Archive of Our Own

There are thirty-one stars on Johnny’s entire outfit, Gyro surmises. The extra one threw him for a loop a couple of hours ago. How did he miss it? Ten on his armbands, ten on his hat, but eleven on his pants. He stares at the outlier on Johnny’s thigh, not even paying attention to where his horse takes him as it walks.

Maybe he’ll try counting again later. There’s no way a new star could just appear on the pattern. It’s been thirty for the past week, goddammit.

“Gyro?”

The only thing that takes him out of his lethargic daze is Johnny calling to him from his own horse. He turns his head to look forward.

A flat clearing presents itself in front of them. Deserted, which is good news for the two. Gyro nods and Johnny does the same. A silent acknowledgment to stop riding. Home sweet home...for the night at least.

The setting up of camp goes by quickly. It’s routine by now, with Gyro gathering wood and Johnny pitching each shoddy tent. Work is equal like that between them. It helps to get to sleep faster, to get awake quicker. A necessity for the rapid pace of travel. Being in a life or death race will do that to you.

Sure, it took a while to get used to. Laying on the ground, the smell of soil lingering around their noses. But riding dozens of miles non-stop would make anyone want to drop anywhere to pass out.

Gyro remembers what it was like to sleep on a soft pillow. He misses it, but never complains. Because if he complains then Johnny might think lowly of him. So, zip it shut, he tells himself late at night.

This is a time when they can relax. Even for a minute. They don’t often talk about the events of the day. Things regarding the hard to swallow. The dead body they rode by, the near death experience they endured. That baggage goes away for the night. Talk about it tomorrow, for sanity’s sake.

So, here they sit, playing cards with small smiles over the crackle of a barely lit fire. Though Johnny is already worked for the day, Gyro begs him to humor the game. After little resistance he’s dealt a hand while they sit on their blankets.

“Crap,” Johnny scratches under his own hat, “You already won this one.” he concedes with a sneer.

“Hah?! What? Show me. I don’t believe you.” Gyro’s eyes narrow as he beckons to see.

Johnny hides his cards close to his own chest, “No, no. Seriously, whatever you have is better.”

The look Gyro gives Johnny is of disbelief. All the times they’ve played two-on-two Johnny always beats him. Gyro isn’t sure why he keeps initiating the game, to be honest. Maybe it’s for Johnny’s sake. He looks happier when he’s winning at something.

With a huff Gyro grabs two pebbles off to the side and pushes them in front of himself.

There’s a pause and Johnny quirks a brow at the gesture, “What’s that?” he asks.

“My bet. I bet two rocks that you’re lying.”

“Oh,” Johnny reaches behind him and turns back, “Then here’s my bet.” he places more pebbles in the pile, “Three.”

“You bettin’ on yourself winning or me?”

Johnny shrugs, “You.”

“Fine. Turn them over in three...two...one…”

Their hands slam on the ground in unison. Specks of dirt fly around in typical showdown fashion. Gyro’s eyes narrow. He grins.

“You must be cheating or something, Johnny. There’s no way you could’ve known I would win. Tell me. What is it? How are you hustling me out of all my rocks?”

Johnny triumphantly scrapes the rocks to his corner of the camp. “Just luck, I guess.” he says, wiping away leftover grime on the jackpot.

It’s a good enough answer for Gyro. He’ll let it slide just this once. But mark his thoughts, he will discover how Johnny keeps his winning streak up.

He motions for Johnny to hand him back the cards since he always shuffles. Something about him being quicker. He teased Johnny about it the first time they played. It was endearing, really, to see Johnny try the tricks Gyro can do with a deck. He should show him someday.

“I’ll win all that back next round.” Gyro says splitting the deck.

“You sound confident for never having won a—“

Crack.

“Shut up.” Gyro’s voice goes low to a whisper, “Someone’s here.”

That definitely wasn’t an animal that made that noise. Gyro has been ambushed enough by now to make the correct distinction.

There’s panic on Johnny’s face. It’s already too late to put out the fire and lay low, not when they’ve already been seen.

It’s scary, like hell, even though Gyro is trained in combat. With the addition of stands in fights the anxiety is peaked up to eleven at times. He’s learned to put on a brave face even when not confident. He tells himself it’s for Johnny.

But it’s a real good thing Gyro always keeps his belt on him. His hand hovers over his steel ball. He’s always prepared to defend the two of them, especially during times of rest. He continues sitting near Johnny, though still wary.

Gyro’s eyes scan the pitch black horizon. Can’t see shit even with the campfire. He looks at Johnny and leans in, “You see anyone?” he asks in a hushed tone.

Johnny shakes his head, hands at the ready to shoot.

Fuck, they’re at a total disadvantage. It’d be so much better if it was daytime. But it isn’t. There’s no sunlight to be seen, no lamps to guide the way. Complete darkness.

Only one thing they can do.

“Hey! Who's there?!” Gyro shouts confidently, “Come out now and I won’t kick your ass!”

He can see Johnny tense as he taunts the mysterious enemy into a fight.

Crack. The noise comes again. Both of their gazes go to the right. That way. Whoever is there is to the right of them. Crack.

And it’s getting closer as time races on.

Gyro’s eyes narrow at the odd sound. Whoever it is has a death wish or no fear at all.

Because Gyro isn’t in the mood to play this game today.

He gets up on both feet, quick to move out of the way from potential harm. But, of course, something lunges at him from behind. Johnny sees it before he does and a nail bullet whizzes past Gyro’s face.

Fuck, Johnny’s got shit aim sometimes.

It only takes Gyro a few seconds before he realizes that a stand is the one attacking them. A human can’t move that fast. No mortal soul has been able to sneak up behind Gyro that easily. Before it can get at him again, Gyro dips out of the way. Running from camp, leaving Johnny behind.

“G-gyro!” Johnny calls out from the ground.

But he doesn’t respond. Just keeps sprinting to the right.

His spurs glint as he disappears into the distance. Whatever he saw isn’t going after Johnny anytime soon. He’s more of a threat than him, enemy track records taught him that well.

He keeps going until out of the corner of his eye he spots it. Gyro flicks his side satchel open and takes hold of his steel ball.

“Not so sneaky now, huh?” he says right before hurling it at a rock nearby.

It ricochets off the stone and into the pitch black distance. Quick enough to barely be seen by human eyes. Gyro twists his wrist with a wince.

There’s a  thud of something hitting the ground to the opposite side and Gyro’s heart stops beating frantically at the satisfying sound. A second passes before he notices Johnny coming up right behind him. Damn, he crawls fast.

Johnny’s face is still filled with worry as he follows close behind, “What happened? Did the guy run away?!” he asks glancing around.

“He would’ve.” Gyro smirks, “If I didn’t get him first.”

There’s a strange victorious pose accompanying that declaration. Johnny still looks concerned and unconvinced.

Gyro rolls his eyes. Can’t he get a little more trust around here? He waves his hand to Johnny, beckoning him to follow.

They make their way just a few feet further. There, behind a bunch of decaying plants lies an unconscious man next to Gyro’s ball. Looks like one of the racers, but no horse is nearby.

Probably wanted to steal one of theirs and pass it off as his own. Would never work though, every horse is registered to their racer already. Gyro can’t help to think the idiot is as stupid as he is weak.

Johnny’s lips part though his expression borders on the cusp of indifference, “Is he dead?”

“Nah. Knocked him out good though. He won’t be bothering us anytime soon.” Gyro bends down to grab his ball, dusting it off a bit.

Johnny goes to sift through the guy’s jacket pockets. He pulls a few crisp bills out before fiddling with more stuff on the person, “I saw you throw your ball.” Johnny says, “But it happened so fast I don’t really know how you managed to hit him.”

Gyro laughs, “Nyoho! Johnny, that’s what I like to call a trick shot. I’ll teach you someday. When your aim is better, of course.”

“Trick shot, huh? Yeah, sounds cool.”

“Right?!”

“Uh, Gyro—“

“Yeah?”

“Your arm is bleeding.”

At the mere mention of it, Gyro starts to feel a trail of wet move down his arm.  Shit. Enemy’s stand must’ve nicked him back at camp. The wound isn’t that bad though. Nothing some bandages won’t take care of.

Gyro winces as the cool air brushes against his cut. Could’ve been worse. Could’ve been hit by Johnny’s bullet square in the jaw. He seriously has to set up some cans for target practice soon.

Good news is that the guy didn’t get any good hits on them. This is always the best case scenario when they get into altercations. No one badly injured and no time really lost.

“I’ll wrap it up. We need to get some sleep tonight.” Gyro says, walking back from where they came.

“Wait. Let’s hog-tie this guy first.” Johnny mentions.

“Good idea.”

The morning after the incident is quiet. The plan is to ride further than yesterday, so they let their horses rest a bit after they’ve woken up. Before they leave they check back on the man Gyro knocked out the night before. To their relief the body is still there, unconscious but his pulse is very much alive.

In daylight Gyro recognizes him one-hundred percent as a racer back from the last stage. Can’t seem to remember his name though. But it’s not some assassin sent to take care of them, so it gives a little relief. Poor guy didn’t know who he was dealing with.

Gyro didn’t enter this race to toy around with some low-life.

Johnny crawls right next to the body, “Should we kill him?”

The question pushes one of Gyro’s buttons. They’ve had this talk before regarding Diego. And Gyro still thinks they did the right thing, not ending his life right there and then. So, Gyro looks at Johnny with a level of some disdain, “I already told you, we can’t just go around killing people.”

“Why not?” he asks, a genuine seriousness to the question, “He was probably trying to steal from us anyway. Which makes him a thief. And if we don’t kill him, then what? We have no idea what his stand does. He could come back down the road and try to fight us again.”

There’s a tsk that comes from Gyro as he crosses his arms. Okay, Johnny has some points. But he’s got some too. “You saw his stand last night, yeah?” he asks, “It got right up behind me but didn’t do shit. If it was a real threat it would’ve done more than give me a stupid paper cut.”

Gyro glances at the bandage wrapped around his arm. Maybe not exactly a paper cut, more like a flesh wound. Whatever.

“But how do you even know if that’s all it did to you? Gyro, I’m being serious when I say that it’s not a good idea to leave him.”

It’s way too early to get into an argument with Johnny. Usually, they both get along pretty well but Gyro is on his last nerve from the lack of sleep he got last night. He sighs, “Johnny, give me the canteen. I’m leaving water for when he wakes up.”

Johnny’s jaw clenches, “Gyro—“

“Johnny. Give me the canteen.” he repeats coldly.

There’s something in his intimidating stare that makes Johnny flinch. It’s a look so foreign on Gyro’s usual happy face. Johnny looks frustrated.

“God, fine. Do what you want.”

He rummages through his satchel and practically chucks the tin at Gyro’s feet. The water sloshes inside the canister violently as it lands.

Gyro is left to watch Johnny crawl back to Slow Dancer, his head hanging low in frustration as he drags himself along. The sight makes Gyro’s stomach drop.

Is he being too harsh?

No, no. Just stern is all, it’s okay to be stern.

He needs to teach Johnny that killing is only a last resort option. Some lessons have to be forced.

Gyro can’t let the conflicting feelings linger long. They have a race to get back to and they need all the teamwork they can get. He tries to shake it off and grabs the canteen from the ground.

Johnny will come around...eventually.

Johnny doesn’t come around as quickly as Gyro anticipated. In fact, he’s making a show out of giving the most bland one-worded answers to anything Gyro asks him.

And, sure, that’s what Johnny usually does most of the time but at least he has more fun doing it than now.

So, when Gyro suggests they stop to eat at a nearby small town all Johnny does is grunt at him as a substitute for actual speech.

Gyro pats his taut belly as they sit at one of the tables in the busy restaurant, “Man, that chicken we ordered hit the spot! What do you think Johnny, was it good?”

“Yes.”

Gyro’s shoulders slump and he looks at Johnny’s plate. Barely touched anything, that ungrateful kid. Johnny moves the chicken on his plate with a fork, uninterested all the while avoiding any eye contact. In fact, he hasn’t even glanced Gyro’s way since yesterday.

It makes Gyro sad having Johnny ignore him like this. He’s his lone companion on this trip after all. One can only gossip to a teddy bear for so long till they get bored of it. He taps the side of Johnny’s plate, “Okay, that’s enough. We’re talking about this now whether you want to or not. What’s up with you?”

Johnny slams his fork down onto the table and finally meets the other’s gaze. Gyro winces at the sudden noise. The expression on Johnny’s face drills holes into Gyro, one of harsh criticism.

“What’s up with me? I think the real question is, what’s up with you?"

Gyro straightens up. He blows hot air out of his nose, “Johnny, what do you want me to say?” his voice lowers, they’re in public after all, “Want me to say we should’ve killed him? Hung him up on a tree like an animal? We’re in a race, not a body count competition.”

At this, Johnny grits his teeth and his nails dig into the table. “That’s not what I’m saying at all. It’s just—you aren’t usually this uncompromising. We agreed on being a team right? Shouldn’t we make decisions like one?”

“Yeah. You’re right, Johnny! We are a team. Great observation. I’d love to make decisions with you. Except I usually have a hard time working with murderers. ” Gyro spits the last word like venom across the table.

Johnny’s eyes widen out of irritation, “Gyro, that’s not—”

“Then what is it?! Tell me! Be my guest. Seriously, rationalize it for me!”

“Gyro, stop there are people around—” Johnny starts.

“Let them fucking look!!!” Gyro shouts across the table, pushing out of his chair to stand over Johnny like a wolf to prey.

Every guest in the shop pauses to stare as if time stood still. Gyro goes completely silent after his outburst. The thing that shakes him out of it is the image of Johnny who's still sitting there, pale as can be. There’s frustration written all over his face as he just looks at Gyro, too shocked to move.

Gyro’s chest heaves as he towers over the other. He’s never yelled at anyone like that in public.

Never yelled at Johnny like that with normal people to see.

In the blink of an eye he knows he’s done wrong.

Because Johnny looks taken aback and for the first time it’s Gyro’s own doing.

“Johnny I—“

“Fuck off.”

Gyro anxiously trails behind Johnny, watching him drag himself across the small town.

“Where are you going—” he calls out to Johnny who seems more agitated by the second.

“Somewhere. Anywhere.” is the brief response he gets.

It ticks Gyro off just a little.

“Johnny, come on. Don’t be like that.”

“Wait for me by our horses. I’ll be back in like five minutes...give or take.”

The shallowness in Johnny’s voice makes Gyro frown. He stops following and clears his throat, nodding, “Okay. Five minutes. But hurry up, we gotta get going soon.”

Johnny doesn’t reply—doesn’t even look back—as he moves further away. To where, Gyro isn’t sure. He fights the urge to run after him. Alone time is something he never understood since being around people makes him personally feel better. But for Johnny’s sake he takes the whole thing in stride.

He kicks at rocks with the toe of his boots as he walks to the fence where they tied their horses. Valkyrie’s tail swishes back and forth as he gets closer.

“Hey, bella.” Gyro weakly greets, waving, “Me and Johnny got into a fight. He doesn’t wanna talk to me right now.”

Valkyrie’s black eyes blink at him.

“Yeah. It’s my fault though. Don’t really know what’s gotten into me.” Gyro sighs, “Also don’t really know how I can make it up to him.”

He goes to brush Valkyrie’s mane with his hand slowly, the coarse hair running through his fingertips. Valkyrie lowers its head calmly in response.

Gyro presses his lips into a thin line, “You think that’ll work? Like I said, he probably doesn’t even wanna look at me.”

One of Valkyrie’s front hooves stamps the ground lightly and hot hair blows out of its nostrils. Gyro chuckles halfheartedly. He pats the top of his horse’s head. “Maybe you’re right. Can’t knock it till I try it. You’re such a good listener, has anyone ever told you that?”

One of Valkyrie’s ears twitch and it snorts.

“Course’ not. You’re a fucking horse.” Gyro pouts, “Sorry. I didn’t mean that. Let’s go find Johnny.”

Gyro starts to gather all of their combined belongings onto each horses’ back. Then in no time he’s sure he has everything, not much, but everything.

And as he looks around it starts to feel more and more like Johnny vanished before his eyes earlier.

Though he figures he couldn’t have gotten that far without a wheelchair. He can move fast on his own but not that fast.

Hm. Doesn’t have his wheelchair. Can’t move very well.

It’s a cause of concern but Gyro tries not to let that bother him as he leads the two horses gently by their reins.

He’ll never admit that not having Johnny in his field of vision makes him fidget just a tad more than he usually does.

Not that Johnny can’t take care of himself. Quite the contrary, he’s fought off stand attacks on his own plenty of times. But Gyro is a worrywart, even when he tries not to be.

As he rounds the corner of a short building nearby he sees a small figure gloomily drawing something into the dirt with a sharpened stick. There sits Johnny, chin in his knees and utterly silent. Barely even reacting to Gyro and the horses a few feet away from him.

Gyro watches Johnny briefly before deciding enough is enough and that they really need to get going. Gyro slows the horses to a full-stop and approaches.

“Johnny.” he says going to stand over the other.

But Johnny doesn’t respond, just kind of hums back in acknowledgment.

In an effort to get a better look at his face, Gyro tilts his head coyly to the side. He can tell that Johnny’s eyes are red and puffy…

Gyro hates what he sees.

“Heeey,” he coos, sitting next to Johnny plain on the dirt floor, “What’s that?”

He points to the picture that Johnny is etching into the ground. There are thin lines intersecting one another, overlapping sometimes to make small boxes.

“A game.” Johnny says with a sniffle, though he tries to hide it by wiping his nose with the back of a hand.

“What’s it called?” Gyro asks, sounding rather chipper for what the situation is.

Johnny glances at him (for once, thank god). “Tic-tac-toe.” he replies, looking positively uninterested in the conversation.

Huh. Gyro didn’t really get to play these kinds of games as a kid. He would always have to be home straight from school, head buried in a wordy book or else his father would give him a lecture. Had to give away all his books with pictures to his younger siblings when he turned thirteen too. The ones that had blotches of fun colors and depicted creatures of lore. They made Gyro’s young eyes grow wide with wonder. That’s a sad day in his memory.

In a way he’s kind of jealous that Johnny had the privilege to do the things he couldn’t.

Still, Gyro looks expectantly at Johnny, making sure to grin. Johnny rolls his eyes with a sigh.

“Want me to teach you?” he asks Gyro, monotone.

“Yeah!”

Scooting closer to Johnny, Gyro leans in, all ears to the explanation of the game. Already Gyro can tell by looking at the grid what combinations he needs to win. Statistically speaking, he’s figured out going second will give him less chances to beat the other.

And yet…

Gyro doesn’t take the stick that Johnny tries to give him. He shrugs, “Go first. I can beat you even if I go second.” Gyro says with a jeer.

Johnny pulls the stick back, furrowing his brow in slight amusement. “You talk a big game for someone who's never played before.” he says before making the first move.

An X is placed in the top right corner by Johnny. Gyro wonders why he didn’t put it in the middle. Maybe it’s too tempting.

Gyro draws in an O at random. The look Johnny gives him borders on amusement.

A few seconds pass before Johnny goes again. Gyro catches himself laughing at his choice.

Yeah, he could totally beat him right here. When it comes to challenges of math, science, statistics, no one's ever beaten Gyro. He’s got his life’s studying to thank for that.

Still can’t figure out how to pull a good card hand without counting though. Slots is definitely a no-go too. Those machines are fucking rigged.

Eventually, Gyro takes the stick from Johnny and makes his final move.

He hands it back to Johnny smiling.

Johnny looks at the ground confused. “Why’d you let me win?” he pointedly asks, not in an upset type of way, more curious than anything.

Gyro clears his throat, “What do you mean? You won fair and square. Guess I need more practice.”

He stiffly glances back and forth between the grid on the ground and Johnny.

Johnny’s lips quirk up in a wobble. “Wow. I had no idea I was that good, beating someone of your caliber and all.” he throws the stick over his shoulder and it clunks against some nearby wood.

The game in the dirt disappears as Johnny brushes it away with his hand. He looks off into the distance as the wind picks up slightly, making the hair that peeks out from his hat sway.

Pushing his luck, Gyro moves even closer to Johnny. His head hangs low as he places a hand soothingly on Johnny’s shoulder.

“I’m really —“

“Don’t mention it. We’re both stressed out. I get it. Let’s live and let live.” Johnny interrupts rather gravely.

Oh, thank god. Gyro really doesn’t want to get all sappy. That’s the one thing that puts a sour taste in his mouth.

But then Johnny turns to him. His eyes still have that tell-tale redness to them, much less than before. Yet, this time it’s endearing. Gyro feels lucky to be the one sitting next to Johnny right now. His heart is full.

Maybe sappy is okay, just this once.

His hand that rests on Johnny’s shoulder tentatively moves away, brushing through the loose hair as it goes.

If Johnny noticed he doesn’t say anything. Only sits there staring at Gyro. Unaffected.

The moment is fickle in time, but Gyro can feel his own pulse pang throughout his body regardless.

There’s too much emotion in Gyro’s chest. He wishes he could be like his father sometimes. Life would be so much easier. So much less painful.

Because Gyro can already tell without an exchange of words that he’s entirely attached to Johnny. Maybe from the moment he watched him get dragged around by a horse back at the start. This boy that sits in front of him is seethingly mad at the world, betrayed. He sees himself in Johnny, maybe that’s why he’s become sickeningly fond.

But Gyro is a lost soul and Johnny isn’t. He can tell there’s a kindle of fire raging within him. Gyro wants to preserve that, to cover his hands over that spark and blow on it until it grows a blue flame hot enough to melt skin.

Johnny can do what Gyro can’t; he can change and be better. No matter what happens, Gyro will protect that.

There’s a soft smile on Gyro’s face as he watches Johnny leave to mount Slow Dancer.

They’re on talking terms again.

Things are right with the world again.

They set up camp for the night. Still in the middle of nowhere, as per usual. The town from before had lodgings but nightfall hadn’t hit so both agreed to keep riding till they got sick of it.

It’s good that the small feud between them absolved earlier, otherwise Gyro would have been left setting up camp in awkwardness. Johnny eventually goes to gather something they can use as tinder, said something about wanting to change the routine. And so, here back at camp, Gyro is left to his own thoughts. Though he’s not being given the silent treatment anymore, Johnny heading off to who knows where reminds him of how lonely he gets when he doesn’t have anyone to blabber to.

God, he really likes being around Johnny. Everything about him is great. Johnny likes his jokes and can even tell Gyro ones he’s never heard. There hasn’t been anyone he’s gotten along with this well.

To be honest, he’s the closest thing to a best friend that Gyro’s ever had so he’s not surprised at all with how upset he gets when they fight, if ever.

Seeing Johnny smiling (though rare) makes the journey and the battles much more tolerable. Like when he brews up a cup of coffee. Johnny’s hands always wrap around the cup as he looks positively content bringing it up to his lips. It’s domestic, Gyro thinks, and it warms his own heart without having to drink a single drop.

But it’s no time to get sentimental, Gyro needs to finish pitching the tents. He’s already halfway done by the time Johnny comes back mounted on Slow Dancer with some kindling in hand. For some reason, a comforting feeling washes over Gyro the closer Johnny gets.

Gyro waves at him, “Hey!” he says, a little forced, a little too eager.

Johnny tosses the kindling down next to the small pit he dug earlier. He blinks down at Gyro and tilts his head, “Hey?”

Ah, Gyro doesn’t know why, but the way Johnny answers him makes him feel all floaty inside. It’s stupid, yeah, but he’ll do anything to get Johnny to say more words to him.

He clears his throat all loud and nonchalantly, reaching to the sky in a stretch, “Soooo...Johnny. Do you want some coffee?” he asks.

The look Johnny gives him is something akin to confusion and surprise mixed into two. “Before bed?” he asks, “I won’t be able to sleep.”

Gyro shrugs. It’s the only way to keep Johnny up just a tad bit longer so he can talk to him more. To make up for lost time or whatever.

Johnny genuinely contemplates the offer some more before nodding, “Okay. Don’t make too much though.”

The kettle gets placed over the newly lit fire with the liquid goodness sloshing inside, courtesy of Gyro. Fuck it, he’ll make as much coffee as it takes to get Johnny to humor him a few minutes more.

He hands a cup to Johnny who now lays on a blanket by the fire. Half full, of course, per Johnny’s request. Johnny mutters a thanks and immediately sits up to place his lips on the rim.

“Ach…” he recoils.

Gyro looks over in concern. He frowns while setting down his own cup, “Why do you always do that?”

Johnny glances over at him with the mug still close to his face, “Do what?”

Stubborn. How could Gyro forget? As much as he boasts about Johnny getting along with him, the guy still does things that Gyro can’t even begin to understand.

Maybe Johnny feels the same way about him sometimes too.

“You’re always trying to drink before it can cool down—gimmie.” Gyro says picking up Johnny’s coffee.

Light smoke flies away as Gyro softly blows on it. Johnny watches straight-faced.

If Johnny stopped being so hard headed he probably wouldn’t get burned on coffee all of the dang time.

Then again, Gyro probably should be taking his own advice on that one.

He brings the cup back into Johnny’s hands.

Johnny grimaces at the gesture, “I prefer it hot though.”

“And I prefer not treating burn wounds. Pick your poison.”

A smile ghosts across Johnny’s face but disappears as soon as Gyro can make it out, “Point taken.” is all he says before lightly blowing on the leftover rising heat.

Gyro smiles at him with a sigh as he goes to cool down his own cup.

They’re both equally each other's handfuls he supposes.

After they both finished downing their drinks and suppressing some of the fire there’s a thought Gyro can’t push out of his head.

It being that Johnny looks good tonight.

Like,  really  good.

He’s not sure what it is exactly. Maybe it’s the brief fight they had back in town hours ago that is making him more appreciative of his partner. But even Gyro knows that’s shooting in the dark for a justification.

So, as Gyro watches over Johnny’s tired form he analyzes every part of him. Things he’s never cared about he starts to notice. Like how there’s a certain boyish charm to the other. The leftover baby fat on his face, the hair that falls over the nape of his neck, the subtle curve to his slim body; Gyro notices all of Johnny’s intricacies.

It’s like his senses are on alert. Every brush of wind on his skin raises the hairs on his arm. The sparks of their campfire are so loud, so deafening that he wants to stamp it out to make it shut up .

The way he feels is a dichotomy that lingers in the air they breathe. Unlike his tensed posture, Johnny’s body is slack against his pillow. In or out of sleep one could hardly tell.

There’s a mockery being made of Gyro. Like someone is nailing his eyes open to keep him staring at Johnny.

The curve of his hip, the bangs of his hair, the softness of his face. It’s a mantra tunneling it’s way into Gyro’s head.

He wants to go over there to shake Johnny fully awake. To tell him to do anything other than lay in front of him. God, just go anywhere else away from here. Somewhere far away to stop the voices that keep telling Gyro to stare .

But he doesn’t. Instead, Gyro stays watching over Johnny. If he were to wake him up then it’d make the fantasy real. A chance for Johnny to see the hunger that claws its way out through Gyro’s eyes.

Johnny’s face, Johnny’s hair, Johnny’s body—

Gyro shakes his head and lightly slaps himself.

A burning sensation runs over his eyes as he realizes that they’re probably bloodshot from not blinking.

He reaches a hand up to his lips. His mouth is completely dry. Has it been open this whole time?

There’s pain in his chest. Like he’s been trampled on. Except the trampling doesn’t stop, just keeps hitting him...and hitting him...and hitting him. The only way to stop it is to scratch the itch that’s under his skin. Something tells Gyro that’s the only way he’ll get sleep tonight.

“Johnny.” Gyro crawls over carefully, voice barely above a whisper, “Hey, Johnny.”

Johnny groans groggily and turns away.

“Psst. Johnny.” he beckons again, this time louder than before.

Still no response.

Gyro slaps Johnny’s back, “Get up.” he says with a hiss.

To this Johnny sits up with a jolt, head whipping to look at Gyro with a puffy face. He squints and holds his mouth open before speaking. “Gyro, this better be important.”

“No, no. It is.”

Johnny rubs at his eyes groggily, “Okay, what—”

“Come.”

Without another word, Gyro reaches his arms out towards the other. His fingers have a slight waggle to them.

“Uh.” Johnny pauses, “Wha—why?”

He looks around. Probably to see if anyone is watching, as if Gyro calling him over is code for an enemy being nearby.

Gyro stays firm, “Come here. I wanna hold you.”

Johnny stares at him like he’s crazy. And to be fair, Gyro is plenty of crazy. But it’s such an out of the blue request. Gyro has never asked anything of this nature. Well, except for that one time when they both lost their blankets. Those circumstances were different since it was so cold that night Gyro couldn’t shut himself up until he had something warm near him. Strictly platonic.

This scenario is totally different. The weather is pretty comfortable and they have new blankets this time. There isn’t any excuse Gyro has for him.

Yet Johnny insists on giving him a perplexed look, not entirely clambering into his arms as Gyro wanted so desperately. Johnny’s eyes are tired though. Maybe he’ll wear out soon. Gyro pushes his luck, “If you come here, I’ll stop talking and let you sleep.” he offers with a grin.

“Ughn…” Johnny rolls his eyes, “Whatever.”

Gyro’s mood lifts as he sees Johnny start to crawl over. He meets him halfway—can’t wait, he’s too thrilled. He practically scoops Johnny into his arms, laying back onto his blanket squeezing tight. Johnny grunts as the air is taken out of him.  

Holding him like this makes Gyro feel better. The thoughts he had earlier don’t hurt as much as they did. He thought he could get away with hugging his teddy but this is so much better than that’ll ever be.

True to his word, Gyro doesn’t make a sound. And with the way Johnny’s breathing slows on his chest Gyro can tell that he’s fallen asleep. He looks down to see Johnny’s shoulder’s gradually rising and dropping. It looks comfortable.

Not to mention, Johnny is amazingly warm pressed against Gyro. The last time he’s been this close to someone like this was back in Italy, with a girl he can’t even remember the name of. Gyro can feel his pulse start to quicken.

He tilts his head a little to get a better view at the lower half of Johnny. His shirt has risen, revealing the base of his spine. There’s a huge blatant scar on the surface of his skin. Gyro frowns. Whichever doctor sewed him up did a shit job, he wishes he could have done it.

Besides that, Johnny’s skin is pretty clear. Save for a few freckles and moles that linger about but it’s endearing. He’s rather pale too. Gyro licks his lips as he moves a hand to rub up and down his lower back gently.

Johnny’s muscles twitch beneath the touch and Gyro almost retreats. But Johnny himself doesn’t move, still victim to sleep. Close one.

His back is soft as Gyro goes to caress it. Untouched except for the wound.

Gyro’s hand spreads across the expanse of where it lies. His hand looks large over Johnny’s back; it covers a good portion of it. Either Johnny is very little or Gyro is very big. Or both, maybe both.

This is why Johnny is such an enigma to Gyro. He doesn’t look anything like the husky burly men he grew up around during his teenage years. The ones that would yell at Gyro through prison walls like pigs. He’s small and cute (on the outside at least). Quick to anger yet only when provoked. Determined. Strong. Feisty. Totally Gyro’s type. If he was a woman—

Gyro holds his breath.

If Johnny was a woman Gyro would have already fucked him fifty different ways.

And god, he would give it to him good too. Johnny looks like he needs a nice pounding anyway. He’s always so grumpy.

There’s a thought that appears in the back of Gyro’s mind like a glimmer of a fire in the distance. Sparking brightly enough to captivate. His head goes dizzy at it. Tries to push it down. but it’s impossible. Because he can see himself fucking Johnny. As like, a guy with a dick, not a woman. It’s not far fetched at this point. What with the telltale hardness in his pants giving himself away.

Would Johnny be weirded out? Oh, he definitely would. Probably would crawl away screaming to the hills actually.

Gyro’s inwardly surprised that he’s taking the fact that he likes men rather well. To be fair, if anyone gives him shit about it he could just beat their face into the ground. No one’s ever been able to win in a fight against him anyway. Not much to worry about there.

Only person he’d really be concerned about is his father. He would get the greatest lecture of his life if he ever found out. But since when has Gyro ever listened to his father? He tells him not to get attached, he gets attached. He tells him to execute a kid, he doesn’t execute the kid. He tells him to go find a loving wife...he finds a cute boy instead. Yeah, he isn’t surprised by these turn of events at all.

It sucks though. Gyro is supposed to inherit everything after his father’s death. Being head doctor, head executioner, the continuation of the Zeppeli family lineage. He’s been training his whole life to take up the mantle.

Well, if someone’s going to be the family fuck-up he might as well take one for the team.

Thinking of his family turns him off a little. Too much responsibility. He shakes his head pushing the thought away.

Better to think about the boy in his arms instead. He never gets the chance to be around a calm Johnny. Gyro wishes he could see his face better, but he’s too busy burying it on his chest. It’s kind of sweet in a way.

He’s only ever thought of Johnny like this, not any other man. So, does it count as being gay if his feelings are just for one guy?

Probably.

It feels like there’s no rhyme or reason for Gyro’s sudden...excitement. He’s touched Johnny before through brief encounters. A brush of an arm or carrying him when he’s been unconscious. Gyro has never gotten tingles during those times though. Maybe it’s because the setting right now is so intimate. Both alone, in the middle of nowhere, chest to chest. Yeah, Gyro chalks it down to that.

He goes back to leering at Johnny and the feeling festers inside of him again. It’s like, the more he takes the more greedy he gets.

His hand goes lower to the waistband of Johnny’s pants.

Dare he?

Yes. Yes, he dares.

He shimmies down Johnny’s pants little by little, till it barely goes over the curve of his ass. God. Gyro isn’t sure what’s come over him. His hands start to shake from excitement. Maybe he drank way too much coffee. He’s not even much of a voyeur, hence this behavior he’s displaying is odd. The whole, touching someone without their knowledge.

Johnny fidgets beneath him but continues to sleep, uninterrupted.

A wave of guilt washes over Gyro as he starts to palm Johnny’s ass. But it’s not enough to make him stop. Not when his dick keeps prodding at Johnny’s body like it needs him.

And Johnny’s ass is so sexy, so fine under Gyro’s touch. He wants to dig his nails into the skin, maybe smack it. But that would wake Johnny up, so he resists.

Speaking of Johnny, the fondling must have stirred him a bit. Fuck, and Gyro was trying to be careful. It’s not his fault that Johnny is a light sleeper.

Gyro carefully pulls Johnny’s waistband back up before he can come to and realize what’s happening.

Johnny groans in his sleep-haze and lifts his head up to look at Gyro. His eyes are half-lidded and there’s a little drool on the side of his mouth. He doesn’t say anything, but instead drops his head back onto Gyro’s chest to continue sleeping.

Ah, adorable. But also worrying because Gyro almost got caught. He can’t imagine how mad Johnny would be if he found out what he’s been doing. Might even ignore him all over again and that’d be inconvenient as hell.

So, Gyro settles on that being enough for tonight. His dick will go down if he stops ogling at Johnny. He needs to sleep anyway since they plan on riding to a hotel that’s close to twenty miles away tomorrow. A long journey, but Gyro’s libido will have to wait.

Wait until they get to that damn hotel that is.

They’re ten miles out when Johnny stops suddenly. Slow Dancer whinnies as he tugs on it’s reins. The noise catches Gyro’s attention and he slows Valkyrie to turn back. He sees Johnny rummaging through his side satchel looking for something.

Johnny’s brow furrows and he huffs in Gyro’s direction. He gives a pointed look filled with malice at Gyro.

Crap. He’s upset. For some reason Gyro’s heart skips a beat. Did he find out what he did last night? Is he bringing it up now?

“Gyro, did you seriously eat those sandwiches we got?” Johnny pauses to open up the satchel again, “And the biscuits?! What the hell?”

Crumbs fall onto the soil beneath them as Johnny shakes the bag out. Completely empty.

Thank god. Tension leaves Gyro’s body as he rubs the back of his neck. Johnny has no idea. He dodged the bullet there. Except…

“What?” Gyro’s eyes narrow as he jumps off his horse to walk over, “Gimmie that.” he says, snatching the bag from Johnny.

He peeks inside incredulously. Yup, nothing, just like Johnny claimed.

But why is there nothing? Did...did he really eat all of their food!? He had some earlier but there’s no way it was that much...no way…

Oh my god, he ate all of their food.

And he’s still hungry! As if he didn’t even touch the damn biscuits. He knows he has a fast metabolism but this is fucking ridiculous.

Gyro swallows nervously and glances up at Johnny. He’s still looking at him with dagger-eyes. His grip on the food bag tightens before he speaks up, “Okay...maybe I ate it all.”

Johnny’s eyes go wide, “Gyro. You ate two whole sandwiches and ten biscuits in one sitting?”

“I-I guess? I just—”

“Stop.” Johnny interrupts him, “No excuses. I’m just gonna say it; there’s something wrong with you. I don’t know what it is but ever since we tied up that guy a few days ago you’ve been acting weird, not yourself.”

Gyro opens his mouth to speak but Johnny holds a finger up to him.

“First, you scream at me in public, then you wake me up in the middle of the night, then you eat all of our food. You’ve turned into the most selfish person in the world. God, you’re acting like— you’re acting like me. ”

Johnny’s speech leaves Gyro, well, speechless. To be perfectly frank, he doesn’t feel like he’s been acting weird. But when his behavior is listed off to him so matter-of-factly it puts it a little into perspective. Yes, things have been weird. It’s as if another voice has dug inside his brain and started to make him cave into his urges.

It’s left him with no self control to his name.

He nods, “Johnny, as much as I hate to admit, I think for once you’re right.”

“Oh gee, you think?”

“Hm. Yes, I think so.” Gyro goes to mount back up on Valkyrie and Johnny follows close behind on his horse, “You think it’s a stand ability? Only injury I have is my arm.” he pats himself up and down, “Other than that I feel fine. Just kind of want to do things I don’t normally do.”

They start to ride together in tandem, their horses walking side by side. Johnny quirks an eyebrow at him, “What kind of things?”

Gyro’s eyes go wide and he turns away from Johnny. “You know... things .”

Johnny squints, “Yeah, we’ve established that. I’m asking you what kind of things. It’s important so we can figure out what the stand is doing to you. For all we know it could be eating your insides and making you go crazy or something.”

Well, Johnny’s right about one thing. It is making him go crazy. Crazy for Johnny’s ass.

“Uh, I can assure you it isn’t killing me. Quite the opposite really.” Gyro says clearing his throat.

“Stop beating around the bush and just tell me.”

The demand rings in Gyro’s ears. He wants to run away and bang his head on a tree. Anything to escape Johnny’s questioning.

But he can’t keep going on with a lie. Gyro happens to have the world’s worst poker face. It’s a struggle, really.

Gyro bites the inside of his cheek and meets Johnny’s scrutiny, “It’s like I have no self-restraint.” he pauses, thinking carefully about his wording, “Whenever I get upset, it’s normally easy for me to control myself. And when I get hungry I usually eat just enough to get by. But when I saw all that food in the bag, you know...all my inhibitions are...gone…”

He trails off with a frown. Gyro purposely leaves out the part about it getting harder to control. Because talking about it out loud already makes it sound more depressing than he originally thought it was.

Johnny’s expression changes from upset to one of pity.

“A stand that makes a person act like an asshole, that’s new. We need to find that guy before you do something stupid. If anything we’ll just end up seeing him at the next checkpoint, then we can actually do something about all this.” Johnny says, clearly frustrated at the situation.

Gyro gulps, “Yeah.”

The suggestion sends chills down Gyro’s spine. He wants to avoid doing something stupid too.

It’s been a long ride for the both of them. They finally make it to the large town they’ve been heading towards for a good chunk of the day.

Parlors and shops are scattered about. Much to explore. But they don’t because Johnny’s eyes are heavy with exhaustion and Gyro doesn’t look much better either.

Lucky for them no other racers came to meddle with their journey. Besides, the real sprint almost always starts near the finish line for each length of the race.

Only thing bothering Gyro is that Johnny hasn’t had much to eat, but he insists he’ll eat in the morning. The kid is skinny enough which makes Gyro feel even more shittier now that he ate all of their food. And Johnny isn’t much of a complainer about these specific matters either, so he’s probably actually starving.

“You got everything?” Johnny asks, dragging along a bag towards the stable’s entrance.

Gyro pats Valkyrie on the neck, nodding, “Think so. I’ll meet you at the hotel, give me ten minutes.”

Johnny nods at him and makes his way. Gyro tilts his head to watch before Johnny disappears out of sight. He scratches Valkyrie’s mane one more time before leaving the stables, “Bye bye, horsie.”

There’s a few people here and there scattered about, but overall it’s getting late and most of the crowd has already cleared for the night.

He walks a bit till he spots an open shop with the lights still on. That’ll do.

The room they paid for only has a single bed, which they purposely got to save money. They always do that whenever they spend the night with a roof over their head. The only downside is the weird looks they get from people. So, Gyro’s settled on low whispers of, we’re brothers , leaving it at that.

Johnny's never seemed to care about the judgement. He’s probably just thankful that they get to sleep in a real bed every once in a while.

Gyro is too.

But it’s hard to hide his giddiness when he shuts the door behind him. No coyotes can get them in here once Gyro gets a hold of Johnny—

Wait, no.

He’s not going to get a hold of Johnny. What he should be doing is sleeping next to his friend and  partner .

Johnny is busy rummaging through his own satchel on the bed when Gyro comes in. He looks up at the sound of the door creaking and nods his head at Gyro in acknowledgment.

Gyro’s hands are suspiciously behind his back as he approaches after setting his bag near the door. It makes Johnny do a little of a double-take as he raises an eyebrow.

“What are you hiding?” he asks Gyro, ever so observant.

“A surprise. Close your eyes and open your mouth.”

At that request, Johnny’s eye twitches. Gyro snorts, “Not like that. Just do it.”

But as per the course, Johnny (however reluctantly) follows the game Gyro plays. He scoots himself to the edge of the bed and leans forward trepidatiously, shutting his eyes and parting his lips willingly.

The sight makes Gyro nearly trip backwards. Yeah, he said it wasn’t like that and it wasn’t but the way Johnny’s pretty mouth hangs exposed makes him wish it was. He inhales a sharp breath and stares.

One of Johnny’s eyes peek open at the silence. “Gyro?”

It shakes Gyro out of his haze. He sputters, “Y-yeah. Sorry.”

Johnny gives him a weird look before closing his eyes again. Gyro nearly fumbles shoving the thing he hides into Johnny’s mouth.

It causes Johnny to make a small noise in surprise. He bites down and his eyes open all wide as he stares down at the sandwich between his lips. His hands go to grasp at the sides as he chews on the bite.

“Whoa.” he says with his mouth full, “It’s roast beef…”

Gyro smiles, “Your favorite.”

With a swallow Johnny holds the sandwich up to Gyro, “Wanna share?”

“No, it’s for you.”

Johnny sighs happily, “Thanks, Gyro.” he says before taking another big bite.

Watching Johnny eat shouldn’t be as entertaining as it is. And yet, Gyro goes to sit right next to him fascinated at how quickly Johnny scarfs down the sandwich. He must’ve been lying about his hunger earlier. It makes Gyro thankful that he had a little extra cash on him. Seeing Johnny’s contented face makes the splurge worth it.

After Johnny finishes he lifts his arms into a lazy stretch. Gyro can see his bloated tummy from where his shirt rides up. Gyro’s eyes go half-lidded.

He tries not to leer too hard as Johnny scoots himself back up further on the bed to lie down. He yawns as he takes off his hat to scratch his scalp, “That was great.”

Gyro silently agrees. It was definitely great.

Who has he become, getting all riled at watching someone eat? A fucking perv, that’s what.

Standing up from the bed, Gyro goes to search through his own bag that he left by the door. He needs to grab his teddy before he lies down.

Johnny yawns from across the room, the bed creaking from underneath him as he turns onto his side away from the other. “I’m passing out.” he says.

Gyro looks over his shoulder and pauses. The position gives him the most wonderful view of Johnny’s ass he’s ever had. His jaw clenches.

There’s no way he’s going to sleep till he gets to mount Johnny. That’s kind of what all this has been coming to anyway.

He just accepts it at this point. Johnny will get over it eventually. Gyro will buy him a gift to compensate afterward, that’s how he justifies it.

It’s also not entirely Gyro’s fault, so Johnny will understand.

Right? He’ll understand.

Right?!?

Gyro shifts back and forth on his feet. Should he just go over there with some oil and start? Usually he likes foreplay beforehand.

That would probably be appreciated more by Johnny. Gyro shrugs his shirt to the floor and kicks off his boots.

Well. Might as well take it all off since he’s already halfway there. He kicks his pants away and finally is left to stand awkwardly by the bed with his dick out.

His half-hard dick that is. Damn, he hasn’t even been touched and he’s already like this. It’s definitely a problem that needs fixing.

Gyro climbs into the bed anxiously, covering himself with a sheet.

So, this is happening? He’s going to take Johnny and put him on his dick? How is he going to convince him to not crawl away screaming bloody murder? Gyro’s going to have to smooth talk his way into this one.

“Hey, Johnny.” Gyro pokes him on the shoulder as he lays behind him, “Turn around.”

Johnny groans just like the other night but he complies with Gyro’s request anyway.

“What?” he asks, head burying into the pillow while staring.

Gyro smiles at him, “Have I ever told you how pretty you are?”

It doesn’t get the response Gyro is going for. Instead, Johnny sneers at him through an annoyed expression. “Are you making fun of me?”

Oh, that’s right. Johnny’s a guy. His usual pick up lines won’t work on him. The word ‘pretty’ might have been in poor taste. Gyro thinks for a minute.

Clearing his throat, he tries again, “No.” Gyro reassures, “You’re the most handsome thing I’ve ever seen.”

Johnny gives him the most deadpanned look imaginable. Gyro frowns as Johnny starts to turn away.

“W-wait, Johnny…”

“Stop messing around and go to sleep.” Johnny replies with his back to the other, all grumpy like.

In a desperate attempt to convince Johnny of his sincerity, Gyro moves to grab him from behind. He forcefully yanks Johnny with his arms. Johnny flinches at the sudden tug and freezes as his back is pushed tightly against Gyro’s chest. “Gyro, what the—“

“It’s not a joke,” Gyro says against the back of Johnny’s neck, “I’m being serious.”

He can feel Johnny’s body still. At first Gyro would have guessed he died or something but a second later his breathing returns. Quite labored this time, but it’s ever present. It’s worrying. Gyro waits to be pushed off any second.

But that second doesn’t come anytime soon because they both mutually stay where they are. It’s a surprise to Gyro that Johnny hasn’t punched him in the throat yet. But he finds himself nervous as Johnny starts to crane his neck awkwardly to look behind. His face goes red as he stutters, “W-what the—what the hell. Oh my god, are— you’re naked? ”

As he comes to the revelation his voice is barely above a whisper. Gyro seems it fitting to keep his voice low too.

“Yeah. Help me out here and get naked too.”

“God, Gyro this is—what is even happening, I can’t—“

Johnny muffles himself by smacking his hands over his mouth. At this point Gyro isn’t sure if he’s upset or just shy. His eyes are squeezed shut and he looks like he’s in pain.

Gyro tests the waters by placing a chaste kiss on Johnny’s neck. He can feel Johnny tense at the gesture which makes Gyro loosen the grip he has on his waist.

The reluctance makes Gyro...sad. He doesn’t want to go further even though his body is  screaming at him to. If this makes him hurt Johnny— makes Johnny hate him —he’s not sure what would happen.

But then Johnny turns around in his arms to face him. Gyro looks down. Oh. He’s so cute with his lips in a pout. Gyro wants to eat him. Figuratively.

Johnny huffs and stares Gyro dead in the face, “This is because of the stand isn’t it? I think you’re just confused. You only wanna use me for that because the stand is affecting you. You don’t actually want to do anything with me.”

He says it like it’s a fact. Gyro tsks.

“Stop assuming things.” is all he says in response.

At this, Johnny’s lips part in shock. He shakes his head, “No. It’s not an assumption. It’s true. You’ve been messed up for a while, I can tell it’s been getting to you. You’re not in the right state of mind and—“

“Shut up.” Gyro says, exasperated before leaning in and covering Johnny’s mouth with his.

Johnny kisses back—maybe a little too willingly—and Gyro hums softly into it.

Feels good. Great even. Maybe even better than kissing a woman. Or maybe he only thinks that because he has such an affinity for Johnny.

Incessant hands push Gyro away abruptly.

“Don’t misconstrued this.” Johnny says faintly keeping him at an arm's distance, “I’m only doing it because you can’t control yourself. I wanna help. That’s the only reason why.”

“Awh, Johnny. You making yourself useful?” Gyro jests, leaning back in to kiss the side of his neck.

Johnny tilts his neck back to give Gyro more space to work with, “If you wanna put it that way...” he whispers.

Gyro’s lips travel to Johnny’s ear. He breathes hot air on it and goosebumps raise on Johnny’s arms, “So, what do you say? Gonna do it with me or what?”

His hand sneakily moves to Johnny’s backside, slipping into his pants to grope his ass.

“Whoa, Gyro.” Johnny says sounding rather shocked.

“Huh?”

“Don’t. Uh—were you planning on putting it in my—”

“Hnnn...”

“Gyro. No. No fucking way.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. Just a pipe dream.”

Johnny frowns and looks away.

“Shit, come here.” Gyro pulls him in close and Johnny huffs a little, “I can’t believe you’re worried about something as stupid as that when there’s a lot of other places I can fuck.”

“I never said I was worried. Also that’s not what I care about. Ugh, and don’t say it like that .”

“I can say it however I damn want.”

“Well,” Johnny pulls away before sitting up eye-level to Gyro’s wolfish gaze, “To be fair, I could probably fuck you.”

The way he says it is as blunt as what he just scolded Gyro for a second ago.

Gyro’s brain fizzes out for a moment. His confident demeanor falters as he forces a smirk, “Johnny, I didn’t take you for that kinda guy.”

Johnny shrugs, “So…?”

“N-no. I know my ass is great but that’s the only thing you can’t have.”

“I guess the same goes for me.”

Now Gyro is the one frowning as he traces a finger underneath Johnny’s waistband, “Can I at least see?” he asks.

Ugh. He sounds desperate. But honestly that’s because he is.

Good thing Johnny doesn’t seem too bothered by the request, because in the next moment he goes to lie on his stomach, ass facing Gyro.

“Just don’t put anything...in there.” Johnny says squinting back at him.

Gyro smiles giddily, like he’s a kid that’s just been given candy. He’s been ogling Johnny’s backside for the past week. Yeah, the past week. He won’t pretend this has been only going on for a few days. Now he really has no excuse.

He goes to pull Johnny’s pants down though he can’t get his hands to stop shaking from anticipation as he does it. They get thrown across the room as quickly as Gyro can get them off.

His mouth waters staring at Johnny’s ass. There’s a certain curve at the base of Johnny’s spine that accentuates it so perfectly. Not to mention he can see his balls barely peeking from under him. Gyro never thought a guy’s junk would turn him on but Johnny looks good like this.

He digs his fingers into Johnny’s skin and pulls apart both of his ass cheeks.

Johnny flinches and glares back at him, “Hey—”

“Not putting anything in.” Gyro reassures, not even bothering to meet Johnny’s gaze, “Just looking. Promise.”

To this Johnny groans and buries his face into his arms. “Okay.” he mumbles softly.

Gyro swallows on nothing as he stares at Johnny’s hole. It’s not as bad as he thought it would be. Like, he knows what it’s there for but that doesn’t do anything to deter his brain into having erotic thoughts. It’s the same excited feeling he gets when he traces his tongue along a pussy.

Biting his lip, Gyro keeps one hand spreading Johnny open and uses the other to guide his cock down close to the rim.

“ Fuck. ” he whispers as he starts to pump himself to life.

Johnny raises his head again, looking back timidly to see what Gyro is preoccupying himself with. “Gyro....” he says with his voice low.

Gyro glances at him, “Hm?”

“What are you doing?” Johnny asks him, not accusingly but curiously.

“You can’t feel this right?”

A bit of Gyro’s precum leaks onto the rim of Johnny’s hole. Gyro goes dizzy at the sight as he pushes his luck further by pressing his cockhead right against it, letting more slick pool on the opening.

Shaking his head, Johnny seems unfazed even as he watches. “Barely.” he confirms.

“Damn.” Gyro hisses as he reluctantly pulls away.

Johnny turns over to lay on his back. All of Gyro’s senses light on fire when he’s given the view of Johnny’s entirety.

His cock is smaller than Gyro’s, much paler and pinker. Pretty in a sense, but what a weird way to call it. Gyro has never looked at another man like this in his life.

One of Johnny’s hands goes between his legs and touches where Gyro’s dick was. He pulls it back up in slight disgust. “Eurgh…” he groans, spreading his fingers as a string of wet connects them.

Gyro laughs. Johnny’s voice is filled with disdain but the slick on his fingers only makes Gyro hornier.

“Come on, Johnny.” Gyro says leaning down, “Get more into it or something.”

To this Johnny turns away all sulky. Gyro frowns, “You...you are enjoying this right?” he asks carefully, so worried about Johnny’s response.

The expression on Johnny’s face is all-telling. It causes Gyro’s entire mind to perform mental gymnastics in an attempt to make it out to be something else. But he knows— he knows —that he couldn’t possibly live with himself if he went further than this. Not with Johnny looking like he wants to be anywhere else but here.

So, Gyro pulls back completely and rubs the base of his neck practically scanning the room to find something else to talk about. Literally, anything. He’ll take anything to end the uncomfortable tension between them.

Before Gyro has the chance to spout any word vomit Johnny props himself up on his elbows and blinks at him. “Gyro.” he says delicately, “It’s okay...it’s okay if it’s with you.”

Gyro shakes his head, eyes wide at Johnny propositioning him in the most backwards fucked up way possible.

“No, no—this is—”

“I’m telling you it’s fine. Why are you just now deciding to go sweet on me?”

Ah, Gyro feels so out of his mind right now he’s almost dizzy. Not from being turned on, no, his dick already went soft between his legs. He’s dizzy from the pure frustration at himself to even think he could force his way onto Johnny.

His hands go to run through his own hair as he swallows nervously, “Johnny. I’m not goin’ sweet on you. But there’s no point in this if you’re gonna be looking at me like that. You don’t want it one bit—I can tell.”

Johnny’s face is strained, like he’s thinking too hard until he sighs. “Why don’t we do something we both like then? Something we both can get into, y’know.”

“Like what?” Gyro asks perking up a little.

“Like,” he shrugs, “making out is okay with me. I liked it.”

Gyro’s eyes narrow as he leans in close again, “With tongue?”

He sees Johnny tense at the suggestion and Gyro almost tries to take it back. But Johnny stops him as he speaks again, “That’s—yeah. That’s fine.”

“Just fine?”

Johnny straightens up and exhales dramatically, “Good! It’s good! You want a written form or what, Gyro?!”

A smile makes its way back onto Gyro’s face. He feels immensely better seeing Johnny full of life once again.

The mattress creaks when he scoots further up on the bed closer to Johnny. He almost forgets that the both of them are naked (though Johnny still has his hoodie on) as he looks down at himself. He clears his throat and experimentally touches Johnny’s hand. There’s no pulling away, so Gyro takes it as a win. “How do you wanna…?” he asks leaving the question open-ended.

“I can sit on your lap, if you want.”

Oh, and does Gyro want . The mere mention sends shivers down his spine. He nods eagerly as Johnny takes off his top and climbs onto his lap facing him.

His hands immediately go to hold Johnny’s waist. So cute, Gyro can almost wrap them all the way around. How does a guy even get this tiny?

Well, to be fair, Johnny is an ex-star jockey. It makes a lot of sense. Being short must have to run in his family. No wonder he keeps getting beat by Johnny during each stage, Gyro isn’t aerodynamic at all.

“Gyro.” Johnny says, “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m okay. Just—”

He can’t stop staring at his hands around Johnny’s midriff. It’s like he’s in a trance. The urge to squish is too much. Gyro digs his fingers further around his stomach to see how far they’ll reach.

Johnny makes a choked noise, “...I’m gonna throw up my sandwich if you keep doing that.”

Gyro lets go and pats his waist. He can’t help but laugh though it comes off like he’s on edge, “My bad.”

This makes Johnny give him a weird look, like Gyro’s grown two heads. Which wouldn’t exactly be too far off since Gyro feels that way with Johnny sitting over his dick so perfectly.

Still, Gyro does his best to shake off the hard-to-place feelings that bubble inside him. Instead, he leans in close and presses a kiss to the side of Johnny’s lips. He doesn’t turn away but looks rather unimpressed at Gyro’s gesture.

So, Gyro leans in again, this time with more intent. Their lips touch and Johnny accepts it by moving against them just as willingly. And the second Johnny opens his mouth Gyro swears he’ll never be able to get enough.

He takes that golden opportunity to slide his tongue past Johnny’s lips, pulling him closer than ever before.

Gyro inhales deeply, catching the musk of Johnny’s skin.

Dirt ridden and sweaty. Nothing like those girls he’s fucked who smelt like roses all crisp and clean. But this is more comforting, in a way,  knowing that Johnny and him are as thick as thieves.

It’s paid no mind.

Cause it’s fucking glorious.

He can feel his cock come to life again as Johnny licks into his mouth. Gyro feels like he’s being devoured with the way Johnny is eagerly eating his face off. It’s something he wasn’t expecting.

Gyro begrudgingly pulls away. He’s left panting in an attempt to catch some air.

But before he can even think Johnny’s mouth is on his again. Johnny’s impatient hands go to hold the back of Gyro’s head and he flinches at the suddenness.

At this point, Gyro has to lightly pat the other’s thigh as a way out. There’s a sound of complaint that comes from Johnny’s throat as he lets Gyro go.

“Damn, Johnny…” Gyro says with heavy breath, “You still hungry or something? Cause I’m not food, in case you forgot.”

The grip on the back of Gyro’s head disappears as Johnny uses both his hands to grope the front of Gyro’s chest.

Wait—what?

Gyro looks down, confused as Johnny squishes both of his pecs between his fingers.

“The fuck are you doing?”

Johnny doesn’t even give him the courtesy of eye contact as he stays focused on fondling his chest. “I figured since you touched me like you own me then that means I get to touch you however I want too.”

Gyro shakily smirks, “Fair enough. Something interesting about my chest or…?”

“They’re like boobs.”

The comment makes Gyro’s jaw clench in irritation, “Say that again and I’ll kill you.” he says through gritted teeth.

Johnny shrugs indifferently at the warning. “Didn’t say they were bad.”

Swatting Johnny’s grabby hands away, Gyro leans forward in a threatening manner, “It’s all muscle, no fat. So not whatever you just called them.”

He’s really ready to throw Johnny against the wall for that one. Cheeky bastard.

But before he can blink Johnny bends down and swipes his tongue firmly against one of his nipples.

Gyro shudders against the odd warmth. His dick twitches at the sensation.

Ugh. What the hell? He’s learning too much new information about himself. This is one he isn’t fond of at all.

He wipes the leftover saliva off his nipple before it has the chance to cool. Gyro looks up at Johnny, troubled.

Yet Johnny doesn’t seem to care as much as he does. His expression matches the same confidence Gyro usually has. “This makes us even.” Johnny says nonchalantly.

“F-fair enough.” Gyro reiterates, hands going back to press into Johnny’s waist (much harsher this time).

Johnny winces from the pressure but Gyro stays headstrong with his gesture. Because Johnny deserves a few marks for that one.

“Now what?” Gyro asks with a sharp tone, “Got confident enough in the past few minutes to use me like a toy, Johnny?”

“Yeah.”

Gyro’s backbone falters at the blunt answer he gets. God, Johnny’s not good at playing along at all. He’s only self-interested. Gyro should have seen this coming.

“Fine.”

He pushes Johnny off of his lap and flops back onto the bed in all his glory. Gyro’s eyes narrow as he casually sticks his arms under his head to rest on. A silent invitation.

Johnny crawls closer to him, “You sure?” he asks with his eyes unabashedly gazing up and down Gyro’s body.

Gyro waves a hand at him, “Yeah, do what you want. Nothing weird though.”

Weird meaning butt-stuff. Though they’ve already established that as a no-no area. Gyro would rather walk across hot coals barefoot than have something up his ass.

There’s a silence between them as Johnny comes closer to run his hands slowly up and down Gyro’s abs. It feels good in a way. Like a massage. The warm contact is appreciated.

The next thing Gyro feels is Johnny’s tongue as it runs along the side of his neck timidly. A contrast to the maybe-fake confidence Johnny displayed earlier. Gyro shuts his eyes and sighs while Johnny kisses up and down his neck.

Gyro lets himself get lost in the wonderful sensation. He’s getting a sick kick out of Johnny paying special attention to him like this. He doesn’t even say anything when Johnny’s hand goes back up to touch his chest again. It’s nice, sue him.

With one last open-mouthed kiss to Gyro’s jaw, Johnny pulls away.

“That...felt good to you?” he asks Gyro, sounding wary.

“Sure did.”

“Ah.” Johnny’s eyes have a certain glossy appearance to them now, “Looks like it.”

Gyro reaches down to stroke himself because he can’t stand it anymore. He doesn’t care if Johnny is judging him. The slick sounds rise between them as Gyro thumbs his slit, dragging his own precum up and down his cock. Makes the glide easier.

It’s like Johnny can’t take his eyes off of what Gyro is doing. He almost appears zombie-like as he stares with his lips parted.

But Gyro doesn’t care. Only uses Johnny’s nakedness as cannon fodder. Even the way Johnny just sits there doing nothing is enough to make Gyro lick his lips like an animal.

“Johnny.” Gyro whispers as he pumps himself, “Can you spread your legs? Can you do that for me?”

Johnny nods at him as he uses his hands to move them apart, leaning back to be perfectly on display.

And, god, what a sight to behold. Johnny is being so obedient for him right now, showing off his dick with no shame. It isn’t soft anymore either. Half-hard but—fuck—that’s good enough for Gyro. It’s such a damn pretty pink that he can’t look away.

But he also doesn’t want to come like this. Not when Johnny is right there willing to please. As his pace pick up he beckons Johnny over with his free hand.

He seems hesitant, barely unable to look away from Gyro’s dick. But after a second of consideration Johnny crawls onto Gyro again, straddling him as he sits far enough to not touch Gyro’s cock.

Gyro doesn’t mind one bit because he goes to grab Johnny’s waist again with his other hand. It lingers low on the other’s hip, close to the softness of his ass. Gyro moans low in the back of his throat while he digs his fingers into Johnny’s skin.

God, he wishes so desperately to just throw Johnny on the bed and rut against his ass like no tomorrow. But he knows Johnny is probably barely tolerating this. Gyro is grateful, Johnny is so fucking nice to him.

“Ah—Johnny.” Gyro sighs out, staring at Johnny’s crotch in a haze, “So cute.”

Johnny doesn’t say anything, but he does noticeably skip a breath as Gyro decides to claw his hand into his ass.

All Gyro can do at this point is imagine what it would be like to fuck Johnny. He’d press into his small body, nice and deep with his cock. Johnny would probably cry and Gyro would whisper sweet nothings about how brave he is. Yeah, some stupid bullshit like that would happen before he goes to thrust into Johnny’s hole with the sexual appetite he’s been repressing down for ages.

He’d hold Johnny down as he squirms under his grip. It’d be the most delicious thing ever. It’s driving him mad.

Gyro’s head lolls back involuntarily as he pretends his hand is the inside of Johnny. Of course it helps that the real thing is sitting right on top of him, makes it a lot easier to dream. Though it’s still extremely frustrating to know that he’s inches away from what he really wants.

But it’s still enough to tip him over the edge. Cum spills from his cock and Gyro looks down at himself, his lip twitching at the sight. He slowly exhales and his eyes close again as he swallows on dry air.

Wow…

He feels so heavenly that he almost forgets that Johnny’s still on his legs, not moving off for some reason. As he comes further back down to earth Gyro blinks at him confused.

“What?” he asks with a sigh, “That didn’t entertain you enough?”

But as Gyro stares more at his face he gets an answer. Johnny’s usual blue pupils are blown black and his face is absolutely flushed. Gyro licks his own lips and grins, “Damn, didn’t take you for being such a pervert. You surprise me more and more each day.”

To this, Johnny grabs his shoulders and situates himself further up Gyro’s lap. It throws Gyro for a loop as Johnny leans into him, pressing their foreheads together gently.

Gyro holds his breath as they sit there. It’s strangely intimate now that Gyro’s dick is soft. He kind of wants to pull away.

“Gyro, can you try and jack me off?” Johnny asks so openly against him.

The question makes Gyro’s pulse quicken. He answers quickly with a stutter, “Y-yeah. Uhm—turn around.”

Without another word, Johnny twists his body so that his back is against Gyro’s chest. They both don’t pay mind to the cooling cum on Gyro’s skin. Johnny tilts his head back to look at him briefly.

Gyro’s body feels like it’s on fire. If he hadn’t just come he’d be absolutely insatiable with Johnny leaning against him. He can see the entirety of Johnny’s pale form as it leads straight to his dick. Gyro’s hand hovers over it, not sure if he should just grab it or—

Johnny takes Gyro’s unsure hand and puts it over his cock for him. Gyro can feel Johnny writhe lightly against his chest. “Just do it.” he says discontented at Gyro’s uncertainty.

He gets the picture and Gyro holds Johnny’s dick in his hand firm. It’s warm and makes Gyro way too excited. Suddenly, he has an overwhelming urge to make Johnny feel as good as possible. He deserves it for putting up with all of his bullshit today.

Gyro pecks Johnny’s cheek softly as he starts to stroke him up and down, achingly slow. Johnny moans softly as he watches Gyro’s hand work him.

Then Gyro uses his other hand to grab Johnny’s jaw gently, tilting his head back to kiss him on the lips. Johnny accepts it, even whines into it a little.

He can’t help it, but Gyro’s heart is pounding so painfully. Hard enough that he’s sure Johnny can feel it against his back. It makes him try to slow his breathing but to no avail.

They pull away from each other and Gyro goes to whisper against Johnny’s ear, “I wanna see you come.” he encourages.

It makes Johnny nod enthusiastically at the hand that strokes him. And Gyro’s sure he’s close—has to be since they’ve been at it for such a long time.

And before he knows it his wrist is working Johnny fucking hard and fast. No one in their right mind would be able to keep it in with Gyro’s pace.

Johnny is letting all kinds of sweet moans escape his lips as his upper body twists and turns every which way in an effort to stay composed.

But he can’t and Gyro’s vision nearly blurs at the sight of Johnny’s usual stoic demeanor break with each pump he gives.

Johnny shakes his head, his eyes squeezing shut, “G-gyro—I can’t anymore—”

“Shh, go ahead. Let me see.”

And as Gyro goes to pepper kisses on the side of his neck, Johnny nearly chokes on whatever he was going to say next. Gyro licks his lips as hot cum runs down his fingers.

God.

So beautiful.

So lovely.

So his .

It’s a day after that lovely morning. The morning in which Gyro woke up for the first time with Johnny’s naked body draped over his.

And if Gyro had the time, really, he’d reminisce about it out loud.

They’re still in a dangerous competition though. He has to remind himself this during the few and far between moments of peace Johnny and him get.

So, here Gyro stands next to his friend…or lover? Friend-lover? Flover?? Friend and lover combined?!!

Whatever. Doesn’t matter. What matters is that Johnny was still with him when they crossed the goal for this length of the race. Which means they get a days rest at this checkpoint as the audience waits for the other racer’s results to pour in.

It’s a huge relief that nothing too horrible happened to them in the past few days. Other than that mysterious racer that may or may not have pricked Gyro with a stand ability.

“Gyro!” Johnny calls out to him, interrupting his thoughts.

Gyro raises his head as he walks over to Johnny’s chair. His eye catches sight of a stack of paper Johnny is so excitedly looking at.

“They started printing out death announcements for the race in the newspaper.” he waves a torn out sheet tantalizingly in front of Gyro’s face, “You think that guy might be on here? The one we tied up. Pretty sure he hasn’t passed the goal yet. There’s even a time of death section.”

“Time of death? F-fuck, throw that away—“

Gyro tries to snatch the paper out of his hands but Johnny pulls away just quick enough to look at him with confusion.

“You don’t wanna know when he died?” Johnny asks rather accusingly.

There’s a brief pause as Gyro clenches his fist at his side. “No…”

“Why not? We can probably figure out when his stand wore off on you that way.”

“Johnny I-“ he stops to choose his words carefully, “I think it’s best left as a mystery.” he decides is the most appropriate thing to say.

“Ah…” Johnny sighs, “Gyro, I know what you’re thinking.”

“Don’t say it.”

“You’re thinking what if you were never affected by anything at all. Thinking what if he died right after we left and that everything that’s happened had nothing to do with him.”

It sounds like the plot of a poorly thought-out story that leads to nowhere. Weird. Yet, Gyro can’t help but to think it into fruition.

Gyro solemnly looks down at his boots, kicking the dirt mindlessly. He grits his teeth, “So, what? You gonna look at it? Don’t tell me what’s on there if you do.”

But then Gyro hears the crumpling of paper and he raises his head to see Johnny rolling it into a compact ball.

“Watch.” Johnny says before holding the paper ball up and flicking it forcefully with a spinning nail.

The wadded up paper flings at a high speed to the nearest building, bouncing off the wood and into a well nearby.

Gyro can’t even hear the noise of it hitting the bottom. The sheet is long gone, a long descent making sure of it.

“See that?” Johnny says smugly, “That’s what I like to call a trick shot.”

A wash of relief runs through Gyro’s entire body. He goes to cover his face with his hat bashfully.

He’s definitely been rubbing off on Johnny too much.

Johnny shakes his head in amusement and rolls away in his wheelchair somewhere. To get some food from the refreshment table, maybe. Gyro smiles longingly as he leaves.

But then as Gyro watches the back of Johnny’s head he squints. There looks to be an extra star on his hat that he’s never seen before, in a place he’s never even looked probably.

Gyro’s brow furrows. Thirty-one or thirty...thirty-one or thirty…

Guess he’ll have to yank Johnny’s clothes off the next time they’re alone to find out.