#otp365

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Johnny spent the rest of the day being more than just a little distracted - on an intellectual level, he knew that none of this would be in any way a big deal. Nothing would happen between them. They’d be sleeping not much closer than they used to back at 51’s. Johnny had absolutely no reason to be this giddy about sleeping in the same bed as Roy. None. And yet, somehow, his traitorous body and his foolish heart seemed not to care at all, between the excited fluttering of his heartbeat and the skip in his step - which nearly sent him careening down a flight of stairs eventually, and he ended up clinging to the railing for dear life right in front of a flabbergasted Roy, who thankfully didn’t seem to connect that tumble with all the bedsharing talk from earlier. Small mercies, and all that.

But therein lay the issue, too - of course Roy wouldn’t draw a connection, why should he. After all, Roy was a married man who more than likely wasn’t horribly in love with his best friend whom he would be sharing a bed with in a couple of hours, probably lying awake until the next morning yearning for more, for anything.

Johnny was fucked - in every way but, alas, literally.

The next complication arose when they were back in their room getting ready for bed - apparently, Roy still slept in his underwear even off-duty and when there was really no good reason to - it was fairly cold out, at least by their standards, and the cold was seeping into their hotel room, too. Luggage space hadn’t been that limited, either, and they wouldn’t have to get dressed at top speed in the middle of the night like might’ve on duty, so really, Roy shuffling underneath the blanket - the one blanket they would be sharing - with his shapely legs and the light dusting of freckles across his shoulders and the occasional small blemish from one close call or another on full display was really just tremendously unfair, and Johnny couldn’t even complain about it without giving away his secret. Damn it. Damn it all.

Johnny considered following suit and leaving his plain grey pajamas at the bottom of his bag in a sort of petty, twisted kind of revenge - but that wouldn’t really work either, Roy actually had to care about his state of undress for that to be effective. Which would solve his whole entire problem in the first place. Life was just really unfair sometimes. 

And of course, Roy somehow found a way to make it worse in the sweetest way possible.

“Johnny,” he said, voice full of concern, as Johnny stiffly climbed into bed, “you seem pretty tense. Are you alright?” and Johnny just barely resisted turning around and screaming into his pillow. Or sobbing. Who even knew at this point.

But as it were, he just sighed, muttered something to the effect of “yeah, sure, I’m perfectly fine, don’t even know what you’re talking about” and tried his damnedest to get comfortable. Roy threw him a long, lingering look - which didn’t exactly help, either - and then, after it looked like Johnny had settled, turned off the last remaining light.

Originally, Johnny had hoped he’d find some reprieve in the dark, with Roy safely hidden from view, but no, that clearly would’ve been too easy. And so, the curtains were too thin and the blinds were nonexistent and after his eyes had had a moment to adjust, the dim city lights filtering in through the fabric covering the windows was bright enough to see by, at least enough to make out Roy’s face across from his own in startling detail. 

Johnny knew perfectly well that the smart thing to do would’ve been to turn around and look the other way, stare at the wall until he finally fell asleep, but he couldn’t bring himself to do that.

It’d been a while since they’d been promoted and subsequently transferred to their own stations, and while they remained friends and still saw each other at the very least once a week - usually more frequently, to the point where Joanne liked to joke that Johnny might as well move in with them already - it sure had been a while since Johnny had last slept in the same room with Roy, close enough to hear his steady breathing and take comfort in his quiet, familiar presence.

He'd missed that, he realized. Damn him, he'd missed that a lot.

And yet, that night Roy's presence didn't bring him the usual calm reassurance. Instead, he lay there for what seemed like hours, staring at Roy's relaxed, sleeping face and getting choked up by a particularly nasty and unusual mixture of nostalgia and yearning and a kind of bone-deep sadness crushing him into the mattress because everything he'd wanted for nearly a decade was lying there across from him once more, beautiful and perfect and so very close and so very familiar, and there was nothing Johnny could do. He couldn't even tell Roy that he loved him. And sure, he was maybe a little sad that he couldn't sidle over and ravish the man, but more than that he just desperately wished that he could tell Roy how he felt about him. He needed Roy to know, now more than ever, but as per usual that wasn't an option, and it never would be. 

Johnny took a deep breath and was surprised when it hitched on something that felt too much like a sob, and his feeble attempts to bring his breathing back under control just made him feel more unsteady.

And then, because nothing in this godforsaken night could go as expected, Roy suddenly blinked at him with sleep-heavy eyes.

"Did you know that it's really hard to sleep when there's somebody staring at you?" he asked, voice a little rough and very quiet, and Johnny flinched.

Johnny could vaguely make out Roy examining him in the dark, taking in his tense shoulders and probably thoroughly miserable expression, before he turned on the dim little lamp on the nightstand. Johnny had the sudden urge to hide his face in his pillow and pretended that he had no idea what was going on, but he found that he couldn’t - he felt too weary to do much of anything, really, so he just stayed where he was and kept looking at Roy, slowly blinking into the sudden light.

And Roy, always just a little too attentive after all those years of trying to tell apart Johnny’s little grievances from his potentially life-threatening injuries, suddenly seemed a lot more awake. Finally, he reached over and put a warm, gentle, calloused hand against Johnny’s face, and Johnny barely had the mental faculties left to not nuzzle into the touch too obviously, but didn’t quite manage to stifle his surprised little gasp.

Roy raised an eyebrow and slid his hand a little lower, until he had two fingers against the side of his neck and was feeling his pulse.

“Johnny,” he said, his voice sober and serious yet still rough with sleep, “your pulse is racing. What’s wrong? And don’t you dare say ‘nothing’ because you’ve been acting really weird all day long and it’s clearly not nothing.”

So of course, the first words out of Johnny’s mouth were “but really Roy, it’s nothing,” before a very stern look reminded him that he wouldn’t get away with that this time.

“I’ve just… I’ve just been thinking,” he finally amended.

“That must’ve been some thoughts alright,” Roy muttered darkly.

“No. Yes. Just…” Johnny could feel himself blushing profusely and he hoped that it was too dark to tell, but there was something about Roy’s face inches from his own and the city lights creeping in through the window and mingling with the dim yellow light of the bedside lamp and the intimacy of it all that made him blurt out the truth - or at least a tiny, harmless sliver of it. “It’s just that I’ve missed you.”

Whatever Roy had expected - indigestion? Nightmares? who knew - this clearly wasn’t it.

“But Johnny,” he said, “we see each other all the time.”

“Yeah. ‘S not the same, though. At night, next to each other like this… well, it’s been a while. Weird thing to miss, I guess, but if you sleep next to the same person for that long, I guess you just get used to-”

And at that point, Roy ‘hmm’ed and put his hand back against Johnny’s face and Johnny, who hadn’t been expecting it, sighed and leaned into it before he even realized what was happening.

“Somehow,” Roy said, “I get the feeling that you’re still not quite telling me the whole story.”

There was a tinge of nervousness to Roy’s words that Johnny didn’t quite notice at the time - all that went through his head was something along the lines of “oh my god, he knows, how does he know” but Roy’s hand was still gently cupping Johnny’s face, his thumb stroking his cheekbone, and, well, it was nearly impossible to be afraid like that.

“What difference would it make?” Johnny asked, and even he was aware that his voice sounded traitorously choked.

“Maybe none,” Roy replied, “maybe all the difference. Especially if-” and even Johnny in his compromised state could tell that Roy was nervous now - nervous or, more likely, scared out of his wits - “especially if it involves you feeling the same way about me as I feel about you.”

And Johnny had thought that this night couldn't possibly throw him another curveball. And sure, there’d been times over the years - plenty of times - where he’d felt a small glimmer of hope that his feelings might not be entirely unrequited, but he’d never seriously thought that something would come of it, after all these years.

“How… how do you feel about me, then?” he asked after what felt like an eternity of silence, too damn exhausted to be brave and take risks and make the first move.

“Well, you know…” Roy muttered, his face so close to Johnny’s that he could feel the little puff of air that came with it, and when exactly had they gotten so close to each other, anyway?

“Are ya gonna kiss me?” Johnny finally asked after the suspense became too much to bear, bravery be damned and his voice was shaking and he hated how insecure he sounded, but he was so ridiculously out of his depth and this was such a turning point that he was glad he’d gotten the words out at all.

“Do you want me to?” Roy asked, very quietly.

“Yes. Oh god, yes.”

And Roy hesitated for just a moment and then he closed the gap between them, and suddenly his lips were against Johnny’s, and Johnny was sure he’d fallen asleep at some point because this couldn’t be real, not after all these years of yearning and dreaming of more, dreaming of these lips against his and Roy’s hands roaming his body and…

Johnny was kissing him back, and he was pretty sure he wasn’t doing a great job of it because for all his bluster about his mythical sex life he didn’t really get around to kissing all that often, and more importantly, while he was pretty sure he was an alright kisser at least, this was Roy he was kissing and that was monumental and important and he was absolutely determined to get it right, and according to Roy, he usually blundered whenever he was trying too hard - but Roy’s lips were warm and strangely familiar against his and that was alright, they’d navigated more complex things together than first kisses, no matter how monumental.

And then Roy brought his hand back to the side of Johnny’s face and slid it over so it was cupping the back of his neck with gentle, calloused fingers, grounding him, and oh.

Johnny drew back just a little, just enough to get a clear look at Roy’s face, speechless and breathless with his lips still slightly parted and his blue eyes very dark in the dim light and he looked amazing like that and Johnny’d called a lot of people ‘amazing’ over the years but he’d never meant it quite like he did now, and so he leaned in again and kissed him some more. Roy’s hand slid up a little and into Johnny’s hair, and normally he wasn’t overly fond of people doing that but apparently it was a whole ‘nother story if Roy was the one doing it, and, really, Johnny had never been less surprised.

And then a thought crossed Johnny’s mind - one that wasn’t related to how damn nice it was to have Roy’s lips against his and Roy’s hand on the back of his head and his body close enough to Roy’s to feel the warmth he was putting off.

Johnny pulled back again and this time the warm flutter of affection and a considerable amount of plain ol’ physical attraction was overcome by the far less welcome sinking feeling of fear. 

“Roy,” he quietly muttered, half against his partner’s lips and probably not very convincing, “I don’t think we should…”

“But why not?” Roy asked. “There’s nobody but us here, nobody will ever know-”

“But Joanne-”

“-doesn’t have to know. And besides, this is - this is different.”

“Different?” Johnny asked, and they were still way too close to be having this discussion, but he just couldn’t bring himself to pull away. 

“I’d never be doing this with anybody else,” Roy said, and he, too, wasn’t moving back, “but we’ve been through so much together - we’ve saved each other’s lives a hundred times over, I passed up promotions for you, I spent a third of my time with you for the better part of a decade - more than that, really, given how much of our time off we spent together as well - the feelings I’ve had for you… I don’t think this is really the most intimate thing we’ve ever done.”

“D’you think she’d feel the same way about that?” Johnny asked quietly, and he couldn’t believe he was being the sane, rational one arguing for monogamy here, given the way he’d spent so many years looking for a sign, any sign, that Roy might potentially be interested in people who weren’t Joanne, for purely selfish reasons.

“It’s past midnight,” Roy replied dryly, “I can’t exactly call her and ask.”

“Look, I don’t think the time of day is your biggest issue there, pally,” Johnny interjected and was promptly ignored.

 “And besides,” Roy calmly continued instead, echoing Johnny’s thoughts from earlier, “funny that you should be the one calling me out on this, after insisting that I was trying to cheat on her with every pretty lady looking my way for most of our partnership.”

Johnny sighed. “I hope you’re not expecting me to talk you out of this, because I’m running dangerously low on arguments here.”

Roy smiled at him, a wistful, forlorn sort of smile that tugged at Johnny’s heartstrings and utterly smashed any reservations he might have had.

“Just one night,” Roy said. “It’s not much, it’s not nearly enough, but we can have one night. There’s nobody here but us, nobody has to know.”

“What happens in Frisco stays in Frisco, huh?” Johnny asked with a sad little chuckle.

“I think that’s Vegas, usually,” Roy replied, a note of amusement in his quiet voice.

“Yes, well, you didn’t wanna go to Vegas.”

Roy made a little noise, somewhere between a laugh and a sigh, and Johnny just looked at him and knew that, as much as he would’ve wanted to do the right thing, his mind had been made up from the second Roy’d suggested it.

And heaven knew how much of a terrible idea it was - one night, one chance to find out just what they’d been missing, and then he’d have to go back to his lonely little life and pretend that he was okay, that nothing had happened, that his life hadn’t changed in the most terribly beautiful way, knowing that this was it, that this was all he was ever going to get, and he knew how painful that would be, how utterly and completely it would ruin him, that he would never really get over it… but he knew just as well that there was no way he could ever have resisted, because he’d been wanting this too much for too long and Roy, as much as he would’ve liked to pretend otherwise, was the love of his life and he was just too weak and too foolish and too stupid to know what was best for himself. He’d end up miserable, he knew he would, and he’d never wanted anything more in his life.

“Okay,” Johnny whispered, so quiet it was barely audible, “okay.” And then: “Did you have anything in mind?”

And now it was Roy’s turn to be flustered and out of his depth, but he caught himself quickly. His hand was back in Johnny’s hair, his thumb gently caressing his nape, and Johnny would’ve been almost content to spend the rest of the night like that. Now quite, now that there was the possibility of getting to do more than that, but even this little moment of intimacy would’ve been enough. 

“... we, uh, we can do whatever seems right at the moment,” Roy stammered, and Johnny figured that Roy was probably just as clueless as Johnny himself. Most likely more so, really. At least Johnny had years and years of fantasies to go on, and maybe a glance at an incriminating magazine or two. He didn’t think Roy would fantasize. Neither about bedroom stuff, nor about much of anything else… but that was fine. They’d be fine. And damn, Johnny hadn’t expected that bit of certainty to hit him as hard as it did, but he suddenly sharply realized that he usually didn’t particularly trust the people he slept with - or didn’t sleep with the people he trusted. Though, given that that illustrious group of people mostly just consisted of 51’s former A shift, that was probably for the best.

“And now what?” Johnny asked, a smile playing around his lips, and he was just being facetious now, but he really wanted to see what Roy would do - even though he might’ve had a plan of his own. Or two. Or two dozen. But there would be time for those, he hoped, later.