It wasn’t like Johnny missed him. Not exactly, it's just been about 2 weeks since they’ve actually got together to hang out or to kill something. Hell, they can’t even nod their heads at each before Dex or Troy has him off to fuck knows where to do fuck knows what. And it's not like Johnny can run into the car with them since the bum knee and the stupid brace. The bullet holes at least have gotten better, thanks to Playa’s skills at sewing.
Thinking about Playa sewing his knee got Johnny back to thinking about hanging out with Playa which only made him slump further into his seat. He puffed out some air (only for it to rise and fog up his glasses).
So he missed the murdering bastard. Sue him.
He glanced up to the clock. 1 in the morning.
Johnny thought to where Playa lived. It wouldn’t really be and invasion, technically. He could use it as an excuse to check up on his homie. Besides, if Johnny was hurting anybody the little ass fuck could just say it.
“Fuck it.” Johnny mumbled. “ Fuck it .”
He stood up, hand reaching for that stupid cane. Thank god Playa’s apartment wasn’t too far from the Church.
Only a few nobody's were in, dozing on the pews as Johnny left through the doors.
The fresh air and sea breeze only strengthened Johnny’s resolve to go see him. He figured if anyone asked where he was going he could just say the candy shop. Maybe he would pick up Play’s kit-kats ( and one of those in-paste toothbrushes because JOhnny doubted Playa had the time to even do that anymore).
Thinking about how hard Playa was being worked only made Johnny angry. The fuck he doing all the work for? He just took down the Vice Kings together the other week. He talked to Johnny. Actually spoke.
Johnny wondered if he was the first person Playa spoke to since coming here. He wouldn’t mind that.
By the time he actually made it to Playa’s apartment Johnny was in pain . Bullets, shankings, those he could take. But the bum knee, bones scraping against nerves as cartridge went into places it shouldn’t, fuck. He hoped that Playa would have some pain medication. Or booze.
Johnny banged on the door. And listened close. Nothing.
Briefly Johnny wondered if Playa was sleeping and the thought came as so odd to him. Playa, sleep? He like a machine, probably a robot gone crazy.
Johnny knocked again, and again a few moments later.
It took a few seconds to see that A), Playa was not home and B), he would have surly answered by now.
Johnny looked at his fist resting on the door, thinking of two scenarios. Scenario one, he leaves Playas apartment to either find a phone to call him or he could just sit on the stump like a dog waiting for its master to get home.
Or he could break into Playas apartment. After all he is a criminal.
Johnny sure as hell wasn’t going to wait for him all day.
He heard the door crack open but he was so damn comfortable , holy fuck. Between the couch just sucking his body and Bobby And Amber playing in the T.v. Johnny wasn't even sure that would get up. He can die here and be perfectly content. Seriously,for someone who never relaxes Playa has such a-
Johnny keeled up, hands shooting to his stomach. Holy shit .
But he grabbed his knife and raised it, preparing to stab anyone. Who would break into Playa’s apartment, seriously? Do they not know how fucking crazy this bitch is?
But it wasn’t some drug beat or Roller, instead it was a man with dark hair and blue eyes with blood spattered clothes, looking at him tiredly. He had a hand on the back of his head, rubbing where it must have smacked onto the floor after he fell off of Johnny.
(It didn’t escape Johnny that technically he had broken into Playa’s place.)
And they stared at each for a second.
“Hey.” He offered, pushing up his glasses.
Playa looked dazed, as if he was hit in the head with a bat. Which wasn’t that far fetched given this town.
“Johnny?” he rubbed his face, yawning. “Everythin okay?”
He was talking, actually talking like a normal human being. But Johnny wasn’t going to make a big deal out of this, he was cool. He was calm. He was collected. He wasn't about to smack himself silly to wake up.“So you can talk, it wasn’t my imagination.”
His heart was running at an alarming pace but he's good. Yeah.
Playa must have been hit in the head because he seemed like he trying to focus on Johnny's words. When the meaning finally went through he grinned, slow like. It wasn’t the slow predatory smile Johnny noticed when they went on blow-everything-up spree, but an actual smile. Tired, but there. It looked good on him, made him human. “This isn’t another mission call, right? I’d probably just-” he broke off to yawn.
Johnny shook his head. “No, its not. Just visiting.”
Playa closed his mouth, stretching his arms up and closed his eyes. Johnny really focused on his face and wow this kid needs a nap. Or three days of straight sleeping because he looked awful. Bags under his eyes, knuckles so raw the pink was intimidating and when his shirt rode up Johnny saw major purpiling.
Maybe this wasn’t the best of time to see him. Whatever. Fucker could kick him out if Johnny was really imposing on hospitality.
“Give me like 5 minutes, okay?” He offered up a genuine smile. “Let me get the dead body smell off of me.”
Johnny watched as he stood, arms shaking when he put his weight on them to boost up from the couch. He went disappeared into the short hallway.
A moment passed and Johnny was adjusting his brace when something was thrown at his face. “Don’t sleep with jeans and a brace. You’ll pull your stitches.” called Playa from the hall. “I’ll be out in a few, so don’t worry about me seeing anything.”
Johnny didn’t have to see Plays face to know he was grinning. He could practically hear it. Johnny sighed, forever regretting asking Playa if he believed if he had a 8 inch dick when he was doped up on numb-ers.
It was awkward getting the grace off to pull off his jeans, kicking them to the side with his shoes. He checked on his bandages, pretty pleased with himself that not as much blood seeped through the stitches as he thought. Walking here maybe wasn’t the greatest idea but to late now.
The shower turned off just as he pulled up the sweats, black. They were slightly roomy in the ass area. There was no fucking way Playa doesn’t do squats, no way. No one just has an ass that good by nature, not even Aisha knew what it could be when it had become the center of their conversations (which surprising was a lot).
He was just about to buckle up his brace again when Playa came out. A little more awake and smelling less like death and more like an actually human being.
Playa smiled, pushing wet hair back. He was barefoot. “How are your stitches?”
Johnny shrugged. “Hasn’t torn open yet.”
“I would be genuinely shocked if that's the truth.” Playa stretched again shirt grabbing on the wet patches.Grabbing a water bottle from the counter and offered one to Johnny who shook his head, he asked “Are you tearing them up?”
“How’d you get here then?”
Paya raised an eyebrow, settling on the long part facing the T.V. on the couch. Seriously, why does he have such a great couch when he hates people in his space?
Asides from Johnny apparently.
For a moment they stared at each other before Johnny cracked a grin of his own. “Okay, so maybe I got some exercise. If someone would actually say no or even shake his head, I wouldn’t have to climb over here to see if your alive.”
Playa scrunched his eyebrows. His eyes were to misty in Johnny's opinion. Not glazed over like he was high but on a week long murder and carnage run that he was probably over worked.
But the same time the Bobby And Ambers studio audience started clapping Playa grinned. “You missed me.”
He sounded so surprised. Johnny didn’t want to look at his face (embarrassed that he just out right said it, c’mon man) but agreed under his breath. It didn’t bother Playa who looked too damn happy. Despite the only source of light now coming from the faded colors of a 90s show Johnny could make out a few titles on the bookshelf next to them. Jesus, how many books about the ocean can a guy have?
He felt a hand on his back, solid and warm. “I know I’ve been busy.”
Johnny rolled his eyes and braved Plays face again (to damn happy, not that Johnny was actually bothered. He was sort of pleased). “It's just weird not going out to do shit anymore. And now you actually talk so…”
He shifted, resting his bum leg on the foot stool so he they could actually see each other. But Playa shook his head. I don't really talk Dex or Troy.”
“Why not?” Johnny asked. It was a mixture of frustration and being a bit mad that he the first thing Playa says is about STDS. It was pettiness that made him happy that Playa wasn’t talking to Troy or Dex tho.
Ha, take that fuckers.
“It's weird with them.” Playa made a face, yawned, then made the face again. He was the type to cover his mouth. “Dex, it's fine because he just tells me what we gotta do and we do it. Troy goes from smoking to asking me about my life. I have to suffer through minutes of him monologuing before I can actually understand what I need to do. But from his life story I’ve gathered he's not that bad.” the space between his eyebrows puckered.
Troy had always rubbed Johnny in the weird way. Not because of his constant bitching but he just seemed to polish about everything. To open. He didn’t really bother to listen to it, going off on his own to shoot someone even if it's not the right person. But of course Playa listens.
Johnny smiled. “Dex just likes doing the paperwork and coloring in the island purple. Troy is just weird. But really, why don’t you talk? Why didn’t you talk?”
Playa shrugged. “Don’t feel like it.”
It was so cocky Johnny wanted to punch him. He didn’t feel like talking. "Oh,excuse me while you gaze at us common folk. So sorry we couldn't interest you." He joked.
He stares at Johnny and almost laughs. Then he retreats himself to get comfortable on the couch. "But in all honesty how are those stitches?"
"Its keeping my blood inside."
"Most of it at least. Want me to take a look?"
Johnny almost does. Instead he kicks out, grabs the pillow that dropped to the floor. "Nah. Wait until you see how your window is."
"The fuck you do to my window?"
"Fuck you locking the door for?"
"You could have just asked for a key."
Johnny stares over at the side of Playas face. "What, next time being a toothbrush? Maybe a few pairs of shoes?"
"Are you really pouting now?" Playa asks. "Because I ain't asking to fuck you." Johnny years him sigh, murmur something about toxic masculinity.
"I ain't got toxic masculinity." Johnny stars. "I'm just not asking for a key."
"And you'd rather break in through my window and pull stitches?" Playa sounds tired but he rolls his head to Johnny's. "If your worried about what your buddies are gonna think tell them to fuck off."
He yawns. Shifts in his seat. "'Sides, you ain't my type."
And Johnny's face warms."Please you'd be lucky to get a chance with me."
"Last dude I fucked said that too. Last women did also, now that I think of it." A moment. "Wait no, they were a couple. An open relationship."
"That seems awful." Johnny said. "Why would you be in an open relationship?"
Each time Playa mentions it Johnny gets more...familiarized? Comfortable? With his sexuality. Johnny's never really thought of anyb ody's sexuality, in all honesty. But being in a island in the middle of lake, far away enough from Canada to be part of the United States you don't really have much experience of anything other than heterosexuality.
It wasn't like he could actually judge, not like he doesn't look at some guys. After all, Playa's ass? Damn.
"Oh excuse me Mr.Commitment. didn't mean to offend your sensibilities. Besides, that's why they were my type. They weren't in a relationship per say."
"So any ugly off the street you'll bang?"
"I dunno. You askin?" And Playa smiles at him when Johnny throws a pillow at him. He runs his face and Johnny's feels satisfied.
"Johnny I wouldn't even be able to survive a kitten scratch let alone another fight." Playa groans but he still smiling as he says it.
And Johnny yields. Relaxes back into the couch. It's quiet from then, shitty rom-com playing on the t.v..
"You can say no-"
"Oh my God johnny shut up ." Playa says non-menacing into the couch cushioned he buried his face into. But he actually means it which is the thing.
Johnny doesn't know if he should be insulted or turned on. Playa doesn't give out orders, just takes them.
So there's some fight in him.
Johnny sighs and turns back to the t.v.. The last thought that filters through his mind is that Playa should grab an ice pack for his swollen hand.