"Got any plans other than sleep?"
It's not often that John asks Johnny about his life outside of the job; typically, the man drops a comment about how he's 'due tae get pished' or 'awat fir ma Mammy's cookin' without any prompting. But he's yer to utter a word.
"Away tae visit a cousin."
It's a half-hearted response; Johnny only briefly glances away before his gaze is back to the floor. John's tired, he wants a hot meal, and he can't sleep, so the other man is simply going to have to talk.
"Outside of Scotland? If you tell me he lives in England, you'll never hear the end of it."
Johnny's hair barely moves when he shakes his head. John assumes that's the power of styling wax and sweat, he'd judge if he wasn't intimately aware of the smell of himself at the current moment.
"Naw, he's in Barlinnie. Dates usually dinnae line up fir me tae visit, first time in a long while."
It takes all of John's self-restraint not to laugh, no matter how bastardly it may be. The sergeant expects judgment over a family member's prison time, and hours earlier, he watched John put a bullet through someone's carotid artery.
For all his reserved attitude, Johnny's lip twitches when he talks. He's amused by what his cousin did, and frankly, shit at hiding it.
"Walloped some cunt's teeth oot an git caught fir it."
Johnny's shoulder is warm to the touch when he claps his hand on it. John chooses to ignore how the Scotsman leans into his touch before he catches himself and straightens up.
"Wear tight jeans, give the rest of them in there something to enjoy."
Johnny's face lights up fire truck red, and only then does he smack John's hand away with a muttered fuck off, but he's smiling for the first time all day.
blakekathryn
discoholicmusic
2087
janainaart
