Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chris arrives just as the sun begins to set behind the palm trees, a giant orange and blue streak spread across the sky. You’ve been waiting on the stoop of your apartment building for the past hour, checking the time on your flip phone every fifteen minutes or so. He turns the loud hip hop music down as you slam the passenger door shut, and Chris watches in amused silence as you huff through the task of putting the seatbelt on.

“You’re pissy.” He says, that naturally endearing smile painted on his face. You knew what he was trying to do but it wasn’t gonna work today.

“You’re fucking late.” You stare out the windshield, arms crossed, an attempt to stand your ground. You wouldn't have been so peeved about him being late if he had just called you.

“Sorry, Kiddo. I had to pick up Steve-o.” Chris motions to the backseat as a warm hand lands roughly on your shoulder.

"Someone needs a drink.” Steve-o sings, his breath already smelling of cheap beer and weed.

You turn your body in your seat, trying your hardest to keep the dark green wrap dress you had bought the night before - you have a bad habit of doing things last minute- from riding up, to glare at the men. “You bitches pre-gamed without me?”

Steve-o hacks out a laugh while Chris slam his hand against the steering wheel in exasperation.

“How were we supposed to know you wanted to join us?”

“You could have fucking called me and asked!”

“You’ve never wanted to join us before, dude.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve never been to a fucking wrap party before either. The idea of watching ‘King Johnny’ strut his ego around a group of people who would probably eat his ass for a second of his time is something I absolutely can not do sober. Now where's the fucking weed?”

You want to smile at the way Steve-o doubles over in the backseat, laughing so hard there’s almost no sound, but Chris wears the most serious expression you’ve ever seen him make. So you bite your lip to stay quiet.

“No weed for you. Last thing we need is you ruining this night with one of your substance induced speeches.” Chris turns the music up without another word, steering the car from the curb and down the road. “I’ll buy you a drink when we get there, but you should probably stick with one.”

“Let the kid live a little, bro. She’s a virgin to this.” You roll your eyes at the sewage brained man in the back, if there was one thing you’d grown to know about Steve-o was he’d take any opportunity he was given to be vile.

There was no response from Chris except the unspoken message of him blasting the radio, the night breeze bellowing from his open window. You roll yours up as you exit onto the interstate, leaning to rest your head against the cold glass.

~

You didn’t grow up in a place like LA. You came from a small town on the east coast, seemingly endless fields of corn and cotton. You spent your younger years walking aimlessly around the small neighborhood you lived in. There were no street lights beckoning you to come home, no threat of a stranger snatching you off the side of the road. Just you and the orchestra of crickets that followed you home.

In high school you joined theater, working on set with the cast and crew. You loved the environment, and thrived under the pressure. College came and went, a blur of film classes and frat parties. You moved straight to California after graduation, with big goals and just enough money to pay your rent for three months. The internship you found was trash, following around some asshole director who smelt like burnt coffee and stale cigarettes. By the beginning of your third month you began to feel hopeless, maybe this life wasn’t meant for you. And then you met Chris.

He was a friend of a friend, a stranger to you when he sat next to you at the bar and gave a quirky smile and firm handshake. You swapped life stories over watered down drinks while your mutual friends celebrated their upcoming wedding. You had no idea then how much this dumb man with a ponytail would advance your life.

~

The theater is already packed by the time the three of you arrive. Steve-o, the loveable perv, had slipped you a couple airplane bottles of vodka while Chris went potty. It was enough to give you a buzz and certainly enough to drown the little anxiety monster trying to creep up into your brain.

“I thought this thing was dressy casual?” You whisper, wiping your hands over your hips anxiously. You feel out of place, the pretty dress you painstakingly picked out all of a sudden feels like the worst possible choice. The event was not fancy in the slightest. A sea of denim and t-shirts and you in your velvet green dress and heels. “I look like a fucking hooker.”

“A pretty hooker.” Offers Steve-o, twisting the cap off another little vodka bottle.

You glare over at him. “Not helpful.”

“Kiddo, you look fine. At least you made the effort.” Chris pats you on the back before walking off, leaving you with a jittery Steve-o.

“Also not helpful.” You mutter before entering the dimming theater.

The movie was fantastic, the crowd erupting in laughter at the guys' antics. From Bam and his snake induced freak out to Dave’s tore up ass from the fireman's hose. You felt proud to be a part of something so big, something you had spent the last six months of your life involved in. All the late nights discussing stunts with Jeff and Johnny and all the long days filming these jackasses put their bodies on the line in the name of comedy.

You snuck off to the bar after the credits rolled, in search of something a little harder than vodka to mellow you out. You sit at the bar, two shots of tequila in and now nursing a Manhattan, when you feel his presence behind you.

“You ran off pretty fast and in those five inch heels too. I'm impressed.” He slides into the stool next to you, leaning on his elbows as he motions his fingers to the bartender.

“Oh I aim to impress you, King Johnny.” The bartender smiles at this as he places two shots in front of Johnny. Johnny, on the other hand, scoffs as he throws them back.

“You know I hate that fucking name, Doll.”

“Ditto.” You say with a grimace at his pet name for you.

He had the decency to call you by your name when you met him, but after a heated argument over a stunt that you deemed too dangerous, his attitude towards you changed completely. You became his enemy it seemed. The once gentlemanly Johnny became one that wouldn’t look you in the eyes, wouldn’t speak directly to you unless he had too. He did this for months before his complete avoidance turned into absolute annoyance. You were now a target for his pranks, like the fog horn he planted in your office that he’d set off randomly. It took you two weeks to figure out where he had put the damn thing.

Then he started choosing you to do the dirty work like remove the glued hair off of Preston’s body or clean the puke off Lance Bang’s camcorder. He pushed you too far one night while you were helping Jeff look over the shots from that day, Johnny snuck up behind you with a bucket of what you’d later find out was fake blood and dumped it all over you. The sliminess of it made you want to puke, but the way he fell to the ground, pointing and laughing, had you in tears from anger.

As you stood there in front of the crew, red goop falling from your hair and tears in your eyes, he smiled proudly and said, “Cheer up, Doll. You’re one of us, aren’t you?”

“You, uh, look nice.” He offers after a bit of silence between you two, staring down at the beer bottle in his hands. He stops picking at the label when you groan.

“I knew you were gonna fucking say something. I overdressed, I know.” You look around the room that slowly starts filling up as more people leave the theater. You hope to spot Chris, maybe even Steve-o, someone to save you from the conversation you were currently having. No luck, so you just sip your drink.

“You always get so defensive.” You roll your eyes at him, turning on the stool till you face him. Johnny’s turned too, already looking at you.

“You're always an asshole to me.”

“Not always.”

He’s watching you, eyes traveling from head to toe. He takes another drink and shrugs. “I meant it though, Doll. You look really nice.”

“Thanks.” You say after a beat, unsure how sincere he’s being. His eyes shine, whether from the alcohol he’s been no doubt consuming all night, or from something else you don’t care to know. It’d been so long since you’d been able to just sit and talk to him. He had once been the man you felt the most comfortable going to when something at work made you uncomfortable or when you were unsure about your spot in the group. He’d always been so encouraging until all of a sudden, he wasn’t open to you anymore. It’d been over a year since the fight that changed the way he treated you.

Sometimes, late at night when your brain was going over your day, you wondered what you had done that made him hate you so much.

“Why are you being nice to me?” You ask softly.

“I’m a nice guy.” He says with that little southern drawl of his.

This gets a laugh out of you. “Not to me you aren’t. Not anymore, at least.”

He thinks to himself for a bit and you let him. It was unlike you to be so upfront, in fact you weren't even sure why you had asked him that to begin with. It seemed so childish to say it out loud, like you were back in high school getting asked on a date by some popular kid you didn’t even know. Why are you being nice to me? You were in public, surrounded by people who practically worshiped the ground he walked on. Of course he was gonna be civil.

“You don’t have to answer that.”

“You really think I’m mean to you?”

He sets his drink down on the bar top and leans closer. He wears a strange expression, one of… concern. It confuses you to say the least.

“You’ve treated me like shit ever since that fight we had. I get that being a part of the crew means being in the line of fire when it comes to pranks and shit. It’s just harmless fun, right? But, you know Johnny, it’s different when it starts after being ignored for months. You humiliated me that night. Hurt my feelings. And it took three hours to get that shit out of my hair.” The alcohol was making you vulnerable, that had to be it. You tried to veer your speech towards humor but it just came out pathetic.

Chris was right, you talked too much while intoxicated.

“Just forget it,” You say abruptly, cutting him off from whatever he was about to say. “It doesn’t really matter anymore. We’re good.”

Johnny goes to say something, hand reaching out to you, but stops as Dave slams him into a hug.

“Dude, we fucking did it. Now it’s time to rage.” Dave, or Darf as it seems, lolls his tongue out of his mouth and wags his head. Johnny tries his hardest to unglue the drunk man from his side, but as Ehren and Steve-o join in he has no other choice but to go along. Hell, they practically drag him away from the bar, and you, and all Johnny can do is look over his shoulder at you as they pull him away.

You wave goodbye to him half-heartedly.

“Steve-o ratted you out.” Chris informs as he takes the spot Johnny just occupied. You laugh at this, the air feeling almost lighter with Chris’ presence.

“He fucking supplied me, that dick.”

Chris laughs too as he orders a drink. It's always been so easy to talk to him, which was probably why he became your best friend so quickly. You meshed well together. Chris Pontius was a psycho, but he was also kind and endearing when he wanted to be.

“Saw you talking to Johnny.” He states absentmindedly.

“Yeah, he came and sat next to me.” You mumble into your glass. Chris had been trying for months to get you to talk to Johnny after you drunkenly, and mistakenly, confessed your feelings about how he’d been acting towards you.

“And?”

“And…”

Chris shakes his head, irritated with how evasive you could get sometimes. Being open and honest about feelings wasn’t one of your strong suits.

“Kiddo.” He warns, his patience at an all time low for you tonight.

“It was fine. He told me I looked nice and I told him he was an asshole.” You want to laugh as his eyes widen. “Darf interrupted us before he could apologize. Party time.” You add, popping the cherry from the bottom of your glass into your mouth.

“Oh, he was going to apologize?”

You twirl the cherry stem between your fingers. “I assumed so. You should have seen his face, Chris. He looked like he had no idea what I was talking about. Like how could he, King Johnny, ever offend anyone.”

“Hmm.” He lets the sound hang in the air between you, glancing around the room before meeting your eyes again. “Sounds like maybe you’re projecting.”

“Excuse me? What's that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” He starts, not even batting an eye as he watches your hackles raise. “That maybe you offended him when you called him stupid and careless.”

You lean forward at this, lowering your voice so the people around you don’t hear you but the venom is clear in your tone. “He was being stupid and careless. That stunt, the one he was so dead set on Dave and Ehren doing, could have gotten them both seriously injured. It wasn’t like all the other dangerous shit they’ve done, this was different, okay?”

“You tend to be pretty harsh when you’re pissed.” He says, laying his hand on your forearm. You can tell he’s trying to calm you down, seeing how the subject could set you off all over again. “All I’m saying is, maybe both of you offended each other. Having an actual conversation about it could put this all to rest.”

He wasn’t wrong. “Wise words, Pontius. How much do I owe?”

Chris laughs, squeezing your arm. “I’ll put it on your tab, Kiddo, don’t worry.”

You sit and chat after that for sometime. As the night dwindles down, you tell him you’re gonna catch a cab back to your apartment. You know how these things work and going to the club after this with the guys didn’t sound so appealing. You were ready to go home and take a hot bath. Nights like tonight always wear you out.

Chris waits with you on the sidewalk, the breezy night air washes through your hair like delicate fingers. The cab pulls up as the rest of the guys exit, Johnny at the head of the pack like always. You say your goodbyes before giving Chris a tight hug and a thankful kiss on the cheek. With a promise to call when you got home safe you closed the cab door. After giving the cabbie your address, you lean back in your seat gazing out the window. To your surprise Johnny stands on the sidewalk with his jaw set tight, watching Chris wave at you as the cab pulls away from the curb. You turn in the small backseat to look out the back window and your eyes meet.

He looks sullen, his hands shoved in his pockets and his eyes visibly bloodshot. It was strange to not see him smile. Strange enough that a frown just looked so foreign on his handsome face. You give him a wave and a soft smile before turning back around and settling in for the ride. Maybe Chris was right. You should probably just bite the bullet and have a real conversation. Mend fences if you will. Work was easier when you didn’t hate being around him, maybe this could fix that.

~

You wake to banging. Opening your eyes you can’t do more than blink for a few seconds, confused and groggy. Looking over at your alarm clock you huff. Two AM. Who the fuck is knocking at your door at Two AM?

Throwing back the blanket you stumble from the bed, legs shaking dramatically as you search the chair in the corner of the room for your robe. You are so damn tired. The banging doesn’t cease as you fling clothes in every direction until your fingers find the soft satin. You make a mental note to clean your room as you slip your arms through the robe and shuffle through the dark apartment to the front door.

The banging stops all at once, the person on the other side of the door no doubt hearing you approach. Raising onto your tiptoes to look through the peephole, you freeze at what you see.

You unlock the door slowly, confused if you’re even awake right now. There’s no way this isn’t a dream.

Johnny spins towards you when he hears the door creak open. He seems sober but he looks worse than he did when you left the theater earlier. He’s fidgeting with his fingers, watching to see what your reaction will be to him showing up out of the blue.

“Johnny?” You hesitate as he steps closer, unsure if this was some stupid skit he was doing for Jackass 2.5. All you need is for someone to jump out and scare you while you wear nothing but your robe. “Johnny, it’s the middle of the night. What are you doing here?”

He slips past you when you motion for him to come in. You didn’t want your nosy neighbor to hear whatever it was he had to say.

You shut the door behind you as Johnny looks around the still dark room. You flip the lamp on by your couch, low light illuminating the two of you. He still doesn’t speak, just looks around at all your pictures and knickknacks. You’re starting to get annoyed when he finds his way back over to you.

“Did you mean what you said?” He asks, his voice deep and husky like he’d done a little too much yelling tonight.

“Said about what?”

“About how you think I’m mean.”

“You came here, late as fuck, to ask me that. Seriously?” You cross your arms. This was the last thing you would have expected.

“Is that a yes?” He steps closer.

“Yes. I meant it. Look Johnny, go home. We can discuss everything that happened another day. It’s late.” You go to move for the door but his large hand catches your elbow.

“Let’s do it now.” He says firmly, dropping your elbow to cross his arms over his chest. “Ask me.”

You’re exhausted and confused but he’s egging you on. So you do as you're told.

“Why did you ignore me for months after our fight? I tried so many times to apologize, to rectify our friendship but you completely iced me out. If I offended you with what I said, I’m sorry-”

He cuts you off with a scoff. “You didn’t offend me, Doll.”

“Okay then..” You seethe, getting pissy by the second. “Then why?”

He closes the distance between your bodies, looking down at you with hooded eyes. You’re frozen where you stand as he pushes the hair from your eyes with deft fingers. All the time you’d spent working with him you have never once been this close to him. He smells like malt liquor and tobacco, it makes your nose twitch and your cheeks flush. He seems to be studying your reaction to him, enjoying the way he can see that hard exterior begin to melt. Johnny had a natural ability to win people over. He was just so damn charismatic.

You start to wonder if he’s gonna say something when he lowers his mouth to your ear and whispers something that sends your nerves into a frenzy.

“You made me want to fuck you, pretty girl.”

Chapter Text

“You made me want to fuck you pretty girl.” 

Johnny cocks his head at the sharp intake of breath you take. It gets stuck in your throat, trapping any words that dare try to leave your parted lips. 

“That would be wrong though, wouldn’t it, Doll?” Johnny waits for an answer, but you're still locked in dumbfoundedness. “You have no idea, do you?” 

He backs away from you then, sighing tiredly. The distance feels like miles and you stand like a soldier, too stunned to move, watching him. He paces lazily across the carpet, shaking his head to himself. You had assumed he was only buzzed when you opened the door for him, but with the heavy smell of liquor coming off his breath and the fact that he just said that , you were obviously very wrong. 

“That day I had to physically restrain myself, Doll. You think you offended me?” He chuckles, “Baby, all I wanted to do in that moment was bend you over the table and fuck you senseless.” 

“Johnny-” 

“It was easier to not talk to you, because when you fuckin’ look at me-” He turns sharply, jabbing his finger in your direction. “You make me so fuckin’ frustrated and I don’t think you even realize it. Just being around you pissed me off-”  

“Johnny, you should go. You’ll regret telling me this tomorrow. We’re fine, I just want to go back to how we were before.” 

He laughs sardonically at this, “We’re not fine. You think I’m talking out my ass because I’ve been drinking? You’re naïve.” 

“And you’re a drunk asshole. You wanna act like I’m such a stupid little girl and yet you showed up at my door in the middle of the night spewing about how badly you want to fuck me. Newsflash Johnny, you can’t treat me like shit for a full fucking year and just expect me to spread my legs the one time you act like a decent human being. Go the fuck home Johnny.” 

Johnny nods once before walking for the door. You watch him go, feeling somewhere between relief and regret. He shuts the door softly behind himself.

~

The summer sun feels nice against your skin, sand between your toes and the smell of sunscreen baking in the heat. It’s been a little over a week since that night in your apartment and as you expected, Johnny was radio silent. Work has been difficult to say the least. The Monday after, you entered Johnny’s office to relay a message from Tremaine only to be given an empty look and a flippant nod of his head. You knew this would happen the moment he let his confession out of his mouth. And yet you still felt blindsided. You couldn’t have expected Johnny to confess something so aggressively intimate to you and you still weren’t sure how you felt about it either. You told Chris when he called you up the next morning that you’d try making amends that evening after work. You weren’t ready to tell him the truth, not even sure if you ever would. 

If you were being honest, you had thought about Johnny in that capacity before. A fleeting thought as you were trying to get off. He was tall and surprisingly fit. There had been times when you’d catch yourself staring maybe a little too long at him when he was shirtless. Which he was often. You even found yourself admiring his large hands and strong arms. He was fucking hot, anybody with eyes could see that.

But he was your boss, which was something you had to remind yourself when all those late nights finalizing plans for the movie left the two of you in the office by yourselves. You fought hard to push those thoughts away, banish them to the back of your brain in hopes they’d stay there and rot. You couldn’t, and wouldn’t, do anything to jeopardize your place in the company because if you were being honest with yourself you got paid really good money to do something you absolutely loved- watching grown men act like idiots. 

Johnny’s confession however threw you for a loop. During all this time the thought that maybe Johnny also had feelings he had to suppress just didn’t seem real. 

“You just gonna lay here the whole time?” Chris lays down next to you on the beach towel, a smudge of sunscreen on his nose. He wears a lei around his neck and a straw hat on his head. His speedo ties the whole look together.

“You look hot.” You deadpan, flicking the brim of his hat. He puckers his lips and poses.

“I know.” 

You laugh happily, thankful for him being unapologetically himself. 

“What’s up, Kiddo.” He lays down next to you, arm draped across his stomach.  

“Living the life, Pontius.” This gets a chuckle out of him. 

“So did you ever talk to Johnny like we discussed?” You pause, you’ve been waiting for him to bring it up again for the past week. In fact, you’ve been actively avoiding the subject all together.

“Uh, yeah. We talked.”

“Oh yeah? How’d it go?” 

“Oh you know, it went fine.” You roll over onto your stomach, hoping he won’t try to see your face. You have the worst poker face. 

As it turns out, Chris doesn’t need to see your face to know you’re lying. “Oh really? Because he’s been in the bitchiest fucking mood all week and I’m starting to wonder if you had anything to do with that.”

You wouldn’t know the type of mood Johnny’s been in, you’ve managed to completely stay clear from him after finding out he was going to ignore you once again. What did he really expect? For you to just let everything go and fuck him right there on your living room floor. In the moment you had thought about it, only for a second though. He just looked so feral when he walked through your door, that when he whispered in your ear something you’d only ever heard from movies, you felt yourself get wet at the idea.

“Hey? What happened?” Chris snatches the sunglasses off your face, grabbing your chin gently to force you to look at him. 

“First off, rude. Second, I really don’t want to talk about it with you. Let it go.” 

“I’m not gonna let it go.”

“Chris,” You groan his name, annoyed by his persistence. “You know, this really has nothing to do with you. So I’d really appreciate it if you could just let-” 

“I’m not gonna let it go.” He interrupts with a small smile on his face. “You are both my friends and I care about you.” 

“Yeah well, I don’t think it’s gonna be fixed. If he didn’t dislike me before, he certainly does now.”  

Dave and Ehran come bounding towards you two, plopping down on the sand in front of you. Ehran hands you a beer. The condensation drips down your wrist as you chug half the bottle. 

Chris gives you a look that says you aren’t done with this conversation before turning to ask the guys a question.

“You guys done shooting?” 

“Nah.” Dave says between gulps of beer. “Knoxville walked off after a couple shots.” 

“Yeah, his brain was like somewhere else. ‘S weird.” Ehran looks up at you like you’ll have an answer to this. In fact, all three of the men are looking at you expectantly. Like they know something you don’t. 

You don’t fucking like it. 

Passing the beer he had just given you back, you shrug your shoulders and mutter something about finding a bathroom before hightailing it towards the production trailer. The looks they gave you made your skin crawl. It wasn’t a secret that you and Johnny have beef, but nobody has ever outwardly mentioned it to you before besides Chris. 

Maybe you should just go home, you really didn’t feel like dealing with this, not to mention that they really didn’t need you today. You only came because they were filming at the beach and you really wanted to see the boys play volleyball with shock collars on their necks. You wish Chris would just let it go. After what happened the other night you don’t think Johnny will want to make amends. He may have been drunk, but you rejected him pretty hard.

You manage to creep around the trailer without anyone noticing and instead make your way to your car. The only thing you had brought with you onto the actual beach had been a towel, you’d text Chris once you got to your car and ask him to grab it for you. There was no way you were going back out there, not after the way they looked at you. You couldn’t control Johnny’s actions, those were his alone, it wasn’t your fault. 

Hey I’m leaving. Bad stomach ache. Grab my towel for me please?”

From Pontius- I’ll see you at 8. You better be there.

Fuck. You forgot all about the party for Jeff’s birthday. You promised Chris you’d come a couple weeks ago. You didn’t usually go to their get-togethers, seeing as you spent enough time with them during the day that hanging out with a bunch of drunk idiots instead of going home and relaxing wasn’t the vibe. They partied a lot and you were much more of a homebody. But there were times that you went, getting drunk off your ass with Steve-o or playing darts with Dave against Ryan and Bam. Bam was a sore loser and Dave likes to gloat so there's never a dull moment between them.

I’ll come, but no talking about you know who.

From Pontius- Fine. Another time.  

Whatever. You weren’t gonna delude yourself in thinking that he’d just forget about it, that wasn’t like Chris at all. Getting drunk did sound like fun and maybe you could convince Dave to play beer pong. He did owe you a game. 

With the plan to go home and get some sleep for tonight - partying with these guys means pulling an all night- you put the car in reverse only to have the shit scared out of you by a hand slamming against your hood. 

It’s Johnny, go figure, and he looks pissed. You roll down your window with a groan, knowing he’s gonna give you shit about leaving early. When he finally makes his way to your open window he leans down onto his elbows and you watch his eyes flicker across your chest before they find their way back to your own. 

“What?” You snap at him, dropping your head back onto the head rest. 

“Leavin’ so soon, Doll?”

“I wasn’t even supposed to work today, I just came for the show.” He nods at this, looking out your windshield. 

“You coming tonight or do you got yourself a hot date instead?” His tone is passive and you roll your eyes. So much for him ignoring you. 

“I’m coming tonight, how about you act like you don’t know me.” You gave him a sickly sweet smile and shove his elbows off the car. You don’t look at him again as you back out and drive off. You had hoped he was just gonna stick with the whole ignoring you thing, that you could have handled. But his whole douchebag schtick was really getting under your skin and you were over taking his shit. 

He wanted to play dirty, fine. You could play dirty too.

Chapter Text

The night is in full swing when you finally arrive an hour late and high on whatever weed Steve-o had offered you when you picked him up. Zoning out of whatever Steve-o is saying you gaze at Johnny’s house. You for some reason expected him to live in some penthouse bachelor's pad, not a cute two story house with a blooming garden. 

“This is Johnny’s house?” You interrupt the man next to you mid sentence and he nods his head, relighting the end of his stubbed out blunt.

“Yeah dude, he lets me sleep on his couch sometimes. Helluva lot nicer than my dingy ass apartment.” He bounds up the brick steps and swings the door open. “Welcome, lets get fucked up.” 

“Absolutely.” You walk in before him, bombarded by the music playing and the sound of people talking and laughing. It's nothing like the parties Steve-o throws. There was no one puking over the balcony, no one fucking on the couch in the living room. Which you're grateful for, of course, but it's also strange to see these men dial it down. They live to party. 

"This is nice." You offer as you and Steve-o make your way through the crowd of people who smile at you from behind red solo cups. You recognize them from work or from being friends with the guys. Somewhere in the house a radio is blasting some 90s rock song that Steve-o bounces his head to.

"Hope you weren't expecting a rager, dude. Johnny has rules for partying at his place. Hey, you wanna do shots?" 

You nod excitedly, biting the inside of your cheek as you watch Steve-o pour four sloppy shots of tequila. You didn't have high hopes, assuming it was gonna be another overwhelming rager, but the mood in the whole house is light and happy. People laughing and talking with one another. Out the French doors in the kitchen you can see Dave and Ehran out on the patio playing beer pong. You assure yourself it's gonna be a good night as you swallow one shot after the next.

Somewhere between those two shots and what you were currently doing - trying to convince Steve-o not to do a backflip off the roof and into the pool- Chris joined you. 

"Can you not be reckless for one night, Steve? Let's- let's go back inside and find something to eat. How's that sound?" 

As if on queue, Steve-o pukes all over the cobblestone and your shoes. Behind you, Chris doubles over in a hiccupping laugh, slapping his knee like this is the funniest shit he's ever seen. Which you highly doubted.

"Ohh, that's gnarly, dude. I'm sorry." Now both of these idiots are laughing and you look up at the night sky hoping to gain the strength to not kill them. 

"I quit." You finally say, taking the slight platform sandals you foolishly decided to wear off, strings of his vomit flinging into the air as you slap Steve's ass with them. "You can take care of Dummy yourself, Pontius."

You walk away from the laughing idiots and towards the wooden shed at the end of Johnny's huge fenced in backyard praying for a hose to wash yourself with. It has only been an hour or two since you and Dummy got here and he was already three sheets to the wind. No surprise there. And Chris? You were so excited to finally find him in the crowd. Your sidekick and fellow Steve-o babysitter. Except tonight, he was no help. Already pretty wasted himself, he just laughed and followed the two of you around like a bouncing puppy, ready to see what was gonna happen next. 

As luck would have it, you find the hose at the back of the shed and quickly rush for it. The water is ice cold on your toes but you can't find it in you to be bothered. All you want is to get the slime from between your toes.

As you hose yourself down, you can't help but wonder where Johnny is. You've been all over the house and yard while chasing Dummy around and hadn't seen even the smallest glimpse of him. Which is good. You had told him to pretend he didn't know you tonight and it seemed to be working. Yeah, it was good. Totally.

And yet you had still searched the crowd for his face. Still hoped you'd see him out on the patio or maybe in the kitchen with Bam and Ryan. Nothing. He had to be here, it was his house after all. You weren't quite sure why you were looking for him but at the same time you couldn't help it. Because even though you basically told him to fuck off, you still wanted to see if he'd try to talk to you. You hate when he acts like a dick towards you, but boy did you love to hear him talk.

You decide not to put your wet sandals back on, instead you place them underneath one of the pool chairs with a mental note not to fucking forget them. Then you make your way back towards the house. The boys are no longer where you left them and truthfully, you didn't feel like babysitting tonight. On the other side of the yard near a large grill and patio furniture, Dave and Ehran explode in laughter at Bam fumbling to catch a ping pong ball that's bouncing across the ground. Bam's also fairly wasted, laughing so hard from where he lays splayed out on the ground, he can't breathe. His face is red as he sits up and brandishes the white ball. Ryan impatiently waves him back to the table.

"Who's winning?" You ask, looking around the table at your friends. 

"Who do you think?" Dave says with a chuckle, making a face at the two men on the other side of the table. 

"Why do I always get paired with Bam?" Whines Ryan, setting his Miller High Life down on the edge of the table with a loud thud.

"Because you're boyfriend's." This is said by Preston as he walks by, not even glancing in your group's direction. Everyone laughs, except Ryan, who snatches the ball from Bam's hands and begrudgingly takes a shot. 

"Yeah, well, I wanna switch next round." 

You leave them to it, squeezing past a small group as you walk into the house. The living room is less crowded than it was before and you catch sight of him immediately. 

He's sitting on the armrest of the love seat, talking candidly to Jeff and a couple others. He's wearing a blue button up with white roses on the collar, a pair of dark Dickies, and those stupid aviator sunglasses he always seems to wear. You love that fucking shirt on him, the first time you saw him in it you did the most obvious double take you've ever done in your life. 

He stops talking when he sees you, eye’s locked on yours so intensely even with his sunglasses on, you feel the need to leave. To get the fuck out of this house and away from his heavy stare. You start to do so, until Jeff follows Johnny’s gaze, smiling when he finds that it leads to you. 

“Kiddo, you made it!” Jeff beckons you over, and you can’t ignore it because it’s his fucking birthday. So you plaster on a smile and walk over to them, avoiding Johnny’s now glare as you do so. 

“Happy birthday, Jeff. How’s it feel to be 40?” He laughs at your boldness, standing up to give you a small hug. 

“Like I’m running on fumes.” He jokes, slumping back into the love seat. You stand awkwardly, still actively avoiding Johnny. “Hey, you come barefoot?” 

You glance down at your feet, bare against the warm wooden floor. 

“Babysitting Steve-o didn’t go quite as planned.” 

“What, did he steal your shoes?” He asks, highly amused. 

“Nope, he puked on them.” 

This earns a laugh from the other people sitting around you. Except for Johnny. You can feel his eyes on you still and it's starting to make you nervous. 

You can't stand there any longer so you ask, “Hey, uhm, where's the bathroom?” 

Jeff gives you the directions and you quickly excuse yourself. You try your hardest to leave casually but your entire body is fizzling with nerves. You of course didn’t expect a warm welcome from Johnny, but that death glare he gave you was far worse than him just simply ignoring you.

After straightening up in the bathroom you wander around for a bit, finding your way back outside. Steve-o’s floating in the pool with a beer resting on his chest, while Chris talks to a pretty brunette on one of the pool chairs. 

“Hey Kiddo, come join us!” Ryan is smiling at you, hands gesturing for you to join him. “Please replace Bam. I need to win at least one game tonight.”

You snort out a laugh as you approach. “Are you sure Bam’s the problem?” 

Ryan ignores the way your friends laugh at this, putting his hands on his hips like a toddler. “Are you gonna help me or not?” 

You sidle up next to him, cocking your head as you look down the table and then back at him. “What do I get out of this?” 

“My greatest love and admiration.” He smiles sweetly at you, propping his hands against his chin all cutesy and shit. It makes you laugh. 

“Alright, alright. I’ll help.” Dave rolls you a ball and you sink it on your first shot. You lose track of time playing with the guys. It’s the most fun you’ve had the whole night and after a couple beers you’re starting to forget how uncomfortable you felt earlier. 

“3-0, boys. Are you ready to call it?”

“Not a chance, Dunn. Another game.” Ehran starts refilling the cups. “You in, Kiddo?” 

“Uh..” You reach over and grab Bam’s arm, checking his watch for the time. Quarter past one. Not too late but you definitely need to get home soon or you’ll sleep all day tomorrow. You pat Bam on the cheek as a thank you and turn back towards Ehran. “I can do one more, then I gotta go.” 

“Leaving so soon?” You look behind you to find Jeff and Johnny next to the fire pit. You must have been too caught up in beating Ehran and Dave to notice them joining the patio festivities. You try to ignore the funny feeling you get when you catch Johnny’s eyes for a second time. He has a beer in one hand and his sunglasses in the other. It’s the first time you’ve actually seen his pretty brown eyes in a week. They’re red rimmed and glassy and his gaze feels less intense than it did earlier. He must be pretty buzzed. 

“I gotta go to sleep at some point.” You answer Jeff back.

“Sounding a little old there, girlie.” He jokes and you chuckle, shaking your head and turning back towards the guys. 

“You’re up, Dave.” You say, tossing said man the white ball.

~

You win the last round and say your goodbyes. Ryan gives you a big hug before you leave, wrapping you up in his tattooed arms so tightly you think he might break a rib. When you turn to say goodbye to the birthday boy, you notice Johnny’s not even looking at you, his eyes cast off to the side. 

Making sure you grab your sandals, you go on a search for Steve-o and find him curled up on the couch, a permanent marker mustache drawn awfully on his upper lip. You decide to leave him, knowing any attempt to wake him would be futile. You make a quick stop in the kitchen to say bye to Chris, who’s chatting with the girl from earlier. He says he’ll call you tomorrow and you finally head to the front door. 

Out on the front steps sits Johnny, head in his hand, smoking a cigarette. He’s alone, just sitting there quietly and you step towards him, sandals dangling from your fingertips. 

“I thought you quit those?” You ask softly and Johnny whips his head up to look at you.

“I did. Needed one though.” 

You nod at this, swaying slightly from one foot to the other. 

“Well, I’m headed out.” 

Johnny takes one more hit before twisting the butt into the ground with his dirty converse. He gets up when he’s done, standing beside you, scratching the back of his neck.

“You good to drive?” He asks.

“Yeah, I sobered up pretty quick on that last game.” 

“Yeah, you’re pretty decent at beer pong.”

You chuckle, “Thanks.”

You continue to stand there surprised you’re even having a conversation with him after the way things have been. But it’s nice. Moments like these make you miss back before the fight. You both are quiet for a moment, just looking around his driveway awkwardly before he turns to face you.

“Hey, I’m sorry about showing up at your place like that…” He trails off, searching your face for a reaction to his words. You just shake your head.

“Don’t be. You were drunk. It’s okay.” 

“I wasn’t that drunk, Babydoll. I meant what I said.”

“Johnny…” You look up at him, unsure of what you even want to say. Ever since that night, all you’ve been able to think about was that one fucking sentence. 

“You made me want to fuck you pretty girl.”

 It plays over and over in your head. A constant loop. At some point in the week you convinced yourself that he hadn’t meant it. Those words being true would be too much. And yet here he is, telling you they are in fact true.

You take an audible breath despite yourself as he steps closer. He smooths a hand over your cheek before gently grasping the back of your neck. The position leaves you no choice but to stare up at him. He licks his lips, stroking his thumb over the apple of your cheek. 

“Babydoll, can I get just a little taste? Please?” He whispers the last part and your knees go weak. You nod as best as you can with his grip on your neck. Fuck it, all you want right now is to feel his lips on yours. You'll deal with the consequences of it tomorrow. 

He grants you this, soft lips meeting yours. It’s tentative at first, like he’s testing the waters but then his hand tightens against your throat and you moan against his kiss. That’s all it takes to turn his soft exploring into desperation. He holds your face, teeth slightly knocking together. You can’t breathe, heart racing in your chest so loudly you think he might be able to hear it. He presses his body into yours, one of his hands leaving your face to press into your lower back, securely holding your body against his. He moans softly when you nip at his lips, your shaking hands holding onto his waist. No one has ever kissed you like this before. Like they’d die without if they didn't.

Finally and reluctantly, you push away, trying your best to catch your breath. He lays his forehead against your head as he catches his own. When you finally feel like you have control over your body again, you step back from him. 

“I’ll see you.” You say before picking your shoes up from where they fell and walking down the steps to your car. Your lips tingle and your tummy is tied in knots. You need to leave or you’ll fuck him right here on his porch. You don’t look behind you till you reach your car and when you do you see him, standing there watching you with his hands in his pockets and a shit eating grin on his face. 

“Good night, pretty girl.”