Dead Zone Season 6 Countdown, Part 2
The Morning After
Johnny/Walt, R (very mild)
Summery: Well, what the title says.
Word count: ~ 500
***
Johnny wondered, as he cautiously stretched his pleasantly sore and tingling body, when he last had felt this good, totally comfortable and satisfied.
He also wondered, as he heard Walt rummaging in his bathroom, how someone with psychic abilities could be so utterly clueless.
Sarah was going to kill them. Or maybe not. That was another thing Johnny had no clue about.
This whole psychic deal was bullshit. Visions upon visions featuring loads of sociopaths, criminals, and other failures of life, plus a freaking Armageddon, but almost nothing feasible about his own issues ever.
There had never been a vision about him and Walt ending up in bed together. Not even just about them becoming friends or getting closer. One would think this was kind of important. But no. There had not been the slightest hint that something like this could ...
“Hey, John. You got a spare toothbrush for me?” a towel clad Walt suddenly standing beside his bed - stop staring Smith - wanted to know.
“What?” Johnny asked distractedly.
“A toothbrush...?” Walt repeated; and okay, maybe there had been some hints.
Johnny tried to shake off the weird feeling of deja vu. “Um, there should be some one-way-toothbrushes in the cup on the windowsill,” he answered, which made Walt turn back into the bathroom.
"These?” Walt finally showed him an ugly blue toothbrush through the open bathroom door and Johnny nodded.
“Practice Dr. Singer.” Walt read aloud from the brush handle.
“Yeah. I stole a bunch of them in retaliation after my last root canal,” explained Johnny, while he turned around on his stomach, rearranging his crumpled pillow rather violently.
“Did you just confess to a crime?” Walt cocked an eyebrow and gave him a suspicious look.
“Uh ...” Damn. Walt in cop mode was hot. And scary. Even if it was feigned. It was just feigned, right?
“I think, I'll let it pass as self defense this time,” Walt said after some consideration and turned back into the bathroom again.
Phew! Johnny buried his face relieved in the freshly fluffed pillow. He had almost dozed off again, when Walt came back and started to collect his clothes from the floor.
“Bath is free,” he stated.
Johnny sat up on the bed and winced, finding out that a sore and tingling body did have its not so pleasant sides too. Getting up and trying some tentative steps towards the bathroom, he didn't quite manage to hold back a groan.
Walt, who was putting on his clothes now, watched him grinning knowingly.
“It's my leg,” said Johnny, and Jesus, what kind of see-through excuse was that? He hadn't had any problems with his leg for years and Walt knew it.
“Sure John, your leg.” Walt was grinning even harder.
Smug bastard, thought Johnny.
“See you at the station later?” Walt asked him, putting on his jacket an heading for the door.
“Yeah, sure,” answered Johnny, but made sure to wait until Walt was out of sight before he hobbled awkwardly into the bathroom.
***
Thanks to hctib_notsob for the quick overlook.
Johnny/Walt, R (very mild)
Summery: Well, what the title says.
Word count: ~ 500
***
Johnny wondered, as he cautiously stretched his pleasantly sore and tingling body, when he last had felt this good, totally comfortable and satisfied.
He also wondered, as he heard Walt rummaging in his bathroom, how someone with psychic abilities could be so utterly clueless.
Sarah was going to kill them. Or maybe not. That was another thing Johnny had no clue about.
This whole psychic deal was bullshit. Visions upon visions featuring loads of sociopaths, criminals, and other failures of life, plus a freaking Armageddon, but almost nothing feasible about his own issues ever.
There had never been a vision about him and Walt ending up in bed together. Not even just about them becoming friends or getting closer. One would think this was kind of important. But no. There had not been the slightest hint that something like this could ...
“Hey, John. You got a spare toothbrush for me?” a towel clad Walt suddenly standing beside his bed - stop staring Smith - wanted to know.
“What?” Johnny asked distractedly.
“A toothbrush...?” Walt repeated; and okay, maybe there had been some hints.
Johnny tried to shake off the weird feeling of deja vu. “Um, there should be some one-way-toothbrushes in the cup on the windowsill,” he answered, which made Walt turn back into the bathroom.
"These?” Walt finally showed him an ugly blue toothbrush through the open bathroom door and Johnny nodded.
“Practice Dr. Singer.” Walt read aloud from the brush handle.
“Yeah. I stole a bunch of them in retaliation after my last root canal,” explained Johnny, while he turned around on his stomach, rearranging his crumpled pillow rather violently.
“Did you just confess to a crime?” Walt cocked an eyebrow and gave him a suspicious look.
“Uh ...” Damn. Walt in cop mode was hot. And scary. Even if it was feigned. It was just feigned, right?
“I think, I'll let it pass as self defense this time,” Walt said after some consideration and turned back into the bathroom again.
Phew! Johnny buried his face relieved in the freshly fluffed pillow. He had almost dozed off again, when Walt came back and started to collect his clothes from the floor.
“Bath is free,” he stated.
Johnny sat up on the bed and winced, finding out that a sore and tingling body did have its not so pleasant sides too. Getting up and trying some tentative steps towards the bathroom, he didn't quite manage to hold back a groan.
Walt, who was putting on his clothes now, watched him grinning knowingly.
“It's my leg,” said Johnny, and Jesus, what kind of see-through excuse was that? He hadn't had any problems with his leg for years and Walt knew it.
“Sure John, your leg.” Walt was grinning even harder.
Smug bastard, thought Johnny.
“See you at the station later?” Walt asked him, putting on his jacket an heading for the door.
“Yeah, sure,” answered Johnny, but made sure to wait until Walt was out of sight before he hobbled awkwardly into the bathroom.
***
Thanks to hctib_notsob for the quick overlook.