Chapter 22
SLEEP OVER
Johnny
William could barely keep his eyes open for more than an hour, and Johnny could tell Taylor was bummed that he’d missed Gandalf’s fight with the Balrog.
Fitting all three of them on the sofa had been a squeeze, and Taylor’s hand had wandered across to Johnny’s thigh more than once.
He could have chalked it up to the lack of space, but somewhere towards the end of the film, Taylor had just slung his arm over Johnny’s shoulders and pulled him against his chest.
Johnny had sat there, barely concentrating on the film, ear pressed to Taylor’s sternum as he listened to his heartbeat and watched the sun slowly sink behind the trees.
Taylor kept dipping his head to sniff Johnny’s hair, chest rumbling with such contentment that it made Johnny’s toes curl in his slippers.
Finding William a spare toothbrush, Johnny watched as he swayed on the spot in the middle of the bathroom. “Make sure you get the back,” he said, leaning against the doorframe.
Taylor was tidying the dump he called his bedroom, because for some God unknown reason William said he’d prefer to sleep in there than Johnny’s nice, tidy room. Then again, the kid clearly had no idea about personal hygiene, and looked like he was in physical pain as he tried to reach his molars.
“I’m telling Kat you need to go to the dentist,” Johnny said, raising his eyebrows as William spat toothpaste into the sink.
“I don’t need—”
“No arguments.”
William scowled as he dropped the brush into the sink with a clatter.
Eventually Taylor appeared on the landing, his overflowing wash-basket under one arm, a rolled-up pillow and blanket under the other.
They both watched as William drifted into Taylor’s bedroom and all but collapsed onto the bed.
He was already out before either of them could say goodnight, so Johnny clicked off the landing light and quietly closed the door.
It was past 10:00 pm, but the last of the summer sun was doing its best to cling to the sky, casting the landing in a glowy amber light.
Letting out a quiet breath, he turned to Taylor.
“You aren’t doing washing now, are you?” He tugged the basket out of Taylor’s grip and put it on the floor.
Taylor’s eyes darted towards the stairs, a light flush creeping up his pale chest. And that vest…
that tight fucking vest clung to every ripple and dent of his torso.
Johnny stared at him, eyes unmoving until Taylor finally met his gaze. His grip tightened around the pillow and blanket as he said, “I’ll… uh… I’ll sleep on the sofa.” He blinked, gesturing towards the stairs. “Let you get your beauty sleep.”
Johnny swallowed, the growing nerves in the pit of his belly crawling their way up his throat. He’d have liked to say it was due to having a non-pack shifter in the house, but he’d only have been lying to himself.
“Goodnight,” Taylor said, holding Johnny’s gaze for a second longer.
“Yeah,” he replied, the word barely making it out of his mouth. “Good… goodnight.”
Taylor gave a small nod, his gaze trailing all the way down Johnny’s body before he turned towards the stairs. The first step creaked, then the second, and Johnny was already across the landing before Taylor made it to the third.
“Tay?” he whispered, reaching for Taylor’s shoulder in the low light.
Taylor paused, glancing back, the roughness of his stubble grazing Johnny’s fingers. “Yeah?”
“Do you… do you want to stay over?”
There was silence, the weight and implication of Johnny’s invitation hanging heavily between them. It dragged on, a moment turning to several seconds, and just as Johnny was about to pull his hand away and retreat into his room, Taylor let out a breath and said, “You sure?”
Johnny let out a shaky breath of his own. “Yes,” he replied, turning on his heel and moving across the landing before he could chicken out.
Yanking the curtains closed, he dropped onto the bed and pulled the thin cotton sheet over his body. It was comforting in the dark, but it still didn’t dull his bundle of nerves as Taylor closed the door.
Then the lock clicked, the mattress dipped and warmth spread up Johnny’s left side.
Taylor climbed under the sheets; something he’d done a thousand times before, but this time it made all Johnny’s hairs stand on end.
“I know you’re mad at me about William,” Taylor whispered, his elbow bumping Johnny’s ribs. “But I—”
“I’m not.” Johnny cut him off, his voice tighter than he would have liked.
“Yeah you are, JP. You don’t need to lie.”
“I’m not mad, Tay. I was worried. I’m still worried. About you, the pack, William. But I know you just did what you thought was best.”
Johnny rested his bandaged arm across his stomach. It ached like a bitch as the pain medication slowly started to wear off.
Taylor shifted slightly, dipping his head and pressing his mouth to Johnny’s shoulder.
“Do you think we could take him to the pack house tomorrow? If Kat says it’s okay?
I’d really like to show him the pigs, and the sunflowers, and maybe he can try some of Maman’s cooking.
The lad looks like he needs several decent meals. ”
He shifted again, nuzzling into Johnny’s armpit.
Johnny hummed, turning his head to brush his mouth through Taylor’s hair. “Mhm. And maybe the dens in the woods. You’ll have to ask Marty, though. Those two have beef, remember?”
Taylor snorted, tangling his and Johnny’s legs together. “Yeah, as much beef as a nine- and eleven-year-old can have.”
“William hurt him, remember? He’s forgiving, but the girls aren’t.”
“Maybe if we send him in with sweets,” he replied, dragging his face up to Johnny’s neck. “Do they still like those sour strawberries?”
Johnny shivered, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I think they like the pineapple ones now.”
“See? Perfect. Like a sweetie-laden grenade—just roll him in and hope for the best.”
Johnny huffed out a laugh, hand drifting to his aching cock and giving it a sympathetic squeeze. “Or blow up the whole house in the process?”
Taylor shrugged, the movement jostling Johnny’s arm and making him wince. “I’ve been told I make an excellent human shield.”
“We could try, I guess. So long as the police aren’t on our doorstep tomorrow morning for abducting a child. It’s a good job Kat trusts us, Tay.”
Taylor hummed. “Eh, just quote a load of safeguarding buzz words at her. Bamboozle her with safety plans and ‘it was my honest held belief that the child was in immediate danger.’”
Johnny tutted. “The fuck do you know about safety plans, PC Campbell?”
There was a long pause, then: “I was on one, remember? For six years before you guys took me in.”
Johnny slowly turned onto his side so they were facing one another. “Sorry,” he whispered. “Sometimes I forget that there was a time before us.”
Taylor bumped their foreheads together, his voice low and rumbling. “I’m glad,” he said, tracing a thumb around Johnny’s ear. “I’m glad you forget, because it means I’m normal. Sometimes. Not all the time. But, like, maybe I’m not the problem kid anymore.”
Johnny slipped his bandaged arm over Taylor’s waist, pulling him closer. It hurt, but it was worth it for the way their bodies pressed together. He felt warm. And solid. And safe.
Taylor groaned, pushing his face back into the crook of Johnny’s neck.
“You were never a problem kid to me, Tay,” Johnny whispered, stroking his back.
He felt Taylor’s eyebrows furrow against his neck, and Johnny didn’t care that he was getting hard, or that Taylor would feel it. He wanted him to feel it, because there was no running from it anymore.
“I was,” Taylor whispered, his soft lips grazing Johnny’s scent gland.
“The shit I used to do, the lies I used to tell just to get out of the house. I used to piss the grown-ups off just so they’d look me in the eyes.
My mum and dad never…” Taylor’s throat bobbed as he swallowed.
“God, they fucked me up so bad, so I did the same to them in the end.”
Johnny squeezed his eyes shut, holding Taylor tight. “You aren’t fucked up, baby, you’re—”
“I am. I know I am, but you—” Taylor’s body tensed, a hand coming up to fist Johnny’s T-shirt. “You saw me, and you took me home… and I just… I want to forgive the kid that I was and I… I just don’t want to fuck this up, JP. Not with you. Not anymore.”
Taylor’s voice was trembling so much it didn’t even sound like him.
“I was so scared, JP. When you were on the floor, bleeding, I thought they… I thought you were going to die and I—” He let out a strangled sound, gripping Johnny’s T-shirt as tears soaked into the fabric.
Johnny shushed him, patting his back and stroking his hair.
He’d only ever seen Taylor cry once—when Sam died.
Even when all the shit was happening with his parents he’d just stuck out his chin and punched something instead.
When they lived in Slough he used to smash the neighbours milk bottles, but now the tears were coming hot and fast, and it broke Johnny’s fucking heart.
He gripped Taylor’s hair, drawing slow circles across his scalp. “I know, baby. I know,” he whispered, hand dropping to stroke the nape of Taylor’s neck. “Tay?”
“Yeah?” Taylor sniffed, wiping his nose across Johnny’s chest.
“You said omegas feel safe.” He paused, because even saying it after everything hurt. “Do you feel safe with me?”
Taylor brought his face up to Johnny’s, eyes shining in the dim light. “Yes.”
“And do you trust me?”
Taylor frowned. “Of course I do, JP, you’re my best friend—”
Johnny kissed him then, because he was so fucking tired of being Taylor’s best friend.
It wasn’t the rough kiss they’d shared at Theo’s, or the ‘kiss you to shut you up’ of the drive-through. It was soft and patient, like they had all the time in the world.