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A/N: Chapter 1 of 2, though the second oneâs probably going to be an AO3 exclusive for smut reasons. This part, while definitely outright romance, doesnât go past kissing.
Honestly, you can pretty much thank @hitchcock-winter for this one - definitely for getting it this soon because I technically had another fic already written but got really motivated to post this one first, and probably for getting it at all because Iâd probably have chickened out on my own.Â
The storyâs more or less set during the last movies (where they seem to be sharing a hotel room in San Francisco and I s2g it looks like thereâs a double bed in the background of some shots), which I havenât actually fully watched for âIâm saving the movies for last so I can get emotional about them in realtime on hereâ-reasons. If anything doesnât match up (and I know it awkwardly overlaps with movie scenes here and there), consider this an AU.
/EDIT: yeah, I mentally combined the last two movies, but it doesnât matter and I think itâs fixed now.
The titleâs taken from the Smokie song of the same name, which doesnât have too much to do with anything, but the mood fits (even though the weather doesnât).Â
-------
In retrospect, Roy figured there was no way a business trip to San Francisco together with Johnny could ever have gone as planned - but he definitely hadnât expected the whole thing to go sideways the moment they stepped into their hotel room, of all things. And yet...
âA double bed,â Johnny stated, eyes wide, and unceremoniously dumped his luggage on the floor. âI would have expected the double room, but this?â he indicated the offending piece of furniture with a sweeping motion, âthatâs taking it a bit far, donât you think?â
Roy shrugged. He hadnât exactly had âbeing sent to San Francisco to compare notes with the local paramedicsâ on his job bingo card, and hadnât bothered with expectations at all.Â
âOne of us will just have to take the couch,â he said.Â
âSure ainât gonna be me, I can tell you that, pally,â Johnny replied, with his best âthis is ridiculousâ-chuckle coloring his words.Â
âSurprise,â Roy muttered and walked over to the bed, pulling the coverlet aside and tugging on the blanket. He sighed. âAnd itâs got one of those big single blankets, too.â
âSo one of us is gonna sleep on the couch without a blanket?â Johnny asked.
âWe could use the coverletâŚ?â
Johnny looked between the massive thing and the narrow couch and laughed. âNo way, thatâll slide off like butter.â
Roy knew that Johnny was, in all likelihood, right. He ran a hand over the coverlet - scratchy as all hell - and gave the couch a critical once-over. The cushions with the deep gaps between them looked like they were itching to eat a man whole. He really did not want to sleep on that couch. And while he was pretty confident that he could guilt Johnny into sleeping on it instead, he didnât really want him to have to sleep on that hellish thing either⌠so really, there was only one acceptable solution.Â
âHey, Johnny?â he asked. âJohnny, that bed is really wide, right? Way wider than our bunks. Itâll probably be fine if we just share the bed.â
Johnny stared at him like heâd lost his mind, almost comically so. It wasnât quite his usual look of abject confusion, though - this one seemed more serious, the kind Johnnyâd used to throw him back at the beginning of their friendship, back when he hadnât yet been able to read Roy like a book. He swallowed heavily and just looked at Roy for a while, searching for heaven-knows-what in his eyes. Then, finally, he smiled, but it seemed unusually strained.
âSure, yeah, thatâs - thatâs fine,â he stammered through another chuckle, but this one was clearly nervous as all get-out, âthatâs perfectly - we can share the bed, of course we can share the bed, thereâs - âs nothing to it, right?â
â... right,â Roy said, more than just a little confused by Johnnyâs reaction.
âNothinâ to it,â he heard Johnny mutter as they squared away their things and got ready to head back out, âoh boy.â
----
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. Theyâd be sleeping not much closer than they used to back at 51âs. 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 didnât 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 wouldnât draw a connection, why should he. After all, Roy was a married man who more than likely wasnât 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 hadnât been that limited, either, and they wouldnât have to get dressed at top speed in the middle of the night like mightâve 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 couldnât 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 wouldnât 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.Â
And of course, Roy somehow found a way to make it worse in the sweetest way possible.
âJohnny,â he said, voice full of concern, as Johnny stiffly climbed into bed, âyou seem pretty tense. Are you alright?â 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 âyeah, sure, Iâm perfectly fine, donât even know what youâre talking aboutâ and tried his damnedest to get comfortable. Roy threw him a long, lingering look - which didnât exactly help, either - and then, after it looked like Johnny had settled, turned off the last remaining light.
Originally, Johnny had hoped heâd find some reprieve in the dark, with Roy safely hidden from view, but no, that clearly wouldâve 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 Royâs face across from his own in startling detail.Â
Johnny knew perfectly well that the smart thing to do wouldâve been to turn around and look the other way, stare at the wall until he finally fell asleep, but he couldnât bring himself to do that.
Itâd been a while since theyâd 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.Â
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 couldnât - 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 Johnnyâs 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 Johnnyâs face, and Johnny barely had the mental faculties left to not nuzzle into the touch too obviously, but didnât 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.
âJohnny,â he said, his voice sober and serious yet still rough with sleep, âyour pulse is racing. Whatâs wrong? And donât you dare say ânothingâ because youâve been acting really weird all day long and itâs clearly not nothing.â
So of course, the first words out of Johnnyâs mouth were âbut really Roy, itâs nothing,â before a very stern look reminded him that he wouldnât get away with that this time.
âIâve just⌠Iâve just been thinking,â he finally amended.
âThat mustâve been some thoughts alright,â Roy muttered darkly.
âNo. Yes. JustâŚâ Johnny could feel himself blushing profusely and he hoped that it was too dark to tell, but there was something about Royâs 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. âItâs just that Iâve missed you.â
Whatever Roy had expected - indigestion? Nightmares? who knew - this clearly wasnât it.
âBut Johnny,â he said, âwe see each other all the time.â
âYeah. âS not the same, though. At night, next to each other like this⌠well, itâs 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-â
And at that point, Roy âhmmâed and put his hand back against Johnnyâs face and Johnny, who hadnât been expecting it, sighed and leaned into it before he even realized what was happening.
âSomehow,â Roy said, âI get the feeling that youâre still not quite telling me the whole story.â
There was a tinge of nervousness to Royâs words that Johnny didnât quite notice at the time - all that went through his head was something along the lines of âoh my god, he knows, how does he knowâ but Royâs hand was still gently cupping Johnnyâs face, his thumb stroking his cheekbone, and, well, it was nearly impossible to be afraid like that.
âWhat difference would it make?â Johnny asked, and even he was aware that his voice sounded traitorously choked.
âMaybe none,â Roy replied, âmaybe all the difference. Especially if-â and even Johnny in his compromised state could tell that Roy was nervous now - nervous or, more likely, scared out of his wits - âespecially if it involves you feeling the same way about me as I feel about you.â
And Johnny had thought that this night couldn't possibly throw him another curveball. And sure, thereâd been times over the years - plenty of times - where heâd felt a small glimmer of hope that his feelings might not be entirely unrequited, but heâd never seriously thought that something would come of it, after all these years.
âHow⌠how do you feel about me, then?â he asked after what felt like an eternity of silence, too damn exhausted to be brave and take risks and make the first move.
âWell, you knowâŚâ Roy muttered, his face so close to Johnnyâs 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?
âAre ya gonna kiss me?â 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 heâd gotten the words out at all.
âDo you want me to?â Roy asked, very quietly.
âYes. Oh god, yes.â
And Roy hesitated for just a moment and then he closed the gap between them, and suddenly his lips were against Johnnyâs, and Johnny was sure heâd fallen asleep at some point because this couldnât be real, not after all these years of yearning and dreaming of more, dreaming of these lips against his and Royâs hands roaming his body andâŚ
Johnny was kissing him back, and he was pretty sure he wasnât doing a great job of it because for all his bluster about his mythical sex life he didnât 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 Royâs lips were warm and strangely familiar against his and that was alright, theyâd navigated more complex things together than first kisses, no matter how monumental.
And then Roy brought his hand back to the side of Johnnyâs 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 Royâs 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 Johnnyâd called a lot of people âamazingâ over the years but heâd never meant it quite like he did now, and so he leaned in again and kissed him some more. Royâs hand slid up a little and into Johnnyâs hair, and normally he wasnât overly fond of people doing that but apparently it was a whole ânother story if Roy was the one doing it, and, really, Johnny had never been less surprised.
And then a thought crossed Johnnyâs mind - one that wasnât related to how damn nice it was to have Royâs lips against his and Royâs hand on the back of his head and his body close enough to Royâs 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 olâ physical attraction was overcome by the far less welcome sinking feeling of fear.Â
âRoy,â he quietly muttered, half against his partnerâs lips and probably not very convincing, âI donât think we shouldâŚâ
âBut why not?â Roy asked. âThereâs nobody but us here, nobody will ever know-â
âBut Joanne-â
â-doesnât have to know. And besides, this is - this is different.â
âDifferent?â Johnny asked, and they were still way too close to be having this discussion, but he just couldnât bring himself to pull away.Â
âIâd never be doing this with anybody else,â Roy said, and he, too, wasnât moving back, âbut weâve been through so much together - weâve saved each otherâs 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 Iâve had for you⌠I donât think this is really the most intimate thing weâve ever done.â
âDâyou think sheâd feel the same way about that?â Johnny asked quietly, and he couldnât believe he was being the sane, rational one arguing for monogamy here, given the way heâd spent so many years looking for a sign, any sign, that Roy might potentially be interested in people who werenât Joanne, for purely selfish reasons.
âItâs past midnight,â Roy replied dryly, âI canât exactly call her and ask.â
âLook, I donât think the time of day is your biggest issue there, pally,â Johnny interjected and was promptly ignored.
 âAnd besides,â Roy calmly continued instead, echoing Johnnyâs thoughts from earlier, âfunny 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.â
Johnny sighed. âI hope youâre not expecting me to talk you out of this, because Iâm running dangerously low on arguments here.â
Roy smiled at him, a wistful, forlorn sort of smile that tugged at Johnnyâs heartstrings and utterly smashed any reservations he might have had.
âJust one night,â Roy said. âItâs not much, itâs not nearly enough, but we can have one night. Thereâs nobody here but us, nobody has to know.â
âWhat happens in Frisco stays in Frisco, huh?â Johnny asked with a sad little chuckle.
âI think thatâs Vegas, usually,â Roy replied, a note of amusement in his quiet voice.
âYes, well, you didnât wanna go to Vegas.â
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 wouldâve wanted to do the right thing, his mind had been made up from the second Royâd suggested it.
And heaven knew how much of a terrible idea it was - one night, one chance to find out just what theyâd been missing, and then heâd have to go back to his lonely little life and pretend that he was okay, that nothing had happened, that his life hadnât 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 heâd been wanting this too much for too long and Roy, as much as he wouldâve 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. Heâd end up miserable, he knew he would, and heâd never wanted anything more in his life.
âOkay,â Johnny whispered, so quiet it was barely audible, âokay.â And then: âDid you have anything in mind?â
And now it was Royâs turn to be flustered and out of his depth, but he caught himself quickly. His hand was back in Johnnyâs hair, his thumb gently caressing his nape, and Johnny wouldâve 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 wouldâve been enough.Â
â... we, uh, we can do whatever seems right at the moment,â 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 didnât think Roy would fantasize. Neither about bedroom stuff, nor about much of anything else⌠but that was fine. Theyâd be fine. And damn, Johnny hadnât expected that bit of certainty to hit him as hard as it did, but he suddenly sharply realized that he usually didnât particularly trust the people he slept with - or didnât sleep with the people he trusted. Though, given that that illustrious group of people mostly just consisted of 51âs former A shift, that was probably for the best.
âAnd now what?â 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 mightâve had a plan of his own. Or two. Or two dozen. But there would be time for those, he hoped, later.
âAnd now,â Roy said with a smile of his own, âweâre going to make up for lost time.â
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Qualityâ Free Actions
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
"What are you trying to do to me?" - Roy DeSoto to paramedic partner, Johnny Gage
LOL! Poor Roy. Johnny came into his life and just upended him. Johnny has him doing things he probably never would've done otherwise.
In this case, Johnny had put himself and Roy in position for an invite to be on a television show for a segment about paramedics' role in fire prevention.