Work Text:
"You sure wear an awful lot of sweaters for living in Southern California," Roy finally voiced the observation he'd made many times in the locker room at the fire station.
"Huh? Oh… it's the only thing I know how to knit." Johnny shrugged, pulling his latest sweater off over his head and tossing it in his locker.
"Wh—knit? You can knit?" Roy pushed Johnny aside and reached into the locker to pull the sweater back out. Sure enough, there was no tag to be found nor a rip where one had been torn out.
"I mean… not really. Kind of. I can't read a pattern, but my grandma used to babysit me and I copied her, so I learned… sweaters. One pattern I don't have to read."
"So you made this." Roy held it up once more, looking at Johnny.
"Yeah. Just… keeps my hands busy sometimes and I don't want them going to waste… so I wear them."
"What next, you crochet too?" Roy chuckled and placed Johnny's sweater back in the locker with more care than Johnny had show to it.
"Nah…" Johnny shook his head. "I mean, not really. Just granny squares. Got a box full of them and don't know how to connect them."
Roy couldn't help the incredulous smile that his mouth curled into. "Not really, huh? What else can you not really do?"
He kicked off his sandals and started changing out of his own street clothes.
"I don't know. It's not that impressive, Roy. Half learned skills aren't exactly useful."
"Whittling." Roy tossed out the first thing he could think of.
"That's not a skill. That's just a hobby," Johnny argued, playing down his own talents that he viewed as not worthwhile.
"So that's a yes…?" Roy asked as he slowly unbuttons his shirt.
"Fine, yes. I can whittle. Nothing big, just little animals that—"
"The wooden menagerie on your mantle??? That's you?" Roy's mouth fell open.
"Just stupid little knick-knacks, Roy. Take some home for your kids next time you come over, I don't care." Johnny sighed.
"Johnny."
"What?"
"Are you telling me… all these years, all these crazy plans to make more money… and it never occurred to you that these… very marketable skills and handmade items might be it?"
Johnny frowned, disbelieving at Roy and scoffed. "Marketable? No, that's crazy. It's just amateur arts and crafts. Like the wood-burning drawings. Just fiddling around and trying new things for fun."
"God help me," Roy raised his eyes to the sky beyond the ceiling before closing them and taking a calming breath. "Johnny… please tell me you're free on Saturday."
"Yeah, I guess so."
"Good, okay, great. I'm picking you up at 8 in the morning. I need to show you something."
And so Saturday morning, Johnny was standing outside of his apartment with yet another sweater to ward off the morning chill when Roy pulled up in his pickup truck instead of his stupid little sports car.
"Alright, where are we going?" He asked as Roy started driving.
"Flea market."
Johnny frowned in disgust. "A flea market? Why?"
"To prove something. There's one near Hollywood that all the travelers hit up. Joanne and I spent one weekend pretending to be tourists when she was pregnant with Jenny since we couldn't leave for a real vacation."
Johnny rolled his eyes. "Yeah, that sounds like something you'd do."
They had to park a bit off and walk, even though it was still what Johnny would call early morning.
"I told you, this place is really popular." Roy grinned as they walked.
There were rows and rows of tents and booths and tables… all in a parking lot and taking up some of a next door field.
"Okay, so why are we here—hey, look! Handmade Keychains!" Johnny was immediately distracted, picking up some Keychain made of metal and sea glass. Another one next to it had a seashell. "I bet I could do this…." he mumbled.
"Yeah, you probably could, you freak of nature. Look." Roy grabbed Johnny by the shoulders and pointed him down a row of craft booths.
One booth sold crochet and knit items, not too dissimilar to what Johnny already made.
"How much for this?" He held up a tied bundle of granny squares.
"$5 per bundle. Saves time, so you can just put them together without making all the squares. I also have a paper with some ideas and instructions on what you could make with them." The lady was so bubbly as she explained.
He looked over at Roy with shock and surprise. $5 for stupid little squares he makes out of boredom.
"Keep moving," Roy instructed. They moved from booth to booth, tons of handmade crafts and knick-knacks, little collectables. And people were buying them. Tiny souvenirs they could take home and set on their desk at work. A reminder of the trip they took to California.
And Johnny had to admit that Roy's reaction had been correct, and Johnny suddenly changed his mind about Roy taking the animals from his wooden menagerie. Each of those little wooden animals was a dollar sign now.
His granny squares.
His sweaters, God his sweaters.
"Okay…" He started low, getting Roy to lean in closer to hear. "This is the plan…"