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The first time V feels that pang in his chest after dragging Johnny’s body out of Arasaka tower; it’s in an apartment he’d rented under a false name, three weeks after the incident.
He's sat on the couch, eating slowly, staring at the wall and experiencing emotional numbness he never knew was possible. Johnny sits vaguely next to him, watching the holoscreen and tapping his forefinger on the armrest. Muted news on ‘Saka scrolls by. Johnny makes no move to turn it off. Mostly due to his weak muscles. He’s still recovering from his body's fifty years of stasis, and Alt tearing his consciousness apart and piecing it back together. They both are.
V turns to him, swallowing his food, and says nothing aloud. Johnny does the same— after a few moments, he cocks an eyebrow.
“Can’t read your mind anymore, V. Gonna have to use your words, like a big boy.” It’s meant to be funny, to lighten the mood. V just puts his food down, drags himself to the bathroom, and cries. Johnny hears him; they both know he can hear the wailing through the thin walls. Johnny doesn’t interrupt.
The second is only three days later. V is looking down at the nutrition facts on some microwave oatmeal, hat secured over his eyes, and Johnny lounges nearby, leaning against a shelf and protecting the shopping cart. V looks up at him, asks him a question without words; attempts to send him the query through thought alone. Johnny doesn’t even twitch. There is only the dull echo of V’s own question in his mind. He cries again— silently, barely a sniffle and some tears.
The third and fourth come days later, tears abound. The fifth, sixth, seventh, all pass as a sharp twist in his chest. Eighth, ninth, thirteenth, twentieth time— gets no easier. He can’t name it, won’t name it; but it's there. It brings him to tears he won’t let anyone see, every time.
The God-knows which time, V and Johnny sit in a private booth in a bar, the fancy kind with a locking door and a screen for ordering drinks. Johnny orders V drink after drink, while nursing only one beer himself; which V notices, and promptly forgets about, too drunk to ask why.
“You’re wasted,” Johnny smiles, sipping his beer. V giggles, covering his mouth with both hands.
“Maybe a lil,” he replies, pinching his fingers together. “Your fault anyways, huh— you, you’re the one buying all these… these l-little fancy drinks, with umbrellas in…”
V takes the pink striped paper umbrella out of his fruity alcohol, and tucks the toothpick part behind his ear.
“T– Trying to get me drunk, Silverhand?” V hiccups. “Cause it’s working-!” he says in a singsong, drawing out the ‘-ing' in working.
“A little.”
“Mhm, I- I thought so, huh. Your wily tricks will… will never escape me.” V taps his temple. “Because… my smarticle particles, hm.”
“Your… smarticle particles?”
“Yeah, uh-huh.” V nods, very seriously. “I went to college to get more knowledge. And you went to Jupiter, to get more stupider. So th‐ that’s why I know your… silly ways.”
Johnny shakes his head, but V doesn’t miss the smirk he turns away to hide.
“You’re an idiot when you’re drunk. Remind me why I did this again?”
“W- Well I don’t know! You gotta…” V grabs Johnny’s face with both hands, squishing it around. “Frigure— Fri… Figure it out, huhhh?”
Johnny bats V's hands away, sliding the drink he’d reached for away.
“Wha, give it back…” V pouts.
“No. I’m officially cutting you off.” Johnny takes a gulp of V's drink. It’s supposed to be blue raspberry. It tastes like chemicals and blue. He just wonders how V can even drink this stuff. “Unless…”
V perks up.
“Unless what?”
“Unless you feel like answering some questions.”
That sobers V up rather quickly.
“I… Listen, Johnny, I d- don’t want to... to talk about it.”
“You don’t even know what I’m gonna ask.”
“I- I’m not some kind of idiot groupie, Johnny.” V leans back against the booth, letting his head fall to rest against the thin cushion. “I know you wanna ask me some— ugh, some g- gonk question about my stupid feelings.”
“Say that were the case. Would that be so bad?”
“Having to ask the stupid question in the first place is what’s…” V presses his lips together, silencing himself. “Damn it, Johnny, I'm n– not drunk enough for this.”
Johnny slides the glass back towards V.
“Then get drunk enough.”
V glances between Johnny and the drink, and ultimately decides what he can’t remember won’t hurt him. So, he chugs the rest of it, and Johnny orders him another drink. And he drinks that, too. And Johnny orders another. Drink, order, drink, order, drink.
“Why are you crying all the time?”
V, eyes barely open, flicks them up to look at Johnny. A little sideways, as his head is planted down onto the table. The tears flow easily when he thinks of the answer, the sobbing coming quickly after.
“I m– miss you, you… you damn gonk…” V sniffles, closing his eyes.
“V, c’mon. I’m right here.”
“No, Johnny.” V pushes his arm. “In here. With me. I look in the mirror, and sometimes, it feels like you died. Because I can’t sense you.”
“Like me that much, huh?” Johnny rubs V's back in an attempt to comfort him. He just cries harder.
“I– I do!” V cries. “I… I– I wanna… be with you again, Johnny. I miss when I was us.”
At this, Johnny takes pause. His hand rests on V's back, and the other reaches up to swipe a tear away (smudging his metallic makeup), to push back a strand of V's silver hair.
“Let’s go home, V.”
V plants his forehead into the table. He’s blown it for sure. He’s just glad he’s not going to remember much of this in the morning.
“Okay.”
☆♡
V wakes up with a killer headache. The first thing he does— turns over to the side of the bed and starts fucking spewing.
Somehow; Johnny is already there, before he’d even woken up— a bowl in hand and pushing back his hair.
“Try to breathe, V. Got meds for you when you’re done.”
“Ohhh, my God.” V groans heavily between hiccups. “What the fuck… Happened last night?”
“You drank a bit.”
“Just ‘a bit'?” V coughs, spitting into the bowl. “I feel like my brain is banging on the sides of my fucking skull— and that thing is titanium. My brains’ still mostly grey matter. It’s mushy in there, Johnny.”
“You’re gonna be okay, V.” Johnny sets the bowl on the ground, and offers up a cup of water and a few glossy blue pills.
“Gimme that shit now.” V whispers, voice hoarse. V snatches the pills, tossing them into his mouth, and with a bit of help from Johnny, raises the glass to get a bit of water. They wash down easy, and Johnny gently guides V back to a laying position.
“Go back to bed. Meds should start working soon.” V doesn’t miss Johnny’s grimace as he picks up the bowl, and waddles over to dump it in the toilet. He quickly flushes and rinses the bowl before placing it back down besides the bed, and takes the seat on the couch closest.
V closes his eyes, trying to recollect anything from last night. The only thing that comes to mind is fruity drinks and Johnny smiling. Even remembering the taste makes his stomach churn. He closes his eyes and attempts to fall asleep.
When he wakes up, his head hurts significantly less; and Johnny paces at the other side of the small apartment, having a hushed conversation on the phone.
V watches him for a moment, through thick silver eyelashes that nearly touch his cheek. The words swim past him, in one ear and out the other. When their eyes finally catch, Johnny makes to end the call as quickly as he can.
“He’s awake. Going now.”
“You don’t have to sneak your inputs around me, Johnny. I don’t care what you do with your new— old? Body.” V mumbles, tucking the thin blanket under his chin.
“You wish I had an input— even if just to get me off your back.” Johnny meanders back to the couch, putting his feet up and digging a crushed carton of cigarettes from his back pocket.
“Uh huh. ‘Cause I hate you, obviously.”
V makes a grabbing motion towards Johnny’s pack of cigarettes, and Johnny hands one over. He balances the cigarette between his lips and strikes a match, carefully holding the flame up to the end of it, then leans over to attempt the same for V.
“Careful. Don’t wanna singe your perfect hair.” V touches the top of his head. It’s far from perfect— He can feel it.
“Light and fuck off.”
Johnny chuckles under his breath, leaning over the arm of the couch to light the cigarette in his mouth. As he does, V leans in, a hand peeking out of the covers to gently guide his wrist. It’s something they’ve done frequently since Arasaka tower. The whole ‘touching’ thing. Johnny still isn’t used to actually feeling things again, with his own matter. It was different, through the buffer of V's brain. Touching V was like touching Johnny through a cracked looking glass. Warped, the imprint of it incomplete, and God damn, V’s fucking nerves are so slow. Then, when Alt gathered him up and spat him back into his own body, the first thing he experienced was V, so purely him. His skin, his voice, his smell. At the time, it was all so overwhelming.
But now, feeling it comes with an ease he doesn’t recognize. V’s touch, ever so soft, traces his snake tattoo for just a moment. Then his cigarette is lit, and Johnny pulls away, pinching the flame out with his silver hand.
V inhales deeply, holding for a brief moment, and sighs contently, smoke swirling.
“Hate that these stupid things chill me out so quick.”
“Mmm, sweet capitalism. Soothes the soul.”
“This is your fault anyway.” V waves his cigarette around. “Would’ve never smoked if you hadn’t nagged me into it.”
“If not then, then now. Or sometime in the future. I’m an excellent influence.”
V carefully lifts himself to the sitting position, leaning against the headboard. He takes a long drag of his cigarette.
“Head okay?” Johnny mumbles, standing and flipping channels on the TV to something more… trashy, than depressing. Watson Whore plays faintly in the background.
“Sure. Better than earlier.”
“Good.” Johnny nods, laying back down against the length of the chaise lounge, facing the TV. “Are we done on groceries for this week? My pack’s almost empty, and I’m fucking starving.”
“You’re always starving. Let’s just get something in.”
☆♡
Days later, nearly a week, Johnny gets a phone call.
No one knows they’re back yet— keeping things off the radar ‘till things cool off. So no Rogue; she’s not the type to snitch, but she’s a popular woman. People get seen with her, word spreads. Not Judy, she barely knows the guy and already hates him, and not Panam (V and her broke up over the guy, so she isn’t the biggest fan either), can’t be anyone, in fact— the phone’s a brand-new burner. There’s only one number; V's, and God knows Johnny never texts him more than a word at a time, much less calls him.
And when it rings, they both glance at where it lies face-down on the glass common area table. Johnny snatches it up quick, slanting the screen away, only giving the caller-ID a glance before picking it up and promptly exiting the apartment.
What the hell?
☆♡
Three weeks pass, with intermittent suspicious phone calls sprinkled throughout; each one stranger than the last.
V only asks what it is that is so important that he feels the need to be secretive about it— but just gets flicked on the forehead and told to fuck off. Which he does, collapsing onto the bed and playing a shitty mobile game on his temporary phone.
The final phone call, Johnny picks up, says his usual greeting (most commonly ‘Silverhand,’ or ‘start talking’), and… actually stays in the room?
The person on the other end speaks for barely five seconds before Johnny hangs up without saying anything else.
“Get your ass presentable.”
“What?” V turns his head fully as Johnny stands, brushing off his pants.
“Get up. Shower, dress, et cetera.” Johnny spins his finger in a circle. “We’re gonna roll in 15.”
“Am I not… dressed… now?”
Johnny eyes V's sweater and shorts.
“Actually dressed. Not pajamas.”
“Those are basically your pajamas.”
“And I’m going to change while you’re in the shower— Unless you want me to start now.”
“Go ahead, Mr. Impressive Cock. Let’s make good on those words, huh?”
“How about we wait for that until after the surprise.”
“The what?”
“You heard me. Shower, dress, yesterday.”
V pauses.
“Fine. But you know I don’t like surprises, and I want ice cream after.” V rolls over, standing up and stretching.
“Deal, but I drive.”
“Dick.”
“I thought that’s what you wanted out of me?”
“I will fucking end you for a third time.”
“Won’t be permanent. Third?”
“Say what you want, going from chip to bod counts as death number two. Planning on haunting my psyche again?”
“Go fucking shower!”
“Fine!”
V showers, not bothering with the song and dance of bringing his clothes into the bathroom and dressing there. He wrings out his hair, searching through the wardrobe for his outfit of the day. Is he feeling little shirt, big pants? Or maybe something skimpy? He has some neglected dresses…
“Just pick something. We’re in a hurry.” Johnny pipes up from the couch. Leaned back, both arms up on the cushions, dressed in black and red leather from head to toe— it’s unusual for V to see him in anything other than that dumb bulletproof vest. Dark, dark sunglasses hide his eyes. His hair is up in a really messy bun, the short bits at the back and front pooling around his face and neck.
“Johnny, it’s a process, you know this.”
Johnny sighs heavily, launching himself up off the couch and stepping up onto and over the glass table, jumping over the stairs to where the open door of the wardrobe is. He looks inside, planting a hand on V’s chest and pushing him back. Gathering a handful of clothing items V can’t tell much apart, he lays them all out on the bed (presumably in the order he’s meant to wear them), and walks backwards, falling into a laying position back onto the couch.
“It’s easy, you’re just too concerned with how you look.”
“And you aren’t?”
“V, go back to the bathroom, look at my three in one shampoo, and come ask me that again.”
“Fair point,” V nods, walking over to the bed. The outfit Johnny had picked is actually… cohesive. And it’s something he’d conceivably wear. A little slutty, a little coy, and silver all over. It’s… V hates to admit it, it’s almost perfect. He slips the shirt on, a torn up grey crop top, then the jeans, a tight pair of low-rise silver skinnies. Then the jacket, a barely waist-long silver puff jacket with full sleeves. He backs up a bit, just enough to see his reflection in the bathroom mirror— He looks good.
“I’ll hand it to you.” V walks backwards to the bathroom. “It’s cute.”
Taking about ten minutes for makeup, and twenty for his hair, V makes Johnny a little later than expected, and only kind of annoyed about it. By the time V slips his shoes on, Johnny is already dragging him halfway out the door.
Their second-floor apartment in the corner of a building that is, itself, in a corner of NC they pray no-one bothers to check is the perfect place for Johnny to stash his gaudy motorcycle. No-one bothering to steal something they don't even know is there. He leaps over the railing, landing easily on the concrete below. Procuring the vehicle from where he'd hidden it behind a misaligned dumpster, Johnny waits for V in the parking lot below to take the stairs.
Johnny, when V arrives, hands off his sunglasses and pulls his helmet on. V slides the sunglasses over his eyes and hops on the bike behind him, arms wrapped around to Johnny’s front.
The ride to this mysterious surprise grows more and more familiar as Johnny takes his turns, and V gets more and more nervous. They’re in his home of Watson sooner rather than later, and he will absolutely kick Johnny’s ass if word gets out he’s back. He can’t have anyone assuming he’s back to biz— ‘Saka assholes will be on his ass in less time than it takes to say ‘eddies.’
“Johnny.” V calls over the wind. He doesn’t respond. Or even give an inkling that he’d even heard. “Johnny!”
“Can’t hear you! Shut up for two seconds. We’re almost there.”
V scoffs and watches the strikingly familiar streets pass him by. They stop in almost no time at all; Johnny wasn’t lying (for once). He takes his helmet off, and his hair comes undone, falling back around his face again. V hands the sunglasses back as he swings his leg over the bike, leaning against it while Johnny shoves his riding jacket and helmet away in the tiny trunk.
“What are we doing on Urmland?” V asks, letting his hand fall back to his side when Johnny takes his sunglasses back. “Are you finally gonna give Misty a chance?”
“You wish.” The glasses fall over his eyes, hiding them from the world. Including V.
“I do wish, actually. Are you?”
Johnny pauses, and says nothing.
“Let’s go.” Johnny promptly turns and walks away. V rolls his eyes, but follows close behind.
V is shocked that despite his little tiff, he does, in fact, turn into Misty’s Esoterica. Misty starts her usual greeting, but she interrupts her own sentence with a scream— of happiness, V must assume.
“V, oh my God! You were all over the news, I thought you were dead!”
“Misty! Yeah, I— well, you get it, I had to lay low! It’s… Oh my God, you have no idea how good it is to see you.”
V launches himself over the counter for a hug, and she returns it wholeheartedly.
“Oh, it’s good to see you too, V.” She wiggles back and forth. “I bet it’s nice to get out of the… whatever living quarters you have right now.”
They separate, and V sighs.
“Quick reading? Or are you busy?”
“Does it look like I’m busy?”
“Well…”
“No time, V.” Johnny pipes up. He’s leaned against the wall by the doorway.
“Maybe after. Vik should be expecting you.” Misty smiles.
“Vik…?” V glances back at Johnny, who pushes himself off the wall and puts a hand on V’s arm. “Alright.”
Johnny pushes V through the shop, out the backdoor, and barely lets him pet Nibbles before they get to Vik's workshop.
When they enter, Johnny and Vik greet each other like old friends. Johnny reaches out, and at first, V thinks he might have something for him, but Vik just slaps his own hand into it with a smile.
“This custom tech you wanted— bitch and a half to get it working, you know.”
“Thanks again, Vik.” Johnny nods. “You’re sure this will work?”
“Can’t be sure till it’s all said and done. Might be some troubleshooting after. Nothing we can’t fix.”
Johnny turns, motioning V over with a nod of the head.
“V. News is nuts about you. Glad to see you in one piece.” Vik opens his arms for a hug.
V smiles and gladly accepts it.
“Man, it is so good to be out of that dank ass motel. Happy to see you and Misty.”
“Hey, now that you’re partially out of hiding— If you need anything… Let me know. Seriously, groceries, extra cash, a cute new top, whatever. I’ll cover you.”
“Thank you, Vik, really. But you know I can’t accept.”
“You’ll come around.” Vik winks before turning back to his worktable and picking up a peculiar looking piece of tech. “Johnny, here’s your half of the implant.”
He turns it around in his hand. It’s flat, got a big, long wire, and it’s sort of… floppy.
“And this half is yours, V.”
“What?” V turns to Johnny, who has the ghost of a smile on his face. “What is it?”
“He didn’t tell you?” Vik turns back to Johnny.
“It’s a neural link.” Johnny responds. “One for me. One for you. Pretty clear… except the fact that you’re as dumb are you are, I guess.”
“Shut up.” V says glaring at him. “If this is some sort of practical joke, I’m not finding it very funny.”
“Why the hell would this be a joke?”
“I… I don’t know.” V looks around. “Are you filming me?”
“V, fuck's sake—” Johnny pinches the bridge of his nose. “It’s a gift.”
“This is… real?” V looks down at the implant in his hands. “Really?”
“Remember that night at the bar a couple of months ago?”
V thinks back, and he does recall a night out, but… Not much of it.
“Sure? Did I do something dumb?”
“You said… Something that I agreed with, at the time. I- I still agree with it. I thought that maybe you’d actually meant it. And that… You’d want…” Johnny motions to the implant. V thinks a little harder about that night. He remembers drinking. And drinking, and drinking— Johnny is ordering them. Covering the tab, for some reason. Not like him.
I m– miss you, you… you damn gonk…
I look in the mirror, and sometimes, it feels like you died.
I miss when I was us.
V pauses.
“Really? Really, really?”
Johnny shoves his hands in his pockets, turning his head away.
“Yeah. Really.”
V feels a surge of emotions he can’t exactly place in one category. He’s unbelievably elated, and deeply saddened; he wants to punch Johnny for getting into his head in the first place, and he wants to go back to when they were completely intermingled, thoughts that could’ve been either of theirs floating by with no rhyme or reason. Hell, he doesn’t have to bother finding a way back to it. It’s about to be his future.
“I’m gonna hug you now.”
“I will end you.”
“So be it.” V opens his arms, engulfing Johnny in a hug, clutching the back of his jacket, trapping his arms at his side. V presses his head to the plushy synleather. Johnny’s heartbeat thrums softly under his cheek.
“At least do it right,” Johnny mumbles with an annoyed tone, wiggling free and grabbing V’s arms. He guides V’s wrists around his neck, and his own arms wrap under V’s. After a beat, Johnny pulls away. “Okay. I’m done with that now.”
“Okay.”
“Ready to get prepped for surgery?” Vik says from the sidelines.
Johnny and V glance at each other for a moment before they both nod.
“Alright. Let’s do this thing.”
☆♡
V comes to consciousness, vision swimming. Everything is blurred and… moving, slightly. His mouth is criminally dry. He smacks his lips. He can feel them cracking as they move.
“Vik…”
“Oh, V. you’re awake.” Vik’s voice travels the room. V tries to move his head— and can’t. He tries to sit up, but there something around his neck and torso. “Woah, V, woah. Slow down.”
Vik appears in V's vision, and adjusts the… whatever thing is on his neck. Loosens it, and makes it a bit more comfortable to lay in.
“You just had a major brain surgery. Your head needs to be off pillows and the like.”
“Is the implant working?” V mumbles.
“Not currently.”
“I had brain surgery for no reason?”
Viktor laughs.
“No, V. We just need to calibrate it first. That will be a task for later days. First, you and Johnny-boy need to recover.”
“Mhm.”
“I will fuckin' break whoever’s kneecaps that put me in this death trap,” A gravelly voice mumbles from beside V.
“Ah. Good morning sunshine.” Vik chuckles. “You had a major brain surgery. It’s to keep your disinfected scar off the pillows.”
“Get the damn thing off me.”
“No.”
“I’ll kill you, motherfucker.” Johnny says, the threat empty. He barely moves from where he lay on an extra cot.
“I’d like to see you try when you’re healed, big guy.” Johnny hums, falling silent. Vik continues tending to them both, cleaning the wounds and adjusting their braces until they’re comfortable in silence.
“Implant’s not working. I want my eds back.”
“It’s not synced to your separate neural networks yet. We’ll do that when you’re feeling less inclined to murdering me.”
“… I… I guess…” Johnny says. “Need a fucking drink.”
“I have water.” Vik says.
“No. Alcohol.”
“Alcohol interacts fatally with the sedative I gave you.”
“… Water.”
☆♡
Johnny’s phone buzzes. He sighs, looking back from where he lay on the bed. V stirs next to him. Carefully rising without disturbing a sleeping V, Johnny picks his phone up. A text from Vik.
‘It’s been three weeks. Ready to come in and prime those fancy implants?’
‘y. b there 1hr.’
‘See you. Starting prep. Don’t blow me off.’
“Hey.” Johnny calls. “V. Wake up.”
“Too early. Shut up.” V mumbles, reaching out for something, hands meeting nothing but bedding.
“Vik wants to do the implant thing in an hour.”
V shoots up from bed, eyes barely open. His hair is an insane mess, and his tank top does nothing to hide anything, hanging off his shoulder and turned ninety degrees.
“An hour?” V asks. Johnny nods. “Ugh.”
V crawls out of bed, standing and rubbing his face.
“You first or me?”
“Me,” V whines. “I need it to wake up.”
“Be quick. I’m serious. I’m coming in at the 15-minute mark, whether you’re done or not.”
“Okay, okay, okay. I’ll be quick, damn.”
V waddles over to the shower, awkwardly letting his tank top fall down the whole of his body, and hopping on one leg to get his shorts off on the way.
V showers semi-quickly, finally getting out at the twenty-two minute mark, and Johnny is already leaning against the sink scrolling on his phone.
“Finally, V. Jesus.”
“Yeah, yeah, bite me.”
V picks out his outfit; one he’s worn before, with some slight changes– The starts picking out Johnny’s outfit. A silver jacket, a plain black tank top (with a neckline that dips lower than usual)… Black pants that have a sort of silvery shimmer to them in the light, and a pair of black kicks with silver stripes.
See how the fucker likes it when it’s him.
He dresses, and wipes down the fogged mirror before starting in his makeup, leaving the door open to air out the bathroom of steam. By the time Johnny gets out of the shower, V is putting the finishing touches of hairspray on.
“About time, Mr. Three-in-one Shampoo.”
“Shut up.” Johnny mumbles, wringing his hair out as he passes behind V. He pouts to himself in the mirror and watches Johnny walk past, adjusting his jacket to fall past the hem of his dress.
“I’m not wearing this,” Johnny calls from the common area.
“Then don’t— I won’t stop you from dressing yourself.” V peeks around the doorframe, and watches Johnny pick up the jacket and shirt, then toss them on the bed and snatch up the pants. He mumbles something V doesn’t hear, and starts to dress with the clothes he'd laid out. A smile makes its way onto V's face.
He waits for Johnny to he dressed, pretending to fuss with his makeup until the other man is simply too annoyed to stay quiet.
“Alright. Let’s move— it’s already been an hour and change.” V saunters out of the bathroom, fussing with the hem of his dress and pulling up his long silver heels. Johnny gives him a once-over, giving him a sort of look that screams, ‘I’m annoyed and won’t say anything to spare you.’
“What?”
“You look like a corp rat.”
“Say what you will, the corpo-fashion is luxurious and sexy.”
Johnny says nothing to that. V smiles, patting his jacket.
“You look good in that.”
“Sure. I don’t know how you do it. This… fancy loincloth you call a shirt barely covers anything.”
“That’s the point,” V pulls on the straps so the hem sits on his pants, rather than riding above his belly button. The long straps cover his chest partially and his stomach wholly. “Get your cleavage out, slut.”
“Shut the fuck up and let’s roll.” Johnny grabs V's arms, forcefully shoving them both out of the room. Johnny, once again, simply leaps the railing and brings out his bike, and V takes the stairs— a little slower than usual. His heels happen to be very high, and rather delicate. Johnny runs a hand through his hair and jogs over to V, taking the steps two at a time. He doesn’t wait for V to get a word out before he scoops him up bridal style and runs him over to their vehicle.
“Jesus, Johnny, could you be gentler with me? I nearly twisted my ankle on this shitty cracked asphalt.”
“Get on the fucking bike and let’s go already.”
V rolls his eyes, gently sitting on the bike before delicately swinging his leg over. The latex dress creaks a little as he opens his legs. Johnny carelessly throws himself over, secures his helmet, and revs the bike once before taking off at a speed that would get them arrested, if the cops cared enough about speeding to stop them.
They’re at Misty’s in no time at all, about forty-five minutes late.
“V! Johnny!” Misty greets them as they enter. “Vik’s been asking me if you’re here yet— you should hurry back. He’s getting his chakra all in a twist about it.”
“Oh, gosh— didn’t meant to. Traffic is a bitch in this city. Have you seen the new road they’re building near the east end? It is the fucking wor—” V starts, already getting riled about the already five-way intersection becoming a six-way, but Johnny nudges his back. “Anyways, we’re gonna go on back now. Definitely give me a reading after, pay you double.”
“Bye, V!” Misty waves with a smile. “Bye, Johnny.”
They retreat into the alleyway, and V, for old times sake, gives Nibbles a good scratch behind the ears and sneakily drops a stack of eddies into the change hat Ernie has outside his tent before entering.
“Vik! Oh my God, traffic. We’re here!”
“V, Johnny.” Vik perks up as V carefully takes the stairs down. “Good to see you. Ready to get the implants working, finally?”
“Yes, I’d love to not have had a risky brain surgery for no reason!” V smiles. “Pointless surgeries are not a hobby of mine, and I don’t think I’d like to start now.”
“All right, let’s get you two on my chairs. Johnny, I set up a second one for you, so you don’t have to sit on a cot.”
“Thanks.”
V adjusts his jacket, making his way to the extra chair. Johnny puts a hand on his arm, pushing V towards the original, cushier one.
“I can take this one if you wa–“ V starts. Johnny interrupts.
“Sit.” Johnny says, a command more than anything.
V looks down, flushing, and does as he says. Vik follows behind, a couple of tech-bits in hand, and sets up at his workstation. He holds up a small, circular disc before placing it on V's scalp, near the back upper left.
“This is so I can see what the implant is reading, brainwaves wise, and allow me to set parameters. It’s essentially what’s going to make this implant actually work, instead of sitting there like a dud.” Vik explains as he wires the disc from V's head, to his computer. He does the same with Johnny, finding where the implant would be and placing the small black disc on top of his hair, hooking it up.
“Alright.” Vik types something. “V, you first. Don’t try to just contact Johnny, think about him— the concept of him, as well.”
V looks at Johnny, then closes his eyes, and reaches out; the same way he used to, in his head.
Johnny? You out there?
… Breaker, breaker. Come in.
He doesn’t hear anything in response.
“Okay.” Vik pauses, using the touchscreen to adjust something. V opens his eyes. “Now you, Johnny.”
Johnny glances at V, but mostly stares at the floor.
“Now both of you.”
V reaches out again. He doesn’t feel anything reaching back—
V?
V’s eyes shoot to Johnny. He’s looking right back.
Johnny? That you?
It’s me. Who else would it be, you fu— Nevermind.
Shut up.
“Is it working? I see activity that looks pretty promising.” Vik asks. V can’t help but turn to Vik with a huge smile, cheeks already hurting.
“It’s working, Vik.”
“Perfect— Then we’re done here. If you start hearing static or feel a little too much… One-ness, come back and we can sort that out.”
“Thanks, Vik.” V jumps up from his seat, throwing his arms around him. “Thank you so much.”
“My pleasure, V. You’re my most chromed-up customer, gotta keep you coming back.”
“V.” Johnny calls him. V turns, and Vik takes the disc off his head while he’s there. “You should go get your reading from Misty.”
“Oh! Yes!” V claps, jogging (as much as he can in his heels) out of the room. Before he disappears up the stairs, he points down at Vik. “Here’s a tip before I go! You rock!”
Vik receives a sum of money, and V rushes up back to Misty’s.
“V, how’d it go?”
“So good. So good, the implant works perfectly. I love it.” V takes the seat across from Misty's counter.
“Oh, what’d you get this time?”
“Um…” V hesitates.
“You don’t have to tell me,” Misty puts her hand over V's, and winks. “Just know I’ll divine it later.”
V giggles.
“Ready for your reading?
“Hit me. I want all that divine sense you’re always talking about knocked into me.”
Shuffling her cards, Misty splits the deck once and lays down the first card. The figure draped in white faces V.
“Your past, the High Priestess reversed.” Misty taps the card with her nails. “You were holding your secrets close to your chest; something was interfering with your intuition, be it yourself or another power. During this period, you were withdrawn, quiet, not eager to connect.”
She draws another card, flipping it horizontally.
“Your present… The Wheel of Fortune. Good luck is coming to you, or has already; karma will be on your side at this time. Your destiny is coming into fruition, and something is… on the verge of changing. You’re breaking out of a cycle, or someone close to you is breaking theirs and affecting yours.”
One more card. The future. Misty draws a card— and as she does, another falls from the deck.
“Two future cards.” Misty hums, curious. She turns the first one over, leaving the other face-down on the table. “You’re a very special man, V.”
V leans in, gazing down at the cards.
“The first of your futures, Death. The cycle breaking is causing a further change— Your spirit, mind, or body will be transitioning to a new state. Transformation will be welcome.” Misty flips the other card. She glances up at V before continuing. “The second. The Devil, reversed. You’re going to release a belief that limits you in some way, spiritually or emotionally. There’s an inner thought that, at one time, seemed impossible to cope with– but you won’t see it as so bad, you may even view it as a comfort.”
“Wow…” V whispers. “Thank you, Misty.”
“Your life is incredible, V. I don’t know how you do it.”
“Oh, I just hit the life lottery, I suppose. Could’ve done without most of it, to be honest.” V sighs. He couldn’t disagree more with Misty in this instance— His life is a series of people fucking him over, and him having to pick the pieces up and look for someone else that may or may not fuck him.
“No, you couldn’t've— You are the way you are because of your struggles. They made you resilient, they made you strong.” Misty shakes her head. “Maybe you don’t see it–“
“She’s right.” Johnny calls from the back entrance of the Esoterica.
“Hey, Johnny.” Misty waves him in.
Hi.
Hey.
Johnny walks over casually standing slightly behind V.
“How was the reading?”
“Accurate. And… Enlightening.” V tucks his hair behind his ear. “How was your talk with Vik?”
“It was fine. He gave me some advice.”
Are you gonna take it?
I don’t know yet.
“Ready?” Johnny taps V's back.
“Ice cream.”
Johnny pauses.
“… What?”
“Ice cream? You promised. Remember?”
“Oh. Right.” Johnny shrugs. “Sure. Meet you outside.”
Johnny exits. V turns back to Misty, starting a transfer for a few stacks of eurodollars.
“That should cover it.”
“This is more than enough, V. Thank you.” Misty pauses as V begins to get up. “Hey, V?”
“Yeah?”
“I… I don’t want to pry, and you don’t have to tell me about the implant, but… You and Johnny’s auras… They’re different. It’s making me a little… Not worried, per say, but… I’ve never seen it before.” Misty brushes back some hair from her eyes. “Just be careful. Okay?”
“Alright, Misty.” V nods. “I wouldn’t worry. I’ll be okay.”
“Okay.”
Start the bike, Johnny. I’m coming out.
Done. There’s a new pothole out here, near the right-hand side of the sidewalk. It’s full of water, I almost stepped in it. Watch out.
Wow, you’re so considerate when you’re not constantly second-guessing what to say.
Shut the fuck up.
I haven’t said anything.
You know what I mean.
V smiles as he walks down the sidewalk, shaking his head at nothing. He spots the pothole up ahead, and walks a semi-circle around it, thankful for Johnny’s warning. As he comes upon on the mouth of Urmland Street, the firing of Johnny’s bike’s engine mingles with the sounds of the crowd.
V jogs over, his heels click-clacking on the smooth concrete of the sidewalk. He walks up behind Johnny, carefully leaning against the bike. He leans back, turning his head to make eye contact with V as he leans.
Ready?
Yeah. Can we go to Jeremiah’s?
That’s not ice cream. It’s gelato.
It’s a swirl of both, you know this. Can we?
Whatever you want, Samurai.
Johnny pulls his helmet over his head, revving the bike’s engine— the sidewalk in front of them clears out, and he takes off, wheels squealing.
V wraps his arms around Johnny, resting his head on his back. It’s so nice to be back with him again.
Nice to be back with you.
V flushes.
I didn’t mean for you to hear that.
It’s just like old times, huh?
Nah. Making the choice is different than having it put on you.
Yeah. Feels different this time for me, too.
More free?
… Yeah.
V grins against Johnny’s back, hugging just a little tighter.
Quit smiling. It’s interfering with my driving. I might crash.
You won’t.
I might.
The bike slows, and Johnny changes lanes to park along the side of the road. The bike flicks off, and Johnny dismounts, leaning against the bike. V bends his leg and drags the knee over the seat, the one heel on the ground catching awkwardly on a crack. He almost bashes his face into the asphalt, and would’ve, if Johnny hadn’t been there to put an arm under V's chest and stop his fall in its tracks.
“Jeez.” V breathes.
“Be more careful.” Johnny says gruffly.
“My heels are high,” V carefully steps up to the sidewalk, brushing off his dress. “It’s hard to be careful.”
“Don’t wear heels.”
“You love when I wear heels. You get to play hero.”
Oh, perfect V, and his incredibly flattering outfits. Poor me.
Johnny thinks… extremely sarcastically. V glares back at him.
Didn’t mean for you to hear that.
… Do I look that good?
Johnny shrugs.
You’ve turned more than a few heads.
V brushes his hair from his eyes, a little smile playing on the edges of his mouth.
I almost took those heads off their bodies. Fuckin ‘Saka, making me ‘lay low.’
Johnny’s thoughts flow through V’s mind easily. Like second nature. V is almost back to barely paying them any attention, letting their thoughts co-exist without question. They enter the store, falling in behind the short line.
Could kill ‘em easily for looking at something that isn’t theirs.
At this, V flushes, trying not to dwell on it too much. The AC in this building is much cooler than others, which V is quickly becoming grateful for.
Who’s am I?
Damn it, V. Think about what fifteen eddie ice cream I’m buying you and fuck off.
“Go find a seat.” Johnny motions to the window– V follows the motion with his eyes, catching a few empty tables on the sidewalk.
V tucks his jacket tighter around himself, exiting the building and trying to lounge as comfortably and as covered as he can be at the small table.
Johnny follows not long after, frozen treats in hand. He, of course, has a small paper cup and spoon, while he’d gotten a heaping cone for V.
“Bon appétit, fashionista.”
“Thank you!” V takes the cone. “Itadakimasu, Samurai.”
V hums happily as he enjoys his ice cream, and Johnny sits across from him, watching him and eating silently, both physically and mentally. His thoughts were… strangely quiet, for the moment.
What do you wanna do after this?
No response, for a length of time. The silence in his own mind spans out. He almost gets nervous the implant stopped working, when–
Let’s go home.
The motel smells, though. I know the city smells, but… that room smells worse.
No. Actually home. Japantown apartment.
V pauses.
We’re still hot. You think it’ll be safe?
They’re keeping up appearances, but they’ve given up. As far as they know, I’m beyond the Blackwall, and Alt is no help to them anymore. With Yorinobu MIA and Hanako taking over, I doubt the witch-hunt will go on for much longer.
Is this motivated by something?
Does it have to be?
No. It just… doesn’t seem like you. I know you have a constant rage boner for fucking with Arasaka, but this seems too tame.
Johnny chuckles out loud, around a spoonful of ice cream.
Come on, V. Let’s just go home. I miss the apartment. Wanna see it again– Maybe try out that electric guitar that’s collecting dust next to the couch.
V pauses, biting into the cone to get down to the rest of the ice cream.
Sure. I miss being home, too. Should we get our stuff?
Nah. Let’s get it tomorrow.
V taps his heel on the ground. Johnny is knocking out a soft beat with the back of the spoon on the metal table.
I’m done here. Ready?
Ready.
V takes the last bite of the cone, and Johnny tosses his empty paper cup and spoon into a nearby trashcan, jogging to get on the motorcycle before V even manages to get there. Johnny plants both his feet on the ground so V can get on unperturbed, puts on his helmet, and takes off towards Japantown.
It's a bit of a ride; from northern Watson to northern Japantown, especially with Johnny taking the deserted backstreets. V clings close when he takes turns hard, the speedometer barely ever going under 70 an hour. Sometimes, when V closes his eyes and focuses in, he can feel Johnny crafting something at the back of his mind. He’s thinking in images; the image of a piece of paper with staffs and music notes placed throughout. A song.
V stays like that; eyes closed, head against Johnny’s back and listening to his breathing and heartbeat, watching Johnny create this piece as an abstract concept, not yet brought to fruition.
When they pull up to the apartment building, Johnny holds V's arm, helping him off the bike and guiding him into the building. When they get home, the first thing V does is toss his jacket off, slip his heels from his feet, and collapses on the couch face-first. Busy day, just glad to be home. Johnny does the same, kicking off his shoes and lighting the stick of incense that is propped, dormant, on the entry table.
V gets comfortable on the couch, curling up into a ball while Johnny sits at the end, feet up on the table and guitar in his lap. He strums softly, notes flowing easily— he plays one note, then a slightly different one, and V can see him composing in his head as he plays.
“Do you want a blank datachip to write this on?” V mumbles, not opening his eyes. “I have an extra couple laying around.”
Johnny hums an affirmative.
You can talk in here if you’re too tired.
Mhm.
Where is the chip?
On my desk… kinda… off to the left… maybe a shelf? I forget right now.
Mhm.
Johnny stands, carefully letting guitar rest on the couch, and moves to the desk, eyes raking over it. An open can of some energy drink— Johnny quickly tosses that. A puzzle cube, some fidget toys… he moves up to the shelves, looking over the books and movies and related memorabilia stored there, his fingers running over some lumps somewhere at the back. An unsorted pile of datachips shoved into the back of the shelf. He plucks one from the pile, and takes pause. It’s sort of… familiar? He flips it over in his palm, curious. It’s sort of red, and it’s got more transistors shoved in it that a normal one. This one is meant to hold a lot of data.
V? Did you keep the chip I was on?
Yeah.
Why?
I don’t know… I’d look at it sometimes and couldn’t throw it out. I guess ‘cause I missed this. Missed you. There’s a chip holder up there somewhere. Put it there.
Johnny sighs, a little smile on his lips. He quickly shoves it down, placing the chip into a datachip holder on a shelf further up, and plucks another one from the shelf. This one is definitely empty, the small sticker on the side is blank. Johnny digs for a pen, and writes in very small text— “Never Fade Away.” He slots it into the computer's chip writer, opening his music program and starts writing the sheet music.
After what seems like a few minutes, Johnny starts hearing… or, seeing— some version of both or neither, something in his head. He glances over to V, who lay on the couch where he’d left him. Eyes closed, very softly snoring. Johnny closes his eyes, focusing in on whatever he senses. He’d never been awake while V was asleep before. V is dreaming, he’s somewhere warm and comfortable. When he tries to ‘see’ what V is seeing, it’s an unusual blur of colours that he can’t piece into a recognizable shape. All he really gets is the emotion. Happy, impassioned, loving.
Johnny hums, abandoning the project for a moment and moving back to the couch. He leans back, arms up on the back of the couch, and closes his eyes. He joins V sleeping in a matter of minutes.
Johnny?
V…
What’s happening?
I don’t know.
I’m dreaming. And then you were here.
I am here. Where’s here?
I’m asleep. You must be too. Is this our mind?
It must be.
I’m confused.
Me too.
How is…
They’re in a room that is their home, but it looks nothing like any apartment V owns. They move to the bathroom and look in the mirror.
That’s me…
No, me.
Which one of us is talking right now?
I… don’t…
That’s us.
We’re… I’m one person right now.
Their dream self looks down. Their left arm is silver, and their right has a long, intricate snake tattoo down it. Grey hair that fades to black flows down their form in little waves.
This is incredible.
Their hands slide down their body, the metal one sending a jolt of electricity up their spine, the organic one tracing over their own hip. Their arms cross over one another, touching the opposite arm, trailing upwards over their shoulders to cup their neck and jaw, to trace their lip, to tangle in their own hair.
This is so incredible…
They, in their inextricably linked form, try to say both their names at the same time. It comes out a garbled jumble of impossible syllables.
Glad I’m us… Missed you, missed me. This is…
Their eyes close, honing in on the sensation of their own hands on their body. It’s like they’re feeling double, like two pairs of hands occupying the same space as it travels their two planes of skin. Their fingers, flesh and metal alike, spark a fire in their separate-yet-same neurons; bringing to the surface emotions both people that had shoved to the depths of their own minds. The pleasure of two becomes one, the complete synchronization of them, physically, emotionally; it begets an utterly complete transparency of their spirits— now permanently intertwined.
Fuck. This is really fucking intense.
Their eyes do not open, their hands do not stop their wandering.
Do I… We… Stop?
No. Don’t want to stop. Please don’t stop.
They don’t. The harmonious pleasure of their body and souls completes them, brings what can only be described as complete and devoted love to the surface as they release. Their voices, blending together, express the same thought at the same time.
I lo—
V gasps as he wakes. He’s back in his apartment, his real one. His breath heaving, legs shaking, he looks out the window towards Night City; then turns around to look at where Johnny sits behind him. He’s also awake, sat straight up. One leg up on the couch, the other being suspended by the coffee table, he has both hands covering the front of his pants.
“Was that… Real?” V gasps, throat dry.
“Did we… I mean, was that…” Johnny Silverhand, for the first time in his life, feels at a loss for words. Not for long, of course. “Did you have… nocturnal emissions, as well?”
V flushes.
“Um…” V knows the answer, of course. He answers timidly. “Yes.”
“Christ.” Johnny shifts. V chews on his thumbnail as he considers a thought.
You said… Well, you almost said— At least, I think you said…
You said it, too.
I did. I— I meant it.
… I did, too.
V turns around on the couch, on his hands and knees, and stares at Johnny for a moment. He stares back. V tentatively raises a hand, and presses his palm to Johnny’s cheek. His hair is… really soft. And his beard is… nice. V's heart feels like it’s climbing out of his ribcage. He leans in, hesitates for a moment, nervously waiting for Johnny to give him a sign to stop— to suddenly shove him off and angrily scold him that ‘he doesn’t swing that way’— but he doesn’t. Johnny just grabs the back of V's neck, forcefully pressing his lips to V's. He makes a noise, a high-pitched squeak of surprise, and his eyes fall closed. He’s been dreaming of this since Johnny showed him his old apartment and gave him his dog tags, back when he was just a chip in a slot. He’s been denying himself the indulgence of the thought a countless number of times after that, always aware of Johnny judging him from the sidelines. Now that it is realised— Johnny’s warm lips against his, hands pressed against the side of his neck and thumbs stroking his cheek— it couldn’t be more perfect. Johnny’s tongue just barely brushes his bottom lip, and V eagerly opens his mouth, nudging Johnny’s open with his own.
They part when they’re both breathless with their lips plump and very slightly bruised from the force of their kiss.
Johnny clears his throat when they part.
“That was…”
“It was amazing.” V smiles.
“It was.” Johnny nods, leaning back on the couch. “I’m gonna go… clean up.”
V nods, remembering what had led to where they are. Ew.
“Be… Quick.” V coughs.
“Come with, and I won’t have to.”
V flushes, from head to toe. Johnny can hear a startled, anxious beginning of a rabbit-hole of thoughts running through V's head.
Don’t overthink it, Samurai.
Johnny’s thought cuts through the noise. V nods. Johnny offers his hand, and V takes it.
They shower together. They stand under the steaming hot water, in the apartment they share, and they take turns washing each other. Without fear of peering eyes, without paranoia of a nearby open window, they share tender kisses under the showerhead.
When did you start?
V begins. The pelt of warm water on his scalp is briefly interrupted by Johnny pressing a kiss to his hair.
Start what?
… Loving me.
Johnny snakes an arm around V's waist, holding him there, against his chest.
During one of your whacked out chip episodes. Near the end; you were really dying. Right in front of me— I could feel you… fading. You fell, and you called out for me in realspace… And my first instinct was to go to you. Comfort you. Find a way to tear this universe apart and keep you going. At that moment, it wasn’t about Arasaka. It wasn’t even about the corps at all. The only thought was, ‘Whatever it takes, so that he lives.’
Johnny’s hand traces a small pattern over V's tailbone.
That’s when I realized. I don’t know when it first started, but that’s where I caught a glimpse of the sky from the fall. What about you?
V smiles into Johnny’s skin.
You already know. You were there.
Tell me again.
It was a lot of things. But it was mostly this: every time we passed a small-time musician on the street, you’d stop me. You wouldn’t say a fucking word about the music, or the skill, but you’d make me stop, every time. You’d just listen. I could feel it. You’d listen to every note, feel every emotion behind the chord. And one day, you ask me how I think they’re doing. I say, ‘Not bad, I guess. Easy listening, at least.’
V hugs Johnny a little tighter.
And you said, ‘Know why? Techniques’ second rate, but the feeling… that’s what matters.’ It was the first time I’d ever heard you say anything nice about someone. Even me. Up until then, you’d been this psycho terrorist running wild in my head, making me do things— and I wasn’t the most stable guy to begin with. But that couple of days when I was looking for those old bootlegs… In my head, you’d become a person. I saw you for the first time. A lover. Of music, of the arts, of the people close to you. I felt that love of music, I felt the regret of leaving the people you loved behind, and I felt the love of life you have. And I couldn’t accept that… I could be the one to take it all away from you. I knew you had to get out of this, somehow.
I felt that realization, you know.
Yeah?
Yeah. It wasn’t a thought with words. It was… a photograph. You snapped it, the flash left a streak in my vision, then you tucked it in the pages of a photobook and hid it under the couch. It was the one thing you hid so well, I never saw it again after that.
V laughs.
I… Thank you, Johnny.
For what?
V sighs, pulling Johnny closer.
For everything. From the moment that chip got put in my head, till the day we die. Thank you.
Love you, V.
I love you, Johnny.