Little did he know, Andy and Mike had watched them go inside together. And Andy had consequentially handed Mike five quid in the face of their bet.
Once inside, Johnny walked about half way into the corridor, then stopped. He had no intention of going into the studio. Morrissey paused just behind him.
The silence lingered for a moment. Johnny could feel Morrissey's gaze on his back.
"Moz." He said gently. He turned to look at him. Morrissey straightened somewhat.
Johnny suddenly felt nervous. He tried to consider what to say, or how to say it. That was until Morrissey stepped forward and took his hand.
He blushed, staring down at the way Morrissey held onto his hand, not harsh but certainly firm. He looked back up at him to see how flushed the other man looked too. His breath caught just slightly.
"Do you feel it?" Morrissey whispered thickly. His gaze flitted about Johnny's face, in search of something. Johnny's heart began to pound steadily against his chest. Did he feel it?
Of course he fucking did.
"Yeah." He breathed, almost in relief. To be admitting it after so long.
Morrissey closed his eyes briefly, appearing to savour the moment. When he opened them he seemed to lean in closer. "I do, too."
Johnny parted his lips slightly. He could see Morrissey glancing at them, and his heart almost leapt into his throat. Was he... were they... about to...
As if to answer Morrissey closed the distance and pressed his lips lightly against Johnny's. It was a small peck, lasting only a few seconds. But to Johnny, it might as well have been eternal.
Morrissey eyes glittered with nerves and a quiet longing as he drew back. He opened his mouth to speak, likely to ask if that was ok or if he had misinterpreted things, but he didn't have time. Johnny kissed him this time, before they could think.
They started off with short, tentative kisses. Johnny moved closer, finally letting himself feel after so long. He explored Morrissey's lips in the way that his imagination never could. Morrissey clung to him, reciprocating each kiss with an equal paced curiosity to feel more.
They started with hesitant touches, that quickly morphed into soft glides of the hand down the back or quick squeezes here and there. Johnny didn't even realise his back had brushed the wall admist their ministrations.
Once their lastest lingering kiss had come to an end, Morrissey drew back sligthtly with a nervous glint to his eye. Johnny remained exactly where he was, leaning against the wall with his eyes half closed.
The other spoke up softly. "Johnny... I..." A pause. Enough time for Johnny to start to miss the sensation of Morrissey's lips on his.
"I'm sorry."
Johnny's eyes snapped open. Eh? What was that? A brief panic settled over him, but as he frantically searched those pale blue eyes he realised that no disgust or regret lingered within them. Just a sort of... unspoken guilt.
Johnny sighed quietly and leaned closer. "What for?"
Morrissey seemed drawn back to his lips. He swallowed and ran his tongue over his own lips, a nervous habit Johnny had become familiar with. Not at such close quarters, though.
"I didn't even ask." He whispered, and the soft guilt that laced his words almost made Johnny want to laugh out of exasperation. Could Moz really not tell how much Johnny had wanted to kiss him? Even without an explicit question?
Johnny raised a hand to his cheek and gazed at him with a kind of loving affirmation. "Ask me now." He murmured, finding a scrap of confidence from somewhere inside himself.
The way Morrissey blushed at that flooded Johnny with joy.
"Yes, right." He hummed, looking away and then looking back at him with a sheepish little smile. The whole display was somehow so fundamentally Morrissey, and it endeared Johnny to no end.
"Can I kiss you?" He asked, glancing over his face as if it was something precious. Johnny felt as if he was living inside a late night fantasy.
"Please." Johnny half whispered, half gasped as they collapsed into one another's arms again. He felt the wall press against his back again, firmer this time as Morrissey moved closer, likely reassured by Johnny's answer.
He tilted his head and met each kiss with a gentle insistence. That he was here. That he wanted this as much as the other did.
After countless more kisses their touches started to become a bit more pronounced. Johnny pressed his hands against Morrissey's shoulders, sliding them down to his back as they started to delicately probe at each others lips with their tongues.
Johnny had shut his eyes, but they snapped open as all of a sudden he felt Morrissey's hand brush against his arse. A hot blush tickled his face. He had not expected Morrissey, the same Morrissey who had kissed him and then stopped kissing him to ask if it was ok to kiss him (what a mouthful), to be so bold.
He certainly liked it.
Morrissey pulled back as he felt Johnny stiffen, but this time as he scanned his face he was a little more perceptive. He tilted his head so his lips brushed Johnny's ear, and whispered thickly: "Is this alright?"
Johnny didn't think he could get any redder. "Yes." He hissed, because he didn't trust himself not to make some other noise.
Morrissey hummed, and, keeping his face by his ear, let his hand brush his ass again, and then gently cup him. With a soft squeeze that made Johnny's breath hitch, he lowered his lips to brush his jaw, then further down to his neck. He kissed him there, slow and teasing drags of his warm lips, while Johnny braced himself against the wall, against Morrissey's hand on his arse, against all the doubt he had ever had that was quickly beginning to shatter.
His eyes had squeezed shut, as they seemed to do now whenever Morrissey kissed or touched him. He was in utter bliss - far away from the studio hallway, outside of which Andy and Mike were stood talking. Or maybe they had come in and seen them. He wouldn't know. He wouldn't care.
After a few minutes of pressing kisses to his neck, Morrissey slowly straightened himself. Johnny opened his eyes, meeting the others shining gaze. All his fantasies, all his thoughts, everything he had ever wished in regards to Morrissey came down to this moment. And Johnny could only stare, mouth slightly agape.
Morrissey smiled slightly. He gave his ass a final little pat, then returned his hand to his side. His earlier spark of confidence had vanished, replaced with a gentle reverence Johnny didn't think he had ever seen on his face before.
"Andy and Mike will come soon." He murmured, which drew Johnny out of his transfixion for a minute or two. Of course, they were still in the hallway. Not on some other plane of existence, as Johnny would have described such an experience. He smiled back at him, and they exchanged a glance which lovers might have done before returning to their daily lives after a night of passion.
In each of their eyes was also a little glimmer of promise. That soon, they would become like those lovers. They would delve further into the pool that lay beyond the line they had just crossed.
Johnny assumed all of this had been conveyed, at least, in that five second glance they shared before Morrissey took a proper step back.
He cast his mind back to yesterday, when Andy and Mike had been hammering him about Morrissey. He realised he felt somewhat glad they had done so. Without it, maybe he wouldn't have admitted to himself so freely that he had wanted this. And now, he had it.
And from the little smirk on Morrissey's face, he would be getting more of it at some point.
"After practice, come home with me." Morrissey said quietly, and Johnny almost breathed a sigh of relief. He nodded, running a hand through his slightly damp hair. "Course." He murmured, regaining some of his usual casualness. Only this time, Moz knew it was a facade. And so did he.
And that thrilled him greatly.
"I wonder what's taking them so long." Morrissey thought out loud with a glance down the hallway. He narrowed his eyes in that vaguely impatient way that amused Johnny greatly. "Dunno." He replied.
And outside, still chatting to one another, Mike and Andy had made a silent vow to wait a little while to give Johnny and Morrissey time. Well, at least five quid's worth.