so Anon asked me for 23. holding hands under the table, and I wrote this for it but I actually hate it. So I’m posting it here because whatever I put some time into it, might as well not just delete it I guess. Anyway hey Anon I’ll write you something better when I get a chance lmao
Cameras flash, lighting up the dark room, and V startles. Kerry, to his right, has already put on the persona, all charming smirks and devil may care charm. The Us Cracks, to his left, have done a full transformation, from fairly normal American teenagers to hyper cutesy Japanese popstars.
V was not prepared for this. Sure, he probably should have expected it, going out with current pop superstars and a living legend, but they’ve managed to fly under the radar before. It wasn’t supposed to be a big deal. Just taking the girls out as a “Welcome back to Night City” treat. V might have to teach the owner of this establishment what happens when a “private dining area” includes surprise journalists.
“V-kun, kawaii~” Blue Moon mewls, wrapping her arms around his bicep and leaning into his side. She manages to sneak him a wink, hiding her face against his shoulder long enough to murmur, “so they won’t know who you’re here with!"
Purple Force and Red Menace must be in on it too, because they clamber for his attention, practically climbing over each other to have their pictures taken with him. It’s extremely overwhelming, for someone who can barely handle the full focus of the Us Cracks’ attention normally, but he appreciates the effort. Aside from the occasional rumor, he and Kerry have managed to keep their relationship on the down low, and V would really prefer it stay that way.
The more he hears the artificial shutter of a camera go off, the faster his heart beats. He’s contemplating frying all these cameras and just making a run for it when he feels Kerry’s familiar grip on his hand. Hidden under the table, safe from prying eyes. V clings, desperate for the reassurance. Kerry squeezes his hand, rubbing his knuckles into V’s thigh gently.
Like the old pro he is, Kerry fields questions, drawing attention his way through sheer force of will. The girls chime in here and there too, adding depth or character to Kerry’s perfectly crafted responses. Through it all, V wishes he could melt into the floor, or yeet himself out the window. It’s only Kerry, their fingers threaded together just out of sight, that keeps him from devolving into a complete bundle of nerves.
