Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Kerry's life wasn't cursed, he ultimately decided as he adjusted his tie in the mirror. 

Most people would probably argue that it was ridiculous that Kerry would even entertain that his life was anything but charmed, including a younger version of himself. He had a life most would kill for: wealth, his health despite pushing 90, looks, talent, fame, success… What wasn't to love? 

Well, for starters, it turned out that all his fortune could do about his demons was pay for a battery of gurus and therapists that he ignored more often than not anyway. Not that their advice was necessarily bad, but it meant becoming someone not him. 

And no amount of fame, success, or admiration could give him the relationship he really wanted. The closest thing he'd ever had was seemingly gone forever with the original layout of Night City back in 2023. 

It took Kerry decades to admit that he hadn't just wanted to fuck Johnny. If that had been all, a reasonable look-alike would've scratched the itch and heaven knows he fucked enough of those. But Johnny got Kerry in a way no one else ever did, even if his old friend and bandmate had weaponized that knowledge and turned it against him. Used that connection to get Kerry to play rhythm to whatever self-destructing tune Johnny was playing at that moment. 

And no amount of soul searching or pills was ever going to fix that Johnny took one look at what they had, everything they'd ever made together, and decided that he'd rather die in atomic fire with his grudge against Arasaka than keep living in a world with Kerry and their music. 

But, of course, Kerry's life was too damned weird for that to be that. 

It seemed like only yesterday that Kerry was contemplating his revolver in the bathroom when he heard someone playing a guitar in the other room. Except he knew that particular sound far too well for it to be just anybody. Even if Kerry stumbled out of his bathroom to find Johnny riding shotgun in some lesbian merc's body, he never doubted for a moment who he was talking to, even before Johnny repeated his last words to Kerry, signature cruel smirk and all. 

That whole deal with Johnny and V was already bizarre enough before those two figured out how to separate themselves into their own bodies. And the two adamantly refused to elaborate on how they managed it and, honestly, the “how” didn't matter to Kerry half as much as the “what now?”

Which turned out to be a damned good question, because Kerry had bought up all the rights to Johnny's music and biometric data after Johnny died. But now Johnny was back now — really back — and he couldn't do a damned thing with his works or even legally keep his own appearance while Kerry held the rights. 

Originally, Kerry was just going to give them back to Johnny, but his lawyers told the two that was a good way to trigger some weird legal ruling regarding Johnny's estate that'd give nearly all of it to Arasaka since he died (or officially “went missing”) turning their skyscraper into a radioactive crater. 

Johnny just about blew a gasket when he heard that - demanded that Kerry keep it all. Said he'd start over from nothing again before letting Arasaka get one scrap of it, even if it meant changing his face. 

But, slimy bastards that Kerry had hired, of course there was a way around it. 

“You can't give them to Mr. Silverhand but, if you two were to get married, you'd jointly own them. And, should things end up not working out, a carefully crafted prenup wouldn't set off the penalty conditions,” the lawyer had said with a knowing smirk. 

The trick was, they couldn't just get a Las Vegas drive-thru marriage with Elvis and then make their next stop a divorce attorney. Arasaka would be looking to prove it was a sham to circumvent the ruling. And whatever V and Johnny did to resolve their situation had pissed off the corp in a big way - the bastards would absolutely try it. If just for spite. 

No, they were going to have to convince the world that they meant it plus stay together for at least a full month. 

So no, Kerry decided while looking himself over in the mirror. His life wasn't cursed, nor was it charmed. He'd made a deal with the devil back in that dive bar all those years ago. And that devil's name was Johnny Silverhand. 

His soon-to-be husband. 

-

“You look like a fuckin’ slob,” V complained from her seat on the sink. 

Johnny scoffed from in front of the public bathroom mirror. “No one is expecting me to show up in a full monkey suit, the shirt's stayin’ open.” 

“You're getting married, Johnny, not poppin’ out of the cake at a bachelorette party,” sighed V as she stood up and tried to fix his collar. 

“Knock it off,” he grumbled, trying to bat the merc's hands away. 

“Ok, compromise - leave the top couple buttons undone and no tie?” 

He sneered a bit but stopped fighting her, which she took as his version of agreement. 

“There we go, what kinda maid of honor would I be if I let you go out there to your groom lookin’ like a sleazebag?” V asked cheerfully. Way too damned cheerfully for his mood right now. 

“You're hilarious, it's just Kerry,” Johnny griped as he tried to pull the starched collar further from his neck. 

This bitch was closer than any blood had ever been to him but she was still a fucking menace. 

“Just Kerry, Us Cracks, the judge, that paparazzo outside the window who Kerry was sure would show, and a ‘maintenance worker’ who's definitely not a ’Saka Counterintel agent already tryin’ to poke holes in this little fairytale romance of yours,” she said as she started to pull his hair back. 

“V, I will bury your ass in the junkyard again if you try to give me a fuckin’ updo.” 

“Perish the thought,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Just trying to get it out of your eyes for the ceremony - the whole rugged, dirty rockerboy thing isn't gonna fly today. Any photos snapped are going to have to be unquestionably you. Unless you want to give Arasaka an opening…” V hummed mildly.

Johnny rolled his eyes at her reflection but she wasn't wrong: this was a show and he had to look the part - and the media vultures already scented out this whole thing. Granted, they'd leaked it on purpose, but the fuckers at least thought they were being clever. 

The tailored black suit was doing most of the heavy lifting but he shouldn't look like he rolled out of bed. Probably. Not when those ’Saka scum already had spies in the building. 

He still looked at the brandished bobby pins like they personally wronged him. 

He scoffed in disgust at the get up, at the plan, at the whole fucking situation. “Still can't believe those bastards are after my fuckin’ music. My goddamned face!” 

“Really? Spent years trying to be a thorn in their side and now you're gonna whine when you've finally properly pissed them off? And hey, at least Soulkiller isn't an option anymore,” she scoffed with a few pins in her mouth. 

He was still glaring at her but she knew he'd let her get her way on this. At least temporarily. 

“Y'know, this might be good for you two besides the whole legal thing,” V murmured. 

Johnny curled a lip at her through the reflection. “Are you back on this shit again? Already told you, I'm not into dick.” 

“Mhm, thing is, neither am I. Except I sure felt something like wanting to fuck Kerry absolutely senseless when he was standin’ over me in that skimpy lil slip of a robe. And again every other time I saw him until I got your flat ass evicted from my skull and then never again,” she hummed trying to get his hair looking fashionably messy-but-tamed. 

“Really so offended by the idea of being even a little straight that you're gonna blame me for that?”

“Johnny, don't know how to tell you this, but more than a few of those memories I saw of you two were not the straightest things I've ever seen. You let him blow you for fuck's sake.” V huffed as she jammed another pin in, maybe a bit more harshly than strictly necessary. Then again, maybe that was just because he wouldn't stop moving. 

He smacked away the next pin she grabbed in retaliation, “We were skezzed out of our minds, would've let fuckin’ Saburo blow me.” 

V simply procured another pin from fuck knows where. “Sure hope that's not the pillowtalk you have planned for later or I might be planning a funeral for Mr. Silverhand-Eurodyne before the week's out,” she deadpanned, putting the finishing touches on his hair and sighed. “I'm not saying tits aren't preem, fuck knows I’m with you there, but you are allowed to like both. And I think you two would work better than you think - you're great together when you're not fighting over bullshit.”

Johnny just rolled his eyes at her. Not that she expected to win him over so easily, stubborn bastard. 

Johnny never let anything good happen to him in his life. Lives? Whatever. Even his friendship with V was brought about with all sorts of kicking, screaming, shooting, and other assorted dramatics. 

But she still had some hopes about this whole thing after his little epiphany during their joint misadventure: he regretted pushing everyone who mattered away and Kerry in particular. So hopefully, that would help them skip a few steps. 

Now, if she could just get him not to do that whole jerking Kerry around thing again and more actually just jerking Kerry, maybe she wouldn't be holding Johnny's hair back over a toilet in a month's time after a dramatic divorce party. 

Since Kerry seemed every bit as emotionally constipated as Johnny, V had already resigned herself to playing fairy godmother for the pair. If the fairy godmother was packing a fortune in combat chrome. And killed people for a living. 

Feeding Smasher his own asshole was doubtless easier than getting these two to admit they wanted a happily ever after together but her sanity depended on it. The tension between them since reuniting was ridiculous and she was really over Johnny pretending that he wasn’t fucking pining for Kerry during gigs. 

Besides, V loved nothing if not a challenge. 

-

“Oh my god! You guys look so good!” Blue Moon gasped excitedly. 

Johnny ignored the twittering pop stars in favor of pacing near the judge's desk, but V stopped to give the girls quick hugs. 

“Thanks, you guys too!” V said cheerfully. “And don't mind Johnny, think he's just nervous,” she added with a grin, knowing full well he'd flip her off for that without turning around to watch. “Any sign of Kerry?”

Red Menace sighed and shrugged, “He said something about fixing his suit but he looked fine. Think he's just nervous too.”

“Can you blame them? They've been apart for so long, everyone thought Johnny Silverhand was dead! This is like some storybook romance!” gushed Blue Moon. 

‘You and I heard very different stories growing up,’ V thought. 

Red Menace hopped up from her seat, “I think I should go get Kerry before he psyches himself out.” 

V nodded, “Probably a good idea, Johnny was climbing the damned walls, can't think Ker is doing much better.”

Purple Force suddenly perked up and craned her neck from her seat by the aisle, “Wait, here he comes!”

Sure enough, Kerry finally entered the room looking much more polished than Johnny, because some rockers can be compelled to wear a full suit, even if he did look decidedly green around the gills. 

V wasn't a religious woman but she was praying it was just nerves and that he hadn't drunk or taken anything that'd make him sick. If nothing else, Arasaka would be checking to see if one or both were impaired during the ceremony. 

Not that anyone in NC actually cared about substance abuse unless a corp could use it against someone. And, while she knew Johnny was clean as a whistle (because she had been watching him like a damned hawk) the two former Samurai frontmen were easily as bad as the other when it came to the whole sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll schtick. 

And because she's not a religious woman, V ran a quick scan just to make sure. Sure enough, sober as a judge but with elevated cortisol - figures he can perform in front of a packed stadium without stress, no problem. But she supposed the trick was that Kerry took the crowd's adoration for granted. 

But he never had Johnny's. At least not in any way that Johnny had ever let on. 

“Hey Ker, clean up nice,” Johnny greeted with a smirk, looking entirely at-ease to the untrained eye. 

Out of curiosity, V ran a quick scan on Johnny too who was also clean but sporting an elevated heart rate belying his devil-may-care posturing. 

‘Good grief, they’re both morons.’ 

“I’m impressed, I didn’t think there’d be a button done on you. Let me guess: V’s doing?” sniped Kerry, not bothering to hide his fidgeting. 

Johnny almost glared at him for a fraction of a second before grinning, ambling over, and pulling Kerry close by his tie. “What’s the point? It’s all comin’ off soon,” he growled, making a show of leering at Kerry’s body. 

V was pretty sure only her chrome allowed her to hear the pitch Blue Moon achieved while the girls watched the exchange. 

Her chrome also let her know that the hidden paparazzi and “maintenance worker” were all scrolling so, really, Johnny’s casual disregard for personal boundaries couldn’t have come at a better time for the plan’s sake. 

“All rise for the honorable Judge Paktolos,” droned a court worker from a side door. 

A stern-looking older woman in robes strode in and sat at the bench. She glanced over the data pad in front of her before looking up at the assembled mix of music stars plus a merc with only mild surprise. 

“Mr. Eurodyne, a pleasure to see you again under happier circumstances.” 

Kerry gave her a questioning look and glanced at Johnny to see if this was a prank but Johnny only shrugged. 

The judge seemed to notice his confusion, “I’m not surprised you don’t remember me but I remember everyone who walks into my courtroom. This was about 2 years ago - a DUI. I’m pretty sure you were drunk at the hearing too. I’m glad that isn’t the case today.” 

Kerry scowled at the judge but Johnny just barked a laugh, “That sounds like Ker.”

The judge regarded Johnny coolly before continuing. 

“If both parties are prepared, we will begin. Welcome to our beloved and honored guests. We’re gathered here today to celebrate Kerry Eudodyne and Johnny Silverhand, as they make a promise of love and commitment to one another. Our prior conversation aside, such occasions are my favorite responsibility afforded to me by my position. Committing to share our brightest days and weather our darkest nights with someone is no small thing and cannot be done lightly. Commitment is about trust. It’s about patience, forgiveness, devotion, and hope. It’s what happens when a relationship becomes a home — a place of safety and love — to which each partner can return, again and again.”

V didn’t need to be connected to Johnny’s mind anymore to know he was fighting the urge to roll his eyes. Perhaps so focused on that maybe that he wasn’t even aware of how he kept rubbing Kerry’s hands to the point that Kerry was barely paying any attention to the judge at all. 

“Do you, Kerry Eurodyne, promise to spend your life with Johnny Silverhand, meeting each new joy and sorrow together, continuing to deepen your understanding of him, treating him with kindness and compassion, and welcoming each new chapter of life together with a spirit of curiosity and patience?”

Kerry startled to attention when he heard his name before answering, "I do."

"Do you, Johnny Silverhand, promise to spend your life with Kerry Eudodyne, meeting each new joy and sorrow together, continuing to deepen your understanding of him, treating him with kindness and compassion, and welcoming each new chapter of life together with a spirit of curiosity and patience?"

Johnny put on his best show grin and replied, "I do."

"Kerry and Johnny will now exchange rings as a symbol of their love and commitment."

Johnny had been unsurprised to learn that the jewelry industry figured out how to make chrome-friendly rings but he still had scoffed at the whole process. Slightly less so when Kerry found a black ring that'd fit Johnny's chrome and didn't look like some neokitsch disaster. 

Kerry's band was gold because it seemed silly to get anything else for him. He had enough gold implants and chains that even a casual friend knew that’d be the way to go for him. 

"By the authority vested in me by the people of Night City, and with the trust of you all here today, I now declare you joined in love. You may now kiss!"

Johnny smirked as he wrapped his chrome arm around Kerry's waist and dragged him closer before licking into his mouth with a needlessly filthy kiss. 

Had to make it look good for that media who thought no one noticed him, right? 

‘Yes Johnny, nothing's as straight as tongue-fucking your choom's face when all you had to do was smooch,’ V thought to herself as she joined Us Cracks in applauding, if not their jumping and crying. 

It'd make a nice cover photo for tomorrow's screamsheet though. 

-

“Why does Abernathy hate me?” Irving Wentworth asked no one in particular outside City Hall. 

Top marks at Arasaka Academy, years of loyal service to the corporation, a specialization in undercover ops and this was the sort of job Abernathy gave him? 

Shadowing a couple of burnt-out rockerboys while they make a mockery of the sanctity of marriage?

He adjusted his costume again, a masterwork if he dare say so himself: no one questions a man with a worker’s vest. And that was important because one of those little edge lords was a close personal friend of V: a traitor to the Arasaka Corporation and a former member of Counterintelligence. 

The two men were skezzed out little has-beens but V had been a sharp woman until Jenkins dragged her down on his sinking ship. 

It was tragic, really, to see a rising star fallen so far into the gutter. But any sympathy Irving may have had for V died when she embarrassed the corporation and resurrected one of their most vocal foes. 

And put more than a little undue scrutiny on Counterintel. What kind of department were they running that one of their own was now an infamous Afterlife denizen bent on disruption and chaos? Were they all so poisoned? 

It was on Irving to vindicate the entire department. Even if he had to do it by following these two drunk idiots around until they inevitably screwed up and gave away the farce. 

Alas and alack: there was no fault to be found in the procedure of the actual wedding. All the forms were completed and on-time and the judge had hit all of the necessary marks, surely his fallen rival's doing. 

Hopefully, their decision to just about consummate their marriage in the middle of the courtroom was not V's plan. If so, he was vastly underestimating her commitment to selling the hoax. 

He had no idea who they thought they were fooling: all these decades apart and the first thing infamously slutty Johnny Silverhand does is marry his old pal who happens to hold all the legal rights to his discography and biometric data? When both men were clearly allergic to any manner of emotional commitment? 

Maybe Abernathy did hate Irving but he'd show her, he'd show them all! 

No one gets one over on Irving Wentworth.

Chapter Text

“I really shouldn't have been so surprised that you'd try to give the ceremony scroll an X rating,” V remarked flatly from the bar at Dark Matter: Kerry's pick for the reception, such as it was. This was his second wedding after all and he didn’t feel the need for a massive party. Johnny sure as hell wasn't going to push for one, eager as he was to get through the act for the day. 

“Had to make it believable, didn't I?” Johnny countered over his glass. “Anyone has any doubts, they just have to look at tomorrow's scream sheets.”

V rolled her eyes. “Johnny, I don't know how to break this to you, but no one is going to be that surprised to see your tongue trying to perform a tonsillectomy on someone – you guys used to do that shit on stage. It's the commitment and romance they'll doubt. Anyway, come on, me and the girls are supposed to do speeches and shit, go sit with the hubby.”

Johnny sneered at her but followed along anyway. As long as he kept thinking about this as an act for an audience, he was fine. He and Kerry would be able to look back at this whole fiasco years from now and laugh about the con they pulled over on the system. 

Blue Moon waited until Johnny sat next to Kerry before gently tapping her glass. 

“Good evening, everyone! At the request of Kerry-san, I have the joy of welcoming you all to this magnificent celebration of love. We were as surprised as anyone else when we heard Johnny-san was back. And that they were engaged! Initially, we all wondered if Kerry really found someone who matched his vibrant spirit. But after seeing them together, there's not a doubt in my mind! Without further ado, let’s begin this beautiful celebration of Johnny and Kerry!”

V was up next - she had actually prepared two speeches: the first was a subtle but earnest plea that she hoped would get the two to at least question whether the other actually wanted this marriage to be fake. It was thoughtful and pointed out the many times where the two rockers showed that they cared about the other when they’d never given a damn about anyone else. 

But Johnny and Kerry were stubborn little bastards and she was already aggravated so she went for the petty one. 

“So, as the maid of honor, I just wanted to say a few words before you delinquents ravage the bar. I never really thought I’d see today happen, since it seems like everyone but Johnny and Kerry saw how they feel about each other, inspiring such works as the following-” 

Johnny froze mid-drink and glared darkly at her. “V… That better not be what I think it is…” 

V smirked and continued, “Johnny was sitting on a windowsill, sipping hot cocoa and gazing out as the sun was beginning to go down-” 

Johnny sprang to his feet and started stalking towards her, “Fuckin’ give me that…” 

V's grin widened as she started moving to put the long table between them, “He loved this time of day because the red in the sky made him think about the bomb that would bring down the corpo system and because it reminded him of how fleeting life is-”

Realization hit Kerry as he started to crack up, “Holy shit, I didn’t think there were any more copies of that scop around. Where’d you even find that?”

“Same bastard who had your guitar and my pants. V, fuckin’ give it!” snarled Johnny as he lunged across the table. 

V, however, remained the faster of the two of them. 

“Then all the sudden the smell of bacon snapped him out of his deep thought-”

She paused to dodge a champagne flute that Johnny threw at her head. “Hah - nice try, now where was I?” 

Her smirk didn’t shift at all when he drew his Malorian. 

“Come on, do it bitch-boy!” laughed V as the Us Cracks girls started laughing nervously, increasingly unsure if the two edgerunners were joking. 

Kerry was less amused. “Johnny, put the fucking gun away! V, stop goading him, I swear to fuck!” 

“Do it, do it, do it, do it, do it, do it,” V taunted.

“Johnny! Don’t you fucking dare,” Kerry yelled over V’s baiting. “Don’t you fucking get us banned from here!” 

A loud gunshot rang through the air followed shortly by the screech of metal-on-metal as V deflected the shot with her katana, her movements too fast even for Kerry’s Kiroshis to catch. 

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ…” Kerry groaned. 

“Give me the damned shard, V,” Johnny growled, prowling closer. 

The sound of the elevator’s bell caught their attention as V and Johnny straightened to hide their respective weapons behind their backs before Dark Matter’s bouncer stepped out and surveyed the scene. 

“... Our security system alerted us to a gunshot, is everything ok up here?” 

“Tch, I thought we paid for privacy up here, probably just heard some bullshit from the streets,” snapped Johnny as he tucked his gun into his belt at the small of his back and under the suit jacket. 

The bouncer narrowed his eyes but there was no visible damage to the property so he turned around and got back on the elevator. 

After the doors closed, Johnny felt someone yank his gun away and heard V complain off to the side shortly after. 

Kerry glared at the two holding their weapons, “I can’t fucking believe you two. Goddamned children. Both of you!” He threw the two weapons behind the bar before grabbing Johnny and dragging him back to the table as V and Johnny flipped each other off. 

Honestly, it was a tame party by their standards. 

-

“How did she know?!” panted Irving from a nearby balcony as he looked upon what used to be tens of thousands of eurodollars in equipment. 

His plan to spy on the reception was perfect. He even requisitioned top-shelf surveillance kit to get crystal clear footage despite being on an adjacent building. 

All perfect, until V redirected Johnny's bullet right into his binoculars. 

THE BINOCULARS! Oh no, they're ruined! He can't return them like this! 

Better call Mike: they were good friends and he works in the Accounting Office, he could help. 

“Accounting office, please state the nature of your financial emergency,” came a chipper voice. 

“Mike, this is no time for jokes! It's Irving, on official business for Counterintel!”

Mike’s tone perked up, “Irvy-baby! What's shakin’ in the world of cloak-and-dagger?”

“I requisitioned Tier 4 binoculars and surveillance equipment for a long-term mission. Unfortunately it just… exploded really,” Irving answered, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“... your binoculars exploded?” 

“I can't divulge the specifics but my mission involves surveilling Johnny Silverhand and Kerry Eurodyne…”

“Oh! I saw that on Attuned In! Fuck, those guys are nasty for each other.”

Irving grit his teeth, “This is serious Mike! Johnny is a close associate of V, the traitor from Counterintelligence! And she not only made me but she just put a bullet in my equipment!”

“Geez, you ok? She's not still after you right?”

Irving sighed, “I thank you for your concern, I think she felt that destroying my equipment was sufficient. But I'll show her!”

He heard Mike groan, “Tell me you're not pulling a Rear Window.”

"It worked fine for Jefferies!"

"Irvinator, my man, did you forget he got his other leg broken at the end of that movie?" 

"He didn't have titanium bones!"

"But he also wasn't spying on a choom of the chick who killed Adam Smasher with a goddamned dildo!"

"To be fair, the reinforcement on that vibrator far exceeded regulation spec."

“Nevermind… OK, so you said V broke them? Well, we have an entire write-off code specific to her, I don't think anyone will question it if you're on an assignment involving Silverhand.”

Irving grinned into the phone, “You’re a lifesaver. Any chance of a replacement? Maybe something a bit more… Hardened?” 

“Not a problem. That’s the bright side of that whole little fiasco: you tell ‘em that V wrecked something, no one questions if it’s salvageable. Homegirl is our own little personal kaiju. Sending coordinates for your new equipment pickup. Just be careful out there, choom. I'd hate to need to find someone else for movie night.” 

Irving grinned, “I'm confident I'll have the evidence I require in no time.”

-

No more than a few hours into marriage and Johnny already had a regret: they didn't drink nearly enough at the reception. 

Fucking figures: they had a Delamain to get them to the hotel they were staying at for the next few days, a bar Kerry'd already paid for, but neither he or Johnny were more than slightly buzzed. But it wasn't the relative sobriety that was really getting to Johnny. 

It's that Kerry was anxious and pissed as hell. Constantly watching from the corner of his eyes, waiting for Johnny's bullshit to re-emerge. 

To make matters worse, Johnny knew he only had himself to blame for that. He knew he was a bastard, used to get a vicious glee from it. No one could get one over on you if you were the meanest motherfucker in the room. 

Sure fucking worked out for him, didn't it? 54 years in an Arasaka database until a former corpo-rat hired by a hooker sprang him by accident. And no one he’d ever considered a friend was all that happy about his long-term resurrection. Rogue outright refused to deal with him now without V around. 

Now, the guy he once considered his best friend was too anxious to get drunk with him. 

There was a special sort of irony that Johnny had spent years denying any sort of sex with Kerry just to end up married in some legal scheme. He knew Kerry had to be kinda fucked up about it but he kept blowing off Johnny's attempts to even acknowledge how twisted the sitch was. 

The whole marriage thing might be a ploy but he hated knowing that Kerry wished he could forget what they had entirely, that confession on Kovachek's boat still burning in the back of his skull. And who could blame him after the shit Johnny used to pull? 

Sure, they'd sign divorce papers in 31 days but Johnny could make use of this time to convince Kerry that he'd finally changed since 2023. Hopefully get their friendship closer to what it had been in the early days before everything went to shit. Back when they made each other better - or at least worse in ways that were fun. 

He wasn't going to tear down Kerry for entertainment's sake. Wasn't going to fly off the handle at some supposed challenge to an imagined ranking or his heterosexuality. Wasn't going to go on another pointless suicide run. 

He just wanted to hang out and make music together again. Shit, maybe they could even have some fun stringing along the media with this thing –- Kerry hadn't been so above Johnny's crueler brand of humor when he wasn’t the target and could pile on too. 

But before all that, Johnny knew he had some damage control to do. “No time like the present,” “life is too short,” et cetera, et cetera. 

He grabbed the bottle of champagne from the AV’s built-in ice bucket and popped the cork, smirking when Kerry, who had been looking out the window, jumped. 

“Today's been my first taste of champagne in 50 some years, might as well keep going,” he explained idly. Only sort of a lie, stuff tasted differently when he only experienced it through V. 

He poured a glass and offered it to Kerry, who only hesitantly accepted before knocking it back like a shot. 

Johnny stared at Kerry for a moment before sighing and pouring some in his own glass, “Y'know, you could stop looking at me like that. Like you're waiting for me to decide I'm pissed or something.”

Kerry grunted in reply and offered his glass back for a refill. 

“Know I was kind of a rat bastard before, started bullshit fights for no goddamned reason. Not doin’ that this time,” he said, refilling Kerry's glass and handing it back.

Kerry took the glass quietly and drained it in one go again. 

Johnny bit back his irritation at the silent treatment. “You know, after Red Dirt, I was hoping maybe we put some of this behind us.”

Kerry scoffed, “You were fucking dead, Johnny, what was I gonna do? Piss on your grave when you were trying to reign in being an asshole for one more gig before shuffling off to the great beyond? But longer term? Did that song and dance a thousand times. Too goddamned old for it now.”

Johnny sighed and put back the bottle after knocking back his own drink.

“Look, know I fucked you over. Repeatedly. Can't say I blame you for the skepticism. But believe it or not, dying gives some perspective. At least give me a chance before writing me off.”

Kerry huffed, still looking out the window. “Living for 50 years without you also gave some ‘perspective.’” He gave Johnny a hard look, “Never should've given you all those extra chances back then.”

Johnny's temper was starting to fray but he tamped it down. “Ker, come on, we're not even through today yet. What do you want from me?”

Kerry's lip curled back, “I want you to stop treating this like a fucking joke. I agreed to this because I wouldn't wish what Arasaka is trying to do to you on anyone. But I'm not going to sit here and laugh along with your little prank when I spent years as your stooge for this specific one.”

Johnny frowned at that, “Is this about the kiss at the courthouse?”

“It's about all of it, Johnny. Not going to be your punchline again.”

They were both silent while Johnny mulled over his reply. “Alright, fair. Any other lines I shouldn't cross?”

Kerry glared at him but he was definitely thinking it over. 

“You want to make this a show? It's on my terms this time, not just whenever you happen to feel comfortable sticking it to someone. And stop pretending we're back to the good old days. You want things to be chill again? Convince me you can stop being a bastard without V holding you back.”

Johnny wanted to say that he'd been holding himself back plenty even since they got in the AV but it didn't take a genius to know that wouldn't help the situation. So he nodded, “Alright, your terms and don't be a bastard to you. I can work with that.”

He grabbed the bottle back from the cooler and held it up as a hopeful peace offering. “Drink to it?”

Kerry eyed him suspiciously, like he didn't think it could be so easy. To be fair, it probably wasn't going to be in actual practice. But Kerry was on the very short list of people who could say he really knew Johnny –- hopefully there'd be points for effort if not perfection. 

But it really hadn't been a fair deal from the start: Kerry had always been a sucker for Johnny. 

Kerry held up his glass, “Sure, I'll drink to it.”

Johnny gave him a wry smile and he filled both their glasses and raised his to Kerry's. “To fresh starts?”

Kerry scoffed and rolled his eyes, “Sure, if that's what we're calling this.”

They clinked glasses and knocked back the champagne. It vaguely occurred to Johnny that this was undoubtedly expensive stuff and they were barely tasting it. 

Johnny put his glass and the bottle back before stretching out on his side of the seat. “So, where's this place we're staying?”

Kerry returned his own glass and sat back, at least more relaxed than earlier. “Forget the name, assistant took care of all the booking stuff. Some place in Charter Hill. Supposed to be nice though. Private. All that jazz.”

Johnny nodded, trying to think of a comment unrelated to a dig at it being some place for corpo assholes. “Kinda surprised we're sticking so close to home.” 

Kerry rolled his eyes, “And stay where? Konpeki Plaza? Cause it was that, waking up looking at Arasaka Tower in Corpo Plaza, or Charter Hill.”

“I kinda meant ditch the city for a bit but, point made for Night City options.”

“Eh, been there, done that. You're not missing much, hotels all still kinda blur together.”

Right, Kerry'd become a bit of a shut-in sometime in the past 50 years. Johnny wasn't completely sure how that started – some of their better memories together involved going out. Maybe he got tired of all the adoring fans? 

“I beg your pardon, but we are approaching our location,” Delamain's voice came from the speakers. “The staff of Repose Resort & Spa have already confirmed your reservation and are waiting for you by the landing pad. Might I take this opportunity to congratulate you on your marriage?”

“Thanks Del, and V says hi,” Johnny replied casually. 

Kerry raised an eyebrow, “V's on a first-name basis with the cab AI?”

“Mr. Silverhand-Eurodyne, I would kindly remind you that the situation V resolved requires discretion,” Del responded, still the picture of civility. 

“Wow, that's a fuckin’ mouthful hyphenated, just Johnny's fine. And sure, Kerry won't even want to know.”

Kerry laughed, “Yeah, pretty sure I don't. Fuckin’ edgerunner whackos.”

They both flinched against the high winds of the rooftop landing as the door opened. 

“Welcome, gentlemen. Feel free to leave your bags, our staff will have them brought down to your room. If you come with me, I'll show you your accommodations,” said an overly friendly staffer by the landing pad. 

Johnny was not looking forward to this portion of the whole thing: putting up with all the corpo lapdogs Kerry's stardom brought in. He almost grabbed his bag to be stubborn but figured being contrary right out of the gate likely risked Kerry's “don't be a bastard” rule. 

He didn't even argue when he felt Kerry's arm around his waist as the other rocker started leading them. Off to a good start, hopefully. Even if he did tune out all the empty small talk from the receptionist. Concierge? Who the fuck cared. 

The suite was about what he expected: sterile, kitschy, and full of the sort of pointless stuff corpo cunts liked to use to distract themselves. 

The privacy glass was good though, if ’Saka was still keeping an eye on them. 

Johnny walked over to the minibar and rolled his eyes at the gift basket. All pointless shit except for the chocolate - neither of them had sweet tooths but V'd go nuts for it. In any case, his interest was underneath, grinning as he saw the selection. 

Ok, score one for the overpriced corpo hotel: the booze selection was preem. 

He grabbed a bottle of whiskey that was more expensive than most cars and a couple glasses before dropping on the couch and pouring them a few drinks while he waited for Kerry to finish whatever pleasantries it took to get the staff to fuck off. 

It wasn’t a long wait, as he recapped the bottle, he heard the door close, so he held up one of the glasses for Kerry to take as he walked by. 

“So, is there some itinerary we’re supposed to go along with or is that bar our best friend for the next couple days?” 

Kerry half-shrugged as he took a sip of the whiskey and joined Johnny on the couch. “Not really, told ‘em we’d want privacy, stuff like that. Us Cracks gifted us some spa thing but it's not here specifically, can do that anytime.” 

Johnny laughed into his drink, “Fucking hell, a spa day?”

Kerry glared over his drink, “Shut it, Johnny. I like those girls. Besides, isn’t your back still fucked up from the arm?” 

“Not as much as it used to be. Know it looks the same but V’s ripper did a rework on it, a lot lighter than before. Stronger too, actually.” 

“Preem, just don’t go putting any holes in the walls.” Kerry drained the rest of the glass before standing back up. “Well, don’t know about you but I slept like shit last night, going to go check out that bed.” 

“Want me to stay out here on the couch?” Johnny offered. 

Kerry stopped and considered for a moment, “Were you talkin’ out of your ass earlier when you said ’Saka was at the courthouse or…?”

Johnny shook his head, “Nah, V said she recognized him from Counterintel and she'd be the one to know.”

Kerry nodded, “Right, probably should use the bed. Place has privacy glass but some optics are fuckin’ scary these days. And it's nothing we didn't used to do.”

Johnny grabbed the whiskey and glasses before following. He hadn't planned on spending the next few days blitzed out of their minds on a small fortune in booze but he could certainly think of worse ideas.

Chapter Text

Kerry groaned as pain welcomed him alongside consciousness. Not the first time he woke up with a hangover, wasn’t going to be the last either.

It also wasn't the first time he woke up with a warm body pressed up against his back. A bit more unusual was that nothing else was sore but them's the breaks. 

He stretched out languidly and looked over his shoulder to his still sleeping companion. 

Oh. Right. Johnny.

His brain started filling in the holes as he tried to grasp at something resembling wakefulness. 

The fake wedding, the fake honeymoon, more evil ’Saka schemes, blah, blah, blah, etc. 

Looking back up at the nightstand reminded him that they'd polished off that bottle of single malt so that accounted for the hangover. At least they never got around to mixing it with anything else. 

He groaned as he pulled himself out of Johnny's grasp and made for the bathroom to find some pills that'd make him feel more human and wash the rancid morning breath out of his mouth. Even left Johnny some pills and a glass of water on the nightstand as a “wedding present.”

Fuck, all this was weird. Even as a teenaged gonk with an ill-advised crush, the prospect of marrying Johnny would've been too fucking to ridiculous to even consider. But here they were, like some higher power needed to mock him too. Like it was all some sick cosmic joke. 

He couldn't decide if it was better or worse that he couldn't really blame Johnny for this fiasco: even he couldn’t have predicted this whole thing. And they were mostly getting along since Johnny's return to the land of the living. But he was a manipulative little fucker, Kerry wouldn't put it past him to play nice to get what he wanted. 

Ok, that wasn't fair, the rights should be his. The only reason Kerry bought them in the first place was to make sure no fucking megacorp started schilling Johnny lookalikes or bastardizing their old music. And because Johnny had been fucking dead. How the hell was he supposed to know that was reversible? 

He was so sure that grabbing him by that chopper in 2023 would be the last time he saw Johnny. Frankly, Johnny had seemed pretty certain of it then too. Now here they were: trapped somewhere between nostalgia and decades-old resentment. 

He figured he should probably cut Johnny some slack for the month though: no point upending the entire plan by being too bitchy for people to buy it. Besides, by Johnny standards, he'd been on his best behavior since the AV. 

Last night had been fun: drinking good whiskey, reminiscing, cracking up about bullshit the hotel did like damned rose petals on the bed and heart-shaped towels, mocking the trashy TV shows that were far too clear for comfort on the suite's giant ass screen… 

Honestly, this was already better than his first honeymoon. 

Anyway, since he was up first, he supposed it was on him to order some greasy hangover breakfast and start the coffee. And put together some hair of the dog. 

The order arrived not long after he placed it (though not before he knocked back a couple shots), undoubtedly a perk of the stupid amounts of money he paid for the stay. The knocking on the door must have roused Johnny though because he heard groaning from the bedroom as he let room service in. 

“Just stick it on the table,” he mumbled, hopefully coherently, while he finished up with the coffee. 

Room service was just leaving as Johnny stumbled out, probably drawn out by the smell of coffee and carbs. 

Kerry wasn't sure when Johnny lost his shirt, which he generally wouldn't complain about but he froze when he saw a massive scar across his middle that definitely hadn't been there before. 

Must have been a souvenir from 2023. It had been hard enough to believe that Johnny had died in that raid when he never saw a body, it was weird to see that it left physical marks proving that Johnny was only alive again through some experimental technological bullshit. 

Room service, thankfully, hurried out as Johnny shuffled to the table just slightly more conscious than the average zombie. 

“Thanks for the pills,” he muttered, grabbing the coffee and adding the rest of the bourbon Kerry had opened to his mug. 

They had breakfast in a mostly companionable silence, even if it was because they were both too hungover to even consider engaging in anything else. 

The peace was broken near the end when Kerry's holo started ringing. He scowled as he saw Kovachek's name display across his optics and dismissed the call before turning the holo off. He knew it wouldn't last but it still felt good. 

Johnny glanced blearily up with a questioning look, “You don't look pleased with whoever that was.”

“Kovachek. He'll probably call the hotel next but I told them specifically not to disturb us so that should buy some time, at least get through this,” he mumbled around a piece of pancake. 

Johnny nodded tiredly, “Want me to take the call? Maybe threaten to shoot him?”

Kerry snorted, “Tempting. Let you know when he finally breaks the poor bastards at the front desk down.”

Apparently Kerry's money was good for something though. They got through breakfast and piled the remains back on the tray before the suite's phone started ringing. 

Kerry sighed as he stood, “I'll take it first. Might hand it to you after.” He grabbed the phone, “Yeah?” 

“Mr. Eurodyne-Silverhand? I apologize but a gentleman from MSM records was adamant about speaking to you. I told him you were not to be disturbed but his AV has just arrived. Do you want hotel security to remove him?”

Fuck, alright, guess you get what you pay for with hotel security. Kerry was going to have to leave the staff a hell of a tip. Shame he had to cave on this though. 

“Nah, ‘ppreciate it though. Gonna have to talk to him sooner or later. Let him in.”

Johnny scoffed from his spot leaning against the doorway, “Fucker decided he's going to crash your honeymoon? And you're gonna let him?”

Kerry snorted. “Yeah well, price of selling out, right?” 

Johnny's eyes narrowed, “This ain't even that. He's fucking with you on purpose.” 

“Yeah, probably, but might as well get it over with.”

“Ker? A favor? Let me get the door.”

Kerry looked up from getting dressed. That dark look in Johnny's eyes couldn't mean anything good, at least not for Kovachek. If L.B. thought Kerry was difficult, he was about to have a hell of a wake-up call. 

Kerry smirked, “Just don't get the cops called.”

God, a fucked up part of Kerry had missed that vicious smile of Johnny's - specifically when Kerry wasn't the target. 

“Preem. Get comfortable,” Johnny said as he lit a cigarette. 

This was easily the most excited Kerry had ever been to see ol’ Kovachek. He was pretty sure Johnny wouldn't actually kill him but it was hard to tell with him sometimes. 

Not knowing almost made it better. 

Kerry was just about bouncing with energy as Johnny leaned on a wall by the suite's entryway, still shirtless. After not much longer, they heard pounding on the door. 

“Kerry, I know you're in there! Open this goddamn door!”

‘Good morning, Kerry. Could I have a moment of your time Kerry? Sorry to bother you on your goddamned honeymoon Kerry.’ Couldn't have said anything remotely polite, just charged in. If any part of Kerry had felt bad about laying this trap, Kovachek just took it out back and shot it. 

Johnny seemed content to let the bastard stew for a few minutes though whether it was because Johnny was still plotting or letting the suspense build was anyone's guess. For all that the rockerboy liked to brag about being an edgerunner, moments like this highlighted that he'd always be a showman first. 

Finally, Johnny yanked the door open mid-knock and snarled, “The fuck do you think you're doing here?”

Kerry wished he could see the look on that bastard's face but he could extrapolate from the silence. 

“Mr. Silverhand, sorry for the-”

“Silverhand-Eurodyne.”

“I… what?”

Johnny crowded closer to where Kerry was sure Kovachek was standing and released a cloud of smoke. Even if Johnny hadn't been a decent bit taller than Kovachek, he'd always had a way to make himself more imposing than he probably should be for his size. He seemed to be making good use of the skill. 

“It's Silverhand-Eurodyne now. I know you know you're interrupting our honeymoon. So don't fucking pretend you don't know exactly who I am.”

Kerry wondered if there were any cameras he could get footage from later. 

“Right, that's what I need to talk to Kerry about, so if you'll just-”

“Why the fuck would I let you in?”

OK, Kerry couldn't take the theater of the mind shit anymore. “It's alright Johnny, let ‘em in,” he called out. 

He smirked as Kovachek meekly walked in with Johnny prowling after. 

Kerry gave his manager a shark's grin from the couch, “L.B., I'm surprised to see you. Pretty sure I said I'd be unavailable for a few days.”

Kovachek sat on the chair catercorner to the couch. 

He didn't know it yet but that was a mistake. Though he probably started to get an inkling when Johnny started slowly circling. 

“Right, about that,” Kovachek started, uncharacteristically nervous as he seemed torn between addressing Kerry and keeping an eye on Johnny. “The label is pleased, the wedding is the top story and sales are up-”

“Didn't fuckin’ do it for sales,” spat Johnny. 

“Of course not!” Kovachek said quickly in what was probably meant to be a mollifying tone. “But, since it worked out that way, the label thinks this… private honeymoon might be unwise.”

“Should be me and Ker deciding that, not the fuckin’ label,” growled Johnny, still circling. 

Kerry wished he had popcorn. He'd had a number of asshole tough-guy inputs over the years but Johnny now had a type of infamy that made the others look like a bunch of kids with toys. Sure, L.B. fancied himself a Samurai fan, but he only ever knew Johnny as the rockerboy with a hand in bringing about the Year of the Red who happened to also play guitar. 

Fucker was scared of Johnny, and Kerry wasn't sure that he shouldn't be. 

“Everyone is chomping at the bit to see you two! Kerry, the superstar, and his long lost bandmate who everyone thought had died. The soaps don't write anything half this wild.”

Johnny chuckled darkly, “So nuking Arasaka is a soap opera plot now?”

Kovachek ignored that question, a dangerous move — Johnny never liked being ignored. “The label wants to send you two somewhere a bit more… open. They've secured an excellent suite for you two in Monte Carlo…”

Johnny turned suddenly and caged Kovachek against the seat, “And if we tell you to fuck right off?” 

Kovachek's face drained of color, eyes bouncing between Johnny's absolutely thunderous face and his eponymous arm that was straining the metal frame of the chair with an ugly screech. 

Kerry grinned at the exchange, he was sorely tempted to just let Johnny beat the shit out of L.B. and throw him out. Shame that'd only delay the inevitable. 

Besides, leaving Kovachek wondering just how far Johnny'd go could be good for later. 

“On a scale of one to ten, how strongly does the label feel about the relocation?” Kerry asked like he was bored and not fighting the urge to cackle. 

Kovachek spared a quick glance at Kerry but his eyes darted back to Johnny as the metal hand audibly tightened against the frame again. “Strongly enough that they sent me over here the day after the wedding.”

Johnny sneered cruelly and grabbed Kovachek's shoulder, yanking him up hard enough that Kerry was fairly sure he heard something pop out of alignment as Johnny forced the corpo towards the door, “Kerry and I will talk about it. If the the label doesn't like what we decide, they can go fuck themselves. If you show up again before the honeymoon’s over…” he pulled out his Malorian from his waistband and laid the barrel against Kovachek’s temple. The wicked smirk said everything. 

Kovachek stumbled but made a brief attempt to look back at Kerry who was waving cheerfully from the couch. 

“But-” Kovachek got out as Johnny threw him into the hallway and tossed the still-burning stub of his cigarette at the corpo before slamming the door. Judging by the sound, it'd made contact too. Moments like this, Kerry pitied that sliding doors were now the norm. 

Kerry handed Johnny a refilled mug of coffee as the other rockerboy holstered his gun and dropped down on the couch. 

“Shame it’s probably not worth it to tell them to fuck off on this one,” remarked Kerry. 

Johnny grimaced as he lit a new cigarette, “You’re really considering it? You agree to let them parade us in front of the media like that and they’re gonna expect us to be all over each other. Thought you didn’t want that?” 

Kerry shrugged, “I said I didn't want it on your terms. And, honestly, was in kind of a weird mood yesterday. I knew going into this that it’d be a whole thing, just hoped we’d get a bit longer before the circus started.” 

Johnny nodded and drained his cup, “... want me to text V? Have her take a potshot at his AV? Maybe another EMP to knock him out of the sky?” 

Kerry smiled fondly, whether at the sentiment or the image of Kovachek's AV falling out of the sky he wasn't sure. “Nah, but maybe keep that in your back pocket. Not gonna lie, watching him about to piss himself is the best thing I’ve seen in ages.” 

Kerry thought for a moment, “Wait a fucking second... That giant EMP shit was you two fuckers? I lost a week’s work to that!” 

-

Irving swore as he struggled with his luggage in one of NCX's many corridors. So much for the honeymoon being close to home. It took some careful prying but it seemed the change in plans was MSM’s doing, not Eurodyne’s or Silverhand’s. 

On the one hand, this would make Irving’s life easier once he actually got to Monte Carlo: Repose was a newer hotel but positively intense about their reputation for privacy, it was only by hacking a channel for MSM that he learned that even Eurodyne’s own manager was nearly turned away. 

The manager looked like he’d seen a ghost when Irving watched him exit the building: what depravities did he witness? 

Still, he hadn’t expected to need to pack for this mission and he was already cutting it close on the flight, practically jogging down the NCX terminal. 

He growled as he saw Mike’s contact info popped up on his optics. 

“Mike, not now, I'm running for a flight.”

Mike grinned, “Finally taking a vacation? Or is this why your mission just had a massive budget increase request?”

Irving sighed, “It couldn't be helped. The label decided that their plans were too private. That Monte Carlo offered better optics for the screamsheets.”

Mike whistled, “Monte Carlo? Damn, how come I never get to travel to gorgeous locations for work?”

“Because you work in Accounting. There's no reason for you to travel at all.”

“Irvette, my favorite choom, this is why people think you're no fun. Where's your sense of whimsy?”

“That's what I keep you around, isn't it?” Irving deadpanned. 

Mike grinned cheerfully, “And to think some people think you don’t have a sense of humor either. Alright, I'll greenlight the budget increase. Bring me back something nice!”

Irving hung up and plastered on a fake smile for the Orbital Air staff at the gate. 

“Welcome to Orbital Air HighLines, enjoy your visit to Monte Carlo!”

Irving settled into business class, helpfully not too far from his marks. He opened a screamsheet with a carefully placed pinhole and angled it to watch them. A foolproof plan. 

Now, he just had to wait. 

-

Johnny leaned close to Kerry, miming that he was saying something dirty. Well, by his standards, it wasn't far off. 

“V texted. Our ’Saka spy just boarded the flight. Think I should dump his body in the Mediterranean?” 

Kerry half-turned and nuzzled into Johnny's jaw, “They're hardasses about that shit over there. Should only do it if you're positive there's no witnesses and he won't be found.”

Johnny grunted and leaned into Kerry, “Guess I should leave ‘im for now. They'd send another one anyway.”

Chapter Text

The first thing Johnny was aware of was a warm body he was spooning, with something achingly familiar about it. 

As he forced his eyes open, Kerry's platinum hair sparked his memory. Right, honeymoon. Monte Carlo. Pretending to be a happy couple for the cameras. For 29 more days. 

And because Repose with its top-notch security and stupid expensive booze hadn't been fancy or public enough for MSM, now they were in the historic Hôtel de Paris Monte-Carlo - the Princess Grace suite, to be exact. Which was built for a much larger group than just the two rockerboys - maybe the label hoped they'd host parties? That'd be a first in his experience, fuckers must really want more screamsheet covers. 

Hope they weren’t banking on them doing much the first day: Orbital Air might get you to the other side of the world in under an hour but they’d still been jetlagged as fuck the first day. 

At least the harbor view was nice, if you could forget about the whole area being a manufactured show to indulge the wealthy. He'd still sent V a photo of the view before crashing. 

Johnny had promised to not aggravate Kerry during this whole scheme so he buttoned up about the decadence. For now anyway – maybe it'd be a song later. Or at least some bitchy texts to V who'd no doubt mock him for complaining about living in the lap of luxury even if she agreed with him. 

That whole thing was going to take some getting used to. He'd wonder how Kerry managed except it didn't really seem like he actually had given how fucked up he was when Johnny waltzed back into his life. 

Dangerously so, at least to himself. 

Johnny wasn't an idiot. People with security robots don't feel the need to bring a Malorian into the shower with them for protection after sending everyone away and leaving their mansion unlocked. Fuck, he'd just about admitted it outright to V when he gave her the damn gun. 

Kerry's life was always teetering on the edge of disaster but it never occurred to Johnny before reading that screamsheet headline that Kerry'd be the biggest risk to himself and not whatever skezzed asshole he was sleeping with. 

He was doing a lot better once he got over that thing with Us Cracks but there were still some fractures in the facade. Hopefully nothing some fun with people who actually gave a fuck about him wouldn't fix. Which was effectively him, V, and Us Cracks at this point since Kerry’d gone full hermit. 

Still, Johnny was keeping his iron either on him or in a fucking safe. He’d already made plenty of mistakes in his life but damn him if Kerry offing himself with Johnny’s own gun was going to be one of them. 

Since he was up first, he figured he should try and get coffee going. 

As the pot finally got started, he took a glance at his holo and saw there were a bunch of texts from V.

Johnny scoffed and poured himself a mug of coffee.

He wasn't expecting a reply given the time in NC so he started to put his phone down until it buzzed again. 

Johnny rolled his eyes. 

Johnny scoffed and turned the screen off. 

Fucking underhanded of her to bring that up. But if she thought getting him to think about banging Kerry was going to be that easy, she was going to be sadly disappointed. 

But he wouldn't say ‘no’ to Kerry's hands on his neck either. Probably experienced enough to do it right. 

-

“He's not going to be suspicious about you being awake? It's 4 in the morning in Night City,” asked Alex as she put on the butler's outfit. 

“Nah, I'm always up at stupid o'clock and he knows it,” V said with a grin, kicking her feet from her seat on the counter as she put her holo away. “Thanks again for agreeing to help – you're my favorite international woman of mystery.” 

Alex rolled her eyes, “Still can't believe that I let you talk me into this.”

“Ah, come on, don't you believe in romance?”

“I also normally believe my friends when they say they don't want to sleep with someone. Repeatedly.” 

V's smile flattened to an annoyed expression, “OK, 1: Johnny lies. All the fuckin’ time and especially to himself. 2: You know what my first thought was waking up in a North Oakes manor with Kerry fuckin’ Eurodyne standing over me in a tiny fuckin’ silk robe, asking if I was ok?” 

Alex shrugged around the suit's suspenders, “‘My, what a big house you have!’”

“That's pretty good. Anyway, I don't know! Because all I could register on waking up were Johnny's thoughts about how badly he wanted Ker to be over him because he was choking him out while riding him. And then he tried to blame me for that thought! And I'm just sitting there trying to think of a way to speak normally to the internationally famous guy whose mansion I just broke into while possessed by his dead choom!”

Alex cocked her head, “You… don't actually have anything for him to ride?”

V threw her hands in the air like what was or wasn't in her pants was obvious, “Fuckin’ thank you! Two seconds and you see the obvious gap in his story! And don't get me started with his hang-up on Kerry's hands.” 

“I guess sharing a brain with him would make you an authority…”

V rolled her eyes and jumped off the counter to check the bindings on the kidnapped butler, “He's such a fuckin’ gonk. So damned obsessed with bein’ right and not letting himself have anything good. If we don’t nudge them in the right direction, he'll keep driving himself crazy wanting and Kerry up the wall with mixed signals.” 

Alex looked over to V's work as she adjusted the uniform's jacket, “I can't believe you're insisting we keep him alive. Killing him is the best way to make sure this doesn't come back to bite us in the ass.”

V glared as the bound, gagged, and blindfolded man stiffened, “For fuck's- No, this is a love story dammit, we're not wiping some innocent bastard for being in our way! Besides, Hugh is cool, right choom? You can already tell that you shouldn't fuck with us, even if anyone would believe you.” 

The bound man mumbled around his gag and nodded emphatically. 

V grinned, not that Hugh could see it, “There, see? Good enough for me. No reason we shouldn't all get to go home after this knowing that love won the day.”

Alex sighed in exasperation but didn't argue. At least the hotel's butler for that suite never saw their faces and didn’t know their names. “You said they’re likely to ask for drugs, anything I should know there?” 

V thought for a moment, “Know Johnny’s a coke fiend but don’t let him touch the shit – it turns him into a bigger asshole. Find something that’ll mellow them, something that puts them in a good mood. But no aphrodisiacs because then they’ll just blame the drugs and get weirder.” 

The butler started trying to talk around his gag so V shrugged and removed it. 

“If I may offer my recommendation, there’s a bartender named Matilda alongside the harbor who we go to for most of our clients’ drug needs. She has two bespoke specialties that would work well for your purposes: the Casino Royale and Silver Rush. She’s also one of the few people you can buy quality organic cannabis from these days.”

V raised her eyebrows, “Well shit. See? This is why it’s so stupid to flatline people you don’t need to, would’ve totally missed out on that bit of sage wisdom. Thank you Hugh, you’re a choom.” 

“Quite. I don’t suppose that means you’ll let me go?”

V laughed, “Ha, don’t you worry, as soon as we’re done playing cupid to those two idiots, you’ll be on your happy way and’ll never hear from us again.” She gave Alex a look that suggested she’d be deeply annoyed if Alex made a liar of her. 

“OK, but you’re responsible for babysitting him until we’re done,” Alex said before she activated her Behavioral Imprint-synced Faceplate and left the room looking like Hugh, if more completely dressed. 

V started setting up her sniper rifle and scope by the window, “Alright buddy, I’ve got some work to do. Need anything before I put the gag back on? Water? Food? Smoke? A leak?” 

“At this moment, no. I don’t suppose I can talk you out of replacing the gag?” 

“Hey now, I’m not a complete fuckin’ bitch but I wasn’t born yesterday. Just mumble loudly if you need something,” she said before replacing the gag. She didn’t know why Alex was so worried, the restraints were MaxTac-issued: choom was not wiggling out. 

Even if he did, well, V was scarier than a butler. 

-

Kerry grunted as he registered a heavy weight dropping onto the mattress by him. 

“Ker? Hey, Ker? You awake yet?”

The aging rock star cracked an eye open when he heard Johnny's much too cheerful voice. Fuck, Kerry couldn't remember the last time Johnny'd looked that happy to see anyone. 

“Holy shit, you're fucking baked,” Kerry huffed with a tired smirk. 

“Goddamn right I am. Good shit too. Was just gonna ask the butler to grab some fuckin’ food but hell, a man offers me drugs, I'm not sayin’ ‘no.’” Johnny replied with a grin as his hand gently rubbed Kerry's exposed shoulder. “Brought you some.”

Kerry batted his hand away and pushed himself up. On the one hand, at least Johnny seemed to be on a good high but Kerry was way too tired and sober to deal with his blitzed ass right now. 

“Couldn't just wait for me to wake up? Fuck,” Kerry groaned as he stretched out his back. 

Johnny shrugged from his spot on the bed, seemingly oblivious to Kerry's aggravation, “Was boring alone. Always used to share the best stuff with you, was more fun that way.”

Kerry really didn't want to imagine what his joints would feel like without all the rejuvenating shit he'd done over the years if he was still this stiff waking up. Come to think, a strong argument to start the day with whatever Johnny had scored. 

“What do we have?” 

Johnny held up a hotel monogrammed tote bag, “There's these two metal cases with pills – didn't try ‘em yet. Fuckin’ pretentious-looking but butler said they're good, don't remember the names. Took some of the edibles – should only start with one, hit like a goddamn truck.”

“Right, so that means you've had five or something.” 

Johnny was always pretty fidgety but he didn't usually get this handsy unless he was pretty wasted. 

Johnny just grinned, “Dunno if your spice tolerance has gone to shit with age but the red ones are some sorta mango habanero bullshit. Make your eyes water.” 

“My ‘spice tolerance’ is fine, asshole. Did you get any actual food or did you forget?” 

Johnny shrugged and laid back down like he was watching some show on the ceiling, “Thought we could go out to eat, ditch the hotel. Haven't done that since the stone age.”

Kerry scowled as he took the bag from Johnny. He wasn't particularly looking forward to being accosted outside, even if it was inevitable. At least, the drugs would probably go a long way in making it tolerable. 

There was a baggie of the edibles and then two mint tins: one silver and one gold. Well, Kerry was always a sucker for gold he figured as he popped a pill with some lustre dust on it. 

“Alright, let’s find some food,” he said as he threw on some clothes and pocketed the tins, not bothering to cover up too much beyond shades – there wouldn’t be any hiding once they left the privacy of the hotel.

He was increasingly suspicious about whether Johnny had only had a few edibles, as handsy as he was as they made their way outside. Bastard couldn’t seem to decide if he wanted to wrap an arm around Kerry’s shoulders or his waist. 

On the bright side, that pill was starting to kick in as a pleasant haze began to settle over the world. It was all sort of a nice throwback to better days before he and Johnny screamed at each other more than they talked. Back when they were reliably actually happy to see the other. 

Such a shame it didn’t take long for Kerry to recognize they had a media tail - he recognized the guy from some publicity event earlier in the year. 

Johnny noticed his change in disposition, “Everything good?’ 

He shrugged, “S’fine, the vultures are just circling already but we knew they would.” 

Johnny’s smile took on a slightly meaner edge but Kerry cut off whatever plan was forming, “Don’t get any bright ideas jackass, we both knew this was coming.” 

To his (or maybe the drug’s) credit, Johnny did relax but still scoffed, “It's bullshit they hound you like that. Haven’t been outside for five minutes.” 

“Probably camped out the hotel. Why don’t we just eat here?” 

Honestly, Kerry’d picked the place at random but most of these expensive tourist restaurants were nearly carbon copies of the other. Whatever he took was making the world feel a bit too bright and loud right now though so the comparatively dark restaurant was a welcome change. 

And as much as fame was grating on him lately, he was man enough to admit that he liked not having to worry about reservations on the occasion he did go out. 

Unlike normal though, he noticed that the people staring weren’t just staring at him. Fair enough, not everyday that someone infamous comes back from the dead and marries a celebrity. 

Johnny either didn’t notice the attention or was electing to ignore it. He only took in the restaurant long enough to decide it was beneath him. “So is this place actually any good or were you just tired of walking?”

Kerry shrugged as he sat in the private-ish booth the host brought them to, “What d’you care, probably stoned enough to eat anything.” 

Johnny just laughed at that which really wasn't any sort of counterpoint but Kerry still found himself grinning back. 

Once the waiter arrived, it became clear that this was some sort of sushi place, which was news to Kerry - he'd have bet money it was French. At least now Kerry could just sit back and enjoy the pill's haze and Johnny's almost uncharacteristically good mood. 

“Ker, did you even hear a word I said since we got here?”

He did, he was even enjoying the sound of Johnny's voice right now, but damned if he could recall a word of it. 

He must have spaced out again because the next thing he knew, Johnny had kicked him under the table. 

“What?”

Johnny huffed, “I guess this is what happens when I let you go out on mystery pills. Said your media buddy from earlier bribed his way in.”

“Fuck ‘em, not our problem.” 

He must be pretty out of it, he barely registered when Johnny came over to his side of the booth. 

“Didn’t say we had a problem,” Johnny muttered in his ear. “But you said you wanted to initiate things in front of the cameras now. I’m waitin’ on you.”

Right, that whole thing. God, Johnny was such an impatient bastard sometimes. 

But he’d been alright today aside from waking Kerry up, so that earned a kiss. 

It held little resemblance to Johnny’s tongue fuck back at the courthouse: slow, lazy - almost tender. Johnny didn’t mind the change in pace judging from how he hummed gently before pushing Kerry against the wall and nipping at his lower lip. 

God, why had he even been pissed at Johnny before? He could go on like this all day. 

“Gentlemen?” Came a voice from somewhere behind Johnny. 

Kerry craned his head to look over Johnny’s shoulder – right, they had ordered food at some point. 

Johnny didn’t even bother to look back. “Just leave it, kinda busy here,” he snapped before bringing his mouth to Kerry’s neck. 

That sounded like a good plan. The food could wait. 

-

Irving scowled as he looked through the hacked camera. 

He was hoping to catch them red-handed in conversation about their little plot. Their lips might be moving plenty but it had nothing to do with talking aside from rudely dismissing the waitstaff. 

“It's alright, you already knew your foe was committed to this portion of the act.”

Still, he counted at least two medias in the restaurant. It was going to be hard to spin publicity in Arasaka's favor at this rate. 

What's this? Silverhand is flagging down the staff? They're leaving already? 

They really were insatiable, weren't they? Truly unfit for polite company. 

God, he wished he could have that sushi. 

-

Johnny looked over to Kerry again before going back to his guitar. 

Those pills were great stuff alright, real friggin’ magic. With directions they'd both missed. Who the fuck sells drugs with directions?

The ones Kerry took were designed as a dessert drug for after meals. Give you a nice floaty buzz. 

On an empty stomach? Still a good feeling but it's eventually sweet fuckin’ dreams, “even for the sharpest card shark in the casino.” He could smack whoever thought that note in the tin was clever. But Kerry sure seemed to be having good dreams after giving Johnny a fucking heart attack. 

If he hadn't been sky high himself, it would've occurred to him that Kerry had top notch Trauma Team coverage now. If something had actually been wrong, they'd have been on it well before Johnny got that ride back to the hotel and forced the hotel doctor to check him out. 

All good: just needed a nap. Preem. Meanwhile Johnny wasn't sure he'd ever fucking sleep again. 

V was right. 

God damned corpobrat bitch had been right about how Johnny felt the whole damned time. It was only when he thought he might lose Kerry for good that it really hit him. 

Johnny didn't believe in the corpo-packaged and sold idea of love and romance. But there was no denying that some people were… Let's say Important. Enough to make the rest of the shit in this world worth sticking around for. Or worth checking out over. 

Kerry'd always been important but Johnny hadn't believed it was anything like this. At least not until he thought it might be over for good right after Johnny came back. Because that'd be pretty typical of his luck. 

And even Johnny had to admit that it'd take more than a couple edibles to make their “fake” kissing feel so fucking good. Better than “good” honestly. If Kerry hadn't fallen unconscious, Johnny wouldn't have thought twice of them taking things to the alley behind the restaurant. 

They'd kissed before but there was always some ulterior motive: it was for the crowd, it was to piss off Kerry's input or turn on Johnny's lay for the night. Sometimes Johnny let Kerry try it because it fed his ego to know that Kerry was so damned desperate for him. 

Johnny had figured this whole thing would be more of the same. But in hindsight, he supposed none of that back in the day was shit you did with a guy you had zero interest in, was it? And as soon as he gave himself excuses to keep going, he took it, didn't he? 

He half-smiled to himself bitterly - Kerry was never going to believe him. Not after Johnny insisted for years that it'd never happen. Possibly prophetic, if only in a self-fulfilling way. 

He glared at his phone. It wasn't V's fault but goddammit he wasn't going to stew alone. 

Johnny tugged at his hair and paced. A foolish part of him was hoping it wasn't really true if he never let it out. 

Johnny frowned. He really didn't know where she got her optimism from or how ’Saka hadn't crushed it. Then again, it'd survived Johnny so it was presumably indestructible. 

But a can-do attitude wasn't going to be enough here. Salvaging their friendship was already going to be a tall order but convincing Kerry he was interested in more now? Decades later? 

Push come to shove, he'd rather have their friendship back than risk everything on more. 

Chapter Text

Kerry glared at the message like it might go back to where it came from if he glared at it long enough. The party invitation remained unmoved. Cocky little bastard. 

He really wasn't in the mood for a party or at least not with any of the people likely to be at this one. 

Don't get him wrong — Kerry liked a good time when he didn't feel like staying in — but these sort of who's-who parties got real old real fast once you stopped being impressed by the fame/infamy of the other guests. Lot's of gossip, lots of mutual metaphorical masturbation. Sometimes actual masturbation too but even that wasn't half as obnoxious. Kerry knew he had a bit of an ego but most of those assholes made him look completely humble by comparison. 

It was being held by a fashion designer whose name Kerry had never bothered to remember. So lots of that crowd, lots of pop stars, lots of entertainment industry corpos, lots of “artists” who came from money, lots of people who came from money but didn't even pretend to work for a living. 

This particular invitation had been preceded by a message from Kovachek (sent via his assistant, to Kerry's amusement) that suggested that the label really wanted him and Johnny to make an appearance. Which, frankly, made him want to go even less. 

On top of that, Johnny had been weird ever since Kerry's little test run of what the locals liked to call “Casino Royale.” He wasn't sure what the problem was, it's not like one of them knocking themselves out on some suspicious drug was anything new. This stuff wasn't even bad: a good time (if with an inconvenient nap), 10/10, would take again, if only after dinner unless he was having issues with insomnia. Come to think of it, he was gonna have to find a way to get some of it back home for those shitty sleepless nights.

At first, he thought Johnny was mad about having to haul Kerry back before they got their food but Johnny's displeasure was approximately as subtle as a brick to the face. Nah, Johnny wasn't pissed. Which also ruled out having worried him because that would've just pissed him off too. 

Honestly, it was almost a bit of a role reversal: like Johnny was looking at him like he was waiting for Kerry to get pissed. 

Was it about making out at the restaurant? Kerry had started that as part of a pre-existing plan and Johnny had knocked it off as soon as he realized Kerry was passing out. Hard to find fault with Johnny there. 

He knew Johnny didn't feel guilty about the pills because they'd both taken far more suspicious shit over the years with varying consequences. 

It was probably some imagined problem he pulled out of his ass. Understanding Johnny when he was like that was like trying to read a cat's mind after it took acid. Not much for it but to keep moving. 

“Hey Johnny, label wants us to go to some idiot party in the harbor tonight. You feel any kinda way about it?”

Johnny shrugged from his spot on one of the couches, not even looking up from his guitar. “Told you before Ker: your label, your call.”

Kerry huffed in mild annoyance, “Didn't ask if you've made a decision for us, I asked if you, personally, have an opinion about going to a party with a bunch of arrogant rich bastards who think their personal drama is the most important thing in the fucking world.”

Johnny smirked, “Sounds to me like you already have an opinion, not sure why you need mine.”

Ok, now he was more than mildly annoyed. “Cause I fucking asked for it! Fuck, why can't you just answer the damned question?”

One of the real modern miracles of 2077 was watching Johnny trying to control his temper. Kerry would've assumed years ago that Johnny just lacked that kind of impulse control altogether but there it was, doing its best, bless its little black heart. 

Johnny eventually sighed, “Sounds like you already know exactly how I'd feel about it but I'm not trying to make your life harder. If you want to appease them, we should go. If you want to stay in, I won't rat you out to MSM but they're gonna know. If you want to break contract and go fuck off, still not my call but probably more fun.” 

On the one hand, Kerry appreciated that Johnny actually appeared to be attempting to adhere to his “hold back on being a bastard” rule. On the other, fuck, couldn't he tell Kerry was fishing for an excuse not to go to this damned thing? 

Though, if he was fishing for an excuse, that probably meant they should just go. Damn it all. 

-

The yacht party was every bit as obnoxious as Kerry promised. 

Not that Johnny expected anything else. This whole city was full of rich fucks eager to peacock in the first place and then this group had to be the biggest bunch of attention whores of the lot. He didn't have the faintest idea why MSM wanted them here except maybe for the sheer number of photos being snapped. 

Come to think, the photos were definitely why the label wanted the two of them there. Gossip rags loved this sort of shallow glitz and glamor. 

But there wasn't much he could do about it unless Johnny wanted to make life harder for Kerry in the long run and it turns out he actually gave a fuck about that sorta thing these days. Who knew? 

At least no one expected them to be sober because absolutely no one was at this damned thing. Kerry took one of those gold pills again before they even got here (after dinner this time) so at least he was in a good mood. 

Johnny wasn't on anything aside from some drinks yet. He told himself that it was because he had a bad feeling about the party but, if he were being honest, he didn't trust himself not to get carried away again like back in the restaurant. 

It made them quite the pair for the evening: Kerry all golden smiles and charm while Johnny was keyed up and ready to pick a fight. Kind of the story of their lives. 

Kerry was really carrying their con tonight too, with the way he kept clinging to Johnny. Used to be that sort of thing would piss Johnny off - now he was pissed because he wanted more and couldn't do anything about it. 

‘Or you were always pissed because you wanted more of it,’ he could just about hear V needle. 

“Jeez, Johnny, you look like you expect ’Saka ninjas to hop out from the floorboards. Relax choom,” Kerry said with a lazy grin, dragging his hand up Johnny's spine. 

That did little to help his situation, Johnny felt like a fucking live wire. He tried placating that inner tension by pulling Kerry more closely but he couldn't tell if that made it better or worse. 

“Well, well, look who it is,” came a voice Johnny didn't recognize though, judging by the scowl Kerry had even through his high, he could hazard a guess. 

“Ah, right. Brett? Bryce? Fuck, no, it was Brandon, right?” 

A largish guy with short black hair strolled up with a sleazy sort of confidence. Considering that Kerry's tastes really hadn't changed much since they met, Johnny was reasonably confident assuming this was an ex of some flavor. 

“Funny guy, Kerry. Gotta say, I saw the screamsheets but I really didn't believe them,” the ex whose name Johnny still didn't know replied. 

The bastard really had some nerve with the way he was looking at Kerry, like he knew him so fucking well. Didn't even have the self-awareness to accept he was just one in a long goddamned line of dick Kerry decided to take to bed. 

And then the fucker started sizing up Johnny, which would be hilarious any other time. He was built, no question, but Johnny hadn't been idle since his return to life. A good chunk of his time with V was spent on gigs. 

This guy was built from a sculpt or gym, Johnny's “exercise” was helping V flatline the kind of bastards most people were terrified of. He was good at it too, and not just because he and V were still unnaturally in-tune. 

“You know, I really expected better of you, Kerry,” the nameless ex said snidely. “I knew you'd never get over him but to have someone sculpted to look like him? That's just embarrassing.” 

Kerry scoffed in aggravation, “Sure Brent, I definitely picked up some rando off the street and turned him into Johnny just to annoy you.”

“Didn't you used to swear that you'd punch him if you ever saw him again? And now here you are pretending it all ended happily ever after.”

Johnny rolled his eyes. This fucker really was trying too damned hard. 

“I guess I shouldn't be surprised though. Don't have the balls to give up Silverhand just like you didn't have the balls to pull that trigger.”

Later, Johnny wouldn't even remember making an active decision to throw the first swing. One moment, they were just standing there and the next, a chrome fist connected with the asshole's jaw hard enough to knock him into some hapless waiter who'd been behind him and send the poor bastard over the side of the boat. 

To his credit, the nameless ex got back up and managed a decent swing that Johnny only barely felt, whether because of Vik's work on Johnny's chrome or the adrenaline, he wasn't sure. It still wasn't half as hard as Johnny's next swing. Or the one after that. 

As the hustle dragged the two apart Johnny was vaguely aware of Kerry yelling at him from somewhere behind and someone else screaming. Was that sweat or blood he felt on his face? Whatever, even if it was his blood, the other fucker was bleeding more. The moment he got close enough again, he'd break the mouthy bastard's jaw. 

Kerry suddenly entered his field of vision. “Johnny, calm the fuck down! He's not worth it!”

Somewhere behind the red haze of fury, Johnny vaguely wondered if “calm down” had ever actually worked on anyone. For Johnny's part, it was just more proof the piece of shit needed his teeth kicked in. 

Whatever fucking possessed Kerry to kiss him when Johnny was raging like that had to be certifiably insane. But it worked, if only because of the shock and then Johnny redirecting his anger into the kiss. Not that Kerry seemed to be complaining. Not with how biting his lip hard enough to bleed made him whimper and melt against Johnny. 

The change in target had the happy side effect of convincing the hustle that they could let Johnny go so that was nice. It gave him back both hands to pull Kerry closer who seemed entirely happy with the change. 

When he finally clawed back something resembling self-control, seeing Kerry's hazy eyes staring at him with Johnny's blood smeared on his cheek nearly shattered it again. 

So much for trying to keep their friendship normal. 

“We're leaving,” he ground out as he gripped Kerry's wrist and stormed towards the dock. 

-

Goddamn, Kerry had almost forgotten how the air practically thrummed with energy when Johnny's temper really went full-tilt. 

Even through the haze of Kerry's dwindling high, the atmosphere was positively buzzing with static as Johnny stalked towards their suite, all but dragging Kerry behind him. 

A suspicious voice in Kerry's mind told him that this was it: Johnny's rage had finally reared its ugly head again and all prior promises about Kerry not being a target this time were void. Fenrir had broken the chains of Johnny's reformation and Ragnarok was nigh. 

But there was something different about the look in Johnny's eyes this time, at least when he looked at Kerry. There was anger, certainly, but he never let onlookers stop him from tearing Kerry down before. He was actually pretty sure Johnny had liked having an audience to Kerry's shame back in the day. This was more than just anger. 

Maybe it was the pills but Kerry was willing to try and ride out this particular storm. Mostly because of curiosity - there was just something… odd about how Johnny was looking at him. 

Like he was torn between fighting Kerry and devouring him. 

It was really just more proof that Kerry'd never stopped being a fool for Johnny but he really needed to know which way this was going to fall. 

So he let Johnny lead them back to the hotel, storm through the lobby and hallways, and finally back to the suite. 

Kerry should have been nervous when Johnny bolted the door shut behind them but it was like being transfixed as a natural disaster approached. Maybe a part of his subconscious knew escape had been impossible from the start? 

So he watched Johnny's back as the resurrected rockerboy panted, leaning against the door. Maybe he wasn't sure what to do now either? Wouldn't be the strangest thing, Johnny could be pretty impulsive. 

“You always did fuck the most miserable goddamned bastards, didn't you?” He finally ground out, not turning around. 

Kerry didn't reply because what could he say? He'd always had a type and Johnny knew that within a week after they met. That ex had been slightly more regrettable than others though - bitchy more than mean in the ways Kerry craved. Confident but not especially clever. 

But Kerry was pretty sure this wasn't really about that guy whose name hadn't even been worth remembering. So he just waited to see which direction the winds were blowing for Hurricane Johnny. 

Finally, Johnny seemed to steel himself before turning slowly, his face looking like he'd made some sort of decision without Kerry ever having known there was a question. 

He walked up slowly, dark eyes unreadable, and held a hand to Kerry's face as his thumb smeared the drying blood on his cheek. 

“You're a mess, Ker, should go wash up,” he finally murmured before turning heel and heading towards the other bathroom. 

Kerry stood there, not entirely sure what just happened. 

Well, ok, he knew he'd witnessed a bonafide fucking miracle: Johnny'd flown into a full rage but didn't take it out on anyone besides the guy who started it? Sure, maybe he'd have gone for Kerry if he'd resisted their little evacuation but still, it was a hell of a lot more self-control than he'd ever seen from Johnny before. Maybe V knew what she was talking about when she insisted he changed. 

So why did he feel like he missed something important instead of an oncoming train? 

-

Irving still wasn't sure how his brilliant plan went so wrong. 

Stealing one of the server's outfits to sneak into the party had been simple enough. He even got right up close to his marks without their being any the wiser, the miniature camera in his watch rolling the whole time. 

And then that overgrown lumex decided to pick a fight with Silverhand. Who even the hell was that nobody? 

As Irving reviewed the footage while he dried off in his hotel room, he couldn't help but scowl. 

Both rockerboys had been fully prepared to ignore that interloper. At least until he'd made that crass joke about Eurodyne's infamous suicide attempt. 

Irving could even freeze frame to the exact moment Silverhand registered the comment, because the fury that sent Irving into the harbor exploded like Krakatoa immediately after. 

Irving sighed as he paused the scroll. This was not helpful for Arasaka's argument that their marriage was a sham. There was no calculation, no consideration, just the rage you might expect from a man who thought it was a good idea to detonate a nuke in a major city. But this time, it was anger in response to someone joking about his husband's suicide attempt. 

“This is fine,” he insisted to himself. “We knew they were friends. Of course he'd be mad that someone would be flippant about that.”

He frowned as he continued the footage and saw them kissing after Irving had resurfaced. What kind of person goes from trying to beat man to death to tongue-fucking like that? God-forsaken barbarians, that's who. 

He sighed when his phone started ringing. 

“Mike, this isn't a great time…”

“Irv-a-tron! Why the long face?”

“This is starting to feel less like a mission and more like the making of a porno.”

“Yeah? Let me see!”

Irving huffed, “Mike, this is serious!”

“Yeah? So maybe a new set of eyes will help you see something you've missed. Come on, what have you got to lose?” Mike replied cheerfully, not even slightly dissuaded. 

“Ugh, fine, you can take a look at the utterly useless footage too.” Irving groaned as he packaged and sent the file over the connection. 

Mike was quiet as his optics glowed blue during the playback. “Wow, what a bastard.”

“Yes, the ex was dreadful, but that doesn't help my case!” 

“Yeah, it really doesn't. More like you accidentally proved they are into this.” 

“Nonsense, being sexually attracted to a friend isn't the same thing as having romantic feelings!” 

Mike blinked slowly, “It's not?”

“And the fights those two have had are legendary!”

“So, it's like a Kiss Me, Kate sitch?”

Irving scowled, “Whose side are you on anyway?”

“C'mon, you know I'm on your side Lil' Irv. But you might need to shift from spying to a frame-up at this rate.”

“Nonsense, I refuse to believe anything about that so-called marriage is legitimate. I just need to be there when they slip up.”

Mike nodded dubiously, “Any ideas?” 

“Don't you worry, I'll think of something.”

Chapter Text

Kerry woke up in the oversized bed. Alone. Again. 

Johnny had been quietly going to bed each night in one of the other rooms since the harbor party four days ago. 

He refused to talk about it because he was still Johnny fucking Silverhand, even with his newfound grip on his temper, and apparently even miracles had their limits. Kerry supposed he should be glad: Johnny was adhering to all but Kerry's most purposely antagonizing requests. 

So why on earth did things feel worse between them? And not in the familiar pattern where they dredged up well-worn arguments and clawed at the old wounds they knew would bleed the most. 

No, Johnny was keeping him at arm's length, like they didn't know each other's ugliest lows. Almost like goddamned strangers. Fucking formal. How do you act so distant around a guy who used to roll you on your side so you wouldn't choke on your own vomit? And who you returned the favor to? 

Johnny was following all of Kerry's rules and he fucking hated it. He'd lose his entire goddamn mind if the next 24 days passed with this sort of polite distance between them. 

It was getting to the point that Kerry was going to have to take drastic action. He wasn't sure what that'd even look like but no one was going to be happy once he figured it out. 

He glared at his holo when he saw a message pop up: Kovachek's assistant sent him a text. He couldn't even find it in himself to be amused that L.B. was still too freaked out to message him directly. 

Diving, huh? That was new, not something either of them ever did before. Still, it sounded like it could be a fun little surprise. 

Sure, why not? Johnny'd never see it coming.

-

Johnny had forgotten what unpolluted seawater smelled like. He assumed that it was done artificially but it'd been ages since any part of Morro Bay smelled remotely like this. 

He still wasn't sure what the point of this trip was, Kerry'd been all hush hush about it. He hadn't pushed because, honestly, it was kinda endearing after the past few days. 

He knew Kerry was starting to get fed up but Johnny needed a bit of distance to process some shit. It'd been… a lot, to put it mildly. 

He wasn't sure if he could do another week of this let alone another 24 days. They were going to have to settle some new terms next time they were alone. And Kerry was maybe due more honesty than Johnny had been willing to dole out. He wasn’t looking forward to the conversation but he’d lose his mind if something didn’t change. 

He still thought V was out of her mind trying to convince him to shoot for some fairytale ending but there had to be something between that and where they were now. 

He was pulled from his reverie when he heard the boat's engine cut off - apparently they were at their destination which was odd, he didn't see anything noteworthy. They couldn't be fishing? He knew Kerry was old now but goddamn… Even treated, could this water really support any sort of life? 

The smirk melted off his face as he saw the crew pull scuba gear out from a storage compartment. 

That… wasn't for them right? Couldn't be, Kerry didn't mention a thing about… 

Well shit, Kerry had no reason to warn Johnny, did he? Exactly one other person knew how he felt about diving and she'd gnaw through her own wrist before betraying his confidence on that. 

He stamped down on the side of him that wanted to start a fight: fuck him if a little water was going to be what finally did in shit with Kerry. 

An affable man with a punchable face walked up to them with some kit. “This is the spot! Beautiful weather today, the artificial reef is going to knock your socks off.”

Kerry was grinning, completely oblivious to Johnny's panicked disaster assessment. “Fuck yeah, it'll be nice to try swimming in something besides the damned pool.” 

“I'm not getting in that polluted shit,” Johnny bit out, finally settling on his course. Anger was an old trick but it worked more often than not. 

The guide just grinned more, “Not a worry, the water here is all treated. Probably cleaner than your shower back home.” Like that didn't say more about municipal utilities instead of the artificial sea. 

“Everything alright, Johnny?” Dammit, he'd definitely raised some alarm in Kerry, who was looking at him far too much like when they first lived together and he'd woken them both up with a nightmare. 

“Everything is fine, Kerry. Just don't see the point in diving in artificial water to see an artificial reef,” he spat out more harshly than he meant to. 

The guide held his hands up placatingly. “It's perfectly normal to be nervous for your first dive but this is a nice easy dive and this equipment is all but gonk-proof. You'll be able to breathe and talk like normal the entire time.”

The bastard couldn't have known it but he just sealed Johnny's fate with those words. “I never said I was nervous. Give me the damned mask.”

He could do this. A little bit of water wasn't going to be the thing that beat him. It was a fucking stupid thing to even worry about anyway. It was stupid to be afraid of it during V's date with Judy and it was stupid now. 

The mask didn't feel like a prison, the air canisters weren't going to pull him down. The sea wasn't actually endless like Mikoshi... 

It was fine.

He flinched when he heard Kerry go in - that just left the strangers on the boat. Fuck if he was going to let them see him bitch out. 

He closed his eyes, finished securing the gear, and followed after Kerry. 

The water was warmer than he expected but still unnaturally cold to someone used to Kerry's and V's SoCal swimming pools. 

He wasn't going to think about how impossibly far the bottom was. Or how impossibly far away the edges were. How muted most noise was. 

At least he could still hear Kerry over the comms system so it wasn't just the muffled silence of the deep. All he had to do was follow Kerry and get this over with. 

The water was brighter and clearer than the Laguna Bend reservoir's too - the sunbeams were refracting and illuminated nearly everything. 

Except… That wasn't right, was it? Natural light didn't turn into perfectly straight lines like that. It was too perfect. Too… artificial.

Alt… did she actually let him go? No. No, this was all too fucking perfect to be real. The real fucking world didn't work like that. Was that a Relic malfunction code in his peripheral? People don't come back from the dead and then honeymoon in fucking paradise! This wasn't water, it was fucking coolant. They'd never even jacked out of Mikoshi!

He couldn't fucking breathe. Why did he think he needed to breathe? He was fucking dead. 

The last thing he heard was screaming. He didn't know whose. 

-

Kerry paced by the bedside. At least he could do something with his feet, he had no idea what to do with his fucking hands. 

He glanced down at Johnny again. Too damned pale and it’s not like Johnny was especially rosy to start with. One of the boat workers insisted that Johnny's vitals were stabilized by the onboard med station, that he'd be awake any moment once the sedative wore off but then why the fuck wasn't he stirring at all yet? 

It was weird seeing Johnny like this: asleep but pale and wet like a drowned cat or something. Fragile. Shit, if things had gone just slightly worse, Kerry would’ve lost him all over again. 

Kerry had no idea where it all went wrong. They'd only just jumped in when the ship reported that someone's vitals were going haywire. The next thing he knew, Johnny was screaming like Kerry hadn't heard since they were kids skezzed on really bad pills and ripped his fucking mask off 30 feet down. They had to jab him with a sedative just to get the air back on his face. 

Where the fuck did that even come from? Johnny never had a problem with water that Kerry remembered. They didn't have a ton of opportunities to swim but they'd been in their share of pools. The odd river when they were on tour and the area wasn't polluted to shit. 

This was his fucking fault. Him and his damned “surprise” and his refusal to pump the breaks when Johnny clearly was off. Because Johnny could never admit to something making him uncomfortable, you always had to read between the lines. 

Johnny's snapping before they went in was the Silverhand version of an emergency flare and Kerry just didn't see it for what it was this time. 

A noise from the bed dragged him out of his head as Johnny stirred. Tired brown eyes warily took in the small room until they rested on Kerry. 

And then turned away, Kerry catching the barest hint of shame escaping before familiar barriers went up. Oh to hell with that, Johnny was a fuck-up but this one wasn't on him. 

He stomped over and slid the door shut before locking it and turning back to Johnny. 

“You could've said something to me Johnny,” he said, helplessly, even as he knew it was a lie. Johnny didn't ask for help like a normal person and even death couldn't change that. 

“And say what exactly? That I couldn't do it? That'd I'd lose my grip on reality?”

Reality? That was a new one by Kerry. 

“Could've just said you didn't feel like it.”

“Could've,” he agreed mildly. 

Kerry scowled to himself, Johnny had given plenty of warning in his own way. It could be hard to gauge when Johnny was just being obstinate and when something was actually wrong. “Sorry I sprang that on you. If I had any idea…”

“How could you've known? Happened after Mikoshi.”

Ah, so that explained the newness of it. 

He sighed and sat on the bed next to Johnny before leaning back, carefully looking at the ceiling instead of Johnny's face. He felt the other man tense up but then slowly relax. 

That, at least, was a familiar reaction. And Johnny hadn't shoved him off the bed yet so he hadn't totally fucked up. 

The older rocker sighed, making sure to look somewhere innocuous like the room's cabinets. “Think we may need to work on our communication a little,” he said, waving a hand between them. 

Johnny scoffed lightly at his side, “This therapy now or something?”

“Jesus Christ, any therapist of yours would need their own damned shrink. But you've been weird for days, this was just the fuckin’ capstone.” 

“Funny that, you probably could use one,” snapped Johnny before sighing and running a hand through his still-damp hair. “Guess this has just been harder than I thought. Don't like yankin’ your chain when you're the only friend I've got left - not counting shit with V ‘cause that whole thing is its own brand of weird. Don’t think she and I could walk away from each other if we wanted to.”

Kerry felt Johnny's eyes on him but refrained from looking back, worried he'd spook him. Honestly, Kerry was a bit rattled - he’d have expected Johnny to blow up another tower before admitting something like that. 

“Look, know I read you the riot act day one, and not that you didn't used to piss me all the way off but I'm not gonna tell you to fuck off for good just for being obnoxious. I knew you were a bastard way back in the aughts. An’ honestly, even that was better than the past couple days.” He finally risked a side glance at Johnny. “Just want my choom back, y'know?” 

Johnny's face was carefully neutral but he nodded along. “Can't just act like chooms for a few weeks yet.”

“Eh, why not? Some people with decent marriages say it's like having a best friend you fuck,” Kerry answered with a wry grin. 

Johnny chuckled lowly, “Is that what we're doing wrong?” 

Kerry smirked at him, glad to see Johnny looking a bit more like himself, “Hey, you know I wouldn’t say no to that.”

Kerry said that fully expecting Johnny to fire off some bullshit about how straight he was or, if he was feeling charitable, that he might’ve considered it if Kerry had been a chick. Familiar, if mildly painful, territory but he figured Johnny earned a free potshot after today. 

When he felt a familiar arm wrap around his shoulders and pull him close, a damp head resting against his, and no argument. No deflection. No change of subject… Fuck, he wasn’t really sure what to do with that. 

“Should head back to the hotel,” Johnny eventually mumbled gently. 

Right, he must be pretty beat. Kerry’d never died before but today was almost the second time for Johnny. Probably exhausting. 

But he wasn’t going to be the one to pull away first. Maybe he was still an idiot for Johnny but, honestly, he was OK with that. 

-

He'd long since washed away any hints of salt water, but Johnny kept the shower running as he stared at the wall. V had a point: sometimes it does help to just zone out with scalding hot water pounding on your back. And the princely suite's shower made even V's upgraded one look like a shitty garden hose. 

He knew that hadn't truly been an invitation from Kerry back there but he wasn't sure if he could just go back to that bed and not… 

This was ridiculous. He was Johnny fucking Silverhand – he didn't pine in the goddamned shower for anyone. And he knew without it being said that Kerry had never stopped wanting him: he could see it in how his old friend looked at him. How easily he let Johnny back in despite years of professional advice reminding him that Johnny was a venomous and manipulative piece of shit. He could hear it in the songs Kerry had written after 2023… 

But that confession back on his slimy manager's boat… He didn't want Kerry to just want him, he wanted Kerry to like wanting him. The idea that Kerry would happily be a stranger to him… 

Damned if he could remember why stringing him along and shooting him down had been so important before. Just some ego trip by a bastard who didn't know what it was to be mortal. Who'd never begged a dying merc to scratch his initials onto trashed sheet metal for fear of being forgotten. Who'd never woken up after 54 years to see what he'd once been so positive was everything amounted to absolutely nothing. 

Fuck it, the next grave might be the last - he almost had another one today. He wasn't going to waste any more goddamn time. 

Decision made, he turned the water off and wrapped a towel around his middle before heading to the bedroom where Kerry was reading a datapad. 

“If that's something else from Kovachek, I swear I'm actually going to kill that son of a bitch,” he drawled casually as he plopped down next to Kerry. 

“Eh, from the label but not actually him - guy who handles post-production. But I might hold Kovachek still for ya anyway after today,” replied Kerry, sounding bored. 

“Ker, put it down.” Preferably before Johnny's resolve fucked off. 

“Need some-” Kerry started to ask before Johnny pulled him into a bruising kiss. 

He knew Kerry would have questions which may have played some role in the length of it. Still, his ego purred with satisfaction at how dazed Kerry looked when they finally parted for breath. 

And now that he wasn't actively smothering it, he could admit it wasn't just his ego that was stirring. 

“Are there cameras I didn't see?” Kerry asked, looking stunned. 

“No, does it matter?” Johnny replied before nipping at his jaw, willing Kerry not to pry more. 

Kerry groaned but his hands were frozen at his sides, one still holding the datapad. “So why…?”

Johnny growled in aggravation before shifting his assault to Kerry's neck. “Ker, I’d really rather fuck you than talk about wanting to fuck you.”

That got the reaction he was hoping for, grinning as he heard the datapad clatter on the floor while Kerry threaded one hand into Johnny's hair and brought the other to his waist. He always did have the best hands Johnny’d ever seen. The callouses added just enough roughness to Kerry's touch to send shivers down Johnny's spine. 

“Just… You're not skezzed or anything, right?” Kerry panted. Clearly his confusion was rapidly losing the fight with his libido, which Johnny was admittedly counting on. 

“Totally sober,” he confirmed mildly before starting to suck a bruise into Kerry's neck. 

“Fucking…” Kerry whined in a way that would have got Johnny going just on feeding his pride alone. As it was, it felt like someone lit his bloodstream on fire. “What changed?” He croaked out, even as he pulled Johnny to hover over him. 

Johnny scowled but he knew it was a fair question. “I fucking died,” he started, working his way down Kerry's neck, stopping to lick at the chrome there. “Lost goddamned everything,” he added, giving Kerry a sharper bite as his chrome hand started on Kerry's belt. “Don't want any more regrets.” He grinned as he palmed Kerry through the fly and instantly got one of the best sounds he'd ever heard from the other guitarist, something between a gasp and a whine. “That enough or do you want bullet points?”

“Shut the fuck up Johnny,” Kerry groaned before dragging his head back up by his hair and licked into Johnny's mouth. 

Fuck, Kerry was actually good at this, pulling on his hair just hard enough that his fight with Kerry's pants was quickly losing any coordination. Kerry finally smacked his hand away and finished it for him, yanking the jeans down and tossing them somewhere off the bed. 

Johnny had started with less to lose but Kerry's appreciative groan as he sent the towel off the bed made his blood feel about 10 degrees hotter as Kerry palmed his ass. Yanking off Kerry's shirt finished the first task. 

He renewed his assault on Kerry's neck as he dragged his ‘ganic hand along Kerry's chrome, from neck to hip. Kerry couldn't seem to pick between yanking his hair and feeling him up – both worked for him. 

He knew Kerry would be easy for him but the damned whimper he dragged from Kerry's throat as he ran a few fingers along the other man's cock still made him grin before he started adding yet another bruise to the growing collection. Vocal implant or not, it was music to his ears. 

“Think they've got any lube in here or do I have to ring that fucking butler again?” Johnny rasped into Kerry's jaw. Hell, he sounded a lot more worked up than he expected. Though he supposed this was 70 years and a rebirth in the making. 

Kerry cursed and reached for one of the side table drawers, grabbing a bottle and uncapping it with one hand. 

“Someone was prepared,” Johnny teased as he lapped at Kerry's chrome throat and the dip in his collarbone, holding out his flesh hand for some. 

“Yeah? Well what can I say? My husband fucked off for four days during our honeymoon. Man’s got needs.” Kerry groused as he poured some lube out. 

Hell, Johnny didn’t expect a goddamned joke like that to make him fucking lightheaded. He recaptured Kerry’s mouth with renewed vigor before there could be any more unexpected surprises from chatter as Johnny started working him open. A good plan it turned out he thought as he hungrily swallowed Kerry's moans and whimpers. 

Johnny hadn’t fucked another guy before but he’d slept with a few chicks who liked to add in the odd prostate massage with their blow jobs - it didn’t take a rocket scientist to extrapolate a little. So where was…

“Fuckin’ hell, Johnny!” Kerry suddenly gasped, bucking into Johnny’s hand. 

“There we go,” Johnny murmured with a sly grin as he pulled back to observe his work. 

Johnny had seen Kerry get fucked before but there was no comparison to being an active participant. Kerry already looked ruined under him, flushed, gasping and writhing to every little touch. And he made the best damned sounds every time Johnny curled his fingers just so. 

He still missed the brown but it was good to know even those sharp blue and gold Kiroshi’s Kerry bought could still get hazy like that. 

Kerry's neck had a veritable constellation of bruises and bites. Johnny absently considered that all those hickeys were going to end up on cameras eventually but damned if that didn’t actually turn him on a bit more. It anyone had any fucking questions about whether Kerry was still on the market… 

Well, the next ex with delusions of reconnecting wouldn't be able to say they weren't warned, would they? 

Kerry glared at him, though the glassy eyes and flushed face kinda diminished the effect - or made it better depending on your point of view. “You waiting for an invitation or something? Get the fuck moving!” 

“Tch, what's the rush?” he chided, adding another finger just to be annoying - he knew Kerry was ready. 

He probably should’ve expected Kerry to lose his patience - he was always a pushy bastard in the bedroom. The next thing he knew, Kerry had shoved him to the side and straddled him before sinking down on Johnny’s length with no warning. 

“Ker! Fuck,” Johnny groaned at the sudden feeling of tight wet heat, gripping Kerry’s thighs for some kind of grounding. 

“Really thought I’d just let you string me along all night,?” Kerry growled as he rocked his hips down half punishment, half pleasure. 

Johnny just gripped tighter as he tried to meet Kerry’s rhythm but froze when he felt Kerry’s hands on his throat. He looked up at Kerry's sharp grin and swallowed a whine. 

Even when he was confident about being straight, there were so many times where he wanted those perfect damned hands on his neck. He had just assumed it'd be when they were both fucking the same chick. 

Looking back, a convenient lie to himself. 

Without a word, he wrapped his chrome hand around Kerry’s and prompted the other to squeeze until he could just barely breathe and his head was just starting to cotton. 

“All the damned times I wanted to shut you up - could’ve made us both happy if I just did this,” growled Kerry through the bruising pace. Not that Johnny could really reply anymore but he’d be fine with this sort of conflict resolution. 

He couldn’t decide where his flagging attention should be: the tight heat around his cock or the strong string-calloused fingers on his throat. 

This was going to end much quicker than he planned. 

He moved his chrome hand back to Kerry’s hips, gripping hard enough to bruise but that just seemed to encourage Kerry. Kinky fucker, of course he’d want that - not that Johnny was in any position to judge. So Johnny obliged and gripped tighter. 

Maybe it was the high of sex and oxygen deprivation but he was vaguely glad he couldn’t babble all the shit running through his head right then. That this was fucking perfect. That he had no idea why he’d ever said no to this and he regretted all the times he did. That if he thought Kerry looked good pissed off, it was nothing compared to how Kerry looked at him right now watching him over the hands on Johnny’s neck. 

Fuck, Ker looked so close and he’d barely even been touched. 

The errant thought was the last straw for Johnny’s failing control, it felt like the world was spinning as he emptied into Kerry. 

He watched through the fog as Kerry took a hand off his throat and jerked himself, taking only a few seconds before he came on Johnny's abs and chest. The way he tightened around his still hard cock ripped a fucking embarassing noise from Johnny's throat. 

Kerry pulled off and rolled to the side as they both worked to catch their breath. 

The more clarity Johnny regained, the more he dreaded whatever Kerry’s next words were. He really just wanted to lay back and enjoy this. This didn’t need to be complicated, did it? 

“Should get back in the fuckin’ shower,” Kerry eventually panted. 

Shit, maybe Johnny could actually love him after all.

Chapter Text

“Again? For fuck’s sake!” cried Irving. 

His targets’ trip in Monaco was coming to a close, and all he had to show for his surveillance efforts was hours and hours of porn. 

He wasn’t sure if they were exhibitionists or if they just didn’t care who saw: the bed with the curtains open, against windows, the swimming pool. Presumably even more in private. 

And to think that bastard Kyle from the department had assured him that Silverhand was famously straight - that maybe the lack of consummation might even be enough to push an annulment. 

So much for that plan. They would be better off selling this footage on the Net than suggesting anything of the sort. 

At least they were a good-looking couple, small mercies there. Irving was pretty sure that Abernathy was not going to appreciate that particular silver lining. 

They hadn’t left the hotel since a boating trip several days ago - damned if he could get any info about that excursion. Sure, the crew all signed NDAs but Irving got the impression that they’d been threatened too. 

The ex that’d caused such a brouhaha at the party was also missing but it couldn't have been either rocker - they hadn’t been anywhere near the man since the party. Irving had a bad feeling that V had followed the pair to Europe and was tying up loose ends. He was probably lucky that he hadn’t been made yet. 

He sighed and accepted an incoming call from Mike. 

“Hey Pervy Irvy! Scrolling more rockerboy sex?”

“For the love of- please don't call me that. I'm not doing this willingly.” 

“You could always pause the recording when they're at it,” Mike said with a grin. 

“They might admit to something in the heat of the moment! Also that would require paying far more attention to their… activities than I really want.”

“Hey, it’s your report to Abernathy, not mine. Anyway, just calling to pass along the deets for your flight home tomorrow. Same ride as your marks - feel free to scroll when they join the Mile High Club.” 

“Go walk off a bridge, Mike,” Irving deadpanned before hanging up. 

Hopefully, the rockers’ old stomping grounds would prove more fertile for the evidence he needed. 

-

Kerry shifted against his seat on the flight, hoping to ease the soreness just a little. Not especially likely but worth a shot anyway. 

“Problem there, Ker?” Johnny asked slyly over his glass of bourbon from the next seat. 

Bastard, he damned well knew why Kerry was feeling a bit tender today - it was his doing after all, the smug fucker. And like Johnny's own neck didn't have a decent bunch of marks to show for their activities. Not that Johnny would know shame if it walked up and kicked him. 

If they didn't have the bruises to prove it, he still wouldn't be sure that sex with Johnny was actually happening outside of his damned dreams. But it was. And frequently since Johnny came to him that night after he'd nearly drowned. They hadn't really talked about it or anything but Kerry assumed that maybe it was the second dance with his mortality that did it? 

Still, he wasn't complaining: Johnny was annoyingly good at it and maybe the band would've stayed together longer if he'd figured out back then that the magic answer to an angry Johnny was one hand on his throat and another yanking his hair. 

It was like goddamned magic to be honest. A couple simple movements and the asshole went from snarling and raving to a panting mess under Kerry's hands. Fuck, he could get hard just picturing Johnny's eyes like that: furious, dark, and glazed - daring him to go further. To push him and see what happened. Which might be more threatening if Kerry didn't love being thrown down and railed. 

Kerry was still waiting for the other shoe to drop to be honest: things were going too damned well. 

They talked - mostly about newer music, worked on some music of their own, drank, took some pills, had sex… It should have been the ideal. Decades ago, this was the relationship with Johnny he’d have sold his soul and left nut for. 

And they were a third of the way through their plan: 20 days to go. Going by the media coverage, there hadn't been any doubts about their marriage - some bastard pap even managed to score a few photos of Johnny fucking him in the pool. That wasn't in the plan but it seemed to quiet the last holdouts who were sure Johnny'd never touch a guy. 

He glanced down at the wedding band on his hand. He guessed part of why he felt so off was that it didn't feel fake. It'd be way too easy to get used to this but Johnny was his for just under three more weeks. 

There was really no point in making a thing about it. It's not like Johnny was particular about relationships so he'd probably still be down for a fuck here and there when this was over. 

So why the hell was he so miserable over that looming deadline? 

He winced as he felt his ears pop - they started their descent. 

“Ready for the vultures?” Johnny asked, casually throwing an arm around him. 

“Are you ready? This has been my bread and butter for years now. You're the one getting back in the game decades later,” huffed Kerry. 

The honeymoon was always the easier part of the plan - they were left to their own devices for the most part. 

Now that they were back to regular life? His assistant already sent him a list of interview requests, publicity events, even a fucking parade his label wanted them to show face at. You'd think he had dropped another album for all the attention they were getting. Actually, this might be more attention than his last album, or at least it was more varied. 

Johnny was getting a bunch of requests too - though all through Kerry's contacts. Which made sense since the wedding was the first public confirmation that he was even alive - it's not like Johnny was signed with anyone. Hell, only Kerry, Rogue, V, and a few of V's chooms knew how to call Johnny directly. 

They'd already agreed to their story on Johnny's whereabouts since 2023: namely, that no one was to admit to anything. Kerry should refer them to Johnny, Johnny'd blow them off, and V would “take care of” anyone who got too close. On a similar note, Johnny wasn't admitting to anything about the AHQ bombing either since there was no statute of limitations on murder. 

Not that anyone expected something official there - not with the upheaval at Arasaka. And Militech certainly wasn’t going to be the corp to exhume that old fiasco while they moved in on the power vacuum their old rival was leaving behind as it collapsed. 

It'd been long enough that it was unlikely anyone would try to get revenge but V was unofficial security for the two. They knew she already had a sniper's position at NCX. It apparently wasn't even her first break-in of the place, speaking of things Kerry really didn't want to know about. 

They could see the media waiting for them at the other side of the security checkpoint. One of them was a familiar face. 

“Nancy!” Johnny called out with a grin as they walked through the security gate. 

Just for Bes to walk up and slap him hard enough to send his sunglasses flying. 

“You gonk sonofabitch!” She yelled before pulling Johnny into a hug. 

“Good to see you too Nance,” Johnny replied, giving an awkward half-hug. “Remind me to stay out of arm's-reach of Denny and Henry.”

“You fucking deserve it you dense motherfucker,” she muttered, releasing him before rounding on Kerry. “And you knew!” 

“Nance, c'mon, we can chat later,” Kerry offered in a soothing tone as he dipped down to grab Johnny's aviators. 

“Wait, Kerry! Johnny! Just a few quick questions!” Said another media - right, he remembered her, Juanita Tseng - hadn’t seen her since Dark Matter with Us Cracks. 

Johnny, being Johnny, replied by giving her the finger with one hand after he put his shades back on and started to usher Kerry out with the other. Kerry had half a mind to shrug off Johnny's arm and take the interview just to make a point but, honestly, he was looking forward to getting home. 

Neither was surprised though when Nancy followed them into the Delamain. 

“C’mon, are we really-” Johnny started to complain when she cut him off. 

“Yes, we’re doing this now. No, it doesn’t have to be on the record. Where the fuck were you?! How do you look exactly the same?” 

Ah yes, the two questions they knew everyone was going to ask. Just their luck that the first media who got to it was someone they actually gave half a shit about. 

Johnny sighed, “Can’t answer that.”

“Can’t or won’t, Johnny? And how was V involved?”

Johnny grimaced, “Genuinely can’t. But I’d consider it a personal favor if you leave V out of whatever fucking media shit you get up to with this.” 

Bes crossed her arms and legs and stared at him, like she could make out something of the truth if she looked hard enough. “So V was involved.” 

Johnny raised an eyebrow back, “For Bes Isis: ‘no comment.’ For Nancy: I owe V big, leave it at that.” 

Nancy nodded and then pulled a face, “She’s not your granddaughter or anything is she?”

“Fuck, I hope not.” Johnny looked vaguely horrified at the thought. To be fair, probably not half as repulsed as V would’ve looked at the same question. 

“If it makes you feel any better, even I don’t know what all happened,” Kerry chimed in, hoping to placate her. 

“You’d probably forget even if they told you,” huffed Bes, but apparently ready to let that line of questioning go. For now anyway. “So, you two? If I had an eddie for every time you said even just hooking up was ‘never gonna happen…’”

“Ok, fine, one more detail: got a bit of perspective while I was away. Now, interrogation over?” 

Bes chuckled lightly, “You know I went easy on you right? Most of the others aren’t going to be satisfied with those nonanswers.” 

Johnny gave a sharp grin, “Such a shame I don’t give a shit ‘bout whether they’re satisfied or not.” 

“I’m serious Johnny, this isn’t the Night City you knew. Can’t just throw a finger at everything you don’t like and storm through.” 

“Yeah well, I’m not the Johnny Silverhand the city used to know either.”

-

V cast Johnny a glare from the corner of her eyes as she drove to the gig location. 

“Stop starin’ at me and focus on the fuckin’ road,” he snapped as he lit his third cigarette since he got in the car. 

“Might be having second thoughts about trusting my six to a gonk who won’t get his head out of his ass,” she sniped back. 

“Thought you’d finally get off my ass if you knew Ker and I were fucking,” he grumbled, already regretting having said a damned thing. 

“Don’t give me that, you know the sex was only ever part of it,” she said with a disgusted groan. “Bet 20 eddies all you said to him was that you wanted to fuck ‘n not talk about it.”

“Well then, I’d have 20 eddies,” he said with a smirk. 

“Oh, what, you blame it on dyin’ and not on actually having given a shit all this time in your own emotionally-stunted way?” 

“Go fuck yourself, not doing this.” 

“This is gonna be a fuckin’ disaster if you don’t give him more than that,” she groaned in frustration. 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. Shit with me and Ker is the best it’s ever been,” he grumbled. 

“Ok, sure, congratulations: you’ve graduated from screaming matches over bullshit and trying to hurt each other to screaming until you’re horny and hurting each other but as foreplay. Real preem upgrade there.”

“You’ve circled the same block three times now. This where the job is?” he snapped as he lit his fourth cig. 

“Nuh uh, not letting you dodge this. At least tell me you’ve acknowledged that how you used to treat him was shit?” 

“Yeah, did that the first day. Swore I wasn’t going to yank his chain again.” 

“And you don’t think that’s what you’re doing right now pretending you aren’t happy with him? And I don’t mean that as chooms who happen to fuck.” 

“It’s not fuckin’ like that at all,” he growled impatiently. “Can we get this gig over already? Who are we even flat-linin’?”

“Johnny, just because you get your rocks off when Kerry chokes you out doesn’t mean it’s conveniently OK to make him want to throttle you to shut you up. You’re both using sex to avoid your problems and it’s gonna fuckin’ blow up in your face again.” 

“So how’s shit with Judy workin’ out?” he snarled. 

V slammed on the brakes of the Caliburn hard enough to send his cigarette flying and only his chrome gave him the reflexes and strength needed to catch himself before his face slammed into the dashboard. 

“Don’t,” she growled lowly without looking at him. 

His eyes softened as the misery radiated off her. “Shouldn’t’ve said that. Was a low blow,” he said with a sigh.

“You’re goddamned right it was low.” 

“Shit’s not your fault, hope you know that,” he added softly. 

“Is it really that hard to accept that I want things with you two to be OK?” she croaked, face hard and resolutely staring forward. 

He sighed and offered her a cigarette. 

She sat unmoving for a time before taking it and letting him light it for her. 

“Neither of us do that heart-to-heart shit you do but I’ll say somethin’ to him,” he finally said after he lit his own new cig. “Dunno what but… Don’t want him thinkin’ this is all just a joke. That I don’t give a shit.”

“That’s all I wanted you to do,” she muttered darkly, still definitely hurting. 

Dammit all, he was so tired of hurting the people who mattered more than he did the people he hated. 

“You wanna leave this gig ‘til tomorrow?” he offered quietly. 

She sighed and shook her head. “Nah, should be an easy in-and-out and we’re already here.” She finally gave him a look that was more sad than angry. He would have preferred anger. “You’ve gotta knock that shit off Johnny. Just because you know how to go for the throat doesn’t mean you should.” 

He nodded, as much to himself as her. “Yeah, shitty habit. Workin’ on it.” 

“Work harder. If you can’t talk shit out with someone who’s shared a brain with you — who knows why you always do that — Kerry doesn’t stand a goddamned chance.” They were both quiet for a minute before she added, “You might want to talk to someone about that anger shit. Know you’re allergic to therapists but ranting to Misty’s been good for me.” 

He buried the instinct to lash out again. “... Maybe. Clearly not having much luck with the trigger control on my own.”

She nodded, “Want me to let her know to expect you?” 

He winced at that. They both knew that was as much about getting him to commit to it as it was warning Misty that she’d be hearing from an emotionally unstable rockerboy. 

“Yeah, sure. I’ll drop by tomorrow. Ker’s got some meeting with his label. Already told him hell will freeze over before I sign with MSM - me not tagging along is part of trying to get that through to them. That they don’t have me just cause they have him.” 

V half-smirked, starting to get out of the funk, “They’re going to play dirty with that. You know that, right?”

“Not my first rodeo V. They try anything, they'll learn like DBS did.”

“That just means they won't try blackmail like DBS did. They'll probably try to use their hold on Kerry to stifle anything you touch, say it's all collaborative with one of their artists.” 

“Hm, might be a problem if I wasn't willing to play dirty too. Would be a shame if some of ‘em went missing like that sorry fucker I clocked in Monaco,” he said with a knowing grin. 

She rolled her eyes, “Got no idea what you're talkin’ about.”

“Uh huh. So was the butler you or Alex?”

“Fuck off, dickweed.”

Chapter Text

Kerry rolled his eyes, “You guys don't get it. It's not about any numbers you throw at Johnny. If he's decided not to sign with the label, the end of the fuckin’ world won't change his mind.” 

“We're not asking for a miracle, Kerry, we just want you to talk to him. Even before you two got married, your creative collaborations were important to both of you. We're just trying to help you both continue that side of your relationship,” said the weaselly corpo. Kerry'd already forgotten his name. 

Kerry groaned, “Did you not hear the part where I implied that we already talked about it? Johnny's stubborn, not stupid: he knows there's consequences. Knows we won't be able to work together anymore.” 

They didn't need to know that was a lie. The two had been working on a few tracks since Johnny rejoined the living. 

“There would be consequences for you too, Kerry,” said another guy in a suit. Fuck if Kerry could remember his name either. “The label can’t have one of its top earners working in the same space as the competition. You wouldn’t be able to do any work in your own home anymore.” 

“Yeah, that ain’t happenin’ choom. Sometimes you gotta write down and toy with ideas the second they come - might lose it before I get to the label’s office. Can wave bye-bye to me makin’ any deadlines.” 

Kovachek finally piped in, “Gentlemen, let’s be reasonable. Maybe we can compromise: we can install biometric scanners in Kerry’s home studio and office to confirm that only approved parties enter?”

“That might have been enough if Mr. Silverhand-Eurodyne wasn’t a known associate of an infamous mercenary more than capable of breaching any reasonable measures we might install.” 

Kerry glared at the suit, “I know you aren’t suggesting that my husband, a famously anti-corpo hothead, is going to commit corporate espionage in our own home for a theoretical company he hasn’t even signed with. That he’ll probably never sign with because there isn’t a label that exists anymore that he doesn’t hate.”

“No one is suggesting anything,” Kovachek quickly replied. “I would remind everyone here that Kerry has been a valued artist with MSM for many years. I don’t think it’s out of line to extend a little trust. And, as Kerry said, Mr. Silverhand-Eurodyne hasn’t approached any of our competition and is likely philosophically opposed to doing so.”

“That could almost be worse: he might leak unreleased content to make a statement.” 

“So now you’re sayin’ my husband is gonna stab me in the back for shits and giggles. At least the espionage meant he’d get something from it besides fucking me over,” snapped Kerry. “Look, I’ll make it easy for you: I’m willing to tell Johnny to keep off my laptop and that’s it. If that’s not enough for you, you can be the ones to tell the board how this marriage went from getting press and sales for free to me not producing scop.” 

“Let’s not be hasty!” Kovachek jumped in. “All of these potential problems are theoretical - I don’t see anything worth upending our work for. Speaking of, you said Johnny was willing to appear with you at the Night City Pride Month Parade next week?”

Kerry nodded, “Yeah, his only hardline is not mentioning any sponsors, ads, et cetera. Which kinda leaves him as arm candy but it's probably for the best if he don't run his mouth on camera.” 

One of the suits nodded in agreement before adding, “Don't forget, you have an interview tomorrow with Juanita Tseng. N54 wasn't thrilled when you blew her off at the airport.”

Kerry rolled his eyes, “Seem to recall that was Johnny who was the prick - better get used to him being like that. Besides, Bes is N54 too and we let her tag along.”

“Completely different demographic,” replied the other weaselly one.

“Right, fine. Send me the deets, I'll be there,” he said. “If that's everything, I'm heading out.”

The suits stayed behind, probably to talk shit behind his back but he couldn't find it in him to give a fuck. Hadn’t for years. 

He was making his way to the label's garage when a text came in. 

If Kerry were a wiser man, he'd be suspicious enough to press for more information. On the other hand, Johnny probably wouldn't tell him more even if he did and, really, a wiser man never would've gotten involved with Johnny in the first place. 

So, he took the elevator down to the lobby, where it didn't take 2 seconds to see where Johnny was through the glass front of the building. 

Fuck, it felt like stepping into a flashback: if he'd never expected to see Johnny again, he really never expected to have Johnny pick him up in the old Porsche again. 

“I'm not even gonna ask where you found it,” Kerry said, getting in. Good thing the docs and yoga kept him in good shape: it definitely took more acrobatics than he remembered getting into the tiny thing. 

“Really? Good story actually. Anyway, hope you don't have any plans for a bit,” Johnny replied in a tone that said he was trying to hide being in a good mood. 

“Gotta feelin’ I'm spoken for,” Kerry answered as he settled in. 

Johnny just grinned as the antique car roared to life and he started driving towards whatever plan the other rockerboy had. 

Kerry opened the glovebox, half because he figured there'd be smokes in there, half because he felt obligated to root through the car for old time's sake. Johnny didn't disappoint on the cigarettes. 

“Man, this takes me back,” Kerry hummed around the stolen cigarette as he lit it. Did it still count as stealing when it's your husband's car? 

Johnny nodded, “Still weird to me how the city is different but the same.” 

“Right, you didn't get much time to acclimate to 2077.” 

“I got enough, mostly inheriting V's memories. Didn't miss much good.” 

Kerry nodded, watching the city fly by. He raised an eyebrow when he realized their direction. “We're headin’ to Pacifica?”

Johnny smirked but kept watching the road, “C'mon Ker, it's a gift from V. Not gonna spoil her surprise.”

That actually made Kerry relax some: V was easily the more trustworthy of the two and, even if he didn't go in for that “street cred” nonsense, the chick kicked in Arasaka's front door and lived to tell about it. In this town, that's basically a big permanent warning sign with flashing lights saying “DO NOT PISS OFF.” No one would try something clever with her there. 

God though, he forgot what a pit this part of town was. All of NC was chaos with various masks and makeup but even Northside wasn't half as blatant as the ruined would-be entertainment district. 

He blinked as Johnny pulled up along the old Grand Imperial Mall and parked. 

“Alright, just about there.”

Kerry glanced around as he got out, the place looked oddly abandoned. Mostly in that it seemed actually empty even though genuinely uninhabited sites were damned rare in NC, even in Pacifica. “An abandoned amusement park? Aren't there loads of scavs in these places?”

Johnny strolled up next to him and stuck a hand in Kerry's back pocket, half friendly, half ushering Kerry along. “Normally, sure. Not so much after V and I rolled through. Really think I brought you out here for some scopsuckers to steal your kidneys?” 

Kerry rolled his eyes, “Just sayin, getting brought out to an abandoned part of Pacifica for a ‘surprise’ is just slightly less cliche than jumping into a van that says ‘free candy’ on it.”

“Well, it's a good thing you can trust me, isn't it?” Johnny said with a sharp grin.

“Is it too late to go back to the car?”

“Johnny! Kerry!” called out V from an overhang by an old ticket booth. 

Kerry vaguely remembered the folks with her: on one side, her previous partner-in-crime who had been too injured to keep doing mercwork plus his mystic output. On the other: V's Mox output, Judy. 

Johnny grinned, “Would you believe Kerry's suspicious of us dragging him out here? Think he's gotten too cozy living in North Oakes.”

“Fuck you, Johnny - you live there now too,” Kerry snapped though with little actual bite. “So what's this, a triple date?”

“Hm? Oh no, just wanted some extra hands making sure everything was ready. My cred would go right in the shitter if I got Kerry Eurodyne and Johnny Silverhand wiped in a freak roller coaster accident.” 

“Wait, roller coaster? You mean we're supposed to get on that rickety old thing?” Kerry glanced skeptically at the old abandoned ride behind the foursome. 

“C’mon Ker, you think I’d let Johnny bring you out here if I wasn’t abso-fuckin-lutely sure it’s safe?” V asked with a too-familiar grin. 

“No hay problema,” added her friend. “We went over this thing with a fine-toothed comb: it’ll run a hundred years if the pendejos in Barghest or Voodoos don’t blow it up.”

Judy nodded, “Even dove to check the underwater supports. It’s probably safer now than most legal coasters.” 

Johnny pulled him closer to the first car, “That’s better than when V and I rode it. C’mon, you’ll love it.” 

Kerry wasn’t actually sure about that. Just like he wasn’t sure about half of the dangerous shit Johnny and V got up to. Even by their own estimations, they had a pretty warped sense about what does or doesn't constitute a hazard. 

Before he could figure out some way to gently let V down, Johnny had already pulled him into the front row and the restraints were lowering. 

Well shit. 

“Don’t hurt that pretty chrome throat screaming now,” Johnny teased as the cart started moving. 

“I swear to fuck, Johnny, if this thing breaks down, I'm going kick your ass so hard you'll taste leather,” Kerry growled as the cart climbed. He wasn't sure if he was more annoyed that he couldn't escape now or more glad that the restraints were solid. 

Johnny, of course, just laughed. 

“Kinky.”

Which was the last thing Kerry heard before the cart went into what felt like a damned freefall. 

Kerry had forgotten how loud roller coasters were - and he was working really hard to focus on the fact that coasters were always loud in general, not that there might be something wrong with this one. The damn thing rattled, jerked, and took turns hard enough to knock you into the passenger next to you if you weren't bolted into place. 

But he had to be grateful for that last part or he never would have seen it. 

Johnny was smiling.

Not that cruel slant of lips that Kerry knew so well. Not the triumphant grin he sometimes had on stage sometimes when the crowd was really eating out of his hands. Not even that softer half-smirk Johnny permitted on occasion when he was amused enough. 

Shit, Kerry hadn't seen Johnny smile like that in… he wasn't even sure how long. Maybe not since they were a couple of gonk teens with delusions of fame and scrawling song ideas on Caliente napkins. He didn't know Johnny could still smile like that. 

Fuck, he’d forgotten how much he missed seeing Johnny looking like that. And as the cart pulled back to the loading platform, V’s face said that maybe the ride, itself, had never been the intended gift. 

Well then, well-played. 

-

Irving smirked as he put the finishing touches on his message. 

He finally had some luck in this mission: the producers of Attuned In were all sorts of pissed that Johnny and Kerry had blown them off at the airport. 

Irving actually agreed with the rockers on that one: who the fuck wants to give an interview the second they step off an intercontinental flight? Still, it gave him an opening. 

A couple wads of paper cash under the desk and his trap was set: what Kerry Eurodyne expected to be a silly little gossip interview was going to be a hostile one instead. With any luck, he'd let something damning slip. On camera, with everyone watching. 

-

Kerry sighed as he put his Rayfield in park in N54's lot. 

He mostly didn't mind interviews but the label warned him that morning that the staff seemed oddly cold in their communications. Presumably because they were pissed Kerry and Johnny had blown them off at NCX. 

He really doubted anything could be worse than having mics in his face in 2023. Assholes asking if he knew about Johnny's plan to murder thousands upon thousands of innocent people and how he “felt about that” while Kerry was still reeling over his best friend being fucking gone with a decent chunk of the city. 

He made it through that, this was nothing. He didn't care what these guys had up their sleeves.

He lit a cigarette, exited his car, and started towards the recording studio. 

No one bothered him backstage but he didn't get the normal over-the-top fawning he usually did either. Nova. Honestly, the cold shoulder was preferable than if they made like everything was fine before going for his throat on camera. 

He pasted on his best showman's smile on when Juanita Tseng called him onto the set. 

“Kerry! Great to see you again,” said Juanita with a dazzling smile and sharp eyes. “We missed you at NCX.” She added as the electric backdrop threw up a still of Johnny flipping off the camera. 

Kerry just laughed, “Yeah, Johnny's like that sometimes.”

“Honestly, it's wild to even hear about him in the present tense. Which brings me to the question everyone wants to know: how is it that you just married your dead old friend?” 

Ah, he loved when the questions were imprecise enough to toy with. “Well, you see Juanita, first you get a marriage license with your local government-”

“Har har,” she cut off. “You know what I mean. Johnny Silverhand: your old choom who everyone knows set off the bomb in the Night City Holocaust in 2023. It’s right there on your own shoulder! Yet, here he is, unexploded after being unseen for almost 55 years until the public saw a rather spicy wedding at City Hall.” 

He really hoped that the salacious photo of Johnny's tongue down his throat in the court room wasn't supposed to put him off. He hadn't seen those pics yet but they looked fucking good together. 

“Not really my story to tell and, to be perfectly honest, mind sorta wandered when Johnny explained what he's been up to since I saw him last. Really sort of a boring story.”

“Blowing up the city was ‘boring?’”

“Don't have any comment on that old can of worms. Know it was before your time but that topic’s been covered plenty by people who know way more than me.”

“Right, so on that note: what about the rumors that the man you married isn't actually Johnny Silverhand?” 

Ah, great, so his old ex wasn't alone. 

He laughed, “Ah, that'd be fuckin’ wild. Nah, he's the real deal. Anyone who knew him before will tell you the same.”

“But it's true that you own the copyright to Johnny's biometric data? You could have a whole Johnny army made if you wanted.”

“God, I don't even want to think about more than the one running around. Look, there's nothing quite so scandalous as that: Johnny got back to town a bit ago, as he does sometimes. We reconnected.” 

She shifted and sharpened her smile, “C'mon Kerry, you really expect us all to believe that the man you've clearly been hung up on since Samurai has just been on vacation all this time?” 

His smirk sharpened in reply, “Can't tell anyone what to believe, they'll always pick whatever story they like best. And, like I said, you'd have to ask Johnny about any specifics about where he's been.”

She nodded tightly, “He seems pretty quiet for a man known for his very vocal opinions.”

“Oh trust me, when he has something to say, you'll hear it.”

“Ok, fine, let's take for granted that the guy who slept with half the city's grandmothers is both stealthy and well-preserved. Any comment on rumors that he's already cheating?” 

Kerry just raised an eyebrow until the screen popped up with a video of V and Johnny stumbling out of some dive bar in Heywood together. 

He started laughing, “Ok, yeah, sure. I'm really threatened by Johnny's aggressively lesbian choom. My friend too by the way.”

“Speaking of preferences, one of our senior staff found this old gem in the archives…” 

Kerry looked over his shoulder to the screen and only years of training kept the grin on his face. 

It was an ancient clip of him and Johnny during a screaming match after a show. Both of them drunk and high in the worst ways and doing their best to make the other feel as shitty as they did. 

The last part of the clip was Johnny pushing Kerry away with an especially vicious sneer shouting, “You really think you're that special? And stop fuckin’ touching me. Wouldn't fuck you if you were the last livin’ bastard on earth!” 

Oh boy, did he remember that one. And it had been an especially aggravating fight because Johnny was the one who kept touching Kerry all night to scare off potential hookups Kerry might've landed after the gig. And, admittedly, one incident of many he thought about since they started this damned plan. 

“What can I say? Saburo biting it must've put him in a really good mood.”

His grin widened when that got a couple of stifled laughs from the crew behind the camera. 

“Kerry, come on…” sighed Juanita. 

“We were both young, dumb, and in a pretty bad place back then. Done a lot of growing up since then.” 

“Ok, so who bottoms?” 

Nice try, that sorta trick only works on people with shame.

“Oh Juanita, that's a question for someone without imagination,” he answered with a sly grin. 

“Has Louise said anything about the photos circling the net of you two in Monte Carlo? Gotta be awkward for Ted and Kim to see some of those pics of their dad…” 

He kept the smile up but sharpened his eyes. Bringing the kids into this was low, even for this sorta shit. 

“Hasn't come up but I have every faith that she keeps them well away from the seedier scop.” 

“I'm sure it's some relief to her to know you two were never going to work out since she's a she.” 

“Are we really doing that? It's 2077 and the B in LGBT is for ‘bi.’ C'mon Juanita, I expected better from you.”

Juanita dramatically rolled her eyes like he was being a killjoy. “Fine, if you insist. So, throw us a bone: how did you and Johnny meet up again?”

Ok, maybe normal questions actually were on the table unless she was gearing up for a real zinger. 

“It's not as exciting as you'd think. A mutual choom put us back in contact. Started with us catching up, talking shop, got a bit more personal, then a lot more personal… Decided we might as well give it a crack, already argued like a married couple anyway.” 

It was basically what happened. 

“Is Johnny going to be any chattier at the NC Pride Parade next week?” 

“That's up to Johnny, couldn't make him do shit before, that's still true now. And careful what you wish for: he's always had a habit of doing what you least expect.” 

“I guess we'll see next week. That's all we have time for today, looking forward to our chat next week!” 

Preem, apparently the punishment round was over unless they gave her the cold shoulder again. 

As the show lights dimmed, Juanita lit a cigarette and gestured vaguely. “Wasn't anything personal, the powers that be were deeply annoyed to miss the scoop at NCX.”

His show smile shifted to a sarcastic smirk, “And talking about my kids was supposed to endear me to another interview? We let Bes go along because she's an old friend. And she'd've kicked both our asses if we tried to stop her.”

“I don't make the rules,” she said with a shrug. “For what it's worth, you two are smokin’ hot together.”

He lit a cigarette of his own and started for the exit, “Don't need you to tell me that, damned-well knew it.”

Chapter Text

“I can’t believe I let you and V talk me into this,” Johnny sneered as he and Kerry pulled up to the spa’s building.

“Stop being so dramatic. No one is going to give a shit we’re here except my chooms” Kerry bit back from the passenger seat. “Who knows, maybe some relaxation will be good for you.” 

Johnny rolled his eyes before leering at Kerry, “Can think of better ways to relax…”

“Sounds good to me… after we finish this,” Kerry replied with an equally lecherous grin before getting out. 

Johnny sighed but followed. Truthfully, he knew this was going to be one of the less annoying things he'd have to put up with but he still wasn't looking forward to being poked and prodded by some corpo spa staff. 

But, he supposed it was his fault Kerry's interview was shit. Fair enough that he put up with whatever woo woo wellness bullshit this place had lined up. It couldn't be that bad. 

As the elevator doors opened up to their floor, even he had to admit, whoever designed the place did a decent job of giving it the illusion of being a vast bamboo garden despite being contained in a skyscraper. It smelled weird, but not in a shitty artificial way so that was already a massive upgrade over the reek of the city. 

Since Kerry was the one who was actually looking forward to this, Johnny let him take the lead. 

“Ah welcome, gentlemen, to Eaux de Saule,” said the too polished receptionist with a bow. She looked mostly ‘ganic, unlike most receptionists in modern corpo shops Johnny'd seen so far - still definitely sculpted though. Apparently this place was going for a manufactured and perfected “naturalism.” 

She continued, “I understand this is your first visit. Please let me or any of the staff know if there are specific health concerns you would like addressed during your stay.”

Kerry beamed at her with that sort of sleazy rich-guy smile he'd perfected over the years though fuck knew why he'd bother. “Thanks, looking forward to some relaxation. Oh, but Johnny here's always had a messed up back from that arm.”

Johnny rolled his eyes, “It's really not-”

The woman ignored him and jotted something down like a damned shrink, “A common problem with many of those older military models. Not to worry, we have a few techniques that help with that sort of thing.” 

Man he didn't like how vague that was. But, he felt like he owed it to Kerry to behave. For now. Whether it stayed that way greatly depended on what those “techniques” ended up being. 

“If you please follow me, there are a few hours before we begin, please feel free to change and make use of our facilities until then.”

Man, sometimes he missed having someone else in his head to bitch to. V would have some choice snark for this place and texting wasn't nearly as discreet if maybe also not as schizophrenic. 

Kerry, meanwhile, was apparently in his element. If Johnny didn't know better, he'd never have guessed that Kerry was in such a shitty place just a month or two ago. But he'd seen more than enough of Kerry's mood swings to figure out a down point was always possible. 

He still couldn't help the suspicious look he gave the fluffy fucking robe that the staff offered him. At least it was normal-sized terrycloth, nothing like that little silky number Kerry liked to lounge around in back home. 

In the interests of keeping Kerry at least partially as happy as his act, Johnny took the damned thing with minimal complaint. 

If he stared at Kerry's ass while the other rocker was getting changed well fuck, they're married. Fucking sitch has to come with some benefits. 

After Kerry finished changing into the robe and some fucking Speedo thing that barely covered anything, he gave Johnny a grin that said he knew exactly what he'd been doing. 

“C'mon, Aoi said the pool here was something special.” 

It turned out that “special” meant it was some sort of quasi-organic ‘eco pool’ meant to look like a pond or something. Except for the part where it had a railing, mood lights, and steps. The designers had clearly never seen anything more wild than a city park or private garden. 

On the bright side, it didn't reek of chlorine. And either no one else happened to be around or Us Cracks rented the whole place out. 

Johnny grinned to himself as Kerry got into the water. If the place was as deserted as it looked, he might get away with something better than some damned scented oils from this trip. 

So, he slipped into the water and pressed up against Kerry's back after the other rocker resurfaced. 

To his annoyance, Kerry immediately pulled away. 

Kerry raised a brow but at least he didn't look pissed. “Pretty sure I said that might be on the table after we finish up here.” 

Johnny just grinned and got up close again, “And I'm pretty sure you've never known me to be patient in my life. ‘Sides, no one is even here…” he finished as he dragged his hand from Kerry's hip to below the water. 

Kerry grinned but removed Johnny's hand from his ass. “C'mon Johnny, think you can wait a couple hours so we're not on a million cameras.”

Johnny cocked an eyebrow but backed off to lounge against the pool wall. “We both know you don't give a shit about the cameras. But fine, have it your way.”

He wasn't sure if he was amused or annoyed by Kerry's barely-veiled confusion. Both, probably. 

Bastard had gotten too used to their current situation. Time once was that Kerry'd jump whenever Johnny offered him so much as a crumb. Not that Johnny was planning on stringing him along again but Kerry believed way too much in his own stardom if he thought the tables had turned and Johnny was going to be the one tripping over himself for scraps. 

So, Johnny lifted himself out of the pool, grabbed a glass of water from a tray the place had out by the poolside and dropped onto a lounger while Kerry did his laps or whatever. 

He stopped himself before taking a sip because it definitely wasn't just water in there - some sort of herbal floral bullshit going by the smell. He sat it aside with a scowl. 

This was going to be a long day…

-

Kerry eyed Johnny suspiciously from across the sauna. 

So far, Johnny was behaving - he hadn't run off to fuck some staffer over a massage table or anything. No flipped tables, no arson. But he was definitely annoyed, whether because Kerry told him to hold off, because he didn't want to be here, or because of the phase of the fucking moon, who knew. 

The part of his brain that always wanted to cave to Johnny's whims was eager to go belly up for him but Kerry had some self-respect these days. He wasn't going to bend over backwards to appease Johnny  just because he was getting a bit bratty. Kerry had lived with years of rejection from Johnny - Johnny would survive a few hours. 

But damned if he didn't want Johnny to get whatever revenge he was undoubtedly planning over with. 

“You look tense.”

Kerry startled when Johnny suddenly sat down next to him and slung an arm around his shoulders. A very warm arm. 

“Jesus, you sure that temp moderating chip they gave you is working? Don’t think I’ve ever felt chrome that warm,” Kerry asked skeptically. He didn’t move it though, it actually felt nice like that, if maybe a bit concerning. 

Johnny shrugged, “The UI says it’s working and I don’t feel like I need to rip my arm off. Probably the warmest it’s ever been though.” He grinned as he dragged the chrome fingers down Kerry’s back. 

Shit, that actually felt nice. Definitely strange but kind of relaxing too. 

“Bet it'd be good somewhere else too,” Johnny murmured in his ear as his fingers toyed with the top of Kerry's towel. 

Kerry hummed. The idea had appeal but, dammit, Johnny wasn't getting his way just because he was persistent. “Soon enough, then you can try whatever depraved shit you're thinkin’ of.”

Johnny grunted and leaned back but kept his hand between the top of the towel and Kerry's skin. “Tryin’ to prove some point, Ker?”

“God no, not with the king of pyrrhic victories. Just don't know why you're suddenly set on fooling around here specifically.” 

Johnny scowled at that and backed off, Kerry wasn't sure how his back felt so much colder for Johnny's absence in a damned sauna. 

“Not ‘set on’ anything,” Johnny said too casually. Yeah right, he was mad now. “Just didn't expect you to suddenly take a vow of chastity without tellin’ me.”

“Look J, know this ain't your thing. Just askin’ ya to bear with it a bit longer,” Kerry said in what he hoped was a mollifying tone. Granted, there was a non-zero chance that'd only make Johnny worse. 

Johnny shrugged like he didn't care. So he absolutely did but things weren't critical yet. Which was good because it's not like Kerry wasn't interested, he just wanted to make it home first. Admittedly, the more obvious Johnny made his interest, the harder it was to remember why it mattered. 

Just a couple more hours… 

-

Johnny eyed the goop covering Kerry's face skeptically. 

He didn't have a clue how putting mystery gunk and cucumber slices on your face was supposed to do anything but make you look like a fool. But hey, Kerry was happy and all it took was one hard look from Johnny to convince the staff that he really could skip this particular one. 

And since Kerry was already laying there with cucumber eyes, he was none the wiser. 

“Told ya this wouldn't be so bad,” Kerry said with a relaxed grin. “Kicking back ain't so bad every once in a while, is it?”

Johnny grinned and leaned back in his chair as he scrolled on his holo, “Sure, just think it's more your thing than mine.”

He hadn't considered it before today but a lot of spa shit really left you vulnerable. He had no idea how so many bloodsucking corpos actually managed to relax doing shit like this with all the backstabbing they got up to. Seriously, anyone could come in here with a weapon right now and Johnny'd be the only reason they wouldn't get away with shit. 

On the other hand, it gave him all sorts of ideas about stuff he could do near Kerry without him having a clue. Tempting. Very tempting. 

Almost like Kerry heard that thought, he started gesticulating vaguely. “I know, you think this is a fuckin’ waste of time. But, dammit Johnny, you weren't there. Was fucking grueling getting to where I am now. Fuckin’ earned this.”

That one stung. Maybe more so because he couldn't even tell Kerry that he was sorry he hadn't been there. If he'd survived the bombing in 2023, it'd have been something else. And he'd have dragged Kerry, Rogue, and anyone else who gave him the time of day as far down as he could so long as he breathed. 

Maybe Kerry wouldn't have even made it at all if Johnny had been there. He’d been more of an albatross on Kerry's neck than any kind of friend for years by then. 

“... Wish I'd been able to see it,” he finally said once he realized that the silence had become more awkward than comfortable. And it was true in more ways than one: he wished he'd been there for him but he also wished he'd really seen Kerry at the end beyond his own blind fucking machinations. 

He'd wasted so much fucking time. And without V being an insane little genius and freakishly lucky, he'd never have had this new chance. 

But it'd still been the wrong thing to say because Kerry sat up and removed the cucumbers with a concerned look on his face only for it to shift to a glare at Johnny's unmucked face. 

“Really?” 

-

Kerry closed his eyes and smiled contentedly as the spa therapist worked in the salt scrub on his back. 

Johnny had been less than enthusiastic about the mani-pedi thing but he was behaving for this part. At least enough that Kerry didn't feel like he had to watch Johnny. 

Granted, Johnny's back was cut like marble so who could really blame him for watching the show? And, as good as it looked, it was going to feel even better under Kerry’s hands after they were done. 

Once the scrub was over, the last thing was the massage. 

Kerry's guy was a short unassuming man but the severe blonde chick who approached Johnny's table looked more like a damned boxer than a masseuse. 

Johnny put on his cruel smirk, shamelessly ogling the poor chick, “Shit, do I need to pick a safe word?”

Not that she seemed perturbed, more amused if anything. “If that makes you feel more comfortable, feel free. Some mild discomfort is typical for a deep tissue massage, especially if you've never had one before. But please let me know if it's too much for you.”

Johnny's smirk spread into a mean grin, “Don't think that's a problem, sweetheart. Do your worst.”

Kerry rolled his eyes and stretched out on his own table. 

He hummed happily as he felt the therapist's warm hands starting to work his shoulders. 

“Jesus fuckin-” Johnny's gasp cut through the soft background music. 

“Too hard, sir?” asked the blonde, sternly though not unpleasantly. 

“Is this a massage or a torture session?” Johnny snapped. 

“As I said, deep tissue massages require a certain amount of pressure to treat the various muscle layers. However, if it's too painful, let me know: we don't want you tensing up more.”

Johnny huffed and Kerry heard him settling back down. “Fine, do whatever…”

“Very good sir, please take a deep breath for me… and exhale slowly.” 

Kerry was the one who stiffened next when Johnny's exhale turned into a low groan. 

“Seems like that level of pressure is better?”

“S'fine,” grunted Johnny, actually sounding a bit embarrassed. 

Kerry took a moment to relax himself and tried focusing on his own, much gentler, massage when he heard Johnny's breath hitch before a loud but muffled moan. 

The fuck was going on over there? 

Kerry shifted his head to face Johnny's table to see Johnny biting on his wrist and eyes clenched shut. 

The blonde had an elbow in his back somewhere around his shoulder blades so it only sounded like porn. Which was weird in itself because Johnny usually wasn't all that vocal during sex aside from some dirty talk. 

The chick must have rubbed something right while Kerry was watching because Johnny suddenly gasped loudly - seemingly against his will - before biting his wrist harder. 

Kerry swallowed and shifted to relieve some of the growing pressure on his increasingly interested cock. 

Watching probably wasn't the best idea but he just couldn't let go of those little helpless moans and gasps that were so fucking unlike Johnny. This flustered and blushing side that he didn't even know existed before ten seconds ago was definitely doing something for him and looking away would do fuck all to alleviate the situation. Might as well enjoy the show. 

“Fuckin-” Johnny whined, trying to cover up another moan with profanity and just sounded even more taken apart for the effort. Dammit, now he was panting, almost looking pained. 

Kerry was going to ask this chick for tips later. God as his fucking witness, Kerry needed Johnny writhing and moaning under his touch like that if it was the last damned thing he ever did on this planet. 

By the time it was over, he realized that he barely even noticed his own massage, his dick was hard enough to knock someone out, and there was a sizable wet spot from where he'd been leaking on the table. If he'd ground against the table a couple times, he'd never admit to it. 

But Johnny… Fuck, Johnny looked wrecked. 

He had no bite left at all when the blonde gave her farewells at the end of the session. Just laying there, cheeks flushed like a damned virgin and panting. 

And Kerry… Kerry was fucking done with the idea of waiting. There wasn't enough willpower in the cosmos to get him to just walk away from Johnny looking like that. 

He jumped to his feet and strode towards the door, immediately locking the thing before going over to Johnny's table. 

“Ker?” Johnny croaked weakly as he raised his head from the table. 

“Stay right fucking there,” he growled, pushing down between Johnny's shoulders as he ripped off the blanket covering the prone man. 

For once in his life, Johnny listened to him. 

Johnny's back had a slight sheen to it from the massage oil but that wasn't Kerry's target right now. 

He dragged his hands down Johnny's bare back as Kerry settled between his legs. Johnny stiffened slightly as he felt Kerry spread his cheeks. 

“Kerry, wha- fuckin’ Christ!” Johnny bit out and shuddered as Kerry started licking the tight muscle there. 

The longer Kerry worked him with his tongue, the more those fucking delectable noises started to surface again. 

Including, Kerry realized with a frown, that they sounded muffled again. He paused and looked up at Johnny who was back to biting his wrist. 

“Nah” he growled, grabbing the poor abused ‘ganic arm away from Johnny's face. “Wanna fucking hear you like this.” 

Johnny quietly whimpered at that but nodded. 

Still, it occurred to Kerry that this was new for their little arrangement. 

“You alright Johnny? Don't want to do this if you're not into it.” 

Johnny just panted quietly for a moment before nodding. “Don’ fucking stop,” he barely whispered, his voice harsh from abuse. 

Kerry groaned and got back to it, relishing how Johnny's body was slowly starting to relax under him. 

When the tip of his tongue gently tested probing past that ring of muscle, Johnny let out a broken moan that might have had Kerry's name in it somewhere. It certainly wasn't a request to stop so Kerry just pushed more firmly until he was fully fucking Johnny with his tongue. 

“Ker- Jesus- fuckin’... S'too much,” came Johnny's ragged voice from somewhere above his head. 

“You can take it,” Kerry murmured against his skin before bringing his tongue back to that entrance that was now much more relaxed than at the start. 

Johnny gasped and fisted the white sheets covering the table as Kerry worked, absently rocking his hips to meet the other guitarist's touch. 

When Kerry added a massage oil-slicked finger alongside his tongue, Johnny's whine cracked just ever so slightly but still obvious in the quiet room. 

“Fuck, Johnny, you're doing so well for me,” he groaned as a second oiled finger replaced his tongue. 

Johnny's only reply was a barely-there curse that pitched into a sob as Kerry started stroking that oh-so important spot inside. 

Kerry looked up to check on Johnny as he worked him open and found himself praying that there actually were cameras in this room. 

Johnny was a fucking mess. Sweat plastering hair to his face and neck, cyberarm clutching the table edge hard enough to dent the frame, eyes blown wide and bordering on vacant… 

“Fuck, Johnny… When's the last time someone did this for you?” Kerry groaned, not really expecting an answer. 

Johnny looked back with hazy eyes and shook his head so slightly that Kerry almost missed it. 

“Didn't,” he murmured quietly, barely more than a whisper. 

“Oh fuckin’ Christ,” moaned Kerry as he bowed his neck to kiss between Johnny's shoulders. “If you want me to stop-”

“I'll break your fuckin’ arm if you stop,” Johnny growled in a tone that might have sounded intimidating if it weren't so much more desperate. 

Well Kerry wasn't going to be the one to tell a first time bottom what he was and wasn't allowed to want. He did take care to slow down his prep work though as he kissed and licked Johnny's neck and jaw from behind. 

“Look fucking amazing like this Johnny,” he murmured into Johnny's skin. “Can't get enough of it. Gonna take such good care of you.”

Johnny bit back a groan as he tried to hide his face in his arm, already overwhelmed. Kerry couldn't wait to see him on his cock. 

Eventually he started rocking back into Kerry's hands like he couldn't help it, like he was impatient with the slow pace. 

Frankly, Kerry's patience was at its limit too and Johnny seemed well-prepped by now. 

He gently pulled out his fingers and tapped Johnny's hip. “C'mon, flip over. Want to see you.”

Johnny grunted before allowing Kerry to help him flip over, looking away as Kerry grabbed more of the oil to slick up his length. 

Kerry leaned forward to force Johnny to look at him. “You still up for this? Got time to back out.”

Johnny narrowed his eyes in challenge though the effect was diminished by the glassy effect and the flush on his face, “Get moving before I make you.”

Kerry grinned as he lined his cock up at Johnny's entrance, “Ok, keep breathing for me.”

“If anyone else fuckin’ gripes about my breathing, I'll- motherfucking hell,” groaned Johnny as Kerry started pushing in slowly, carefully watching Johnny's face. 

As he worked his way in, Kerry leaned down and kissed up and down Johnny's jaw. “Feel so fuckin’ amazing, Johnny. Goddamned best I've ever had. Just keep breathing for me.”

Johnny made some sort of noise of acknowledgment but still had the sheets in a white-knuckle grip. Kerry was glad that chrome one was still just clutching sheets too - he wasn't keen on ending up like that bent frame by Johnny's head. 

Eventually, after Kerry bottomed out, Johnny took in a slow breath and released it before cracking open his eyes. 

“Plan on movin’ or should I start charging rent?” 

Kerry grinned and leaned down to quickly kiss Johnny. “Fuckin’ brat,” he said before rolling his hips. 

Johnny moaned and grabbed Kerry to pull him back in for a clumsy kiss that ended up being more shared breathing than anything else. 

“Oh fuck,” groaned Johnny when Kerry brushed against something that made him see stars. 

The other rocker noticed the reaction and repeated the movement as he pulled one of Johnny's legs up over his shoulder, smirking as Johnny moaned loudly, helplessly, and ground back against him. 

Kerry kept his pace slow but steady and deep. Even after that hours-long audio tease, he wasn't in any rush to finish this as long as Johnny kept making those glorious fucking sounds. 

“Fuck Johnny, so fucking perfect. Taking me so damned well.”

Johnny tried and failed to bite back a whine as his legs started trembling. 

“Doin’ so good, Johnny. Just a bit longer,” Kerry rasped into Johnny's neck. Almost said a couple things he was sure would make Johnny run for the hills so he shifted his focus to keeping a steady pace as his praise devolved into quiet sweet nothings whispered against Johnny's skin. Plausible deniability for both of them. 

Johnny's hands started to dig into his back hard enough that he was sure he'd have marks but the thought of a bruise in the shape of Johnny's chrome hand just spurred him on. 

As he felt his control slipping, Kerry leaned back to watch Johnny's face and reached down to start stroking his leaking cock. 

“Fuck- Ker,” Johnny tossed his head to the side and groaned loudly as he bucked into Kerry's touch. 

Johnny had always been one of the best-looking men Kerry had ever seen and he was sure he'd never looked half as good as this before. Hell, he'd never seen Johnny this far gone before: ego and biting sarcasm stripped away to something flushed, vulnerable, and raw. Teen Kerry would've busted a nut just at this image alone, nothing he'd ever allowed himself to fantasize even came close. 

He was trying hard not to read into it that Johnny hadn't let anyone do this to him before. That, for all his experience, only Kerry had seen this Johnny. That Johnny trusted him enough to allow it. 

He shook his head and refocused. That shit could wait but he promised Johnny he'd take care of him - that needed to come first if he wanted to deserve that trust. 

“Doing so good Johnny,” he murmured. “I've got you. C'mon, let me see you come apart.”

A strong shudder tore through Johnny as he suddenly came on Kerry's hand with a stuttered gasp. His muscles gripped around Kerry so tightly that he finished inside Johnny almost immediately after with a bitten-off curse. 

Kerry caught himself on his forearm before he collapsed as the two worked to catch their breath. 

He kissed Johnny's neck as he panted and his free hand stroked along Johnny's side. If that smeared some cum on Johnny, they were both a mess anyway. 

“Alright there Johnny?” He asked, pulling back to look him in the eyes. 

Johnny's gaze was still a bit unfocused but he nodded. “Yeah,” and took several steadying breaths before adding, “and here I thought this wasn't a ‘happy ending’ kinda place.” 

Kerry laughed softly and pulled away to grab a towel from one of the tables. 

Johnny grunted as Kerry started wiping up the mess. 

“Don't need anyone babying me,” he grumbled, trying to wave Kerry off. 

“Oh shush, let me do this for you ya bastard.” 

Johnny couldn't have been too broken up about the aftercare though because he allowed it, if with some eye rolling and long-suffering sighs. 

Honestly, Kerry would've been more worried if he didn't go right back to bravado and posturing. It meant they were still ok. 

Fuck, maybe even better than ok. 

-

Irving shifted in his now far too tight pants as he unjacked from the spa's network. 

That was… very different from the previous times those two had gone at it and not just because of who was on top this time. 

Dammit, you don't fuck a friend like that. Irving was pretty sure you couldn't really call what just happened a “fuck” at all. 

He actually felt a bit guilty even about having watched it. 

He looked over to Mike who bribed his way along for the ride with some ‘ganic pad Thai. 

“I think…” Irving started, “I think I'm going to have to reconsider my approach to this mission.”

Mike nodded, also looking a bit uncomfortable with the unexpected voyeurism. 

“Told ya, Irv. Those two are way into each other.” 

That nickname was outright normal, Mike clearly was a bit more rattled than he looked. 

Irving nodded in agreement, “It seems that way. I think I need to call in some favors.” 

At this point, he had to call a spade a spade. Now the plan called for trying to drive a wedge between the two. 

And however into to the other they were, or however much they seemed to care: neither rockerboy was known for their fidelity. Or their forgiveness.

Chapter Text

Johnny groaned as the racket from his phone finally compelled him to stir in Kerry's ridiculously comfortable bed. 

Fucking thing. Shouldn't have let V talk him into keeping the notifications on, it was only a matter of time before his number leaked. 

He grabbed the damned device out of his discarded pants ready to murder whoever was calling and texting at this hour. 

Then he saw his messages and wished it actually had been some fucking media vulture or psychofan. 

“Ah, fucking hell,” he groaned running his hand over his jaw before he started searching for his scattered clothes. “Of all the motherfucking-”

“Johnny? It's four in the morning, the fuck are you doing?” Kerry asked blearily from the bed. 

Johnny sighed and kept looking for wherever his other boot ended up. “Go back to bed, Ker.” 

Kerry narrowed his eyes, “Nah, we had plans, remember? Said you'd go with me to that fucking midmorning show later.”

Johnny shook his head and leaned over the table to retrieve the boot that had landed behind it. “Plans change.” 

“You fucking bastard. You can't just-”

“Judy just walked out on V.” 

Kerry blinked. “Like… a fight or?”

Johnny sighed and shrugged his shirt on. “Like gone. They've been on the rocks for a bit: Judy wanted to leave NC, V didn't. Jackie says Judy crossed the border during the night. Without V. And now…” he added as he shimmied into his leather pants, “V's gone missing. Jackie can't find her at any of their usual spots… Won't answer her phone...”

Kerry sat up straight at that, “Shit, Johnny, people don't just go missing in NC.” 

Johnny sat back on the bed while he forced the boots on, “S'fine, think I know where she went. You should go back to sleep.” 

“Nah, fuck that, I'm coming with,” Kerry grumbled as he got up to find a new set of clothes - easier than tracking down where last night's set was thrown. 

“You have your thing, I got this.”

“Fuck ‘em, I'll tell them it was a family emergency,” he replied as he found his ‘incognito’ hoodie and threw it on top. 

Johnny paced before crossing his arms. “If I'm right about where she is, it's not going to be pretty.” 

“Fuck you, Johnny. I'm not a merc but I fucking grew up here. A bit of filth and blood aren't gonna shock me.” 

Johnny shrugged but started towards the front door. “If I'm right, it's going to be a lot more than a bit of blood.”

-

Johnny drove them to a seemingly random building in Japantown. Kerry might live in North Oak now, but he remembered living in the city well enough that he could see all the markers of Tyger Claws everywhere he looked. 

“Well, there it is,” Johnny sighed, putting it in park. 

“What is this place?” 

Johnny started checking the ammo in his gun, “Before they started dating, Judy asked for V's help in ‘liberating’ a dollhouse from the Tyger Claws. Kind of like a second coming of the Mox except fucking half-baked. Was made up of V, Judy, two dolls with their chips modified to use combat programming, and a cunt ex of Judy's who wanted to be top bitch. Went about as well as you'd expect. This place has the Claws bosses who oversaw ending that little revolution.”

Kerry nodded, “So we're here now because?” 

“Judy was done with Night City when her little liberation movement failed. Stayed for V, at least until now. The state she's in? V's gonna put the blame on these sorry fuckers. And that disembodied arm laying in the doorway says she's already here.” Johnny reached for the handle but paused to look at Kerry. “You should probably stay here. If she's on a warpath, V will have killed everyone she saw but that doesn't make it safe, especially not if reinforcements are coming.” 

“Fuck off Johnny, I'm going with you,” Kerry said waving him off. “Let's get moving.” 

“Fine, don't want to hear it if shit gets ugly though. Lemme text Jackie, let him know we found her.”

“Our backup?” 

Johnny scoffed as he put his holo away, “A disabled merc turned apprentice bar cook, a mystic, a rock star, and an ex-dead guy. Real fuckin’ preem strike force. Just stay the fuck down if I tell you to.”

They both paused at the entryway as this took in the scene. 

Johnny wasn't kidding: the place was a fucking mess inside. If Kerry didn't know better, he'd have thought a whole team of cyberpsychos tore through the joint. 

Following the trail of bodies took them through what looked to be a gambling den before V turned it into a slaughterhouse, up in an elevator that wouldn't be out of place in a Kubrick movie, and into a penthouse with a preem view that probably looked gorgeous until its ebony and gold accents were repainted with blood and entrails. 

V was out on the balcony with her sword by her side as she leaned on the railing with a cigarette. Kerry winced when he saw her. 

As long as he’d known her, he could always tell she had at least once been a corpo: always immaculate. Fashionably dressed, impeccable hair, makeup job that wouldn’t be out of place in a corpo ad. 

A far cry from her state now. Her shirt was torn and bloodied and she had all sorts of bloody clots and viscera in her hair. The smudged mascara running in streaks down her face lent some degree of normalcy to her post-breakup look. 

Johnny motioned for Kerry to stay back as he joined her and lit his own smoke. 

The two looked out over the view for a while before V spoke. 

“I should've found and cleared this place out as soon as she mentioned wanting to shake things up at Clouds. I should've-” she stopped, grimaced, and leaned her face on her forearms. 

“You know what the worst part is? She left because this city is run by a bunch of murdering shitheads and that’s exactly how I’ve fixed every fucking problem I’ve ever had.” 

“Bullshit V, even when you were with ’Saka, you never flatlined a doll for wanting to unionize. You're not what's wrong with Night City.”

“I kill people for a living, Johnny. I'm literally one of those assholes people cross the street to avoid.” 

“Most people are morons. Look, Judy was always looking for someone to save: the dolls, Evelyn, you. She left because she finally figured out you don’t need saving. You were never gonna hang up your guns and realize you actually wanted a white picket fence and PTA meetings.”

V didn't answer immediately, just kept smoking until her cigarette ran out. 

She dropped the spent cig and didn't light another. 

“Guess I just thought anyone who'd put up with the Relic sitch had to actually want me, y'know?” V said finally, her voice cracking at the end. 

Fuck if that noise didn't make him want to call Judy and tear her a new one. Maybe shoot out her stupid van's tires. 

He was usually glad at any sign that he hadn't overwritten V but a part of him wished getting dumped rolled off her just a bit more. That she didn't give as much of a damn as she did. Then again, if she cared less, he'd probably still be dead. 

Johnny turned back when he heard the elevator open again to reveal Jackie and Misty. 

“Don't know about that. But I do know you've got two geriatric rockers, a gonk from Heywood, and a spooky chick I'm pretty sure is possessed by a probability AI. Gotta count for something.” 

V smiled and tried to laugh. It came out closer to a sob.

“V! Carajo, been lookin’ all over for you!” Jackie yelled before pulling V into a tight hug. 

“‘M sorry Jack,” V sobbed into Jackie's shoulder. 

Misty walked up and started stroking V's shaking back, “Oh sweetie, we were just worried about you. Come on, let's get you out of here.”

-

After stopping at V's long enough to make her look like she didn't step out of a slasher movie, the motley group ended up in some dive bar in Heywood. The choice made way more sense to Kerry once he saw the lady who owns the joint fawning over V like she was a kid who scraped her knee and not a hired gun who had her heart broken. 

While the woman he'd soon learn was Mama Welles fussed over V, Johnny and Jackie went upstairs to annex a section for the crew. He was pretty sure neither one asked. 

They ended up in a booth with Kerry and Misty on one side, V sandwiched between Jackie and Johnny on the other, and a frankly ridiculous amount of food and booze on the table between. 

Kerry was approached for an autograph exactly once and it didn't last long because Mama Welles immediately started tearing into the sorry bastard in rapid Spanish that laughed at his Kiroshi's auto-translate software. 

Jackie threw on some mindless feel-good movie channel on the booth's TV after their third bottle of tequila and all around disgust with the local news. 

It was just there as background noise but Kerry was making an effort not to pay attention once he noticed the movie was about a pair faking a relationship while actually falling in love. He wasn't under any illusions anymore about how he felt towards Johnny, how he always felt, but he was too damned old to play that game. Frankly, what they had now was already way more than he ever dared to hope for. 

At least Johnny was too busy keeping V distracted with increasingly outlandish bullshit stories to notice the TV or Kerry's discomfort. 

“Fuck you Johnny, that was your cigarette that lit up Denny's hair.”

“Bullshit, I watched you throw it. I get enough blame without picking up your tab,” Johnny gesticulated dramatically, well drunk by now. 

“You got blamed because it was always your fuckin’ plotting that caused shit,” laughed Kerry before downing another shot. 

“Right, so how long did it take for Denny to get the concrete out of her pool?”

“How was I supposed to know he'd do that? Only thing we could ever get Henry to do after that accident was play. Anything else, just kinda point him in a general direction and hope for the best.”

V piped up, “Have you guys seen anyone besides Nancy?”

Kerry sighed, “Henry's back in rehab but, even if he wasn't, probably not a great plan to give him a mindfuck like that. We're actually supposed to see Denny at the Pride Parade next week, her group is in the lineup.”

“‘M just glad you stole her fucking bat. Really don't need her knockin’ my fucking head in,” Johnny slurred with a laugh. 

Kerry subtly dismissed another pissed off message from Kovachek as he watched V add more dulce de leche and chocolate syrup to the ice cream Mama Welles procured from somewhere. 

Honestly, he felt bad for V but it was nice to have something worth blowing off work for again.

Chapter Text

Johnny frowned to himself as he watched the clock from his spot on the couch. He should probably get Kerry up soon, they actually had to be at the Pride Parade relatively early. Part of why Johnny hadn't even bothered going back to sleep after a nightmare and focused on trying out a couple of riffs that'd been bouncing around in his head. Admittedly, not the only thing buzzing through his mind.

Only 15 days left. Halfway through. Where the hell had the time gone? 

He should be thrilled to see the back of this whole thing. It's not like they're really a couple, or at least not like that. They spurred each other on, they made music that'd just about make you lose your mind and rattle the paint off the wall. And sure, they were fucking now. But neither of them were about romantic bullshit. Neither of them did the committed relationship thing – he was still stunned that Kerry had managed a first marriage at all. He was far less surprised that it’d ended poorly: most of Kerry's longer relationships did. Not that Johnny was any better on that particular count. 

All the more reason not to tempt fate when things were going well. 

That kind of shit wasn't for people like them. But at least Kerry finally seemed convinced that Johnny wasn't just trying to mess with his head. If every other part of their plan went to shit, he was glad to have his best friend back. He could manage without the rest. 

So maybe he'd move back in with V when Kerry eventually got fed up with him being around all the time. But it's not like they'd need to change much in the current sitch: ideas were flowing, Johnny's rougher edges had finally been beaten down enough that he usually didn't feel the need to pick fights just because conversations weren't going how he wanted, and Kerry was every bit as eager for sex in 2077 as Johnny remembered back in the day. 

His next chord was just a bit off as he remembered that little incident at the spa. 

They hadn't talked about it or repeated it and damn, he wasn't really sure how to get Kerry worked up quite like that again. 

If it'd been literally anyone else who'd tried that shit, he'd have jawed them the second they tried to push him back down on the table. But he knew Kerry. Trusted him. Knew that Kerry knew what he was doing. And, really, it just made perfect sense that Kerry would be fucking phenomenal at it - he definitely put the practice hours in. 

And fuck, Kerry had been so hot for him right then… 

Johnny was used to just doing or taking what he wanted during sex, and it's not like his partners complained - at least not about that part. He was a bit less sure how to get something passively without the sheer fucking torture of admitting out loud that just thinking about Kerry in control made him hard as hell. That it scratched an itch he didn't even know he had. 

An itch he didn’t used to have. 

After Mikoshi, it could be a little hard discerning what behavior was actually always his and what came from V. Johnny'd always liked pissing off his outputs: angry sex had been some of the best he ever had. 

He did know that he hadn't liked being the one pushed around or down - all that submissive stuff had to be V's shit. But there wasn't much point in fighting it now: their psyches were already as separated as they were gonna get and he'd make himself nuts if he fought everything that was bleedover from V. Besides, it felt too good for him to really bother trying. 

Depending on Kerry's mood when he woke up, maybe they'd have time… 

Plan forming as he hung up the guitar and started up the stairs, he grinned when he saw Kerry was already awake: sitting at the edge of the mattress and checking his holo. 

He slid behind Kerry and gently nipped his neck as he pressed his right hand against Kerry's chest and the chrome one pulled him back. 

He hadn't banked on Kerry pulling away and shoving Johnny back on the mattress. 

“What the hell, Ker?” 

“Which of you did it?” Kerry snapped. 

Johnny blinked quizzically, racking his brain for anything he may have done to annoy Kerry lately. 

The confusion must have looked genuine because Kerry sighed, shook his head, and muttered, “So it was V then…”

Johnny propped himself up leaning back on his elbows. If Kerry was this keyed up, and Johnny wasn't actually at fault for once, maybe he could still get what he wanted if he played his cards right. 

“Gonna share with the class?” he asked, subtly spreading his legs. 

Kerry narrowed his eyes. “Just got a text from the label. Seems Juanita won't make it to the Parade today. Apparently her producer lost his damned mind and drove his car into the fucking Totentaz.”

Ah, right. V mentioned that there'd be revenge for that one interview. Granted, Johnny had agreed wholeheartedly with her when she showed him some hacked messages showing that Arasaka had passed the producer a bribe. She was generally pretty good about keeping that shit untraceable. Still, people were going to connect dots when assholes kept having “accidents” after screwing with them. 

And Kerry didn't need to know the shit he and V got up to. It'd be safer if he didn't. 

Now, if he could just strike a balance between keeping Kerry fired up but not actually mad at Johnny…

“I hope you don't expect me to feel bad for the fucker?” 

Kerry glared and leaned over Johnny, like he planned to interrogate him. “You two can't keep flatlining everyone who pisses you off!” 

Just where he hoped Kerry'd move. He dropped down onto his back to get Kerry to crowd in just a bit closer. 

Kerry's eyes narrowed as Johnny just smirked more. 

“The fuck are you playing at, Johnny?” Kerry growled, shoving Johnny's shoulder hard against the mattress. 

Preem. Now, if he could bait Kerry just a bit more so he wouldn't actually have to ask for it… 

“C'mon Ker… Even if it was me, what are you going to do about it?” He taunted, exposing his neck just a bit more. A slight shift of his hips brushing against Kerry's legs and a tug down on his belt loops with his chrome hand. 

He thought it was working when Kerry narrowed his eyes but then Kerry just sighed and sat back on his heels. “Johnny, what the fuck are you doing? You tryin’ to piss me off?” 

Shit, he really underestimated how much work was involved in laying there and taking it. Who would've guessed. Maybe a more direct approach?

“I'm trying to get laid before we go,” he said with an exaggerated roll of his eyes before trying to pull Kerry back down. 

Kerry followed most of the way but stopped slightly over the splayed out rockerboy. “So why not just-” Kerry froze and seemed to be doing some sort of mental calculus before a grin slowly crept onto his face. 

Ah fuck, the last thing he needed was for Kerry to be a prick about this. He tried to pull Kerry in for that kiss again when the other guitarist suddenly pushed down both his wrists, looking absolutely smug about it. 

“Trying to manipulate me, Johnny? Why not just say what you really want?” Kerry asked with a grin. Fuck, this was what Johnny was hoping to avoid. Like hell he was going to beg for it. 

At least, not at this stage. 

“Fuck you, Kerry. You know exactly what I want,” he grunted, making a token show of struggling. So close - come on asshole, just a bit more. 

“I got a couple ideas…” Kerry purred with a sleazy grin. “Why not give me some clarity before I choose the wrong one on purpose?” 

Shit. 

His two choices fell on opposite ends of the spectrum but both unpleasant in their own way: cockblock himself or admit that he wanted Kerry to hold him down like a little bitch and rail him until he couldn't think. 

Theoretically, two choices but there was only one he could stomach. 

“Really gettin’ off on the idea of making me say it? Fine, let's get ready to go,” Johnny bit out as he shoved Kerry to the side. 

He definitely wasn't going to ask Kerry to do what he was thinking out loud. Which he knew was sort of bullshit: Kerry wasn't psychic and Johnny wouldn't have done it without being asked to in his place. But his ego could only take so much as it was. 

-

Johnny wasn't sure why he was so surprised by how much more corporate the Pride Parade had become in the past 54 years. 

It'd already been pretty bad before he died and, like everything else, the corps had sunk in their claws just a bit more since 2023. At least the two managed to negotiate having their setup outside The Grand Illusion: because of course Kerry kept their old club alive. 

Better yet: the crowd more than made up for the parade of soulless rainbow corporate logos and floats. Their joy was infectious and even Johnny had a hard time stewing over the corporate presence when surrounded by their energy. 

Even V ditched her usual “I'm definitely not a corpo” suit and pumps getup for a sequined rainbow mini dress and sparkling platform boots. Got Johnny to hold still for some black eyeliner and nail polish before they got out of the car too. 

But Kerry, he was fucking electric. 

Jeans that looked almost painted on, a net shirt that left nothing to the imagination - including some bruises and bite marks from last night - and about 10 more pounds of makeup and glitter than usual. But Ker would've still looked fantastic in burlap with the way he radiated charisma. He got the crowd to hang on his every word like they had the secrets to salvation woven into every syllable. 

It had always been one of their core immutable differences: Kerry drank up fame like a dying man. For Johnny, the crowd had always been a means to an end – people he could leverage to enact change. Or so he thought back then anyway. Obviously, it hadn't really worked out like he'd hoped. 

He really didn't change his stance that much — he had something to say and music was how he was going to say it — but he never should have let it become a wedge between them. Even if he was pissed by how resistant society was to change, it wouldn't have killed him to be happy for Kerry. Had he really let himself get so fucking angry and bitter back then that he couldn't manage even that for one of the few people he actually gave a damned about? 

And no, even Johnny didn’t need someone else to answer that one for him. 

He glanced up when he heard V's voice on coms - because she fucking insisted on treating this like a gig even though the label hired security. Not that he minded, if just so she'd stop dwelling about Judy. 

“Got your media from N54 incoming. Looks like they sent some intern - scared shitless. I might've overreacted with that producer a lil…” 

“Ya think, V?” he muttered quietly to avoid being overheard, not that there was much risk in this crowd. 

He spotted the media approaching not long after V's warning. She was right: poor kid looked ashen under all that glitter and the nonbinary flag facepaint. 

Kerry shot Johnny a sharp look when he noticed them too. “Be nice, Johnny…”

“For fuck's sake, kid hasn't even done anything yet. Why would I start shit?” hissed back Johnny. 

You didn't need Kiroshi's to see that the kid was shaking like a leaf. He wasn’t about to torment some terrified intern sent out as a sacrificial lamb.  

“M-Mr. Silverhand-Eurodyne?” the reporter just about squeaked. 

“Just Johnny’s fine. Relax, I don't bite. Unless you're into that,” he replied with a grin that turned into a laugh after Kerry elbowed him in the ribs. 

“R-right,” the reporter answered. “I-I'll s-start-”

“Kid. C'mon, breath. Unless you're on the ’Saka payroll, don't have any problems with you.”

They took a deep breath and nodded before setting up the camera. Damn, the studio didn't even give the kid a camera crew. “Sorry, it's just. I'm kinda in shock about doing this. Been a fan since I was a little kid. Oh, right, I'm Quinn, stepping in for Juanita Tseng today.”

If Johnny's smile softened just a hair when he learned they sent someone who actually had an interest in his music, he'd never admit to it. It was probably meant to butter him up. But being obvious didn't make it a bad idea: he'd always been a vain bastard. “A fan, huh? Got a favorite?” 

Quinn smiled nervously, “I don't know how you really pick just one. Never Fade Away is the classic but SINS Of Your Brothers changed so much about how the world looks at desertion. And Black Dog really stands on its own. Actually, a question about that one: everyone always assumed that was a posthumous release but, since you're here, obviously not. Were you involved at all in its rediscovery and release?” 

Figures the first thing the kid asked was something Johnny actually, embarrassingly, knew fuck all about. He'd been surprised as hell to catch Black Dog on the radio for the first time when he was still riding around in V's head. She told him it was rediscovered years after he'd died but still well before she was born. Kerry didn't have a clue how it was rediscovered either. 

He got the impression Rogue had some info but he was still persona non grata in the Afterlife without a V-shaped chaperone. 

“Been laying pretty low since the end of the Fourth Corporate War, was as surprised as anyone else to hear it on the radio. Can't say I'm not glad someone found it.”

Quinn nodded eagerly, “So what have you been up to all these years? And when can we expect a new release?” 

“Honestly, didn't do much that was all that interesting. Had a bit of… let's say ‘soul searching’ to do. Think everyone knows how I feel about Arasaka but even after they lost the Fourth Corporate War, barely even slowed ‘em down. ‘N’ then people just welcomed them back anyway, let ‘em build another fucking tower, poison a good chunk of the city. As for a new record: shit takes time, wasn't really in a position to write where I was. And no, before you ask, not saying where.” 

Quinn nodded, apparently prepared to be stonewalled on that topic, “Now that you’re back, any comment about the rumors that you and Kerry are going separate ways professionally despite the wedding? I think everyone expected an announcement from MSM after you made your return to public next to Kerry.” 

He laughed harshly at that, “Chain my ass to a corp for a platform against the corps? I'll pass. Kerry can do what he wants, fuckin’ talented enough for it, but that's not how I do shit.” 

“So you two won't be collaborating? No duo-tours like you used to?” 

“Not any time soon. Maybe after I shoot his shitty manager… But if Ker’s short a guitar, fucker knows where I sleep,” Johnny replied with a grin.

The “no collaboration” was a lie of course. Like hell MSM was getting between them when things were going so well. Besides, Johnny didn't really give half a shit about getting credit on Kerry's albums these days. But plausible deniability was the easiest way to play things for now. 

Even today, they were going on stage together: which the corp agreed to since it worked for their marketing of the event. They already had a short list of excuses for Johnny to be on stage with Kerry after this.

But MSM benefitting from Johnny’s work for “free” was also the easier side of all that. It was the reverse that was going to be the trick but they had a few ideas… 

-

This crowd was fucking nova. 

Even if he was here as a stupid PR thing for the label, this gig as the emcee and headliner with Johnny was the most fun he’d had in ages. And not just because he had missed playing with Johnny. 

Unlike a good chunk of the audience, Kerry vividly remembered days where being anything other than completely straight was a living hell on much of the continent. A lot of the world had gone to shit and everyone knew that the corps just saw Pride as a month of especially colorful branding but it was still nice that so much had been normalized after the Second Sexual Revolution. At least compared to 2003. 

He wondered back then and now how much of Johnny's reluctance at the time was more about having grown up in Texas in the 20th century and not actually how Johnny felt, as much as the other rockerboy bitterly denied it. 

Recent evidence certainly seemed to support Kerry's ancient theory. 

He slowly relaxed as he watched Johnny's interview: it was always a bit of a toss-up if Johnny was going to turn on the charm for medias or if he'd get up in their faces screaming shit that got them to cut the feed. Hopefully, he wouldn't get the kid into too much trouble if they weren't quick enough on the mute. 

“Keep tellin’ ya he's changed. Let go of a lot of that rage,” came V's voice from behind his shoulder as she made herself comfortable at the table. 

“He used to go through phases back in the day where I thought he'd finally get better. Always blew up eventually. It's hard not to wait for the other shoe to drop again,” sighed Kerry. “Was really fuckin’ weird this morning too,” he added in gesticulating with his glass of whiskey. 

V cocked her head as she stole Johnny's glass of tequila while he was distracted by the interview. “Weird how?” 

“Came on real strong before we left for this thing. Tried to piss me off to get me riled up. And maybe I tried to get him to admit to something - always a mistake - but it wasn't anything that bad. Then, he suddenly calls it off. Gets all frustrated like he's ever been ashamed of a goddamned thing in the bedroom before.”

She thought for a moment before laughing softly. “God, he knows fuck all about subbing…” V said with a grin and shook her head. 

Kerry snorted, “Nah, that ain't it. Johnny has an extensive repertoire of kinks but I'm pretty sure he'd shoot someone who even tried that shit on him.” 

V nodded thoughtfully and looked at her stolen glass. “You know, before that whole chip thing, I absolutely hated tequila. Couldn't stand it even just in cocktails…” She drained the glass and put it back where she stole it from. 

Kerry frowned, trying not to too closely think about what V just admitted about her own bedroom proclivities. “Even if that happened, not trying shit like that if he won't talk about it. S'not safe.” 

“Mm, I'll send you guys a little gift. Knowing what he picked up from me, I bet it'll loosen his tongue a bit…” 

Well that's not ominous coming from a paid killer. 

The familiar chords of Never Fade Away's intro distracted both of them from the conversation - he didn't even notice when Johnny grabbed his guitar from behind the table. He sure as fuck did now, even if he wasn't quite as starry-eyed as the media who apparently made the request. 

They weren't alone either: Johnny always had a fire about him that demanded attention, 54 years didn’t change that. A crowd was starting to form around them to see and hear the NC legend back from the grave. 

Unfortunately for Johnny, Kerry noticed that one of the people whose attention he grabbed was an extremely pissed off Denny. He didn't even have time to warn Johnny before a beer bottle soared through the air and cracked the guitarist on the side of the head. 

“You self-obsessed, ratchet-ass, piece of shit! You really fucking faked your death ‘n’ just waltz back all these years later like a fucking cockroach?” Denny screamed as she stormed towards a still dazed Johnny. “And all those shitty nights where you and Kerry were all up each other's asses and now you fucking handle your bullshit 70 goddamned years later? When it's not my problem anymore? You stupid motherfucking skank!”

Kerry almost felt bad that he’d pistol-whipped Johnny when he came back. Sure, Johnny deserved it but it was starting to look like they could look forward to this every time someone from the old days caught up with them. 

And it didn’t take Denny long to round on Kerry too.

“And you! When were you planning to tell us this shithead wasn’t dead? Was that reunion some fucking joke for you two?” 

He held up his hands and backed up. “Geez, no. Really thought Johnny was dead. I wouldn’t screw with you guys like that.” 

“C’mon, I know you all missed me,” Johnny interjected with a grin, apparently having recovered from his latest cranial injury. 

“Like hell I did. Go fuck yourself Silverhand,” she growled as she stormed off to rejoin her band near the stage. 

“So should I get a restraining order against Henry when we’re done here?” Johnny huffed as he pulled broken glass out of his beer-soaked hair. 

“If you can’t dodge a punch from Henry, you should probably quit the merc bullshit. Anyway, now that you’re done with your adoring media fan, ready for our set? We’re up soon.” 

“Sure but what about you? Not havin’ nerves again?” 

“Get that fuckin’ smirk off your face and let’s go.” 

-

V was actually really looking forward to this - she hadn’t been able to attend the Samurai reunion for obvious reasons. And, for all the time she spent around Johnny even after he was removed from her head, she rarely got to hear him play in any serious capacity. He used to play relatively calm tunes towards the end of the Relic fiasco to keep her mind off things - not really comparable to the sort of music that made him famous. 

Sadly, she had work to do too. 

If something bad was going to happen to either of them, this would be the time to do it. She already had eyes on the local surveillance systems and tagged a few known corpo agents, including their shadow from Arasaka Counterintelligence. Thankfully, all were geared for information gathering, not elimination. Still, she’d put out the money herself to get a few extra hands from the Afterlife in the crowd and sniper positions. And, despite her insistence that the fixer no longer gave a shit about Johnny, V knew that Rogue had a few measures in place too. 

Plus, Us Cracks had their own crew around: the girls were popping in as a “surprise” for the finale. 

So, on the one hand, security was thorough. On the other, everyone in Night City was packing heat and there were only so many defenses against a sniper or netrunner. 

She also hoped the boys’ good moods kept up. 

Kerry was technically the headliner, which soothed his ego, but there was a lot of buzz about Johnny finally being public again, which pleased Johnny. But how long they could happily share the spotlight this time around remained to be seen. 

Johnny claimed that fame wasn't his primary concern but V knew there was a part of him that resented the fact that Samurai was now largely remembered as the punk band where Kerry got his start. In his defense, that probably still would have stung hardier egos than his. On the bright side, that he was making an effort to be happy for Kerry said a lot about how far he'd come compared to the old days. 

So far, the most drama between them had been several nights ago when they argued which version of Chippin’ In they'd play. Johnny eventually won simply because he was why Kerry threw it in the set list in the first place. 

V made her way towards the back with minimal fuss from MGM's security and jacked into the event's surveillance system. 

All looking good as the prior act was prepping to introduce them. 

“Alright Night City! We're honored to introduce the next act: two men who really don't need an introduction in this town. One has been a mainstay in this city's music and our community since 2003. Who set the standard for rock for generations. Make sure they can hear you screaming his name up in the Crystal Palace: Kerry Eurodyne!”

V flinched as Kerry's guitar solo made her realize how closely she set up shop near some speakers but it was still worth it for the view. 

“And joining him, for the first time in over 50 goddamned years, a Night City legend in his own right, anyone from Arasaka delta now: Johnny Silverhand!” 

The audience was preoccupied with trying to get a better look at the infamous Johnny Silverhand through all the smoke and stage lights but V was grinning at the minor miracle she'd pulled off by making this possible. Johnny on stage for the first time in over 50 years. She was happy for him that he got to have this again with Kerry. 

Now, to keep an eye on things so they could keep having this. 

-

There was really nothing like being up on stage. 

People always asked Kerry how he wasn't nervous about standing in front of massive crowds. Which always struck him odd: why the fuck would he be unhappy about seeing all these people screaming his name? After he worked so damned hard to get here? 

And there was just something right about Johnny being here again. 

Johnny, who Kerry noticed, didn't have even a bit of trouble playing Kerry's music that came out after 2023. For all that Johnny liked to play it cool, he knew all Kerry’s songs backwards and forwards from Holdin’ On to Off the Leash. He couldn’t ask for better flattery from the bastard.

Even if he was full of shit on Kerry's titles being kitschy. 

As Holdin’ On's outro faded, he looked out over the crowd: a sea of rainbows, old and young. 

“HELLO, NIGHT CITY!” he screamed, basking in the responding roar. 

“Welcome to the 2077 Night City Pride Parade!” 

No, the crowd wasn't the hard part of all this. The hard part was going to be lying to them all. 

“We're here today to celebrate love! All love! And being true to yourself!” 

What a joke. Like he ever admitted to being in love with Johnny out loud. 

“Wherever you come from, whoever it is you really are, today is the day to remind the world that you don't have to fit into some fucking box!” 

Long decades as a member of the LGBT community and he was really standing up here at the behest of MSM with his husband of convenience. To show off what the corpos saw as an easy, attractive package to sell and market. Two hot guys with pretty faces and guitars. 

“You can be who you want to be! And love whoever you love!”

What were these people going to think in two weeks when his and Johnny's divorce went public? How many were going to feel like he lied to them as brazenly as any fucking corporation? Or were they going to assume he was just another rockerboy thinking with his dick instead of his heart? 

He wasn't sure which would be worse. 

“We see you today!”

He barely noticed Johnny get near until a chrome arm wrapped around his waist and pulled him close. Looking, for all the world to see, like happy newlyweds. It almost felt like Johnny meant it. That this thing was real. 

Fuck, he wished they were real… 

-

Something was wrong. 

Not with the concert, not even the fucking overproduced “surprise” finale with Us Cracks. Like MSM hadn't dropped hints as subtle as battering rams for a week. And the audio was fine. Lighting was exacting. 

But Kerry's energy was off. Angry instead of excited. 

Johnny chugged a bottle of water off in a corner as the crew started cleaning up the stage. 

“Awesome as always Kerry-san!” crooned Purple Force. 

The trio had whisked Kerry away once the lights dimmed after their final encore. Just as well, Johnny'd had a monopoly on his time since the wedding and the youngsters were good for him. Still, there was no such thing as privacy in the tight backstage of a temporary venue. 

Johnny'd been hoping they'd fuck after the gig when the adrenaline was still riding high but no way it was a good idea to approach him now. Not when Ker was aggravated like this. 

Maybe he could score something back at the Grand Illusion to take the edge off and land Kerry in a better mood? 

“Jesus Christ, tell me you're gonna wash off some of that reek before getting into Kerry's car. I don't think he'd ever get that stale beer and sweat out of the leather.” 

He grinned and cornered V against a makeshift wall, “C'mere, let me share…”

“Ah, no! Don't fucking touch me when you're all gross,” she yelped trying to push him away with her sword scabbard. 

His smile sharpened as he let himself be pushed away. “Fuck, you're such a little princess."

“Fuck off, let's go see this stupid club of yours. By the way, congrats on not fucking up out there.”

He grunted as they bypassed the line out front to the club's rear entrance. 

“Somethin’ eating ya, J? Your big debut back in the land of the living. Figured you'd be thrilled.” 

Johnny frowned to himself as they ducked through the bustling back corridors - the club was packed tonight from the parade. 

“Gig isn't the problem. Something's eatin' at Ker, haven't figured out what yet.” 

“But you have some guesses?” 

Johnny sighed as he opened up the VIP booth reserved for him and Kerry. “Got a short list. Problem is I'm not sure what to do about it aside from giving him some space. Glad the girls nabbed him actually - he really needs to stop moping around that fuckin mansion all the time. Hang out with people more and get out of his head.” 

He frowned sharply, the bar hadn't been restocked since the last time Kerry was here. Annoying but not the end of the world, he'd have to hit the floor for blow and pills anyway. 

V smirked “Are you sayin’ we don't count as ‘people?’ Anyway, go grab us some drinks, and maybe get someone to throw their RealWater on you on the way.”

He smirked and turned sharply, hard enough that his sweat-soaked hair flung off a couple droplets. He didn't even need to look to see if any hit her, her shriek and cursing were plenty proof. 

The club barely looked a thing like he remembered but the general directions were more or less the same. At least he found the bar easily enough, and an extremely friendly guy selling pills - no fucking lustre or directions with shitty jokes this time. 

While he was waiting on the bottles he'd ordered, a blonde bombshell sat in the stool he was leaning on. Even just glancing at the corner of his eye, fuck, chick was exactly his type. 

“I've never fucked a dead man before,” she giggled. 

He turned to her and looked more closely. Definitely a sculpt job, but a good one - knew she was hot too. She looked like she'd be fun. Wasn't wasting time being coy - knew what she wanted and was going for it. 

Perfect. 

-

V sat bolt upright when Johnny came back with several bottles - and a curvy blonde hanging off him who seemed every bit as surprised to see V. 

The blonde stared at V before looking back at Johnny, “Who the fuck is she?”

V stared at him, “What she said but for fucking Barbie! The fuck are you doin’!?”

Johnny smirked as he shut the door “V, Niki. Niki, V. Thought you two might get along.”

V stared at him dumbfounded. “Johnny, the hell is wrong with you?”

Niki looked between the two, clearly confused which V totally understood. “I thought we were going somewhere private, baby?”

Johnny grinned at the hapless woman, “And we did, ‘n’ this is where I leave you. Have fun you two!” 

V felt her eye twitch. All this time separated and Johnny still viewed her as good as an extension of himself. 

V jumped up and glared at him, “Dammit Johnny, contrary to popular belief, I’m not you - I’m not looking to get laid to forget about Judy!” 

Johnny smirked at her, confident that he was doing her a favor that she was too stupid to see, “C’mon, you’ve been moping for days. Have some fun - you’ll feel better. I’d ask Rogue to step on you if we were still talking.” 

V threw a cardboard coaster at him for lack of anything else handy. It fell off his shirt with an unsatisfying plop. 

Niki looked even more confused now, “But wait, I thought we were-”

“Can’t fault your good taste but I’m not on the market anymore. But V here is literally the next best thing - goddamned great head.” 

V groaned, dragging her hands down her face, “Johnny, I will literally shoot you. And did anyone see you two leave together? Some fucking gossip rag is probably already sayin’ you’re cheating on Kerry.”

Johnny smirked and lit a cigarette, “Don’t matter what they think, already texted Ker. Told him I’m wingmanin’ for you. All fine.”

-

Irving wasn’t going to scream. Really. 

But it was close. 

It took him ages to find a woman who met the criteria from his computer model analyzing all the women Silverhand had been known to sleep with. A list that took ages to compile mind you. 

Longer still to convince her to seduce him while scrolling. 

Except he didn't take the bait. The bastard handed her over to V who at least had the decency to be angry and confused. 

He rechecked his algorithm: everything looked right. The lady looked like she stepped right out of the old pics of women who Silverhand had fucked around with. The rockerboy certainly looked like he'd been interested. 

Irving couldn't even use what footage he had to drive a wedge between the two rockers because Silverhand, against all prior expectations, has apparently learned to communicate. 

He was drawn from his internal rant when a pop-turd bounced off his head. 

“Earth to Irvalicious, come in Irvalicious.”

“Mike, what is wrong with you? I'm trying to work.”

Mike sat up from his makeshift chair in the closet Irving was hacking the cameras from. “You looked like you were gonna pop a vein. So the blonde didn't tempt him astray. It’s not the end of the world.”

“You're the one who said I was going to have to change tactics! And I'm halfway to deadline with nothing. I don't know that I can even doctor anything convincing in that time that V won't tear apart.”

“So say you don't make deadline, what's Abernathy going to do if they just haven't done anything you can use?”

Irving chuckled bitterly, “You're not Counterintel, you don't know what this is like. She's not going to accept ‘they turned over a new leaf’ as a mission result.” Irving rubbed his temples. 

Mike scooched over to throw an arm around his shoulders, “Look, if it makes you feel better, I can apply for your transfer? No one gives a shit about accountants unless we fuck up.” 

Irving chuckled darkly, “I somehow don't see Abernathy just letting me wash my hands of this… No, I need to find something.” He started scrolling through a data log. “Clearly, my timing was off. Need them to fight about something before introducing the bait…” 

“Tut, tut, didn't take you for a homewrecker,” Mike sighed dramatically. 

-

Kerry shook his head as he dismissed Johnny's text. Poor V - Johnny could be obnoxious when he thought a choom just needed to get laid. Bastard never met a problem that he thought couldn't be banished with enough sex, violence, booze, and/or drugs. 

“That a message from Johnny-san? Ooh, anything juicy?” Red Menace asked with a grin. 

“Yeah, but it's just him being a dumbass. Tryin’ to wingman for V when I'm pretty sure she just wants a break from relationships for a bit…”

“I still can't believe someone would dump V-chan. She's such a little cutie,” pouted Blue Moon. 

Kerry looked at a new notification to see a selfie of Johnny with a pissed V and a confused blonde. Because of course Johnny'd try to hook V up with the kind of chicks he'd fuck himself. Like V may as well be Johnny by proxy. Idiot. 

Purple Force interrupted the thought with a dramatic whine, “I'm so jealous of your thing with Johnny!”

“Gosh, yeah, I need to find someone who looks at me like Johnny does to Kerry when he isn't looking!” cooed Blue Moon. “Look at these photos from the show!” 

Kerry leaned over to look at Aoi's holo to see a bunch of photos taken by the crowd. 

In particular was one with Johnny, smirking fondly from behind Kerry. 

A convincing lie: Johnny knew how to pull off an act on-stage and during the gig would be a hell of a time to blow their story. And even if it were genuine, of course Johnny was happy - back on stage for the first time in decades? No way he didn’t miss it. 

The more he looked at the images… Johnny's arm around his waist, Johnny's grinning mouth close to his neck when Kerry had been playing a solo… Mockeries of something Kerry wanted so fucking badly it burned… The whole thing made him want to scream for the agony in his chest. 

A fucking stage with his farce of a life on display. 

“Kerry, you still with us?” 

He took a deep breath and tamped it down. The girls didn't need him unloading his bullshit on them. They had no idea he was a fraud. Not yet anyway. 

“Yeah, sorry. Just been a long day.” 

Red Menace had her face schooled as she looked at him with her custom Kiroshi's that already made him unusually self-conscious. “Kerry, if you and Johnny are having trouble, you know we're here for you, right?” 

Shit, they were sweet but he didn't want to drop the ball on the plan. 

“Nah, we're fine. Johnny's just… a lot sometimes. Intense. Kinda like a Belgian Malinois no one takes out for a walk…” 

Blue Moon grinned playfully, “Rawr, does Kerry-san need a good strong leash to put on his naughty husband?”

Kerry barked a surprised laugh, “There are days…” 

Though that reminded him. He wondered just what was in V's upcoming gift package…

Chapter Text

“Fuck it!” 

Johnny grit his teeth as he slammed the front door and threw his jacket into the closest couch. It wasn't nearly violent enough, but at least it hit the furniture with enough force to scrape the stupid pristine floor a little. It wasn't enough damage to be satisfying but it was something. 

Tonight's gig had been fucking trash through no fault of his or V's. Which almost made it worse when he wanted someone to be pissed at that they hadn't already killed. 

All he wanted at this point was  to drink himself unconscious and fall into bed. He grabbed a bottle of tequila off the bar on his way to the bedroom, yanking the cap off and taking a swig as he turned the corner. 

He very nearly choked when he saw what Kerry was wearing, standing by the bed like he'd been waiting for Johnny. 

A full MaxTac uniform. Complete with all the accoutrements on the belt, plus a few other props off to the side. 

“The fuck is-”

“Pick a safe word.”

Johnny bristled, even as he tried to smother the flash of heat that shot through his body and how his mouth went dry. 

“Go fuck yourself,” he snarled. 

“Nah, that's too close to something you might say during. Needs to be distinct.” 

Smug motherfucker. 

“Too fucking bad,” Johnny growled as he took another drink and stalked towards the bed. 

The last thing he expected was for Kerry to kick his legs out from under him, making him fall forward onto the low bed. He dropped the bottle when he landed on his knees. Hard. Blissfully, painfully hard.

“You son of-” 

“Since you're not being helpful, we'll do the traffic light thing,” Kerry started as he yanked Johnny's wrists behind his back in too-familiar a position, usually a very different context. “Red to stop, yellow to slow down, green to keep going. If I ask for an update and you don't answer, I'm going to stop. That all fucking clear?”

Johnny swallowed as he felt the cuffs lock his arms into place. Real ones at that. He couldn't get out of these without a good bit of pain. 

Kerry leaned over, a boot on the center of his back. “I asked you a question, Johnny. Is that clear? What color are you at now?”

Johnny was practically vibrating for how pissed he was. Not least because he did want this and hated himself for it. He swallowed harshly. 

“... green,” he finally admitted, just noticing that his upper arm was damp from where the uncapped tequila was lying next to him, spilling out. 

Kerry followed his eyes and huffed. “That fuckin’ desperate for booze? Gonna lick it off the fuckin’ mattress?”

“Fuck o-” he was cut off when Kerry pulled his head back by his hair. 

“The fuck did you say Silverhand?” Kerry sneered in his ear. 

It really was the strangest part of coming back to life, this thing where he hated something but also loved it the way V did. Wanted to fight and submit with nearly equal intensity. Loved to hate the effect it had on him. 

He attempted to struggle just for Kerry to tighten his grip in Johnny's hair and force the side of his face down into the mattress, right in the spilled drink. Then Kerry kicked his legs apart for good measure and leaned down by his ear. 

“I'm not gonna repeat myself all night Silverhand, are you going to be a fucking brat the entire time?” 

“I aim to please.”

Kerry suddenly pulled him back up with one hand and slapped him with the other. Not half as hard as he could have, clearly pulling punches in case Johnny wanted to tap out. 

But, top or bottom, Johnny wasn't in any mood for gentle tonight. If they were doing this, careful wouldn't cut it. 

“That the best you got? Fuckin’ pig wannabe!” He sneered, spitting on Kerry's boot. 

The next one was a punch and, fuck, it was so much better. Johnny grinned manically as the heat from pain radiated out better than any balm. 

Kerry tutted, “You fuckin’ freak. Get back down.” He used Johnny's hair to force him back down and ground his hips into Johnny's still-clothed ass. 

There was still a part of Johnny that had its hackles raised, that still wanted to fight and was trying to figure out how he could still get out of this and on top. But that side was quickly being drowned out by the part of him that was begging to give in and bare its throat. Give up control for just a little bit. Not even for the night, just an hour or so. 

It was fine, it was just Kerry. He let him have his way at the spa, and that was good. Nothing shitty was going to happen if he did it again. 

He took a deep breath and willfully relaxed the tension in his body. 

Submission. 

Kerry paused as he felt it happen. “... Shit, to be perfectly honest, really expected you to throw me off.” 

“Don't get fucking soft on me,” he growled quietly. He was willing to hand over the reins, but talking about it was an entirely different thing. 

Kerry took the hint and Johnny felt a thrill shoot through him as Kerry hardened himself again. 

He grabbed the back of Johnny's neck like he was scruffing an unruly dog and held him down as he rocked against his ass again. Instead of fighting, Johnny just widened his stance. 

“Fucking slut. Put on a tough act but then fucking melt when someone treats you worse than you used to treat the damned groupies.”

Apparently, he was supposed to respond to that because Kerry suddenly reared back and slapped his ass hard enough to sting even through the leather. 

“Ever gonna take off the kit gloves?” Johnny bit out. He needed it to hurt. Needed his brain fuzzy and mute. 

“Tough talk for a guy offering up his ass like a bitch in heat. Let's help you look the part,” snapped Kerry as he wrapped something around his neck. 

A leather collar and leash. The part of him that wanted to fight finally shut up as he felt the leather tighten when Kerry attached it to some hook that was added to the bedframe while he was out. There were a couple of newly-added attachment points now that he looked. 

Kerry eased off Johnny until he suddenly felt the bottom of the heavy boot pushing down between his thighs. Not enough to crush anything but enough to be threatening. Before he even thought about it, he ground back against it for friction. 

“You'd really let me do whatever the fuck to you right now, wouldn't you?” Kerry sneered before removing the boot. 

When he felt Kerry's hands on his belt, he lifted his hips to help Kerry strip down the leather. He was rewarded by Kerry palming a cheek with a hand still wearing the rough gloves of the outfit. 

“Outta just take you dry, don't seem like you'd even bitch about it right now.” 

An empty threat. Kerry was an asshole, but he'd never hurt a partner like that unless they explicitly asked for it well beforehand. Still, he let himself feel the threat like it was real. 

Suddenly, he felt the collar tighten as Kerry pulled on the leash's slack. He barely managed to bite back the surprised moan at least until the other gloved hand smacked the same cheek Kerry'd just been stroking. 

“Know what I think Johnny?” Kerry hummed as he brought the leash-less hand up and forced two gloved fingers into Johnny's mouth. “I think you blaming V for this is all bullshit.” 

Johnny glared and tried to argue when Kerry's fingers pushed down his tongue. 

“Maybe the outfit was her, but the rest? You offering yourself up like this? Trying to goad me before the parade? The way you moaned like a fucking whore last time I topped you? Think you always wanted someone to put you in your place and were too chickenshit to ask.” He pushed his fingers in far enough to gag Johnny before pulling them out and back to circle his entrance. “Think your little ‘alpha’ show was just as much bullshit as you saying you're ‘not into dick,’” he finished with a sneer. 

Johnny grit his teeth as a spit-slicked gloved finger teased into his rim. Much thicker than the last time and not nearly wet enough, but the burn was fucking perfect. 

“So fucking eager for this. Really going to blame a lesbian that you're gagging for my cock?” Kerry taunted as he pulled the leash just a bit tighter but not enough to get Johnny where he really wanted to be. 

Johnny's lip curled into a snarl, but his next attempt of defiance was prematurely interrupted by another finger. 

What should have been him arguing turned into a pitiful whimper. 

“Just admit it Johnny,” Kerry started. “You want me to slap you around. You want me to treat you like a bitch. And you want so fucking badly to not have to think about how much you want it that you're pissed that I won't choke you ‘til you forget to fight back.” 

Fuck, this wasn't going how he thought. He started to move, to rise when Kerry suddenly stroked his prostate and he collapsed back down with a muffled groan. 

“Color, Johnny.” 

“Don't stop-”

“Not what I asked for. You want this, you're playing by my rules. Now: what color?” 

Johnny groaned in frustration as Kerry stopped moving entirely. 

“Fuck, green! Keep going!”

Kerry gave a grin that he couldn't see but knew was there and rewarded Johnny by directly stroking his prostate again. 

“Good boy, seems he can take direction,” Kerry praised in a mocking tone. 

Johnny whimpered as the fingers were removed and Kerry pulled away. 

“Kerry, wha-”

“Don't make me fucking gag you, just be patient for once in your goddamned life,” Kerry snapped as he backed away for a moment. 

Johnny stiffened when he felt a lubed-up something slide between his cheeks. Trying to look back just got Kerry's hand twisted back in his hair as he forced Johnny's face into the mattress. 

After Kerry finished pushing it in, his unasked question was answered as Kerry powered on the vibrator. 

“Oh fuck,” Johnny groaned into the sheets, now damp with tequila, sweat, and drool. 

“Not looking to bite the hand that feeds you now, are ya? Needy little bitch.”

He had Johnny right where he wanted him and they both knew it. 

There wasn't anything Johnny could really do anymore. Not with his arms bound, neck leashed, and Kerry's hand pushing his head down while the other hand moved the vibrator so it hit his prostate only sparingly. 

After what felt like hours, he whined as Kerry pulled the vibrator back just enough so that it wouldn't hit that spot inside at all anymore. 

“Ker, please-” 

“Oh now he knows what manners are,” chuckled Kerry darkly as he pressed the device near but not where Johnny wanted it. “So tell me why should I reward you when you've been a little brat this whole time until you wanted something?” 

“C'mon, I'll stop, just keep goin’ - need to come…”

“Oh that's real cute. Really think I'm letting you come any time soon after all that shit you pulled?” 

“Ker, please, whatever you want, just-”

“‘Whatever’ I want? Pretty fuckin’ vague there Silverhand. What makes you think I want whatever you're offering? What if what I want is to leave you tied up like this, vibrator in your ass, begging for me to rail you while I walk away? Cause that'd be fuckin’ poetic.” 

No, no, no, he couldn't fucking mean that. 

“Please don't fucking leave. Kerry, don't fucking leave me,” he gasped out, pathetic even to his own ears, but it was like a dam broke. “Always hated it when you left. Do whatever you want, just don't leave me.” 

Kerry stilled. Apparently, whatever he expected, it wasn't that. The fist in his hair released and started stroking his head gently. 

“Ok Johnny, you're alright. Promise I'm not going anywhere,” he murmured softly. “I'll take care of you.”

He pulled out the vibrator, gently shifted to look at Johnny's face, helmet already discarded, and wiped away the tears he found there. 

“Don't worry ‘bout a thing, Johnny. I got you.” 

“Kerry,” Johnny panted quietly, face on fire as the humiliation of his own words caught up to his head. 

“Hey, hey, just focus on me,” Kerry said gently, kissing him before Johnny could spiral more. 

Relief flooded as Johnny felt the cuffs release and the collar undone before Kerry carefully guided him back onto his stomach. 

Johnny was panting, trying to recover from whatever the hell that burst of insanity was. He was only vaguely aware of the sounds of Kerry removing the outfit until he laid bare against Johnny's back, stroking his sides softly. Back on equal footing, as good as an apology. 

“You still good, Johnny?” Kerry asked. 

Johnny nodded before answering, “Yeah.” 

Kerry leaned down to kiss his neck tenderly. “Want to keep going?”

“Please,” he begged, desperate to get back to the comfort of more familiar territory. 

Kerry grinned into his skin before he guided Johnny onto his knees and against Kerry's chest. After, he reached down to press his cock into Johnny's rim. 

Johnny moaned loudly as he pressed in. He didn't bother trying to muffle it - no sound he made at this point was going to be worse than what already spilled out. 

“God Johnny, so fucking good for me,” Kerry panted by his ear. “So goddamned perfect.” 

Johnny groaned as Kerry's pace sped up, trying so damned hard to lose himself in the sex. Trying so fucking hard not to think about-

Johnny gasped as he felt Kerry's hand reach around and start stroking him. 

“C'mon Johnny. Stay here with me, gorgeous,” Kerry pleaded softly in his ear. 

It didn't take long after that – neither was trying to prove anything. And after they finished, Johnny didn't fight Kerry at all as he pet every part he could touch, cooing soft praise into his skin as Johnny laid boneless against him. 

If he wasn't so fucking mortified by that outburst, Johnny would feel fantastic. Like every bit of stress had been ripped away. 

But… 

Kerry interrupted, like he knew what Johnny was thinking, “Don't worry about it, Johnny. Shit happens in the heat of the moment. We both know that.” 

Sure they did. They both also knew that was a bald-faced lie here. 

But maybe he really didn't actually care about being “authentic” because he was so fucking grateful for the excuse. 

In the morning, Kerry would find a note by the bed. 

“Went out. Don't wait up.”

Chapter Text

“Fucker must've remembered that I could track him. Not picking up any of his cyberwares’ signatures anywhere in NC,” V sighed as she jacked out of the personal netrunning rig in her apartment. 

Kerry stopped his pacing and stared at her. “Y'mean he fucking deltaed from the city?”

V threw her legs over the side of her chair and poured a bottle of water over her head to help cool off after her run. 

“No sign of him having hit the border. So that means he's in Dogtown.” 

The look on Kerry's face said he wished Johnny had fled the city instead. 

“You stay here, I'm on good terms with the fixer there. I'll find him, Kerry. Bring him home.” 

“Fuck you, V. I'm the one who did this. Kept pushing when he was already done. I'm not gonna sit here on my ass like some distraught housewife.” 

“Ker, it's Dogtown. Your little hoodie getup isn't gonna fool anyone at the border. Even if Barghest doesn't screw with you, you'll be clocked immediately and I'll have to beat off every fuckin’ Scav, corpo spy, and Voodoo who thinks they can make an enny off you.”

“Then I'll need you to flatline ‘em, but I'm not staying here safe and cozy when Johnny's in that fucking hell hole.” 

V groaned, “Fine, we don't have time for this. But you're wearing the getup I give you. None of that fucking designer shit.” 

She strode over to her storage area and started pulling out nondescript baggy clothes and body armor. 

“If you take off the vest or helmet, I'm knocking you the fuck out and locking you in my trunk until I find Johnny, got it? And you do every fuckin’ thing I say while we're in there.” 

Kerry nodded as he started to change and V rang someone on the holo. 

“Hands? Got a sitch… So you've seen ‘im? … The Stacks? … Preem, keep eyes on him and don't let anyone touch him, his husband and I are on the way. Speaking of, need your help gettin’ Kerry through the gate without Barghest losing their collective minds…. Yeah, I know it'll be a steep bribe… He's Kerry fuckin’ Eurodyne, I think he has that lying around in his other pants… We're on our way. Make sure they know not to fuck with me right now. I don't want to carve my way there, but I will.” V's eyes returned to normal as she hung up. “The fixer I know found ‘im. Skezzed out in a section I know well. He should be safe until we get there. Or at least as safe as anyone ever is in Dogtown.” 

Kerry nodded, wearing a positively claustrophobic getup of threadbare clothes and reinforced armor. He followed her down to the garage where she summoned an armored-up Galena. 

“Gonna throw that jackass in the trunk. Of all the stupid…” she grumbled. She looked over, “Just so you know, the bribe is a hundred thou - half when we go in, the other half when we leave. Cause Johnny decided to break into Dogtown using a Barghest smuggling route we found - so that explains how he got in without a pass. But now they're after his skinny ass for rocking a bunch of their chooms. Hands will want his own fee but I've got that. He'll probably still ping you for a favor someday though.” 

They were silent after that as she sped over, didn't even have the radio on. The only sound besides the car were V's nails occasionally tapping on the steering wheel. 

Kerry braced himself as they approached the border. 

He jumped when V's appearance suddenly shifted entirely. Face, hair, everything. 

“Ok Ker, this is important. You do not make eye contact with anyone. Do not talk to anyone. We go in, nab Johnny, and delta. If things go wrong, you get down and stay down. I'll handle anyone who needs killing. We clear?” 

Kerry nodded grimly, not that V could see his face, and handed her a cred chip with the money loaded on it. 

It struck Kerry that this border crossing was worse than NC's with SolCal and the NUSA was about ready to declare war any time. 

A Barghest soldier walked up to their car at the checkpoint, face completely hidden behind a full-cover helmet in Barghest's colors. 

“Now what do we have here…?” he asked cooly, just the slightest current of threat underneath. 

V handed him the credit chip wordlessly, trying to play it cool, but her jaw tensed like Johnny's when he was stressed. It was even stranger to see on her disguised face than her real one. 

After what seemed like forever, the barriers dropped and the guard waved them on. 

After they cleared the crossing area, Kerry asked, “So what's keeping them from shafting us on the way out?” 

“That I'll kill every single one of them if they try it and take the bribe money off their corpses,” V said flatly. Like she was talking about picking up cat food on the way home and not declaring war on the local military junta. Fuck, sometimes he forgot she was actually dangerous. 

Kerry'd never seen the appeal of slumming it in Dogtown, and now he couldn't understand why some celebrities were so enamored with it at all. 

Sure, it had a wicked vibe. Feral. Untamed. 

But the way people were crushed here, stuffed into fucking shipping containers with scavs and soldiers on every corner. Fuck everything about that military fascist dreamland bullshit. 

V's car of choice made sense as she slowly drove through the cramped stacks of containers-turned-homes. 

“Think I see the fixer's guy up ahead. Fucking stay put, I'll grab him and come back,” she growled before getting out of the car and prowling over to who Kerry assumed was another merc. 

Said merc pointed to a crush of people around a radio and grill. As he looked more closely, he could see the back of Johnny's head among the crowd. 

Thank fuck, he was alive. 

V apparently saw him too because she walked over, grabbed his shoulder, and decked him hard enough to knock him out immediately. She ignored the screams and fleeing of the onlookers as she tossed his limp body over her shoulder and prowled back to the ride, gun at the ready. 

Kerry winced as she dumped Johnny rather loudly in the back of the car before joining him up front. 

“Why do I feel like this isn’t the first time you’ve stuck someone in a trunk?”  

“Cause it’s not,” V grumbled. “He ever makes me do this again and I'm strapping him to the roof of the MaiMai.”

-

Johnny groaned miserably as consciousness made its very unwelcome presence known. 

He felt like shit. Every fucking part of his body felt like he'd been hit by a truck that may or may not have proceeded to back up over his prone corpse after. Even his hair hurt. 

Maybe if he was lucky, he'd pass out again. 

“With me Johnny?” 

Ah fuck… V… Of course she's the one who scraped him off the pavement. 

He grunted in acknowledgment, but that was all she was getting. He wasn't in any mood for a lecture. 

“Know you're not going to want to talk, just thought you might want to hear you're somewhere safe and not in a scav den, that's all.”

Shit, like he wanted her sympathy. If he'd had more energy, he'd start needling the points he knew stung just to get her pissed and out of here. Maybe something about her evil bitch of a mother… 

“Still feeling that shitty? Doc left a couple pills if you're up to swallowing. Said you'd feel less like you did 12 rounds with a ‘dorphed up Animal.” 

He grit his teeth. He already felt like hell; he wasn't going to stand for being coddled. Like he wasn't getting fucked up nightly before her parents were even born. 

“Ok, that's enough laying there in self-flagellation, sit up and take the damned pills.”

He grunted as her hand pushed on what felt like a bad bruise on his back until he was upright enough to drink. 

He cracked open his eyes just enough to see, grabbed the pills, and tossed them back dry. 

“There we go, progress.”

He grunted in acknowledgment, silently grateful as he felt the pills immediately start soothing the screaming edges of the pain. 

After what felt like it could have been anywhere from seconds to hours later, he opened his eyes to take in wherever he ended up. 

Kerry's place, surprisingly. Or maybe not. Stupid motherfucker never did know when to give up on him. 

V was watching him coolly from a chair by the bedside. There was a second empty one nearby that Kerry had likely been using. 

“Kerry had to run off to do some damage control, but he was here most of the night,” she explained before he could invent some reason to indict Kerry for his absence. 

Johnny huffed - so fucking kind and understanding of her. 

“Alright V, let's hear it.” 

V sighed and shook her head, “If lectures worked on you, they'd have already done. And I don't even know what all that was about, Kerry wouldn't tell me.” 

Of course he didn't tell her. Probably thought he was being so noble protecting Johnny's-

“Johnny, I can't read your mind anymore, but I can still tell you're spiraling over there. Whatever happened, Kerry and I aren't out to fuck you over. You know that.” 

Johnny's lip curled but she'd taken the wind out of his sails a bit. Fuck she made it annoying to stay mad. 

“You mentioned ‘damage control?’” 

V sighed and shook her head. “Y'know, might've been one of the better places to pull that stunt except you crashed some party that Lina Malina chick was throwing. So of course she scrolled it all. Good news is that Dogtown might as well be Oz to folks in NC. No one really believes all the shit that comes outta there. People aren't sure if it was you snorting coke off that chick's tits or a lookalike.” 

Johnny tried to recall if he ever actually noticed that vapid BD brat, but came up empty. Mostly had flashes of lights, faces, someone's mouth on his…

Right, oops. Honestly, that was a fucking record for him being faithful to someone. Kerry should be flattered. 

“Johnny… I really think you need to consider therapy…” V said stiffly, knowing full well that she was pushing all the worst buttons but powering through all the same. 

“Fuck you,” he snarled. 

“You told me that you were serious about turning your shit around. That you fucked up the first time around and didn't want to do it again. And you've done better than I think most people expected from you, but there's definitely a couple spots you're not handling that well alone.” 

“So I'm gonna go find some asshole, tell him all ‘bout dying, ‘bout digital purgatory, and he can tell me how it's actually about my fucking mother?”

She ignored his deflection, “Don't need to make a decision right now. Just think you should leave the option open.”

“Not fucking happening. So I fucked up - no one is surprised, I'm sure.”

V sighed, “Knock it off Johnny, that shit doesn't work on me. … At least you sound like yourself again. C'mon, let's get all that fucking antiseptic off ya and grab some food.” 

He didn't even notice that she was right until her comment, but he'd been scrubbed… maybe not “clean” but sterilized. 

He glanced down as he pulled the blanket off and froze when he saw his hands. 

“V… where's my fucking ring?” 

“Which one?”

“Which - the one that fucking matters. The wedding ring!” 

V looked over from a stack of clean towels, “You don't have it?” 

He wracked his brain for any hints, retrieving only a vague memory of a giggling faceless woman who said she didn't fuck cheaters. 

“Got no idea what you're talkin’ ‘bout,” he'd said, slipping it off and into his pocket. 

He shot up and stumbled over to the laundry to grab the filthy jeans he'd worn. 

The pocket had a hole in it. 

-

Irving looked over the black band in his hand. 

It was funny, really, that something so simple as a little band of metal came to symbolize supposedly lasting love and commitment. There was probably a story there even before the jewelry industry pushed it on everyone. 

“Irvo, you're not actually keeping it, are you? You already got him on film taking it off to bang that chick.”

Irving looked up at Mike, who actually took Silverhand's little escapade harder than Eurodyne seemed to. He'd been screaming and cursing inside their car the whole time. Irving's ears were still ringing slightly from it. 

Irving wouldn’t admit out loud that he was surprisingly disappointed in the rocker too. 

“If it meant that much to him, he wouldn't have taken it off like that.”

“Bullshit, you saw that whole thing between them. Guy's allergic to vulnerability and then starts gushing like that? Of course he crashed out.” 

He wasn't wrong. Just when Irving was starting to get used to filming sex… 

But this is the break he'd been waiting for. He could finally get Abernathy off his case. 

“C'mon, you've already got proof that he cheated, Abernathy doesn't need to know he dropped the ring too.” 

“Why are you so invested in this Mike? You do remember that this bastard would kill us both as soon as look at us, right?” 

Mike frowned sadly, “Is it really too much to believe that I'd like to see love win out just once in this fuckin’ city? Look, I know it's your job to poke holes in it but… What if they don't divorce?”

“Don't be ridiculous, why wouldn't they?” 

“They've had every reason to split before now too, but they haven't. Sooner or later, they end up back together. C'mon man, please?” 

Irving sighed, “You've been watching too many romance movies. But fine, if it means that much to you, I'll get the ring back to him.” 

He leaned back to reach into his go-bag and grabbed a balaclava with sensor-scramblers. 

“If this gets me shot, stay away from my funeral,” Irving deadpanned before exiting the car. 

Eurodyne's estate had a great deal of overgrowth surrounding it, luckily for Irving. It wasn't that hard to stay hidden from the bots or cameras en route to the entrance. 

Once he got right next to the gate, he made a rudimentary loop with some tape and stuck it to the doorbell before hitting the call button and fleeing. 

He still couldn't believe he was doing this. Mike was out of his fucking mind: the ring was perfect evidence of how unserious the two rockerboys were about this whole thing. 

He looked back as he reached his car hidden in the brush to see Silverhand and V standing by the gate, the rocker cradling something in his hand. Like it was precious. 

… They were lying about this marriage… weren't they? 

-

Kerry sighed as the Rayfield's autopilot put the vehicle in park. 

What a long fucking day. He wasn't even sure if it was still the same one. 

He never went to sleep after he and V retrieved Johnny from Dogtown. It would've been hard to even try when Johnny was thrashing and carrying on the way he did after the doc's reversals triggered some sort of acute withdrawal from hell. Because of course Dogtown drugs couldn't be normal types of fucked, they had to be bastards after too. It'd taken ages for the doc to find some medical cocktail to detox him. Even longer to find something that put Johnny comfortably under. 

Doc said Johnny wouldn't remember any of it, but Kerry sure as fuck would. Way too similar to the bad ol’ days. At least in 2077, he could afford the sort of medicine that dealt with withdrawals in hours instead of weeks. 

He lit another cigarette and sat in the relative peace of his car a just bit longer. 

V texted earlier to say that he was largely back to his old self, if a bit sullen and snappish. Kerry'd be lying if he said he wasn't grateful to have missed those first hours of Johnny's consciousness. He loved to rip open your worst wounds when he was like that. Props to V for taking that particular bullet. 

After that whole thing, dealing with the media was fucking easy. 

Surprise, surprise: even 50 years later, no one was shocked that Johnny Silverhand would go on raging benders and sleep around. Mostly they just wanted to know how Kerry felt about being married to someone so “unstable.”

It stung, having to handwave it all like it was no big thing. Like it wasn't his fault this time. But he wouldn't share what really happened that night under fucking torture, much less to some gossip mongers. 

He'd long since forgiven himself any responsibility for the way Johnny was, but this… 

He just meant to edge him. He didn't expect to shake something that raw loose. To actually hurt him in a way people really shouldn't be hurt. 

He only realized that he sat in the car long enough to get through his cig when he went to pull another drag and found it'd burned down to the filter. He should probably go inside, even if he was dreading what he'd find. 

He sighed and made the too-short trip to the door to find Johnny strumming his old guitar by the wall with the rest of the collection. 

He almost looked as tense as Kerry felt. 

“Was startin’ to wonder if you were gonna sleep in the car,” Johnny said conversationally.

“Not gonna lie, I thought ‘bout it.” 

“Well that would've been annoying. Changed the sheets, other ones were gross.” 

Made sense - comedowns tended to involve all manner of body fluids best avoided. He was surprised Johnny had bothered though. Actually, Kerry was pretty surprised Johnny was still here. 

“Before you get pissed, V already broke me down. Seeing a fucking therapist. Don't ever expect me to talk about it again.”

Kerry swallowed, not really sure what to do with that information. He knew Johnny too well to get his hopes up, but he also thought he knew Johnny well enough to assume it wasn't even possible. “Get anything for dinner yet?”

Johnny smirked and shook his head, “Not much of an appetite. V left something though. Fucking mother hen.”

“Johnny, about-”

“Really don't want to talk about it,” Johnny cut off flatly. 

“No one is ever gonna hear about it, just let me get that out. Takin’ anything from that to my fuckin’ grave.” 

Johnny looked up, seemingly unbothered but with a sharp gaze that reminded Kerry that he wasn't half the unaware party boy idiot he sometimes liked to pretend. 

“If I didn't trust you, you'd have never been able to get those cuffs on me,” he said before returning to the guitar. “Should get something to eat, Ker. Look awful.”

Chapter Text

The front door slamming made Kerry jump and look up from his work. He was starting to suspect that Johnny was abusing his front door simply because it was one of the few still capable of being slammed shut. 

Not that Kerry would ever do anything so juvenile. More than 5 times… 

“Ker? Where you at?” Johnny called from the main room. 

“Studio, why?” he shouted in reply. 

“No reason, just keep doin’ whatever…”

Well that sounded suspicious as all fuck. Johnny had leveled out a bit after his little escapade the other day, but something about his tone… 

Kerry got up and headed over to the seating area and saw Johnny scrolling his holo with his right arm while his left was oddly limp. And at the end of it…

“Johnny, tell me that's not a cat.”

Johnny looked up, and then looked down at the tiny little black furball doing its damndest to murder his cyberarm. Not that it was really getting anywhere because the arm was combat spec and the kitten was maybe a pound and a half. If effort counted though, those little kangaroo kicks would have Johnny begging for mercy. 

Johnny looked bored aside from the odd finger wiggle when the cat seemed like it could be losing interest. Kerry was pretty sure they’d been at this for a while. 

“Last I checked, they're called ‘kittens’ when they're this small.” 

“You know that's not what I meant. Why the fuck is there a kitten in my house?!”

Johnny shrugged noncommittally, “Well, V tried taking him in, but then he bit Nibbles on the ass and now she keeps hissing at him and hiding under the bed. Figured you don't have shit here if you don't have space.” 

Kerry started pacing before he looked back at the pair, “Johnny, you can't just pick up random animals from outside and bring them here. Who the fuck knows what diseases it has!”

“Oh tell me you buy that corpo propaganda scop. Nibbles came out of the fuckin’ trash of a megatower and she's the fucking picture of health and cleanliness.” 

Kerry sighed and sat down on the couch across from them. Little green eyes looked up at him curiously. 

“It have a name?”

Johnny scoffed, “The fuck does he need a name for? Got any other cats around here you're gonna confuse him with?” 

“We could call it-”

Johnny glared up from his screen, “Nah, I've seen your fucking album titles. No cat of mine is gonna have some bullshit kitschy name like ‘Chairman Meow’ or something.” 

Kerry snorted, “That'd be hilarious.” 

Johnny nodded, “See? This is why you're not allowed to fucking name the cat.”

“Like the cat understands what's going on.”

“Even more reason not to give the lil bastard a stupid fucking name. Doesn't mean shit to him.” Kerry noticed Johnny was only gesticulating with his right hand, the infamous silver cyberarm still delegated to cat toy. 

“Anyway, if you've got any better ideas, let's hear ‘em. Not gonna turn a fucking starving kitten out into the cold.”

Kerry sighed and got up, “Lemme call my lawyer for the paperwork…”

Johnny scowled at that, “You're gonna pay for the fucking license for him?”

“Too many paparazzi around to hide him. Need to find a vet too.”

Johnny lifted the cat and stuck him in the hood of his hoodie as he followed Kerry, “You're overthinking this. He just needs a place to crash, food. Shit like that.” 

Kerry looked back to argue and rolled his eyes to see Johnny still distracting the cat with shiny fingers. “You know it's bad to teach them to play with hands, right? Lil bastard will attack everyone else's, with or without metal.” 

“Sucks to suck, he likes it. But fine, I'll look for something else,” Johnny said gruffly before turning off to the bedroom area. 

After Kerry finished with his lawyers, he made it to the bedroom to find Johnny and the cat.

With Johnny waving a gun around and the little kitten chasing the laser sight. 

“Johnny-”

“It's unloaded. Not a complete fuckin’ gonk.” 

Kerry sighed, “Are you going to play with it using anything that's not designed to kill?” 

“The fuck is with all this ‘it’ stuff? Don't want you calling him anything like ‘Sammeowri’ but he's still a he.”

Kerry glared as he sat next to Johnny. “You remember that wasn't my fucking boat, right?” 

Johnny shrugged, pretending he wasn't fully invested in the little scraggly ball of fur chasing a red dot meant to aid death. 

Kerry sighed. He guessed they had a cat now. 

-

Johnny regarded the Corpo Plaza boutique skeptically. “Are we really doing this?”

“You're the one who brought home a kitten with ‘can we keep him’ eyes. I don't care how V takes care of her cat, he's not sleeping in the hamper. Plus, the little bastard really needs a bath and checkup.”

Johnny didn't look convinced, but he followed Kerry out of the car anyway. 

The kitten had climbed onto Johnny’s shoulder after it refused to stay in the beer crate and towel Kerry threw together as a makeshift carrier. 

Come to think of it, another item for the list. Shit, no wonder barely anyone had pets anymore - thing was a pound and a half of fluff and they were already looking at more supplies than either of their cars could carry. Part of why he picked this spot was that they did delivery. 

Also, on-site grooming, which the scraggly little fucker definitely needed, whatever Johnny claimed. 

“Welcome, gentlemen, to Animaux Choyés. I believe this is your first visit with us?”

Kerry put on his camera smile, ignoring Johnny trying to keep the cat from chewing on his hair. “Yep, got a new little bundle of joy. Gotta give ‘em the works.” 

The receptionist returned his fake smile, a familiar dance. “Very good, and your cat's name?”

“He doesn't need a fuckin’ name,” Johnny interrupted before Kerry could even give them a placeholder. 

The employee took it in stride. Johnny probably wasn't even the most difficult customer the poor bastard had to deal with today. 

“Very good, if you would bring him this way, our groomers will take care of him. Is this his first grooming?”

Johnny shot him a flat look, “I pulled him out of a dumpster in Arroyo, what do you think?” 

This time, the staffer's face dipped just a bit - definitely less certain about handling the furball with that information. Frankly, Kerry wasn't happy either - the cat had slept on his pillow last night. 

“I'll let our specialists know. If you would like, you can shop while the grooming is underway instead of waiting.”

Johnny crossed his arms but relented. 

“Make sure you clip his damned nails,” added Kerry. 

Johnny scoffed, “What if he needs to defend himself?”

“Defend himself from what? He lives in a mansion in North Oak now!”

“From your shitty decor. Swear those couches are fucking concrete.” 

The employee looked like he wasn't sure how to handle them, so he walked away with the increasingly disgruntled kitten. Smart man. 

Kerry decided not to waste his breath defending his couches, mostly because he hadn't actually picked any of them, and started to look around. 

Johnny, thankfully, didn't complain much about the cat food portion of the shopping. 

“There's no way any of this smells worse than Nibbles's blue plate special from Hell,” he'd said when they finally picked a box of food cans allegedly suitable for kittens. 

No, it was the rest that was trouble. 

“25,000 eddies for a shitter?! Kerry, c'mon.”

“A self-cleaning litterbox. I didn't claw my way to the top to scrape up some little bastard's crap with a shovel,” Kerry countered, just as unwilling to budge. 

“Kerry, they had this figured out more than a century ago - there's no reason to start involving moving parts. It's not like it disintegrates the shit. Ya still have to pick it up.”

“Ok, fine, but you're handling it.” 

Johnny grinned, “We both knew I was anyway, pillow princess.”

Kerry stepped in close and snarled, “Call me that again and I'm gonna go grab that leash from the other aisle and-”

“Gentlemen, can I help you find anything? Is this your first cat?” One of the other employees offered. Her face was friendly, but her eyes said ‘please stop freaking out the other customers.’

Johnny smirked, “Think you really mean ‘stop threatening your husband with a good time.’ And no, my last roommate had a cat, all good. Don't need you selling us shit we don't need.”

Kerry sighed, “At least stop fighting me on the bed.”

“Fine, it's your money,” Johnny conceded. 

“I was also informed that your cat's grooming has been completed. If you like, I can bring him over?”

“Nah, I'll grab him. Ker, meet you at the checkout.”

Kerry grinned as Johnny turned his back. Now to grab a few more things without Johnny's whining. 

-

God, he'd had this little bastard for just over a day and Johnny already felt like he betrayed the poor thing. 

The furball was pitifully meowing like someone owed him money. Johnny couldn't blame him. And not just for the crystal-studded collar or the perfume they sprayed on him. Though it could be worse: as he picked up the little guy, he noticed a blonde picking up a Siamese that had its nails painted pink. Because that was a thing people paid to have done apparently. 

On the positive side: Kerry was definitely wrong, the cat was actually black and not just that dirty. Johnny had secretly been on the fence between black and grey. 

“You'll be pleased to hear he's quite healthy, given his origin,” said an entirely too chipper blonde chick who apparently ran the vet and grooming part of the shop. “Since you haven't picked a name yet, we only engraved your contact information on his collar.”

“Did Kerry pick that thing? Don't answer that actually. Alright, come on you,” he said, lifting the kitten, who at least didn't smell like trash and motor oil anymore. 

Everything was fine until they got home and Johnny realized Kerry'd gone on a spending spree, apparently the very moment Johnny turned his back. 

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ - 10,000 eddies on a cat toy?”

“Look, I'm not letting you keep up that shit with your hand. This thing's got everything: lasers, remote control mice, scratching post…”

“For 10,000 it better entertain the cat and blow me at the same time. Fuck, you could rent every joytoy on Jig Jig Street and get them to play with the cat for that!”

Johnny glared at the fountain next. “And even if I believed the ‘cats prefer drinking moving water’ thing, which I don't, a fucking cherub?”

Kerry just grinned shamelessly at him, “What, you don't like your little garbage cat drinking angel piss? Come on, stop telling me how to spend my goddamned money and help me put shit in place.” 

Johnny groaned but went along with it, but not without commentary. 

“You know, for how much you spent on this bed, I can't believe you have to assemble the fucking thing yourself.”

Kerry grunted as he held up the instructions with no words, only pictures that looked vaguely like the parts in front of them. “C'mon, it can't be that hard. Just gotta make it look like the picture.”

Johnny rolled his eyes and held up the memory foam mattress, “I'm pretty sure this thing is softer than anything I ever bought for myself in my life.” 

“Well whose fault is that? You weren't some fucking starving artist for that long,” bit back Kerry as he abandoned the instructions. It couldn't be that hard. 

Johnny looked after after a bit from his side of thing, “That's fuckin’ upside down!” 

“No it isn't!” 

Johnny grabbed the discarded papers, “Yeah, it is - look at the fucking instructions!”

Kerry scoffed, “Those are fucking useless is what they are.”

“Jesus fuckin- you blew them off? No wonder it looks like modern art. Just give it here before you break the damned thing.” 

After he watched Johnny rearranging the thing, ok, fine: so what if Kerry did do it wrong? Not his fault the instructions were garbage.  

And at least it cut a nice picture when it was done. 

“Alright, where's the little bastard?” Kerry asked, standing after what felt like hours. 

“Probably took the fucking bed after being bored to death.”

As Kerry started cleaning up, he found the cat: asleep in the box the bed came in, much to Johnny's amusement. 

Kerry almost made Johnny sleep on the damned cat bed for that one. 

-

The first warning Kerry had that Johnny's and V's gig had gone to shit was a massive boom from the direction of Northside that rattled the windows all the way in North Oak. 

The cat ducked under one of the couches, and Kerry almost wanted to join him - it gave him decidedly unpleasant flashbacks. 

When he dashed to the nearest window, the cloud of smoke certainly made it look like a hell of a boom. Definitely more than the standard NC bullshit. 

With one notable exception. 

“Don't fucking panic, just call them,” he said once he shook off his initial alarm. After all, he wasn't sure where their gig was and it could just as easily be an industrial accident. 

He dialed up Johnny's number…

“The number you have dialed is unavailable. Please leave a message.” 

Right, he might not have even turned it on today, he should've tried V first. 

“The number you have dialed is-” 

“Fuck,” he growled as he hung up. He paced a bit and looked up as NCPD and media AVs started descending on the still-smoking site. 

Dammit, he hated calling Rogue for this sort of thing. He didn't blame her for being the one to tell him Johnny'd died in 2023, but… Well, he was never able to talk to her again without thinking about that day either. 

Rogue picked up on the first ring. 

“Kerry, before you panic, no one knows anything for su-”

“Don't give me that Rogue. Is that where their gig was or not?”

Rogue paused, her face revealing nothing. 

“The blast was definitely at the facility they were infiltrating. I'll call you when I have any information, good or bad.” 

She hung up after that. On the one hand, Kerry always appreciated that Rogue could be counted on to be honest and forthright. But fuck, she couldn't have couched it just a little? 

He jumped when he felt something against his ankle and looked down to see the kitten looking up expectantly with large green eyes. 

“Better get used to it kiddo, he's always doing shit like this…” Kerry grumbled, scratching the cat behind his ears. 

The little black furball meowed loudly in reply. Kerry liked to believe it was in agreement. 

He was just starting to debate calling Rogue back when his phone started ringing. 

V. 

When he answered, he didn't immediately hear any greeting or have a visual. Just sirens and loud voices. 

Kerry finally lost his patience and started yelling loud enough that someone further from the holo could hear, “V, what the fuck is happening?”

Finally, there was the sound of a car door slamming, dampening the background noise, before he finally heard her. 

“Hey Ker! So, I'm guessing you already know something ‘bout that lil… ya know… kaboom,” she slurred, surprisingly jovially. 

Kerry gaped, “Of course I know about it, the whole city does. Are you two ok?”

“Psssssh, ya. All goooood here,” she giggled. 

“V, you fucking idiot, tell him we're both alive,” yelled Johnny from the background, his voice sounding oddly strained. 

“I see no cause for expletives,” came Delamain's voice. 

“I didn't fucking ask you, you silicon-fucking-”

V started hushing dramatically, “Shhhhhh, be nice. Del did pick us up when all the roads are shit. Oh Ker, it's awful. My fucking Caliburn just got blown to kingdom come. Fuckin’ loved that car…” 

“Jesus- Ker, we're alive and on our way to Vik's. V's concussed and a bigger idiot than usual. I fucked my leg, which would feel a whole lot better if someone would stop hitting every fuckin’ pothole from here to Little China,” Johnny yelled over V's babbling. 

“Hey, it's not Del's fault there's more potholes than road in Northside,” interjected V. “Stop whining so much ya baby.”

“I broke my fucking femur V, I'll bitch as much as I want!”  

“S'fiiiiiiiine. Anywayz, Johnny'll need a ride home. Love ya Ker, byeeee!” V signed off cheerfully. 

Kerry was already on his way out the door before the call finished with a Delamain AV hailed - traffic was bound to be a mess right now. He decided to give a courtesy call to Rogue while he waited. 

“I heard they made it to a Delamain. V better watch it before that becomes her signature for a fucked up gig,” Rogue said immediately without any greeting. 

“Preem, just thought you'd want to hear we don't need to give Johnny another funeral. Interested in popping by?” 

“I'll think about it. Have a mess to clean up first.”

And here he'd wondered if he'd get to see a happier crack in the Queen of Fixers than 50 years ago. Still, not his biggest problem right now. 

Delamain kept to himself aside from telling him when Johnny and V made it to Vik's - he was grateful that he didn’t have to pretend to be more together than he was. Once he arrived, he ran into the mystic's shop to see V sitting in a large chair with Misty and Jackie checking her over. 

“Kerry!” V waved cheerfully, still slurring her words. “Johnny's in with Vik. ‘s told to keep ya ‘ere til they're done.” 

Misty piped up, “Johnny will be fine, but his injuries were more severe than V's so Vik took him first. Feel free to take a seat while you wait.” 

“Fuck that, wanna see-”

“Er, Mr. Eurodyne? Sir?” said Jackie, somewhat sheepishly given his usual demeanor. “You really ought to wait up here. I was just down there to get a couple meds for V. It's an actual surgery right now. Not a pretty scene.”

Misty gave him a soothing look, “Dr. Vektor will patch up Johnny in no time. Just give him some space until then.” 

Kerry frowned but relented; it wasn't like he had a plan for after barging in. God forbid he interrupt something delicate. 

“V, what the fuck even happened?”

V suddenly scowled, almost hilariously pissed. “I'll tell ya what happened: mother fuckin’ Maelstrom happened. Johnny ‘n’ I are there, doin’ our thang in some ‘bandoned Militech storage dump. Klep some files. Not a one guard ‘side from the garage entry that we didn’t even use. Easiest fuckin’ thing. But then Maelstrom shows up ‘cause they're robbing the place too. But they can't just be civil ‘bout it ‘cause they're still pissy about the thing at All Foods from like, forever ago. They start shootin’ ‘n’ then we start shootin’ ‘n’ Ker?” she adds, looking him dead in the eye. “One of those dumbass motherfuckers launches a wrist missile. In an abandoned munitions storage room. With explosives everywhere. So Johnny ‘n’ I rush into this bunker right there before it hits… KAPOW! Suddenly the floor is the ceiling ‘n’ then the floor ‘n’ over ‘n’ over again. Johnny's screamin’, I'm screamin’, steel beams are screamin’. But we don't die, so that's pretty shimra. Then we crawl out ‘n’ my poor fucking car is just twisted metal. So then I call Del ‘n’ then you. All because of motherfuckin’ Maelstrom. I am going to shit on the Totentanz so fuckin’ hard…”

“Chica, maybe relax a little bit with pissing off Maelstrom more. Give them some time to forget,” soothed Jackie. 

“Fuck ‘em!” V declared. “All Foods was so fuckin’ long ago ‘n’ they're still pissed off that we fucked ‘em for tryin’ to screw us. ‘Wah wah wah, you brought Militech here,’ wouldn't have happened if they didn't try to make us pay twice.”

Shit, Kerry liked V, really he did, but Maelstrom wasn't his immediate worry. He needed to get her back on track, “Johnny said something about his leg being messed up?” 

“Oh that. Yeah, he snapped that thing like a fuckin’ twig,” she said blithely, complete with an entirely unhelpful gesture of breaking an invisible stick in her hands. “Man, he was not happy. I think. Pretty sure I nodded off a couple times, but the lil asshole kept slappin’ me ‘til I called Del. Fuck, I hope he lets you sleep better. Oh yeah, his holo is fucked too, needs a new one.”

Misty decided to have mercy and jumped in. “Dr. Vektor ran scans on both of them. The broken bone is Johnny's only significant injury; he should be back to himself in no time.” 

Jackie grinned and patted V on the shoulder, “And then he'll work on this one so she stops talking like she drank the whole bar on her own.” 

Kerry nodded and finally let himself collapse in one of the chairs. All he had to do now was wait. 

-

Johnny groaned as he squinted against the bright lights right in his face as he awoke. 

“So what life are you on now, Silverhand? 20?” 

Johnny grimaced at Vik's deadpan and registered that he felt unusually numb. 

“Stopped counting back in the 2010s,” he answered flatly. “V ok?” 

Vik scoffed, but not as mean as Johnny usually got from the ripper. “She's fine, mostly punch drunk. Just needed a quick nanite injection to repair the damage.” Vik started poking at the screen before adding, “Thank you. For keeping her awake. Might've gone differently otherwise.”

Ah yes, the only time the ripper dropped his distrust for Johnny: when he proved that he actually did care if V stayed out of the Columbarium. Still, he preferred Vik's suspicion to the sycophants orbiting Kerry's new lifestyle. At least Johnny knew exactly where he stood with the ripper. 

“Alright, everything is checking out. New titanium femur seems to be integrating well. Just don't take any other pills or alcohol for 24 hours. And go easy on the leg for a couple days. A big ask, I know.” 

“Doc, right now, I really just want to sleep.” 

“A good instinct. Now go upstairs, Misty said your husband is wearing a hole in her floor.”

Great, Kerry wasn't going to be thrilled. 

Johnny winced as he got to his feet. It didn't hurt – Vik was always generous on that front, but it still felt weird as hell. Plus, he was the kind of bone-deep tired that he typically associated with staying up for a week. At least he could actually get up the stairs on his own. 

“Ah, there he is,” V said cheerfully with clearer eyes than earlier. “See Kerry? Nothing to worry about.” 

Kerry jumped up as Johnny walked into the incense-fogged esoterica. 

“Fuck, Johnny. You look like hell.” 

“Should've seen the other guy,” he grumbled, heart not really in the banter. “Come on, just want to crash.” 

V nodded, “Yeah, think that's my plan too. Sorry our ‘easy peasy’ gig almost blew us to hell.” 

Johnny waved her off and followed Kerry to the waiting AV. He didn't even have it in him to bitch about parking an AV in the middle of the busy thoroughfare or joke about visiting Gommorah’s first. 

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the cushioning. 

He could practically feel Kerry biting his tongue. He couldn't deny that he was grateful for the restraint. 

“You gonna want anything to eat?” Kerry finally broke the silence halfway through Corpo Plaza. 

Johnny shook his head. “Nah, just want to sleep for a week.”

“You look like you need it…” he trailed off before adding, “You worried the cat, y'know.”

“I'll give him one of those bougie fuckin’ treats you bought. He’ll forget all about me.” 

“And what do I get?”

Johnny cracked open an eye to see Kerry staring out the window, but rigid. He guessed he couldn't blame him for being tense. No way today hadn't brought up some bad memories. 

“Unless you want a cat treat too, gonna have to wait until I'm not about to fall over.” 

Kerry nodded silently, still watching out the window as the villa got closer. 

He didn't notice any medias at the gate so, presumably, no one connected him and V to the explosion. Yet. It was one of the few bright sides of that bunker getting blown away from the main building in the blast: they weren't where everyone was looking when they made their escape. 

But there was a very loud and insistent furball at the door when they opened it. He smirked at it but didn't really have the energy to bend down either. Probably why the cat followed them up the stairs. 

He barely threw off his coat before he collapsed on the bed, boots and all. It was only then that he registered that his pants had been replaced by surgical scrubs. The leather ones were probably toast. Or cut off by Vik. Not his favorite way to get undressed.  

He grunted when he felt Kerry fiddling with the boots and gently pulling them off with much more patience than the other guitarist usually showed anything. 

He was just about to fall asleep when he felt Kerry curl up behind him. Couldn't be that pissed at Johnny then, so that was nice. 

A sudden small weight on his pillow alerted him that the cat still had no interest in its expensive designer bed with its plush memory foam. Apparently he'd rather curl up in Johnny's greasy and dust-filled hair. 

‘Wonder if Ker will throw us both in the shower in the morning,’ was Johnny's last conscious thought.

Chapter Text

“The asshole actually wants me to shoot him, doesn't he?” Johnny grunted from the couch, toying with his guitar, but his heart wasn't really in it at the moment. 

He wasn't in a mood to entertain Kerry's shitty manager, and not only because it was his last day of resting his leg. Though he was losing his goddamned mind being cooped up. 

This whole plot was almost over: only 7 days left. A week. It hit Johnny almost viscerally that morning. 

Which was ridiculous. It's not like he'd never see Kerry again when the papers were signed. But it was just… nice for lack of a better word. In a way things hadn't really ever been for them before. 

Was Kerry going to expect him to bounce immediately? Back to V's? What about the cat? The tiny bastard and Nibbles didn't get along. 

He guessed he could use his royalties at the end to get his own place. Take the cat with him unless Kerry felt that strongly about keeping him. 

He wanted to make a self-deprecating joke about being a divorcé living alone with his cat and his guitar, but the whole idea felt… 

Well, kinda pathetically lonely. 

“Look Johnny, I hate the fucker more than you do but I gotta sign off on those papers. I'd rather he cart his ass over here than me make the trip downtown,” argued Kerry from the coffee maker, completely unaware of Johnny's silent turmoil. Maybe because he was working much too hard to keep the cat from sticking his head under the spout. Because the damned thing loved nothing if he didn't love sticking his face in places kittens really don't belong. 

Johnny grunted and tried to focus on playing, but he just couldn't get the right headspace. 

The knock at the door did not improve his mood. 

Kovachek greeted Kerry with a sleazy grin once he opened the door, “Kerry, my favorite shining sta-”

“Yeah, yeah, come in and put the papers on the table,” Kerry cut off before turning away and chugging his too-hot coffee - he didn’t look to see if Kovachek was behind him. 

Kovachek followed Kerry to the table, pausing just for a moment at seeing Johnny. Johnny didn't think he got enough credit for restraining himself from immediately starting a fight at the fucker's smug look. 

“Ok, just sign-”

“Nice try. Actually gonna read this shit and talk to the lawyers first,” muttered Kerry as he put down his coffee and picked the papers up. Sharp blue and gold optics started glowing, indicating a data transfer, presumably to the lawyer. 

Johnny rolled his eyes but returned to his guitar. Ker could try to be careful with contracts all he liked: all the corp had to do to overrule his efforts was grease the right palms. An old argument he wasn't up to revisiting. 

“What the-” the corpo suddenly shouted. 

Johnny glanced up to see the kitten climbing up Kovachek's slacks, apparently to the wearer's displeasure. Because of course he was such a cartoon villain that he hated kittens. 

“He thinks you have food,” Johnny said flatly. 

“Well, I don't, so would you mind removing him?” 

“I do mind actually. Little furball lives here; you're just the courier. Ignore him, he'll get bored eventually,” he replied, a cool glare suggesting that the asshole should tread very carefully. 

Kovachek glanced down, almost panicked, as the kitten made it up to his suit jacket. 

“I'm actually not very good with animals…” he started to plead. 

Johnny wasn't moved and made sure his face said it. “Mm. Shame about that.”

Kovachek started to move like he was going to swipe the kitten off his coat. Fuck that. 

Johnny quietly pulled out the Malorian and placed it on the table between them, almost hoping the bastard was stupid enough to give him an excuse. Disappointingly, Kovachek read the message loud and clear: he froze like a particularly ugly mannequin. 

The kitten got a claw stuck on a thread that stalled his ascent around the elbow, and noisily made his displeasure known. 

“I think it's stuck, don't you think you should help it?” 

Johnny shook his head, “He'll never learn if he doesn't figure shit out on his own.”

Something behind Kovachek's eyes snapped. 

“Why are you even still here?”

Johnny shot the corpo a cold glare in warning, but apparently fuzzy little kittens were where L.B. Kovachek drew the line. 

“Everyone saw your little escapade in Dogtown, you haven't changed enough to seriously want to settle down.”

“Choose your next words carefully, choom,” Johnny growled, already trying to figure out the best angle to fire from to keep any risk well away from the furball investigating the suit's pocket. 

Kovachek glanced towards the other room, making sure Kerry was still out of earshot before hissing, “Is it about the money? Coming back from the dead can't be cheap. I could help-” 

“You really need to stop talking,” Johnny snarled, putting down the guitar. He didn't want to risk the cat, which meant extracting it before he blew this bastard's head off. He was about 80% sure Kerry’d forgive him for getting blood on the floor if Johnny handled the body. 

“Why would you even come back to a city that hates you?” 

“Oh hell no.”

Johnny and Kovachek both jumped, neither having noticed Kerry's return. 

Kerry looked about as pissed as Johnny'd ever seen him, even before he grabbed Johnny's gun on the way over to Kovachek. 

“Get the fuck out,” Kerry snarled, waving the gun threateningly. 

“Kerry, it’s not-” Kovachek started.

“Don’t fucking start,” Kerry growled as he extricated the kitten and put him down on the table. “Not having that bullshit in my goddamned house. Get the fuck out and don’t come back.” 

“Be reaso-”

“You’ve got ten seconds before I wipe your data from the security system.” 

“But your contract-”

“Let's make it five, actually,” Kerr growled, optics glowing as he accessed the security's interface. 

Kovachek must have been convinced because he sprinted for the door. A wise decision - he only just started his car when the security bots activated the intruder alarm. 

Disappointingly, the asshole was able to peel out before they landed a shot. Johnny wondered if there was an upgrade to make there. V would've been horrified by their ineffectiveness. 

He walked up behind Kerry and gently pulled the Malorian from his hand.

“Glad you didn't pull the trigger. Thing would've dislocated your fuckin’ arm.”

Kerry laughed humorlessly, “How could I forget? You and your bullshit…” He sighed and started pacing. “That was the last fucking straw. Gonna call the label.” 

Johnny tilted his head but, frankly, he wasn't holding his breath. Kerry had a hot temper but he always hated to step on the wrong toes. Nah, no way he’d break his contract over this. 

“You know, probably would've been easier if you’d just let me shoot him, was about to.” 

“I don't need that shit in my living room, now shush,” Kerry barked as his optics glowed. 

Johnny grabbed the cat from where he was complaining on the table and placed him back on the ground to stop his yelling. A part of him had been hoping Kerry'd light something up again instead of going through official channels but, so it goes. 

On the bright side, Kerry was hot this pissed off. 

“Yeah, it's me. Fucking done with Kovachek… No, it's not up for discussion, not this time!” 

Kerry paused as Johnny walked over and pressed up against Kerry's back, carefully staying out of view of the holo. He didn't acknowledge it any further, but he did stop pacing. 

Kerry continued, “I just caught him harassing my husband in our living room… No, it wasn't a misunderstanding - I know what I fucking heard. He's lucky I didn't make Trauma carry him out in a bag!”

Kerry froze as Johnny started palming the front of Kerry's jeans and leisurely grinding into his ass. Johnny grinned before nipping the back of Kerry's shoulder, eliciting a barely-there gasp. 

Kerry went on, but definitely with some strain in his voice, “Don't you dare try sending him back here ‘to apologize’ or I'll fuckin’ blow his head off!” 

Now there was an idea. Well, a different sort of blowing. 

Johnny gave Kerry's half-hard cock one more squeeze before getting in front of Kerry and sinking to his knees. He smirked at Kerry's face - so torn between being pissed and being turned on. As he nuzzled the bulge in Kerry's jeans, he wondered how many times Kerry imagined Johnny on his knees for him. Seemed like a solid way to thank him. 

“No, I don't want a mediator to get involved!” Kerry continued, eyes firmly on Johnny as he zipped down Kerry's fly. 

Johnny didn't have the foggiest what weasel words the corp was using to try and salvage what apparently had been a lucrative management. And anyway, he was busy. He pulled Kerry's cock out and gave it a few leisurely strokes. 

“Sure, get him on the line…” Kerry replied to someone. Apparently someone was kicking the problem up the food chain if Kerry wasn't pissed about being handed off. 

“Arrata? I'm guessing they told you-” Kerry froze when Johnny gave the tip of his cock an experimental lick. He glared at Johnny but tangled a hand in Johnny's hair, holding him in place. 

‘Well that’s as good as permission,’ Johnny thought, opening his mouth just enough to get the head past his lips. 

Johnny was pretty confident going down on a chick, but that was an entirely different thing than sucking dick. Still, Kerry's early reactions so far were promising. Eyes dark, some flush to those picture-perfect cheeks. Johnny gave him another long lick.

Kerry suddenly looked up, incensed over something the voice on the other end of the line had said, “Kovachek said what? Don't tell me you really believe we trained a scrawny little kitten to harass people on command! Can barely get the little fucker to use his litterbox instead of the zen garden!” 

Johnny tried taking him deeper until his gag reflex stopped him. That was something he'd need to work on if he was going to do this again. 

And looking up at Kerry's dark eyes and flushed skin - both from anger and arousal - Johnny was pretty sure he would be doing this again. 

Still, he had to start somewhere, so he lazily licked and sucked at the tip while he brought a hand up to stroke what he wouldn't be able to get down. He smirked when Kerry bucked forward just a tiny bit. 

“Fuck that piece of shit. Did he tell you that he asked Johnny why he came back ‘to a city that hates him?’ Like he was hoping to run him off!” 

Kerry's voice was getting strained, though Johnny wasn't sure if that was about Kerry getting angrier or because Johnny started bobbing on his dick, tongue dragging along the bottom. The grip in Johnny's hair was getting tighter too. Johnny groaned just enough that Kerry very nearly returned it. 

It wasn't that Johnny needed Kerry to defend him, but positive reinforcement was supposed to be a good thing, right? 

“Look, I'll keep it simple: either he goes, or I do! Not going to stand for anyone talkin’ to Johnny like that under my roof,” Kerry snapped, bucking his hips hard, making Johnny gag on him a little. Kerry did not look sorry. 

Johnny shifted to ease the strain on his own dick. 

Johnny was quickly developing an appreciation for just how much multitasking went into this: had to make sure he didn't accidentally catch Kerry with his teeth, keep the pace steady, use his tongue, move his hands, remember to breathe. He absently gave out a few silent apologies to outputs of days long past who accidentally clipped Johnny's cock going down on him and props to the chicks who'd been good at it: this was harder than it looked. 

He glanced back up at Kerry, who was looking down with dark, hungry eyes. He couldn't be doing that badly. 

“I don't care how much money he's made me, not after this,” Kerry growled, moving his hand behind Johnny's head to hold him in place as he thrust forward slowly. 

Johnny closed his eyes to focus on working on Kerry's moving length as spit started to run down his chin. 

“Take it to whoever you want,” Kerry suddenly snapped loudly as he forced Johnny to gag around his cock. He wondered if choking on cock could be as good as being choked by hand. 

Would Kerry even be mad if Johnny got him to come when he was on the line? Maybe if Johnny timed it right, he could get Kerry to finish as the label inevitably sided with the money-printing rocker and fired Kovachek…

Johnny lifted his other hand to Kerry's ass, giving it a good squeeze before pushing Kerry's hips forward. 

Kerry glared down at him before increasing his speed, thrusting deeper until Johnny choked. 

Ok yeah, that was pretty good when his throat would tolerate the intrusion. It also cut back on the list of things Johnny had to manage if he just let Kerry fuck his face like this. 

“Look, if I have to involve the lawyers, I will. But one way or another, I'm never working with that asshole again!” Kerry growled, voice running just a hair deeper than before. 

Johnny groaned as he futilely ground against nothing. Apparently he could add “sucking cock” to the list of things that he refused to try before but actually turned him on. Kerry was going to be so fucking smug about this. 

But not right now because Kerry was close, Johnny could barely keep up as the other rocker's grip turned to iron, and he relentlessly used Johnny's mouth. 

It kinda pissed off Johnny that Kerry’s face didn’t give away much besides anger. Johnny would have to up his game if he wanted that to be a threat at all the next time he blew Kerry on the line. 

He’d always been very goal-oriented after all. 

“Fine, send over the forms! Whatever it takes,” Kerry snapped before hanging up. 

Damn, his timing was off. 

“And what the fuck do you think you're doing, Johnny? Hoping I'd break off from MSM if you sucked me good enough?” 

That wasn't his plan, but Johnny wouldn't have complained if Kerry had. Kerry groaned as he used both hands to hold Johnny's head in place as he fucked his mouth harder. 

“Thought you were just going to tease me before. Never thought you’d-” Kerry cut off the remark with a moan and fucked Johnny’s mouth faster - Johnny could barely keep up. 

“Shit, Johnny, I'm about to-” 

Johnny moaned and gripped Kerry's hips hard to pull him closer - as good an answer as he could give right now. 

“Fuck, fuck, Johnny,” Kerry gasped as he came in Johnny's mouth. 

Kerry's cum wasn't the worst thing he ever tasted, even if it was kind of strange. The scent of Kerry around him was definitely doing something for him though. He made a point to look right up at Kerry as he swallowed, grinning as Kerry groaned softly and gave a small, helpless jerk forward. 

Johnny eased back to sit on his calves, licking the head clean as he went. 

“Not my fault you're hot when you're mad,” Johnny rasped. 

Kerry smirked fondly, “Go sit on the couch, you're still supposed to be careful with that leg.”

Johnny wondered if Kerry was about to show him up - he wouldn’t even be that annoyed about it since Kerry sucked cock like his life depended on it - but Kerry grabbed a bottle of lube and tossed his jeans before straddling Johnny. 

Johnny smiled lazily as he leaned back on the couch seat, “Shit, need to get corpos to piss you off more often.”

“Stop talking before I change my mind,” Kerry replied with no real heat. 

Johnny closed his eyes as Kerry pulled him free from his pants and started slicking him. He was surprisingly close already - taking in Kerry's smell around him, still tasting his cum. 

“You know I'm glad you came back, right?”

Johnny opened his eyes again at the question, Kerry's tone oddly earnest. 

“Kinda figured that when you didn't pistol-whip me again,” he muttered, groaning when Kerry sank down on his cock. 

“Fuckin’ mean it, Johnny,” Kerry started panting as he rode Johnny slowly. “Hated the idea of burying you again. Fuck.” 

Johnny grabbed Kerry's hips to push him back down harder and faster. Fuck, coming back was worth it just for this, having Kerry so fucking desperate for him even after weeks of fucking. 

If Johnny sounded a bit desperate too, was it really his fault that Kerry was so good at this? His fault that Kerry felt so fucking good? Fuck, he was such an idiot for blowing him off all those years. 

Kerry nipped at his throat before growling, “Anyone else tries to run you off, I'll fucking kill ‘em.” 

Johnny wasn't really sure what to say to that, so he pulled Kerry in for a heated kiss, groaning as Kerry tightened around him. It took him a few seconds to register that Kerry could taste himself on Johnny's tongue. 

It’d take a lot more than an aggravating corpo to get Johnny to give this up. Kerry was his, and the whole fucking world knew it now. 

“Just stay,” Kerry begged against his lips. 

Johnny nodded absently and pulled Kerry closer, bucking hard up into him as he came. 

“I'll stay. Fuckin’ love you,” he rasped into Kerry's neck. 

The words didn't register until he started to come down and realized that Kerry had frozen completely still.  

Apparently, Johnny needed a gag during sex now. 

Johnny swallowed and tried to think of some way to play this so Kerry didn't get the wrong idea. He kept his forehead down on Kerry's shoulder, wracking his brain for some way out. 

He couldn't think of a single fucking thing. Not without hurting Kerry, which he swore he wasn't going to do this time around. 

… And not without lying. Fuck, when the hell did that happen? 

They both looked up as the tone from the front gate's bell broke the silence. Of all the fucking times he had ever been interrupted before he came, of course this had to be the time it was just seconds too late. 

“... You should probably go get that,” he finally said. 

Kerry nodded and pulled off Johnny's lap, grabbing his jeans before going off to handle the door. 

-

Irving's heart sank. 

Silverhand said it. Why the fuck would he say it?! 

Mike, on the other hand, was screaming quietly and shaking Irving. 

“Did you hear that, Turbo Irvo!?!? He's in love!!” Fucking kicking his feet like a teen girl at a sleepover. 

“Mike, stop, please. Oh my God, Abernathy is going to kill me,” Irving groaned, burying his head in his hands. 

“But come on, the ring, the confession, how tenderly he watched Eurodyne on stage! This is so much better than Watson Whore,” Mike gushed. 

“It's not hard to be better than Watson Whore. Unfortunately, this romance is much more likely to put my corpse at the bottom of Coronado Bay,” Irving groaned. “Maybe he'll panic again?” He said almost hopefully, even if a part of him dreaded it. 

Wait, why would he dread that? 

“Bite your tongue and pull up the feed again, mister!” Mike grunted, throwing popcorn at his head. 

Irving did so and saw that Silverhand was still on the couch, redressed and playing with the cat. Eurodyne was dealing with some corpo by the table - Irving assumed from the label. 

If you didn't know better, you could think it was a completely normal scene. 

‘I'm going to need a ticket to Nairobi, aren't I?’ Irving thought to himself. 

At least Mike was happy. That wasn't nothing. 

-

V grunted as ringing from her holo interrupted her nap - recovery always went by faster if you slept through it. 

She frowned when she saw it was River. He was a good choom, but his calls could mean anything from a case with severe psychological horror to chilling with his adorable niece and nephew. 

“Hey River, what's up?”

‘Please no cows…’

River looked more irritated than anything else, so she was hopeful. 

“V? I need you to come down to Wellsprings. Your dumbass rockerboys decided to make nuisances of themselves.” 

‘Yes, no cows!’ 

“Oh? What'd they do?” V asked in a way she hoped didn't make her relief obvious. 

River sighed, “Nothing catastrophic, at least by their standards. Mostly just drunk and disorderly until Silverhand ripped someone's car door off - not sure why. Anyway, I know the guys who collared them - asked them to hold off bringing them in as a favor. So I'd appreciate it if you hurried.”

“Yeah sure, be right there. Thanks River!” 

She threw Delamain's AV service a quick hail while she got dressed and equipped. She didn't think there'd be a firefight, but it was Night City - you should always be prepared for one. 

“Ah, V, I'm pleased to see you are back to your chipper self,” greeted Delamain as she entered. 

“Thanks for the save the other day, Del. Me and Johnny appreciate it,” V replied as she seated herself. 

She was about to text River to say she was on the way when her phone started buzzing with texts. 

She shook her head. “‘Drunk and disorderly’ indeed.” 

V shook her head and dismissed the messages. 

“Best be quick about it Del, dunno what those two are up to,” V said with a theatrical sigh. 

“Not a worry, we should be at the designated landing zone shortly. I will wait there for your return for the trip back. Will you be returning to your penthouse, or are you bringing Johnny and his husband to Villa Eurodyne?”

V huffed, “Yeah, takin’ those two back to North Oak. I do not need two rockerboys puking on my floors or takin’ a header off the balcony.”

“Very good, we were just cleared for landing. It appears your contact with the NCPD is waiting for you as well.” 

As she exited the AV, V quickly took stock of the area. Nothing seemed to be on fire, so that was promising. She did see the car River had mentioned: Johnny's beef with the ride made more sense when she scanned the owner standing near it and saw he worked for Arasaka. 

She frowned slightly. If he was still here, that probably meant he wanted to press charges. She'd have to do some light witness intimidation later. 

“V!” River called out. 

“Hey River! How's Joss and the kids?” V greeted with a grin. 

“They're fine, thanks for asking. The numbskulls are this way,” River answered as he started walking towards a couple of patrol cars. “We had to separate them after they decided to test if they could still screw with their hands cuffed behind their backs. They actually got pretty far…”

V snickered, “Yeah, I don't know what you expected from drunk newlywed rockers.” 

It was obvious which car had Johnny in it - the bastard had a set of pipes worthy of any punk band. 

“FUCK YOU PIGS, YOU CAN'T MAKE HIM TESTIFY AGAINST ME, HE'S MY HUSBAND!”

V arched an eyebrow at River, who shook his head. 

“He got it into his head that we took Eurodyne out of the car for questioning. I think they might have managed to forget about their attempt to defile the seat - I wish I could. Let's try Eurodyne first, he's slightly less belligerent.” 

V shrugged but followed River to the next car where a cop opened the door for them. 

“V!” Kerry greeted with a dopey grin, “D'hear that? He called me ‘is husband!”

V grinned at the drunken rocker, “Well yeah, Ker. You're married. That is a thing that happened.”

“Fuck, ‘m I glad t'see you! Gotta ‘elp us. Fuckin’ pigs are everywhere,” Kerry said with a furtive glance around. 

River scowled, “These ‘fucking pigs’ called you a ride home instead of putting your asses in the drunk tank. Could stand to be a bit nicer.” 

Kerry stared at River like he was having trouble focusing on him, “Y'sure you're not a stripper? Fuckin’ fabulous coat.” 

V couldn't hold back her cackle as River's face turned bright red. “You know what V? I'm going to leave these two to you.” 

V turned back to Kerry, “Seems like you two are havin’ fun.” 

“We're celebratin’!” Kerry declared exuberantly. “Kovachek is ‘fficially gone. Done. Fired. Not m'problem anymore!” 

“Yeah?” 

Kerry nodded emphatically, “Fucker tried t'run off Johnny, fuckin’ believe that?” 

She could, actually. It was always just a matter of whether Kovachek would snap first or if Johnny would. And it didn't take a genius to figure out that Kerry would have picked even a partially decomposed gerbil over his now ex-manager. And he'd also always choose Johnny over nearly anyone else. 

This was actually a tidier resolution than V expected. She was always secretly dreading having to clean up Kovachek's bits and pieces if Johnny ever actually blew him apart with that glorified arm cannon. 

“Ok Kerry, you ready to go home?” 

Kerry scowled, “Not wit’out Johnny!”

She pat his shoulder, “Don't worry, grabbing him next. Then we'll get you guys home, hydrated…” she wrinkled her nose as she noticed that it wasn't just his breath that stank, “maybe a quick shower…” 

“Home sounds good, no fuckin’ pigs or corpos there.” 

V gave him a hand up, “Nope. And then you two can keep up your little celebration, m'kay?” 

Kerry nodded, almost falling on his face doing so, before she grabbed him and helped him over to the AV seat. 

Ok, one rockerboy successfully corralled. Now for Johnny, who was still working on blowing out his vocal cords. 

“YOU COCKSUCKIN’ SONS OF- oh. Hey V,” Johnny said mildly when he realized who opened the door. 

“Hey J, hear you've been busy,” V grinned back. 

Johnny grinned, “Fuckin’ celebratin’! Ding dong, the witch is dead! Not literally, Ker wouldn't let me shoot the fucker.” 

“So I heard. Come on, I'm your ride home,” V said as she started to leave. 

“V, wait,” Johnny said, almost unnervingly sober as he motioned her back in. “Shut the door.” 

V raised an eyebrow but decided that playing along was probably easier if she wanted him relatively pliant. “What's up? Lookin’ oddly serious.” 

Johnny sighed and stared ahead. “Got a smoke?” 

V nodded and pulled one out and held it for him. She also sent out a quick hack to deafen the in-car monitors. 

Some of the tension left his shoulders as he pulled a long drag and sat back. 

“... So I told Ker I love him” 

V kept her face steady. She knew there was no way things were that easy. Not with Johnny. 

He continued, “I actually meant it.”

She nodded but kept her silence. If they were going to avoid another spiral, she'd have to let him drive this convo unless he started getting ridiculous. 50/50 shot there. Maybe closer to 80/20, depending on what he took. 

“V, he's gonna divorce me and I'm in love with him,” he groaned like this was a death sentence and not marital problems. 

“Did you try tellin’ him you'd rather stay together?” 

Johnny scoffed, “Course not. He won't believe me.” He thought to himself briefly, “What if I just… don't sign shit?”

She facepalmed. 

“Johnny… You can't just avoid this and expect it to work out. Also, only one of you actually needs to submit the forms. If you want this, actually want this, you're gonna need to tell him so.” She held the cigarette for him again, “Come on, you know Kerry's nuts about you. Just gotta tell him it's not one-sided.” 

Johnny looked skeptical. And extremely high now that she got a good look at his pupils - she was curious if he'd even remember this conversation. 

“That ‘Saka fucker still yammerin’ ‘bout pressin’ charges out there?” 

Ok, chat over. For now. 

“Yep.” 

Johnny scoffed and leaned over for another drag of the cigarette, “Should've beat him with the fuckin’ door. Know he called us ‘has beens’? People still say shit like that in 2077?” 

‘Yeah Johnny, you're definitely mad about potentially antiquated lingo.’

“Apparently. Come on, Kerry is waiting for us with Del.” 

River escorted them over to the AV, diligently ignoring Johnny's attempts to start an argument. 

“Hey you two,” Kerry greeted cheerfully, handcuffed to the seat because apparently Kerry tried to wander off while she was gone. 

She really needed to get a set of cuffs for these two. Maybe they’d work their shit out if she just cuffed them together.  

“Hey Ker,” Johnny greeted, friendly as could be as River removed his much-sturdier anticyberware cuffs. 

For all their chatter about love and romance when V had them alone, you couldn't tell it now. Because why would they talk to the other person who actually needed to hear it? They now seemed much more interested about whether they could pull a song out of this. And mad that the cops wouldn't let them keep the door as a trophy. 

So fucking comfortable with each other. So willing to let their guards down. Except for the one topic they desperately needed to. 

‘Fuckin idiots,’ she thought to herself.