Anonymous: Greaserlock in which John and Sherlock are about to graduate and they discuss their future after high school. Fluff is appreciated!! (P.S. I love everything you write!! You are so wonderful!!!)
((I don't know if you guys can tell or not, but I'm on a hardcore Greaser!lock kick. I promise I'll stop soon, though. Maybe. Also, YOU'RE WONDERFUL FOR SAYING THAT BLESS YOU.))
John teetered uncomfortably on the front edge of the leather seat of Sherlock's car but he didn't care because he and Sherlock were laying face to face and kissing at the town's makeout spot, their hands tangled in each other's clothes and hair and their breath mingling and turning the windows, chilled by the spring night, into a foggy barrier between them and the rest of the world.
Eventually, though, not even Sherlock's lips were enough to distract him from the stresses that were being put on him at the moment, and of course Sherlock immediately noticed it when John's attention started to wander from their heated makeout to something else. He nipped at John's bottom lip to try to regain his attention, but John still pulled away and Sherlock sighed in exasperation.
"Johnny, I haven't seen you in two and a half weeks, can't we please just enjoy ourselves?" Sherlock sighed and John simply stared at him for a moment or two, just committing the sight of him, young and beautiful and thoroughly dishevelled, to memory before he started talking.
"Sher, I think we need to break up."
Sherlock went perfectly still in his arms and stared at him unblinkingly for longer than could ever be comfortable, no matter how much he loved Sherlock.
"Uh...Care to say something?" John finally asked hesitantly and heartbreak crashed onto Sherlock's features without warning, his usual mask of disinterest shattering completely under the onslaught of his emotions.
"What did I do wrong?" Sherlock asked in a small voice and John reached up to brush his slightly damp hair away from his forehead and temple with a tender push of his fingers.
"Nothing, baby," John murmured soothingly and Sherlock melted into him after a moment of hesitation, clearly unsure of where this was headed. "Nothing. We just..we have to be realistic about where we're going to be in a month," John added and Sherlock immediately pulled back to look at him suspiciously, sitting up after a second and staring straight ahead.
"You don't want to continue a relationship after graduation," he stated, his tone never even hinting towards a question.
John sat up and slid across the seat to lean against the opposite side of the car to stare across at Sherlock's profile, poorly illuminated by the moonlight filtering in through the condensation on the windows, casting him in a soft, diffuse sort of white light and John's heart ached so badly he felt he could cry right then and there, though he knew he wouldn't.
"I would love to continue a relationship with you for the rest of my life," John admitted almost silently, terrified by the truth behind his own statement that he'd never dared to say aloud before, not even to himself.
Sherlock was immediately completely focused on him, the force of his concentration seeming to make it impossible for John to breathe in the space of the small backseat of Sherlock's two-door hotrod.
"Then why are you dumping me?"
"I'm not dumping you, Sherlock, I'm just saying we have to be realistic. We can hide it now, but what are we supposed to do when we're...thirty, and we've got jobs and other people have long ago started their families and we're still living together and with no obvious sign that we plan to separate and start our own families? What then?"
"Then we say 'to hell with it' and move somewhere new!" Sherlock exclaimed and John stared at him wordlessly until he calmed down a bit from his outburst.
"Sherlock, do you want a future with me?" John asked softly, and Sherlock's lips pressed into a tight, trembling line as he nodded resolutely and John slid across the seat to him to wrap him up in a comforting hug, pulling Sherlock down against his chest and running his fingers through his hair, playing with the greased strands until they were starting to show more of Sherlock's natural curl that the waves that he carefully gelled them into every morning.
"We could at least attend college together, could we not?"
"You? Go to college?" John asked incredulously and Sherlock shrugged slightly.
"I'll do anything to stay with you. I'll sit through six years of medical school with you to stick around, I'll make any excuse."
John considered that as he rubbed Sherlock's back softly and then he was abruptly leaning down to kiss him again, his mouth hungry and greedy on Sherlock's mouth that tasted like cigarettes and whiskey and the toothpaste he'd used to attempt to cover it up for John's benefit, and John loved him for it.
"We could move to New York. I heard it's not so bad out there for..guys like us. You could work in a bodyshop while I'm in class, and we could share an apartment. We'd keep it hidden, we could do it."
Sherlock looked at John hopefully and then practically tackled him to the seat, shoving his hands under his letter-sweater and yanking it off over his head to start kissing his chest through his thin cotton undershirt.
"Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes," Sherlock panted in a low voice, his movements erratic and happy and John laughed giddily as Sherlock kissed every conceivable inch of his body that he could reach in the limited space.
"I love you, Sherlock Holmes," John managed to whisper and Sherlock propped himself up on one hand beside John's head before he grinned and looked up, reaching his free hand out towards the back window, where the moonlight was coming in. Slowly and deliberately, he wrote his own initials, SH, and then John's, JW, and in the space between the two he drew a heart, his pale fingertip wiping away the condensation created by the heat of their bodies and leaving something cliche and beautiful and wonderful in its place, and John grinned as he tugged Sherlock down by the lapels of his leather jacket to kiss him roughly and prove just how much he loved his greaser.
