#and valentine demonstrating her skill with frame-perfect interrupts lol

[merge-conflict]

as long as we stay in this bed

V sleeps like the dead, all six feet and change sprawled out directly in the middle of the bed leaving precious little space for Johnny and Kerry to flank her. The aging mattress sags under their combined weight, pulling them into their own private gravity well. There are springs digging into his ribs, and the wheezing air conditioner feels more like the fan in an oven, but Kerry falls asleep almost as his head hits the pillow and wakes to bright gleam of the moon through the curtains and the sound of quiet conversation.

“–because it’s obviously bothering you.”

“You’re bothering me.”

“C’mon–“

Kerry has to dig his elbow into the mattress to keep in place as V rolls over. She grimaces, readjusting her leg with one hand and then blinks in surprise when she makes eye contact. “Good morning.”

“It’s one a.m.”

“Now we’ve interrupted his beauty sleep.” First Johnny’s hand slips over V’s hip, and then he props himself up on an elbow, his smirk appearing just over her shoulder. Her elbow in his ribs is half-hearted, but he still winces.

“Someone in this show has to look good,” Kerry grumbles, fanning his shirt in a mostly failed attempt to get some air. “Sure as hell isn’t going to be you.”

“What–” Johnny says, defensively, “–you wanna lay in bed with your feet up and talk about who’s prettiest?”

“Be a three-way tie,” V says, saving Kerry from the ledge of his half-formed apology. “We’re all obviously going to vote for ourselves. Or you can admit you liked being me.”

“Not even remotely the same thing,” Johnny tells her, and disappears down back behind her.

“Johnny–“ Kerry props himself up, and then after a moment of indecision moves in close to V so he can see over side. She slings an affectionate arm over him, and even though it’s too hot the weight is reassuring. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“Am I allowed to complain that you managed to get your hands on the guy exactly a half inch taller than I am?” V asks dryly, which makes Johnny break into a shit-eating grin.

“Happy coincidence,” he drawls. “Plus the bastard deserved it.”

“Got a better question,” Kerry says, drawing Johnny’s attention. “I save your ass, come all the way out here and you wouldn’t even vote for me?”

Johnny grunts, but he can feel V’s laughter where their ribs touch. Her hand presses against the small of his back, bringing him closer. “Everyone would vote for you, pretty boy.”

“He’s got enough of an ego, doesn’t need you stroking it.”

“Well if you aren’t going to–“

“Oh, that’s how you wanna play it, huh?” Johnny rolls over again, slotting in behind V and making her flinch as he jostles her leg. He drapes his left arm over hers: flesh over red chrome, as arrogant as he is handsome even in a stranger’s face. It’s still Johnny underneath, just like it was once Johnny looking at him from V’s eyes. Now both of them are looking at Kerry in the moonlight like they can see right through him. “This going to be some kind of contest?”

“Probably can work something out,” he says, with a smile. “Although if you wanna fight over me–“

“Look at him preen,” V murmurs, in a low voice. “He’s almost as bad as you are.”

“Not even close,” Kerry protests, and then freezes when Johnny’s knuckles brush over his cheek, V’s hand going up his spine. He closes his eyes, feels the callus of Johnny’s thumb tracing his lips and a surge of heat, along with a sudden a sort of panic that the last few months have been a fever dream.

“You just going to let her call you a pretty boy?” Johnny says, and there’s no better question engineered to pull Kerry back into reality.

“Are you asking to get cut down to size?” V asks, in a disconcertingly mild tone. Johnny sulks, but doesn’t argue, fingers roaming down the side of Kerry’s jaw, down his neck and ghosting over his collarbones before retreating to the relative safety of V’s hip.

“Something is bothering you,” Kerry tells her.

“Yeah,” V says, eyes flashing. He recognizes her smile– just like the one he uses for the cameras. “Got a two hundred pound brain tumor.”

“Right,” Johnny says, pressing himself in even closer, making her eyes flutter closed as he kisses her neck. “It must be my fault.”

“It’s not,” she admits, her hand balling between Kerry’s shoulder blades before she visibly relaxes. He laces his fingers in with Johnny at her hip, which finally coaxes out a real smile.

“Uhuh?” Johnny prompts, expression softening as he looks at Kerry with his cheek pressed into V’s shoulder.

“Good night,” she says definitively, pressing her face into the pillow. “It’s time for me to get my beauty sleep.”

“Good night,” Kerry says, suppressing a laugh as Johnny rolls his eyes.

“Guess I need to work on mine too,” Johnny says. V turns onto her back, exposing them both to view as their intertwined hands come to rest over her stomach.

“Yeah, I’m the one with the ego,” Kerry mutters, and feels V laugh.

“Exactly,” Johnny says, and settles down next to her, tucking himself in close despite the stifling heat. Kerry does the same, feeling a strange sense of deja vu as he tucks his chin into her shoulder. He squeezes Johnny’s hand and receives the same reassurance.

And despite the fact that his knee is starting to ache and he’s sweating and hasn’t eaten a decent meal in three days, he falls asleep and doesn’t dream at all.