Chapter Text
Their apartment smelled faintly of cheap takeout, sandalwood incense and Johnny’s aggressively floral body spray. It wasn’t much, just a one-bedroom on the third floor of a building that had seen better decades, but it was theirs. Jack had managed to sign the lease six months ago with the last of his savings from odd jobs and tournament winnings. Johnny had been between gigs then, still chasing modeling contracts that never quite materialized. Now Johnny had steady work as a gym coach three blocks away, flexing and yelling motivational nonsense at college kids who mostly came for the view. Jack still taught kenjutsu and meditation at the community center downtown. Between them, they made rent.
Tonight had been date night.
They’d come home late, both a little breathless from laughter and the absurdity of the evening. Jack had insisted on something “refined” so they’d tried the new fusion sushi place. Johnny had insisted on “something with protein” so he’d ordered three separate entrees and eaten them with his hands when the chopsticks were infront of him. The waiter had stared. Jack had apologized with the serene politeness of a man who had once fought an army of mechanical beetles. Johnny had winked at the waiter and called Jack “baby” just to watch his ears turn pink.
Now the lights were off, only the orange glow of the streetlamp outside bleeding through the half-closed blinds. The bed was second-hand but wide enough for both of them... barely... Johnny took up most of it, sprawled on his back like a golden retriever who’d claimed the best sunbeam. One muscular arm was flung over his head, the other resting loosely across Jack’s waist. His chest rose and fell in slow, contented breaths, blond pompadour hair somehow still perfectly coiffed even after a long day.
Jack lay on his side facing him, one hand tucked under his cheek. He couldn’t stop the small, fond smile that curved his lips. In the dim light Johnny looked… peaceful. Almost innocent. It was a rare sight. Usually Johnny was all swagger and noise, a walking cartoon of machismo and exaggerated confidence. But here, in the quiet dark of their apartment, he was just Johnny. His Johnny.
Jack reached out and gently brushed a stray lock of hair from Johnny’s forehead. The bigger man stirred but didn’t wake, only hummed something low and unintelligible before settling again.
A soft chuckle escaped Jack “You are going to be the death of my composure one day,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper.
Johnny’s eyes cracked open, sleepy and blue and unfairly charming. “Mmm? You say somethin’, babe?”
“I said you snore like a hibernating bear” Jack lied smoothly, the corner of his mouth twitching.
Johnny grinned, wide and dopey. “Hey, that’s just my manly respiratory system showin’ off. Chicks-uh, I mean, you dig it.”
Jack rolled his eyes, but there was no heat in it. He shifted closer, letting his forehead rest against Johnny’s shoulder. The date had been… an experience. Romantic in its own chaotic way. Johnny had tried to pull out Jack’s chair at the restaurant and nearly knocked the table over. Jack had retaliated by ordering the spiciest roll on the menu and watching with serene satisfaction as Johnny’s face turned the color of a fire truck. They’d walked home along the river, Johnny flexing every time they passed a reflective surface, Jack pretending not to notice while secretly cataloging every ridiculous pose. At one point Johnny had attempted to dip him like in an old movie and almost dropped him into a bush. Jack had laughed so hard his sides hurt, something he still wasn’t entirely used to.
It had been perfect.
Now in the safety of their bed, the conversation drifted lazily between them, warm and familiar.
“So tomorrow,” Johnny said, voice thick with excitement even though his eyes were half-lidded, “is gonna be epic, Jack-o. My birthday. I’m thinkin’ we go all out. I already told the guys at the gym we’re throwin’ a party here. Nothin’ crazy, just… y’know. Me. Center of attention. Maybe a chocolate fountain. Definitely some of those little cocktail weenies on toothpicks. And you, lookin’ all samurai-sexy in that white shirt I like.”
Jack raised an eyebrow. “You told the entire gym staff we are hosting a party in our apartment without asking me?”
Johnny waved a hand dismissively, nearly smacking Jack in the face. “Details, details. They’re bringin’ the speakers. And the protein cake. It’s got like, fifty grams per slice. You’re gonna love it. Or at least pretend to for my sake.”
Jack sighed, long-suffering and affectionate. “Johnny.”
“What? It’s my birthday! I deserve to be celebrated. I’m a national treasure. International, even. Global. Intergalactic, if we count that one time I arm-wrestled the alien at the county fair.”
“You arm-wrestled a man in a rubber suit.”
“Same difference.” Johnny rolled onto his side so they were face to face. His grin softened into something almost shy. “C’mon, Jack. I want you there. Right next to me. Maybe do that thing where you meditate in the corner and everyone thinks you’re mysterious and hot. Then I’ll come over and be like, ‘That’s my man,’ and they’ll all be jealous. It’ll be awesome.”
Jack’s expression gentled. He reached up and cupped Johnny’s cheek, thumb brushing over the faint stubble there. “I will be there. I always am. Even if your idea of celebration involves a chocolate fountain that will inevitably end up on the ceiling.”
Johnny’s laugh was low and rumbling, vibrating through the mattress. “That’s the spirit! See, this is why we work. You keep me from accidentally burnin’ the place down, and I keep you from bein’ too serious all the time. Balance. Yin and yang. Samurai and stud.”
“You have been watching those late-night documentaries again.”
“Guilty.” Johnny leaned in, pressing a slow, lazy kiss to Jack’s lips. It tasted like the mint gum he’d chewed on the walk home and the faint sweetness of the dessert they’d shared. When he pulled back, his voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “Gonna be the best birthday ever. You’ll see. I’m talkin’ fireworks, legal ones, mostly. Maybe a piñata shaped like me. And you get to be the one who blindfolds me. Romantic, right?”
Jack hummed, pretending to consider it. “Only if I am allowed to use my sword for the piñata.”
Johnny’s eyes lit up. “Now we’re talkin’! Sword piñata. That’s next-level romance. The guys are gonna lose their minds.”
They lay in comfortable silence for a while, the kind that only came after months of learning each other’s rhythms. Johnny’s hand found Jack’s under the covers, fingers intertwining with surprising gentleness for a man who spent half his life pretending he had no gentle bone in his body.
“You know,” Johnny said softly, “I never thought I’d end up here. Rented apartment, steady job, comin’ home to a guy who can quote ancient poetry and still kick my ass in sparring. But… I like it. A lot. Even when you make me eat vegetables.”
Jack smiled against the pillow. “And I never imagined I would find peace in a world of protein shakes and hair gel. Yet here we are.”
“Here we are,” Johnny echoed. He squeezed Jack’s hand. “Love you, Jack. Like, for real. Not just the ‘you’re hot and mysterious’ kind. The real kind.”
Jack’s heart did the familiar little flip it always did when Johnny said things like that, earnest and unfiltered, no bravado to hide behind. He leaned forward and kissed Johnny again, slow and deep and full of everything he didn’t always have words for.
“I love you too, Johnny. More than you know.”
They kissed once more, softer this time, a goodnight sealed between them. Johnny’s breathing evened out quickly after that, slipping back into sleep with the ease of a man who believed the world was his oyster and his boyfriend was the pearl.
Jack stayed awake a little longer, watching the rise and fall of Johnny’s chest, listening to the distant hum of the city outside. Tomorrow would be loud. Chaotic. Probably involve at least one gym bro trying to challenge Jack to a push-up contest and Johnny attempting to blow out candles on a cake the size of a car tire. But Jack would be there. Smiling. Enduring. Loving every ridiculous second.
Eventually, sleep claimed him too.
The first pale light of dawn filtered through the blinds. Jack woke naturally, as he always did, body attuned to the rhythms of the world even in this strange, modern life. He turned his head.
Johnny was still deeply asleep, face relaxed, mouth slightly open, one leg tangled in the sheet. A thin line of drool had escaped onto the pillow. He looked absurdly peaceful. Vulnerable in a way that made something protective and warm bloom in Jack’s chest.
Jack allowed himself one long, indulgent moment to simply look. Then he leaned over but careful not to jostle the mattress too much and pressed a feather-light kiss to Johnny’s forehead, right at the hairline where the blond strands were softest.
“Sleep well, my love,” he whispered. “Your loud, wonderful day awaits.”
He slipped out of bed quietly, feet silent on the worn carpet. He dressed in his usual simple clothes, dark pants, a fitted shirt while carrying a duffel bag on his shoulder in which he has put his Kenjutsu attire and paused at the doorway to glance back one last time. Johnny hadn’t moved, still lost in whatever ridiculous dreams occupied his sleeping mind. Probably dreams of himself on a billboard or winning an arm-wrestling tournament against a bear.
Jack smiled, small and private and full of affection.
Then he closed the door gently behind him and headed out into the morning, ready for another day of work, another day of waiting for the beautiful chaos that was Johnny Bravo’s birthday to begin.