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Gyro tried to be as quiet as possible as he unlocked the door to their apartment. Bleary-eyed from the long flight, he narrowly avoided dropping his keys and finally managed to get the door open. After practically throwing himself and his luggage inside, he resisted the urge to slam the door closed behind him. Instead, he slowly eased it shut. It was almost six AM-- no time to be slamming doors.
Gyro sighed in relief. Finally, after eleven hours in a plane, he’d made it. His muscles were all kinds of fucked up, his sleep schedule probably even more so, but at least he was here. At home.
It was funny how he called it that, he thought, especially considering that he’d just come from Naples. He and Johnny hadn’t lived here for a year yet and he already thought of it as home. And this was coming from the guy who, for years after having moved to the States, had cringed to call America his home because it felt like betraying his country of birth. But then again, that was before he met Johnny.
Speaking of Johnny… he must’ve still been asleep, judging from the quiet in the apartment. It was still pretty early, after all, and if Gyro wasn’t mistaken it was a Sunday. He wasn’t entirely sure of that, though. His connecting flight had been delayed and he’d been stuck in airport limbo for a while, where it felt like time failed to flow at all. That combined with the time change completely threw him off.
In any case, he’d texted Johnny to tell him not to wait up for him. Johnny had argued, saying that he’d be there to pick him up, but Gyro could tell that he was tired as his messages got less frequent and less coherent.
Gyro glanced at his phone, more specifically at the last text that Johnny had sent him:
just gonna rest my eyes for 2 minutes txt me when ur flight boards
Gyro had done just that, of course, but gotten no response. That was how he knew Johnny had passed out. Gyro didn’t blame him. He was going to pass the fuck out himself as soon as possible.
He set his bags down and slipped off his shoes. Quietly, he made his way to their bedroom. The door was cracked, so Gyro would only have to nudge it for it to swing open the rest of the way.
Before opening the door, Gyro paused for a moment to take a deep breath and collect himself. He’d been running around like a chicken with its head cut off for the past three weeks— his mother had had a health scare and his father demanded that he be a good eldest son for once and come home to take care of her. He’d done just that, only to be accosted by a whole host of other family shit that needed smoothing out. Naples was and always would be home, of course, and he loved his family to death, but goddamn if Gyro hadn’t wished many, many times that he was back at this home.
Finally, thankfully, here he was. Home. He pushed open the door.
The sun was just starting to rise, painting their bedroom with hazy, subdued light. On this quiet morning, the world was still and peaceful inside and out. It felt like Gyro was stepping into a photograph as he crossed the threshold. He was eager to reach out and touch its subject, framed so perfectly in the middle of his view.
Johnny was laying on his stomach on their bed, his phone dangling out of his hand. He was dressed like he was ready to jump up and go to the airport at any moment, but, evidently, exhaustion had overtaken him. The sheets were tangled around him like he’d been fighting them in his sleep. Stressed about Gyro, maybe. No matter. There was nothing to worry about anymore.
As Gyro got closer, step by soft step, he could see Johnny’s shoulders rising and falling with each deep, rhythmic breath. Gyro couldn’t help but smile at his mussed blonde hair and half-open mouth. He was so adorable and he had no idea. Gyro almost hated to wake him, but he knew that he’d want to know Gyro was home safe. He reached out to shake his shoulder.
Just before he could, though, Johnny suddenly stirred. He licked his lips, his eyelids twitching as he dreamt, and mumbled something that Gyro was just able to catch…
earlier
Johnny didn’t think of himself as particularly… clingy. He’d never been clingy before, at least. In fact, he used to hate it when his partners kept asking him for shit or demanding his presence unnecessarily. He’d changed a lot since then but— still. He just wasn’t the type.
With that said, he’d be damned if he couldn’t get Gyro out of his head while he was gone.
It hadn’t been so bad at first. Sure, Johnny wasn’t thrilled that Gyro had to fly all the way back to Naples to deal with some family stuff, but he didn’t have a problem with it. He was glad that Gyro had the chance to go back to Italy, actually. Gyro wouldn’t admit it, but Johnny knew he missed it a lot. His family was everything to him.
But then a few days turned into a week. Johnny thought, fine. They could talk on the phone, or via video chat, to keep in touch. But it seemed like every time their schedules agreed with the time difference enough to call, something else would come up. Gyro would have to hang up early, leaving Johnny feeling… empty. He would stare at the ‘call ended’ screen and try to find some reason not to just stay like that until Gyro came back.
What’s happening to you? he scolded himself. Gyro was fine. Johnny was fine. He wasn’t dependent on Gyro for anything— he’d made it clear to Gyro and himself early in their relationship that independence was crucial to him. If anything, Gyro was generally the ‘clingy’ one. But now Johnny was the one doing all this yearning or whatever.
By the end of week two, he had to admit to himself that he missed Gyro something terrible. He missed the subtle sounds of another human being close by, like humming and heavy footsteps. He missed waking up to warmth beside him. He missed Gyro’s jokes and little songs, however stupid they might be. He missed watching him, in the morning when he was getting ready for work or in the evening when they made dinner together. Whenever Johnny’s mind wasn’t occupied with something else, it returned inevitably to all these things that he was slowly realizing that he couldn’t live without.
Two weeks became three. That was when his brain had apparently had enough of the absence and started trying to recreate Gyro on its own. In other words, Johnny started to have dreams about him.
It was so unlike him, and frankly so embarrassing, to get so needy after just three weeks of separation. But Johnny couldn’t help it. Every dream that he could remember after waking had Gyro in it. He was probably in all the ones that Johnny couldn’t remember, too. They weren’t always necessarily about him, but he was always there.
It exasperated Johnny for another reason, too: every time he woke up, he was just reminded all the more that Gyro wasn’t, in fact, there.
Needless to say, he was relieved when Gyro finally called to say he was coming home. Maybe even more relieved than Gyro was. Finally, things could go back to normal. And nobody ever had to know about how much he’d been pining. Least of all Gyro.
That was the plan, at least.
Johnny hadn’t meant to fall asleep before Gyro’s arrival. He’d been fighting against it with all his might. It was just that he’d been up all night checking the details of this or that flight, waiting for the moment that he’d rush to the airport to pick Gyro up. He was, admittedly, a little frazzled. Johnny didn’t have a car of his own— couldn’t afford one of those fancy models modified for paraplegics— but their mutual friend Hot Pants had agreed (albeit reluctantly) to drive him. HP had told him to text when he wanted to leave, but… Johnny never texted. He fell asleep before even finding out that Gyro had boarded his connecting flight.
The first part of his dream had been standard dream nonsense, a jumble of stitched-together places and situations. Then, he woke up. Or at least, he dreamt that he woke up.
It was like Gyro had never left. In fact, he was in bed next to Johnny like he was every morning, an arm slung over Johnny’s waist. Johnny rolled over and didn’t even notice how his legs moved effortlessly. That should’ve been a telltale sign that he was dreaming, but Johnny was too preoccupied to take note of it.
Gyro was blurry, smudged at the edges, but Johnny could clearly see his smile. How could he mistake that gold? He didn’t note anything strange, like how difficult it was to see Gyro’s face as a whole, or how he could move his legs, or the fact that Gyro was currently on a flight hundreds of miles away and not in bed with him. It just felt normal. This was normal.
“I was looking for you,” Johnny said, although he wasn’t sure why.
“I’m here,” Gyro said.
“Okay,” Johnny said.
And he did what he’d been dying to do for the past three weeks since he went away— he kissed Gyro as hard as he could.
Things got even blurrier after that. Johnny couldn’t tell whether he was wearing clothes or not as Gyro ran his hands up and down his body. And his touches seemed to grant no release, like he was phasing right through Johnny. Johnny arched his back, searching for contact; he was just getting more riled up without any relief. Why wasn’t this working? He’d needed Gyro for so long and now he finally had him, so why didn’t it feel right?
“Gyro,” he started to complain. “Hey, Gyro…”
“Right here,” he heard Gyro say. “I’m right here, amore.”
Strangely, he now felt something run along his spine, even though he was lying on his back. Wait, no, he wasn’t— he was lying on his stomach, and he had been the whole time. How was that possible? How was any of this possible…? Gyro was in Italy…
His phone suddenly buzzed, pulling him the rest of the way out of the dream. Johnny jerked his head up, for real this time.
Oh, he thought. I was dreaming. Again.
“Shit,” he muttered, grabbing his phone. He had a barrage of confused and irritated texts from Hot Pants— with highlights such as r we doing this or not? and wtf johnny YOURE the one who asked ME, among others— and a few missed calls from Gyro. The current buzzing was from his usual weekday alarm. He must’ve forgotten to switch it off for the weekend in his tizzy about Gyro’s coming home.
That didn’t concern him, though. Not even the texts from HP concerned him. What concerned him were the missed calls from Gyro. Shit— I didn’t pick him up! Was he still waiting at the airport, then? Johnny had made such a fuss about being there to greet him and then fucking fell asleep. He’d kick himself if he could.
“Fuck,” he hissed to himself. “I’m the worst boyfriend ever.”
“I don’t think so,” a voice said from behind him.
The earlier touch returned, skating up and down Johnny’s spine. Although it was gentle, Johnny could only think one thing: What the fuck!?
Startled, Johnny automatically swung at the intruder, who squawked and ducked just in time to miss his flailing fist. Johnny wound up again, ready to fight for his life.
“Johnny!” the intruder shouted. “It’s me!”
Johnny paused, his heart still hammering in his chest. He blinked as he realized that the ‘intruder’ was… Gyro.
“What the fuck!” he shouted. “Goddamnit, what’s your fucking problem, Gyro!?”
He grabbed his pillow and started whaling on Gyro with it. His blood was pumping— for Christ’s sake, he thought Gyro was a robber or a pervert or something! He couldn’t just sneak up on Johnny while he was sleeping!
“Ah, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Gyro whined, shielding himself from the onslaught. “Stop, Johnny-y-y!”
Johnny stopped, but not because Gyro asked him to. More because he had no idea how the fuck Gyro was even here. It was like he’d stepped right out of Johnny’s dream. Or was he still dreaming?
“Is this real?” he blurted out.
Gyro looked up at him from the other side of the bed. Then, his face split into his typical stupid grin, golden letters and all.
“Yeah, I’m real,” he said. “Not a dream.”
Johnny exhaled. Finally, he got the chance to actually do this. He surged forward and wrapped his arms around Gyro’s neck, kissing him furiously. Gyro held him around the waist and Johnny relished in how there he was— he had body heat, and pressure, and a smell, and everything that dreams lacked.
“God, I’m so sorry for not being there,” Johnny mumbled between frantic kisses. “How’d you get home?”
Gyro chuckled. “Uber, duh.”
Johnny sighed. He was just relieved that Gyro wasn’t stranded. He’d have to buy HP lunch to apologize for standing her up, but that could be dealt with later. Right now he had a much more pressing task: make up for lost time.
He tightened his hold on Gyro, dragging him down onto the bed to keep kissing him. Gyro made a noise of surprise, pulling back to give Johnny a questioning look.
“Aren’t you tired?” he asked.
Johnny shook his head. “Not anymore.”
“Nyohoho.” Gyro’s grin spread. “I knew you’d miss me, but I didn’t know how much.”
Johnny flushed, realizing how fucking desperate he was acting. He scowled, turning his head so Gyro couldn’t kiss him again. Gyro found a way, though, pecking his cheek.
“Aw, don’t be embarrassed, amore,” he said, although the teasing note in his voice was obvious. “I missed you too.”
“I’m not embarrassed,” Johnny said, as coolly as he could. “It’s fine. I was fine by myself.”
“Really?” Gyro sat back with brows raised in a mix of skepticism and amusement. “Then why’d I hear you saying my name in your sleep just now?”
Johnny sat up abruptly, slapping a hand over his mouth while Gyro broke into laughter. His face was really on fire now. Damn those dreams! He knew they were nothing but trouble. He almost couldn’t move for embarrassment as Gyro started to kiss his face all over, nyohoing all the while.
“I didn’t,” Johnny said in disbelief. “Did I really?”
Gyro nodded. “Wish I got it on video.”
Johnny groaned, flopping back on the bed. Gyro joined him, shimmying down the bed a little so he could fit his head neatly against Johnny’s chest. He always did this, taking the position perhaps better suited for the smaller of the two. He loved being the little spoon.
“It’s okay, Johnny,” he said. “It was cute.”
He held up his free hand, waiting for Johnny to link their fingers together. Johnny sighed and relented, squeezing Gyro’s hand in his.
“Guess there’s no hiding it, then,” he muttered.
Gyro perked up a bit. “Hiding what?”
“How much I love you.”
Gyro blinked, taken aback by Johnny’s matter-of-fact confession. It wasn’t like they hadn’t told each other “I love you” before, but something about this was different. More honest.
Then Gyro smiled— not his usual shit-eating grin, but a much smaller, subtler smile. His lips trembled a little. Gyro rarely cried (weirdly enough, since Johnny did it all the time), but he looked like he was close just then. He put his head back on Johnny’s chest, nuzzling him.
“Don’t know why you’d want to hide that,” he said. “I love you just as much. If not more.”
Not possible, Johnny thought.
The tender moment was ruined by Johnny suddenly yawning uncontrollably. He really tried to stop it, but once it got going there was nothing he could do.
“I thought you weren’t tired,” Gyro teased, trying to stick a finger in Johnny’s open mouth. Johnny scowled, rubbing his eyes. Okay, so maybe he was still a little tired.
“Fine, you got me,” he said. “Can we go back to sleep now?”
“Not sure why you want to,” Gyro said. He was grinning obnoxiously as he made a sweeping gesture to himself. “All you’ve been dreaming about is right here, baby.”
“Fine, we can get up if you really want to,” Johnny said, moving like he was going to get up. “Apparently jet lag isn’t a thing anymore, huh?”
Gyro shrunk back, clutching Johnny to him. “Wait. No.”
Johnny snorted. “That’s what I thought.”
He lay back down next to Gyro. Gyro draped his arm over Johnny’s waist and pulled him close. Clinging to him.
“It’s good to see you again,” Gyro whispered, his voice a warm rumble against Johnny.
Johnny smiled to himself, putting his arms around Gyro. Maybe it wasn’t so bad to be a little clingy. He slept better next to Gyro, anyway.