Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

V unlocks the door to Johnny’s apartment with a clumsy wave over the biosensor and stumbles inside, shedding his jacket as she does. She still thinks of it as Johnny’s apartment even though realistically it’s theirs — she’s been staying here for months now, paying half the rent. Hell, they’ve been talking about moving somewhere a little nicer together.

There’s noise in the apartment and V frowns because Johnny had said he was on some long overnight gig this evening. She looks up from where she was putting her bag down and sees Johnny. Except —

It’s Johnny-Johnny. Dark long hair, big brown eyes, scruffy beard Johnny. He’s wearing jeans and a dark hoodie. He’s got no sunglasses. He looks like he stepped out of her dreams.

V freezes in place, eyes wide. Johnny — real Johnny, blond Johnny — had made it abundantly clear he wasn’t interested in biosculpting like that (what, so I can look like the world’s biggest Johnny Silverhand freak?). The most he’d done was grow his hair long and get some tattoos — echoes of his original ones, not quite the same but close.

A half second later and V’s reflexes catch up to her and she draws her gun, hands shaking as she points it at him. “Who —”

“V,” he says, and shit, shit, the way his voice curls around her name, the desperation in it, the pleading in his eyes, it’s almost enough to convince her right away. He raises both hands, palms out, slow and unthreatening. Both are ‘ganic. His skin is bare from tattoos. “Valerie.”

“Gonna need more than that,” she says, but her voice is shaking, and her eyes are already blurry with tears.

“Last thing I said to ya,” he says quietly. “Had you promise to not let ‘em change you.” His lips quirk in a little grin. “Hope you actually fuckin’ listened for once.”

V drops the gun and moves, slamming into his chest and wrapping both arms around him desperately. Fuck, he’s taller than her — not by much, but enough that she would have to lean up to kiss him. Johnny wraps both arms around her and squeezes, burying his face into her neck.

“How are you —”

“Beats the fuck outta me,” he says directly against her skin. “Woke up with Reed over me tellin’ me to get my ass in gear. Guess I was wrong about him.”

V laughs shakily. “He always was a sentimental shit,” she says. “Fuck, Johnny.” She pulls back away from him to look him in the face. “It’s really you? You really remember? Being in my head? All the shit we did, the way we felt?”

“Yeah,” Johnny says quietly. “Fuckin’ weird seeing you but not being in you. Feels so —” He cuts himself off and looks away.

“I know,” V says, because she does. “It… it’s…”

“Yeah,” he agrees.

For a moment he keeps looking away, body tense. Then he turns back and grabs her face in both hands, meeting her eyes. He looks pleading, eyes wide, lips slightly parted. They’re still pressed together from the hug, and his hands on her cheeks are burning hot, both of them, soft skin against hers. She must be dreaming. This must be a terrible dream. She grabs his face. His skin is baby soft beneath her fingers, smooth and clean and pale, the freckles and pockmarks she remembers completely absent.

“I love you,” she says, because she has to. She can’t stand not saying it.

He breaks eye contact and bows his head. “Shit, still?”

She laughs at that, shaky and uncertain. “You have no idea.”

He pulls her closer and presses their noses together, mouth open and breathing hot air against her lips. They’re too close for her to see his expression. “Christ, V,” he says quietly.

She can’t handle it, him here and breathing into her mouth but not fucking kissing her. Maybe she’s been with the new Johnny too long but she can’t see any reason to hold back. She grips his face tighter and leans up slightly to mash their mouths together.

Johnny makes a gorgeous little whine and pulls her hard against him, opening up to it immediately. God, he kisses just like the other version of him, overwhelming and with purpose, hands wide on her face. She runs her hands up his cheeks into his hair and pulls. He groans and stumbles backwards, until he’s leaning against the wall with her pressed into him.

“Fuck, V,” he says as he pulls back. He sounds damn near reverent. He leans his head down into her shoulder and when he speaks it almost sounds like he’s near tears. “Jesus. I got so fucked up. This whole fucking thing, hate it, made my brain so fucked up.”

Shit, if he’s going to cry, V doesn’t stand a chance. “We gotta talk,” she gasps out.

“This about whatever input you got?” he says, sounding breathless but a bit more put together. “Ain’t mad about that.” Shit, it probably was obvious that it wasn’t just V living here. “Wanted you to keep livin’. Guy — or chick, whatever — has decent taste at least. Nice guitar.”

V laughs, and it rapidly approaches hysteria as she doubles over with the force of it. When she stands back up tears are running down her face. So much for not fucking crying. “You really not mad?” She reaches for his left hand and he slots their fingers together and squeezes.

He laughs, bitter and a little choked. “Furious I couldn’t fuckin’ be here. Relieved as all hell y’didn’t stop living.”

“Fuck,” she says, voice breaking as she sniffs. “Sit down, we gotta sit down for this.”

Johnny gets a sad little smile on his face as he wipes a tear from her cheek with his thumb. “Sure, kid.”

V leads them to the couch and they sit, Johnny pressed all the way up against her like he can’t stand to not be touching. She can’t blame him — if it weren’t for the other Johnny she’d be the same. As it is, he hangs over her like a spectre, pushing doubt into her gut. She has no fucking clue how Johnny’s going to take the news.

“Fuck,” she says. “I love you. I missed you so fuckin’ much. Don’t know how to say this, so I’m just gonna say it. He’s you.” She says it quickly, pushing the words out of her chest before she can overthink it.

“What?”

“My input. He’s you.”

Johnny is silent for a long moment and she can’t look at him. She sniffles a little and wipes at her eyes.

“If this is your way of askin’ me out —”

“I work this stupid little junk store,” she says, staring at her hands. “And — about a year ago — I’m staring at the crowd and there’s this — this fuckin’ kid, but — he’s you. I knew straight away. Johnny fuckin’ Silverhand.” She takes a deep, shaky breath. Johnny’s hand is in an iron grip around hers. “So I go to talk to you, but you — he doesn’t remember me. Fresh outta Mikoshi.”

“Motherfucking Jesus Christ,” Johnny says. “You’re fucking kidding.” She can’t pull apart all the emotions in his voice — anger, disbelief. Pleading.

“He put a gun to my head. Convinced him by telling him about the tower, and Alt. Hated me, at first, but —” V squeezes Johnny’s hand without looking at him. “Thought you were dead. Thought —”

Johnny pulls her in, squeezing her head against his chest. “What the fuck. Are you sure?”

“Dead certain.” She shudders. “Don’t leave.” It spills out of her without her permission. “Please, please, don’t leave me.”

“V, darlin’, don’t think I could if you asked me.” His voice has just the barest shake in it.

V pushes her face harder into his chest, eyes screwed closed. She grabs the front of his shirt with her free hand, twisting the fabric around her fist. She pushes against him so hard she shakes, and around her Johnny holds her, nose against her scalp. Her head moves with each breath he takes.

After a long moment, she lets go of his shirt and his hand so she can run both her hands over his ribs, his chest, his shoulders, then up to grab his face. She pulls his head down and kisses him, hard and desperate, her wet cheeks pressing against his. The longer this stretches out, the less it feels like a dream, the more solid she feels.

“Not even our first fuckin’ kiss,” he growls against her before kissing her again. He climbs into her lap and leans into her, devouring her with an intensity that takes her breath away. He kneels up a little to bear down over her, tilting her head up with two fingers on her chin then cupping her jaw as they kiss.

“It is,” she gasps out, “first with you.”

Johnny leans back enough he can see her face and grabs her head in both hands. “Fuckin’ love you,” he says in a rush, like he can only get the words out if they’re barely comprehensible. Her breath audibly catches. “Fucker wouldn’t have said that.”

She laughs wildly. “Holy shit. Course he didn’t,” she manages. “I can’t believe it’s you. My fucking soul, Johnny. They took you. They took my fucking soul. I love you so much, I missed you so much.” She’s babbling now, stupid tears flowing freely. “This is the worst dream I’ve ever had. Don’t make me wake up.”

Johnny breathes out against her face then kisses her like he’s trying to climb back inside her, hands on her cheeks, thumbs pressing into the corners of her mouth and clumsily pushing it open. The pads of his thumbs catch on her eyeteeth. Both his hands are hot and soft and smooth - no scars, no calluses, no tattoos. She grabs both his wrists and squeezes as they kiss, as he rocks down against her.

“V,” he says, real quiet against her mouth, “we ain’t dreamin’. Promise you, I’m right here.”

V turns her head and sucks his left thumb into her mouth. He breathes out shakily and shudders. She closes her eyes and mouths over his entire hand, moving it with her grip on his wrist, licking and sucking at each finger in turn, at his palm, at the soft pad under his thumb. Her teeth scrape as she tastes his skin and kisses the bottom of his palm, just above the wrist. Above her he breathes heavily, face pressed against the side of her neck. His right hand shifts to entwine with her left. He takes a breath and it catches in his throat.

“I’m so fucked,” Johnny says quietly. His voice is thick. “You fucked me up so fucking bad, V.”

“Sorry,” she says, breathy against his palm. There’s a giant lump in her throat and she struggles to speak past it. “You saved my life. A million times over.”

“Fuck, V, you saved me too. You — Don’t —” He kisses her again, then buries his face back into the crook of his neck. “Stay with me,” he says, so quiet she almost doesn’t hear it.

“Always,” she promises, cupping the back of his head and holding him against her. “Always, always, always. I’m here as long as you’ll have me.”

Johnny groans into her skin. “My head hurts. My brain, fuck.”

“Don’t think I got out of bed for the entire first month,” V says quietly. “Got back to NC, sold enough cars to rent a shitty apartment, then burnt through all my eds lying on my back on a rotting mattress.”

Johnny laughs, breathless and humourless, still pressed into her neck. “Stay in bed for a month with me.”

V laughs too. She pulls him out of her neck with both hands on his cheeks, keeps him too close to see his expression. “Yeah, alright.” She kisses him again, squeezing his face, deep and desperate, pushing her tongue into his mouth to run over his teeth. Neither of them are kissing very well at this point, more just pressing their mouths together, messy and wet and rough. She’s not even thinking about fucking him right now, just about being closer, about knowing him, feeling him and hearing him and tasting him.

Her holo pings right fucking then, with a text from Johnny. Other-Johnny. Blond-Johnny. Fuck. V pulls back slightly with a shuddering gasp.

gig went tits up lol u want dinner?????

She huffs and leans into Johnny’s shoulder. This-Johnny. Original-Johnny. Fuck.

She responds, Yeah sure just get enough for 3

“That him?” Johnny asks, nosing at her face.

“Yeah,” V says. “Gonna pick up dinner. Telling him to get enough for three.”

Other-Johnny texts her: u finally get ker to the apartment? tell him i aint gettin anything special for him

Another text: cept my dick

And another: he can eat that

V laughs despite herself, though it comes out choked. Fuck, she has to tell Johnny about Kerry, too. “He thinks he’s gettin’ extra for Kerry.”

Johnny huffs. “Ker come round often?”

V doesn’t answer yet, pushing back from him, trying to get some distance. Johnny outright refuses. “Don’t make me beg,” he mumbles.

“Just wanna talk to you,” she says quietly, but she gives in. She doesn’t want him out of her lap either, if she’s being honest. She moves one hand from his cheek to the back of his head as he rests against her shoulder. Her right grabs Johnny’s left hand and she threads their fingers together. His hand is damp from her mouth. “Kerry doesn’t come here. Not his style.” Johnny huffs into her neck. “We go ‘round to his.” V takes a deep breath. “We’re fucking.”

“You and your input? Yeah, figured,” Johnny says, though his tone is tight.

“No, I mean — Kerry.” Johnny stiffens against her. “Me and — the other you. Fucking Kerry.”

He’s silent for a long time. “This time you’ve got to be fucking with me,” he says eventually, weakly into her shoulder. He shifts to press his forehead against her collarbone. She doesn’t know what to say. “Fuck. Am I — is he — is Ker good?”

“You — he’s, yeah.” She hesitates. “He’s good to him.” Johnny is still tense against her but doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. “Thought you’d be mad,” she says hesitantly.

“Oh, I am,” he says lightly. “Fucking furious. But I can’t fucking bear to move away from you right now.”

V had forgotten how bad those first few months had been post engram removal. Every thought she had felt wrong, like she was constantly waiting for an echo that never showed, like there was part of her missing.

“It gets easier,” she says quietly. “Still got you carved out inside me. But the raw edges fade.”

They’re quiet for a long while as Johnny presses his face against her collarbone. She closes her eyes and rests her face against the top of his head. He smells like gunmetal and sweat and antiseptic soap. He presses his lips to her collarbone, her neck, and she holds him close and breathes him in. His hair is so soft, and she can’t stop from running her fingers through it slowly, over and over. She feels something deep inside her relax for the first time since she woke up two years ago.

“Why you working a junk stall?” he asks eventually.

“FIA made me not dying, but I’m kinda fucked up. Can’t have chrome,” she says, lips against his scalp. “No merc work. Most people think V is dead.” She doesn’t let him digest that. “I’m so glad you’re here. I’m so glad you’re alive. Fuck, Johnny. How’d you find me?”

“Went to Rogue,” he says. “Almost went to H10 first.”

“Fuckin’ Rogue,” V groans. “Didn’t tell you ‘bout shit. Didn’t text me a heads up.”

The door clicks and V sits up straight, twisting on the couch seat to look behind her, toward the entrance. Johnny moves away slightly, but neither of them let go of each other’s hand.

“Gonna be pissed if you two started fuckin’ without me,” Johnny says as he closes the door. Turned backwards on the couch, V has a decent view of him as he kicks his boots off. He’s got a big bag of takeout in one hand, and his golden curls are tied up into a messy bun.

V opens her mouth to say something, but the Johnny beside her beats her to it. “Jesus fucking Christ, blond?”

The other Johnny’s entire body freezes and he turns slowly to face them. From the doorway he can only see their heads over the back of the couch. The takeout tumbles to the floor as he turns and in a blink he has his gun out, aimed steadily at the Johnny beside her.

“The fuck —” he says, but V cuts across him.

“He’s legit,” she begs, pushing at Johnny until she can get up off the couch. Johnny doesn’t let go of her hand and stands up with her. V watches the blond Johnny’s eyes flick down to their hands and grit his teeth.

“Fuckin’ prove it,” he demands, stepping forward until he’s right against the couch back. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“The fuck are you doing here?” the Johnny beside her counters. “Didn’t tell me I got shoved in a fuckin’ twink, V.”

“Okay,” V pleads, “can we put the gun away? Please, Johnny?”

“Asked him to prove it,” the blond Johnny says, not moving the gun.

“Fine,” the Johnny beside her says, his tone all fire and venom. “What you want? Name of the guy you blew in the military and pretended never happened? How it felt to set the bomb? How Alt’s fuckin’ tits felt beneath —”

“Shut the fuck up,” Johnny growls, jaw tight. “Set the fucking bomb, Jesus. Third grade teacher.”

Beside her, Johnny rolls his eyes. “Christ. Mr. Stabler, real cunt of a guy.”

“And eleventh.”

“Trick fuckin’ question, I’d left by then.” His tone turns scathing as he continues, “Jesus, V’s word was enough for me about you. Some fucking input.”

The blond Johnny throws the gun to the side, hard, and it smashes against something in the kitchen. “Where’d you fuckin’ come from?”

“I’m hers,” Johnny says, once again speaking before V can say anything. Her face burns. “Was in her head. Assume you’ve heard about me.”

“Have I fuckin’ ever,” he growls, quieter. “She said she killed you.”

“Didn’t stick,” her Johnny says.

The two glare at each other, with unsettlingly identical tensed shoulders and sneers. She steps forward, not letting go of her Johnny’s hand, who follows behind her. She reaches for the blond Johnny and he flinches away before relenting, letting her grab his hand.

“This is a lot,” she says quietly as the two Johnnys glare at each other.

“Understatement of the fuckin’ century,” blond Johnny grumbles.

“I have no fucking clue what to do,” she says helplessly.

“I got an idea,” her Johnny says. “I haven’t fuckin’ eaten a real meal in nearly sixty years.”

“Jesus Christ,” V says, looking up at him. “When did you get in that body?”

He shrugs. “Twelve hours ago?”

“Fuckin’ pathetic,” blond Johnny mutters under his breath. Thankfully her Johnny ignores him and they all settle awkwardly around the table, V in the middle of the two of them like a buffer.

Turns out Johnny — blond Johnny — did get something special for Kerry, the little gyozas that he likes with the spicy dipping sauce. He shoots V a look that says not a word as clearly as if he had spoken it. Her Johnny bites into one as they crack open the rice and curries. He groans, downright pornographic, and slumps his head on the table.

“Jesus fuck,” he says. “No idea how good it is to eat something not through your shitty taste buds.” Normally V would rise to that tease with something of her own, but with two Johnnys here, any witty comeback dies before she’s even formed it. He takes another bite and groans again, pressing his forehead on the table.

“God,” the other Johnny says, “you gonna blow your load from a fuckin’ gyoza?”

“Fuck you,” her Johnny says, face mashed into the table. “You know what it’s like to get shit second-hand.” He sits up again, seemingly with great effort. “What’s the deal with whoever you’re sharing with anyway?”

Blond Johnny stares impassively across the table. “Ain’t sharing,” he says flatly.

Her Johnny stares back. “You overwrote him?”

“Them,” Johnny corrects, before turning away. “Killed ‘em. No magic pills to save ‘em.”

V stares at her rice, bracing her head in her hands. It’s so fucked. She loves them both, differently but the same. One of them knows her better than she knows herself, and the other she built something real with, genuine and aching. One of them saw her with her soul scooped out. One of them was her soul. And, fuck — she knows Johnny hates himself. They’re going to hate each other. There’s no way this can work out. V takes a deep, shaky breath.

“Fucked up,” her Johnny says.

“Oh, like you didn’t spend a whole fuckin’ month trying to kill V,” blond Johnny says dismissively.

Her Johnny’s jaw tenses. “Hear you’re fucking Kerry,” he says, tone clipped.

Blond Johnny laughs once, bitter and tight. “And getting fucked by him, yeah. Jealous?”

“Nah,” her Johnny drawls, but V is suddenly sure he’s lying. “Just surprised you’d be his little bi—”

“Alright!” she says abruptly. “Can we fucking not?” She draws in a shuddering breath. “Jesus.” She’s going to fucking cry again.

Her Johnny sighs, then reaches over and puts his hand on her back. He runs it up into her hair and she shudders. “Miss the purple,” he says gently, combing his fingers over her scalp.

“Gene mods don’t agree with me anymore,” she says quietly.

Her Johnny hums thoughtfully. “Could dye it old school. Went through a blond phase, could help you bleach it.”

She snorts. “You? Blond?”

“Fuck you,” the other Johnny says mildly.

She turns to him. “I mean back then. On purpose.”

“Kinda surprised you haven’t dyed it,” her Johnny says to the other one, tone a little cautious.

Blond Johnny shrugs. “Cheap dye would fuck the curl pattern.”

Her Johnny huffs. “Fuck, fair enough.” The two stare at each other for a long moment. “You been taking care of her?”

Blond Johnny scoffs. “As if she needs taking care of,” he says dismissively, looking away.

Her Johnny soldiers on, hand still gentle in V’s hair. “And what? You share her with Ker?”

The other Johnny snorts, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back in his chair. “More like she’s sharing me with him.” He looks at V. “You ever fuck him without me?”

She shrugs. “Not really. Sometimes if —” She hesitates, hyper aware of her Johnny’s presence, but pushes forwards. She’d say it if she were only talking to the blond one. “Sometimes if we want you to walk in on us.”

Blond Johnny laughs at that, genuine for the first time since he got home. “Fuckin’ knew it,” he crows. “We fuck all the time without you.”

She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, I know.” Often she gets a smug little text from one or both of them. Sometimes with pictures.

“That doesn’t bother you?” her Johnny says, voice kind of crackling as he speaks.

V turns to face him and smiles hesitantly. “Nah. We talked about it, like, properly. Works well, actually.” She pauses, holds back the maybe you could be part of it? Too soon for talking about that. Except — god, the way her Johnny is looking at her, like he wants in on the whole thing.

“Maybe I should invite him over,” blond Johnny drawls. “Assume you haven’t told him yet?”

“Not yet. Literally only just showed up,” she says. “Don’t think that’s a good idea just yet.”

Blond Johnny shrugs. “Gotta tell him. And I ain’t lying here alone listening to you two fuck tonight.” He grins like a shark. “Can make sure Ker’s nice and loud to drown you out.”

She stares at him. Her Johnny is looking away. She technically hasn’t shared a brain with the blond one, but she still knows him really fucking well and can see the tension and uncertainty in him. “Shit, you know I’m not just gonna ditch you, right?”

Blond Johnny’s jaw tightens. “You got the guy you’ve been looking for in me. Why wouldn’t you?”

She groans. “Fuck, I — Shit. I love you both. What am I —” Her Johnny’s hand on her head stills. Blond Johnny hesitates. “Shit, this is — it’s not fucking fair,” she says, and it comes out almost like a whine. She pushes her head down into the table. “Not fucking fair to ask you to both stick around but I can’t fucking imagine choosing between you. You’re both you. I fuckin’ love you both. Fuck, fuck, fuck.” By the end of it she’s crying again, biting down on the fucking scar Johnny — blond Johnny, new Johhny — gave her a year ago.

“Fuck,” her Johnny says, standing up, looking down at the floor. “Shit. Shit.” He looks up wildly, at the other Johnny, at V. “I gotta go,” he says suddenly, stepping back. “I gotta —”

“Don’t,” she says, standing up as well. “No way. Just got you back. We can — we can sort something —”

“No we fucking can’t!” her Johnny yells. “You don’t need —”

V grabs him by the wrists. “I’m not letting you leave, asshole,” she interrupts firmly. “Don’t need either of you. Don’t give up before we’ve even tried to sort this clusterfuck, come on. If we try and it goes bad, that’s one thing. But —”

“You’re insane,” her Johnny interrupts, like he’s pleading with her.

“She sure is,” the other Johnny says from his seat behind her. “Hear you’re in love with her.”

Her Johnny looks over her shoulder, presumably meeting the blond Johnny’s eyes. “Fuck. Yeah, real fuckin’ badly,” he says in a rush. “Aren’t you?”

God, V wishes she could see the other Johnny’s face. After a brief moment of silence, he scoffs. “Nah. What’s it to you?”

“Nah? What’s it to me? I fucking died for her,” her Johnny says. There’s an edge of genuine anger in his voice now.

“Shocker, guy with a martyr complex died for someone,” blond Johnny drawls.

“Least my death achieved something,” the other Johnny says. His tone is hard as he pushes V so she’s not in between them anymore but instead standing beside him. He still holds her hand. “You see they rebuilt the tower? Killed ‘bout a hundred thousand people? Fat load of good that did.”

“Was your death too, asshole,” blond Johnny says, eyes burning. His chair scrapes loud against the floor as he stands up. “‘Saka’s fuckin’ gone from NC now, not thanks to nothing you did. Left Mikoshi standing, right? Your fuckin’ fault the both of us are here right now.”

“My fault?” her Johnny growls. He takes a step forward, pulling his hand away from V’s. “Shoulda done another suicide nuke, killed me and V and half the fuckin’ city again?”

“Mighta been better off,” blond Johnny says. “Fuckin’ look at you, scrambled up with her brain, all stupid soft. You know what you did to her? She was fuckin’ nothing when I met her. Tore her up, ripped her fucking soul out.”

“Johnny…” V says, but both men ignore her.

Her Johnny is taller than the blond one and he towers over him. “Fuck you say?”

“Said you fuckin’ destroyed her, like you do to everyone you fucking touch,” blond Johnny sneers.

Her Johnny steps up even closer, hands tensing into fists. They’re nearly touching. “That what you doin’ here?” he says, dangerously quiet. “Fuckin’ up her and Ker at the same time? Efficient.”

“I ain’t —”

“Pretendin’ to be Ker’s little bitch,” her Johnny sneers, “gettin’ ‘em both all soft so when you blow they won’t even see it coming?”

“I ain’t anyone’s bitch,” blond Johnny growls, “not like you, fuckin’ leashed to V for months like a good little dog!”

“Fuck off! Least I didn’t fucking overwrite some fucking kid! Get all up in their fuckin’ brain, turn ‘em inside out, huh? Bet you —”

“Shut your fucking mouth!” the blond Johnny yells. His hands are clenched into fists and he raises them slightly, not quite ready for a punch but no longer by his sides. V catches a brief flash of light in his eyes, cyberdeck orange, but his counterpart has no chrome whatsoever. His expression changes suddenly and he gets colder, angrier, like he’s hardened against something. He takes a step back. “Said about setting the bomb,” he says quietly. “Guess you haven’t figured it out yet?”

“Johnny,” V warns, trying to draw either of their attention. Neither so much as glances her way.

“Figured fucking what?” her Johnny spits, still fiery and furious. He steps forward, closing the distance between them again. “That it was a fucked idea from the fucking start? That you were a selfish fucking cunt after a selfish fucking death so you could finally burn out some of the fucking guilt you carried?”

Blond Johnny smiles, colder and crueller than V has ever seen, on him or on the original. “Oh, you have no fucking clue,” he crows, smug and teeming with scorn.

“Johnny! Seriously, don’t —”

He ignores her. “We didn’t set the fucking nuke, asshole.”

She swears under her breath. Her Johnny looks desperately confused and furious, frowning deeply, fists clenched. He steps back this time. His eyes flick over to V and he flinches at whatever expression he sees there.

“Don’t look at her,” blond Johnny growls, jabbing a finger into his own chest, “look at fuckin’ me.” Her Johnny turns back to him. “We didn’t set the motherfucking nuke.”

“The fuck you mean, we didn’t set the —”

“Exactly what I fuckin’ said, dipshit. Blackhand fuckin’ had it.”

Her Johnny’s fingers flex in and out of fists. “Pretty fucking stupid, lying to yourself,” he says, but V can hear the hesitance in his voice.

“Rogue told me. Surprise!” Blond Johnny’s voice is fucking scathing and he has a horrifically cruel scowl on his face. “Wasn’t you. One thing you ever did that made a difference, and you didn’t fuckin’ do it at all.”

Her Johnny looks over at V wildly. “Is that —”

“I said look at me, asshole!” Blond Johnny steps forward and grabs the other Johnny by the collar. He leans right up to his face, scowling furiously. “We didn’t fucking do it! They fucked with our fucking memories! Oh, we all knew the plan was to nuke the sub-basement, we ain’t fuckin’ innocent. But we didn’t fuckin’ have it. Wasn’t your fuckin’ idea neither. Militech op. Militech nuke. You died,” blond Johnny’s voice gets quieter and somehow crueller, “not in front of Saburo, but by Adam fuckin’ Smasher cuttin’ you in fuckin’ half with a fuckin’ shotgun. None of it fucking mattered and none of it was even fucking you.”

The two of them are staring, eyes locked. Blond Johnny releases the other’s collar and takes a step back. Then her Johnny lunges forward suddenly, left fist connecting squarely with the blond’s jaw. Blond Johnny staggers backwards with a pained grunt, then yells wordlessly as he pounces on the other one, hands out to grab at his face. They topple over to the floor, blond Johnny on top, both struggling messily. Her Johnny is bigger, but the blond has chrome, making him heavier and stronger.

“Fucking stop!” V yells, but neither of them react to her at all.

Her Johnny is on his back, kicking and punching up at blond Johnny, who has his hand flat-palmed against the other’s cheek, pushing him hard against the ground as he struggles. With his other hand he whacks her Johnny’s limbs away as he tries to fight back. The blond is clearly in control, even as the other writhes and kicks and yells.

“Motherfucker!” her Johnny is yelling. “Lying fucking cunt! Who the hell are you?! The hell have you been doing to V?! Get the fuck away from her! I’ll fucking kill you!”

“You can fucking try,” blond Johnny growls, moving to pin both his counterpart’s arms with his knees. Like this, her Johnny can’t quite reach to stop the blond as he shifts his right hand to grip the hair at the crown of his head and punch him hard across the face with his left.

V’s heart is in her throat. She can’t fucking breathe. In a panic she scrambles to grab her gun from the floor where she’d dropped it earlier, cocks it, and fires a single bullet directly out the window on the other side of the apartment. The shot cracks impossibly loud in the small space and both Johnnys freeze and twist to face her.

Before they can get back to it, she stares down at them and yells, “Enough!”

The tension hangs in the air for a long moment, blond Johnny's arm raised to hit his counterpart again, her Johnny’s eyes wild, face bloodied, writhing terribly to try to grab the blond’s arms, legs bucking.

“If either of you have ever fucking cared about me even a little bit you’ll fucking stop that right fucking now!” Her voice cracks horrifically as she yells. Her gun hand is shaking, her breath is heaving, and her eyes are burning.

Her Johnny stills immediately, pulling his arms out into something like a surrender pose against the floor. After a moment spent frozen and staring at her, the other Johnny lets go too. He also puts his hands up as he leans backwards to climb off his counterpart. Both of them watch her, arms raised, quiet and tense.

V sinks to the floor, gun clattering as she drops it. “If one of you kills the other,” she says, deathly quiet, “I’ll fucking kill the one left.”

“V,” her Johnny says quietly. His voice breaks even on her short name. “Is that —”

“He was a real dick about it, but — it’s what Rogue says.” She tries to keep her voice gentle. It won’t help. Her eyes are fixed on the shitty linoleum floor. “Said she didn’t tell us ‘cause —” She cuts herself off with a bitter laugh. “Because she thought it’d be cruel.”

She sits on her knees, facing where her Johnny is laying flat on his back. Blond Johnny is standing over them, hands in pockets. He’s not looking at them.

“Fuck,” her Johnny says breathlessly. He tips his head back. “V,” he says, even quieter than before, like he’s embarrassed. Blood runs down his face from where the blond’s punch split his skin, across his cheekbone just under his right eye.

A shudder rips through him, and V remembers — a month of what felt like tiny seizures, her brain not quite understanding how to think through things without Johnny. Intense emotion had made it worse.

V crawls over to him, hot tears on her cheeks. She stretches toward him and he reaches for her immediately. As soon as they touch he full body shudders again and breathes out thinly, wrapping a hand around hers desperately.

“You said,” her Johnny says, “a month? Before you could —”

“Yeah, roughly,” V says quietly. “Vik was around, helped me out some. Can send him an email maybe.”

“Can’t go see him?”

She closes her eyes. “Got bought out. Zetatech. Sent him off to San Fran couple months after I got back to the city.”

“A month?” blond Johnny asks. His tone is exceedingly uninterested, but he’s pretty much shit out of luck in fooling either of them.

“Relic fucks you up,” V says, as lightly as she can manage. “First month — barely left my bed. These awful shudders and shivers, hot and cold flushes, brain fog, brain, uh, jolts? Like all my neurons shuddering. This feeling of…” She trails off.

“Wrongness,” her Johnny picks up, quiet and rough. “Like half my thoughts ain’t right. Like I’m not who I am.”

V squeezes his hand, dragging her eyes from the floor up to his face. He’s bleeding pretty heavily, and he’s going to have one hell of a shiner if left untreated. She looks at the blond one — he’s fairing better, but her Johnny did manage to get one solid hit in, and she can see the bruise on his cheek already coming in.

“Gonna go get the first aid,” she says quietly. Her Johnny tightens his grip around her hand and sucks in a quick breath, before deliberately relaxing with a long slow exhale.

“Shut up,” the blond Johnny says. “I’ll get it. Wanna fix myself up first anyway.”

He strides off and she and the remaining Johnny lock eyes. She has no fucking clue what to say. He clearly doesn’t either, because he just stares. With his free hand he swipes his fingers over his lips, then looks down at the blood there.

“Last time I bled it was your blood,” he says quietly.

V feels a sudden desperate mania overtake her and she grabs his hand and sucks his bloodied fingers into her mouth, tasting sharp iron. He makes a desperate, broken noise as she swipes her tongue over the pads of his fingers.

“My blood,” she says desperately, “my blood, you should — we should, you should —” She can’t breathe suddenly, taking in heaving breaths that aren’t deep enough. “My blood, Johnny —”

If she had a fucking knife on her she’d cut herself open, just a little, so he could taste hers too, so their blood could mix together. Instead she bites her lip hard, until it bleeds, while Johnny watches with wide eyes. Then she kisses him, uncomfortably, burning, and he reaches both hands to her face to hold her there as he groans. He sucks on her bleeding lip and she squeezes his face hard enough he flinches in pain, making her relax her grip.

“Christ, keep it in your fucking pants,” the blond Johnny says as he reenters the kitchen.

V pulls away from her Johnny immediately, face flush, still near hyperventilating. She tries to slow her breathing but it won’t stop, like her lungs have shrivelled and she physically can’t breathe deep. Her heart is pounding and her chest is painfully tight. Fuck, she can’t be the one freaking out. They both need her to have her fucking shit together right now so they don’t do something stupid. Her Johnny flexes his hand against her cheek and squeezes her hand, but it does shit all to calm her. She doesn’t know what to do. Her eyes burn. Her throat burns. Her chest fucking burns.

“Fuckin’ hell,” blond Johnny mutters under his breath. He drops to his knees beside V with a long sigh, then hands the first aid kit to the other Johnny. “Clean up, asshole. No use to anyone with that much blood on your face.”

The other Johnny glares at him. “V is —”

“As fucked up as you, yeah,” the blond says. “Longer you whine, longer ‘fore I’ll let you get back to it.”

Her Johnny removes his hand from her face and takes the kit, albeit reluctantly, and starts fishing through it one handed. His other hand is locked around V’s, who is still hyperventilating, though she tries to stay quiet. She turns and sits with her knees up near her chest, facing the same way her Johnny is. The blond shuffles on his knees until he’s directly in front of her.

“Hey,” blond Johnny says, real gentle. “Sweetheart, look at me.”

V does, meets his pretty hazel eyes and looks at his soft round face, his golden curls. He cups her face with both hands. The panic grips at her. She doesn’t want to give up this Johnny, who is holding her face and calling her sweetheart, that she lives with, that she fucking loves. She can’t — can’t see a way out of this, can’t see what tomorrow could possibly be, and if she hadn’t — if she hadn’t fucking killed the Johnny in her head she wouldn’t be here, he wouldn’t be here, and it’d be — better, probably, and they’re going to fight and fucking kill each other and she’s just going to watch as the love of her fucking life kills himself and — and it’s her job, her responsibility, to make sure they don’t hate themselves, they don’t hurt themselves, but she doesn’t know how to stop that, she doesn’t know how they’re feeling, or how she’s feeling, other than panicked, other than bad, other than — other than burning in her eyes and nose and chest and lungs and throat and —

“Gonna need some real deep breaths,” Johnny says as he runs both thumbs over her cheekbones, cutting into her thoughts. “Don’t gotta force it, just keep goin’ til you can.”

She closes her eyes and tries, but each breath stutters and burns, and when she really forces a deep breath it hitches multiple times on the way in. On the way out she gulps in tiny breaths entirely involuntarily as she exhales, like it’s physically impossible for her to take a single deep breath. Her chest is in a vise and so is her throat as she shakes violently, tears burning her eyes and spilling down her cheeks. Her thoughts keep spiralling outward and inward and destroying any progress she’s making on taking a deep breath. She tries her best to focus on Johnny’s warm hands on her cheeks, on the other Johnny’s hand in hers, on the feeling of air in her lungs.

It feels like it takes an age, but eventually V can breathe again. Sometimes her breath still hitches and she shudders through it, like a horrible hiccup. By the time she feels back in control of herself she starts to feel terribly embarrassed, but she stomps the feeling down as best she can. None of this should be about her.

She opens her eyes and the blond Johnny is there, still looking at her. His hands are on her cheeks, and the other Johnny’s hand is still holding hers. The blond cracks a smile. “There you are.”

She smiles back weakly. “Thanks. Sorry.”

“Don’t —” Both Johnnys speak at the same time, and then both stop.

“Don’t be sorry,” the blond Johnny says after a beat. “Least you didn’t punch yourself in the face.”

She laughs quietly, breathy and a little dazed.

Beside her, her Johnny laughs a little louder. “Always did wish I could sock myself one.”

She turns to look at him. He’s wiped the blood away and sealed the wound, and is finishing applying some bruise cream to his eye. The kit here is pretty comprehensive — the bruise cream should fix most of the damage.

“Was it as good as you hoped?” she asks jokingly.

They both speak at the same time again.

“Yeah,” says blond Johnny.

“Nah,” says her Johnny.

They glance at each other, and the blond jumps to speak again. “Pretty good when you win.”

Her Johnny rolls his eyes. “Easy to win ‘gainst someone with no ‘ware when you’re chromed out.” He shrugs. “Nah, turns out beating myself up doesn’t do shit.”

The other rolls his eyes right back. “Just sayin’ that ‘cause you lost.” He runs his hands down from cupping V’s cheeks to rest on her shoulders. “Hungry, babe? Didn’t exactly finish dinner.”

Blond Johnny starts to pull back but V grabs him by the shoulder and tugs him into a rough hug. He makes a surprised little huff but lets himself be pulled forward. She fists both hands into the back of his jacket and buries her face into his shoulder. He’s so warm and he smells so familiar, like gunmetal and honey and spiced shampoo. He doesn’t say anything but he does return the hug with a sigh, one hand around her middle and the other on her head. Then he pulls back properly, pushing her back with his hands on her shoulders.

She turns her head and the other one is sitting beside her still, staring, an incomprehensible expression on his face. He looks wary, maybe, or concerned, or maybe even angry. He stands abruptly and offers her a hand up. She takes it, realising a second too late that the blond Johnny is glaring up at him. He gets to his feet as well, before V can offer her hand. The tension thrums between them, tight and thick.

V silently leads them back to the table and they sit, V in the middle with her Johnny to her right and the blond to her left. Her Johnny reaches for her immediately and they end up clasping hands, fingers threaded together, resting on the table. It’s so strange to see Johnny in his original body but with no chrome. It’s stranger still to be holding his organic left arm. He starts on the gyoza again, eating with his non-dominant arm slightly awkwardly. She’s not actually very hungry.

After a moment’s hesitation, V reaches for the blond Johnny as well, with her other hand. He pulls away.

“Johnny,” she says hesitantly.

He huffs a frustrated sigh and crosses his arms over his chest, turning away from her. “What?”

Before she can figure out what she wants to say, the other Johnny jumps in. “You thinkin’ she’s gonna dump you and make this easy, you don’t know her at all.” He scoops rice and curry into his mouth and chews as he speaks, just as obnoxiously as the blond does.

Blond Johnny shrugs. “Thinkin’ she should.” V is shaking her head before he even finishes. He turns back to her. “You were only ever after him.”

“I’m not —” She sighs, frustrated. “It’s not like I didn’t — I mean, fuck, I love you.”

“Works out clean,” he continues, as though she hadn’t spoken. “You get him, I get Ker.”

“Fuck you,” the other Johnny says through a mouthful of food.

“Like you’ve sorted your shit,” he says dismissively.

“Did, actually,” her Johnny says, staring resolutely at his curry. “V dragged me through it. Can only share a body with someone and get fucked by a guy so many times before you gotta come clean.”

There’s a brief silence as blond Johnny digests that. “Damn. What's it like to have a pussy?”

Her Johnny laughs humourlessly. He still won’t look up. “Fuckin’ weird, man. Multiple orgasms are great. Tits are great. Real glad to have my cock back.”

There’s a pause, then both Johnnys say, “Fuck,” at the same time, in the same tone of weirded-out disbelief. V reaches for the blond again and this time he lets her grab his hand and thread their fingers together. His palm is hot and his fingers are slightly cool.

“This is some fucked up torture,” her Johnny says. “Really hoped I’d be balls deep in you by now.” V groans and leans her head back.

Blond Johnny says, “Who, me?” and the other one flips him off without looking up.

“Maybe you should call Ker,” her Johnny says eventually. The other one humphs. “Was planning on crashing here. Doesn’t seem great right now. God knows he has the space.”

“Stay,” she says immediately. She squeezes his hand. “We’ll — I don’t know. Figure it out.” Neither Johnny says anything, but hers squeezes her hand again. “Hey,” she says quietly, “the last few years — what was it like?”

Her Johnny shrugs. “Nothing. Don’t remember.”

She takes a shaky breath in. “So — does that mean — did it just feel like —?”

“Like a few days.” He doesn’t let much emotion into his tone.

“God, you —” She cuts herself off. “Days. Since the AV?”

“Since the AV,” Johnny confirms.

“Fuck,” V says, and she can’t stop herself — “I shouldn’t have done it.” She lets go of the blond’s hand to grips her Johnny’s hand with both of hers, then presses it to her forehead. She screws her eyes closed; she can’t look at him or the other Johnny. The backs of his fingers are hot against her forehead as she holds them there and squeezes his hand hard. “I shouldn’t — we shoulda tried our luck with Alt and ‘Saka Tower. I’m sorry,” her voice breaks, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” She sobs, ugly and stupid, and she hates that she’s doing this in front of the blond Johnny but she can’t stop it. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Johnny moves his chair closer to hers and pulls her into him, wrapping an arm around her and she turns to cry into his chest. “Oh, V,” he says gently into the top of her head. “Nothin’ to be sorry ‘bout, kid. Said what I said. Meant it.”

“Shut up,” V says, “stupid self martyring asshole.” She sniffs. “Fuck.” She turns to look at the other Johnny, who is watching with a blank expression. “Sorry. All too fuckin’ much.”

“Yeah. Too much,” blond Johnny echoes, voice flat.

Now that he’s wrapped around her, Johnny is not letting go, pressing his nose into her temple. “Fuck,” he says quietly. “Haven’t been actually corporeal in fifty fuckin’ years.” He kisses her neck, just under her ear.

“Johnny,” she says uncertainly. Her eyes are still on the blond Johnny.

“What,” her Johnny grumbles. “Not like he hasn’t done the same.” He kisses her neck again. “Or worse. And again, been a ghost for fifty fuckin’ years.”

The two Johnnys lock eyes. V remains silent.

“I got some preem ecstasy,” the blond Johnny says suddenly. “Klepped it off Ker so you know it’s the good shit.”

“You suggesting we get blasted rather than dealing with this?” her Johnny says. “First fuckin’ sensible thing you’ve said.”

—

They get blasted. V takes two pills immediately, even knowing one had her totally out of it last time she had any, and is well and truly blissed out in under five minutes. She ends up lying on her back on the floor as her Johnny shovels rice into his mouth and the blond Johnny gets drinks from the fridge. Her limbs are floaty and her whole body hums against the shitty linoleum.

Blond Johnny looms over her, two beers in hand. “On the floor? Y’don’t want the couch?” V shakes her head and makes grabby hands for the beer. “Gotta sit up for a drink, V.”

Before she can decide whether it’s worth it to sit up, the other Johnny collapses down next to her. “Think I'm a lightweight now.”

“Oh?” She turns to face him. “Is that body—”

Johnny cuts her off with a deep kiss, dragging her in with a hand on her face. “You know how fuckin’ long I wanted to do that?” he says breathily. “Since that fuckin’ day at the Pistis Sophia.”

“Told ya I woulda been interested,” the other Johnny says, still standing over them. He sighs. “Can’t believe you took her to that fuckin’ hotel. Talk about scummy.”

V grins up at him. “Right, cause your dates are so much classier,” she says sarcastically. “Stolen car in Watson while you’re on a job. Way better.” The loose joy of the high grade ecstasy is making her worries slippery. She can’t keep hold of them.

Blond Johnny rolls his eyes, then looks away across the kitchen. “Once, fuckin’ months ago. Not like I’ve never taken you anywhere else.”

She keeps grinning up at him, affection coursing through her so strong she can feel it in her blood. “Fuck. I love you.” He turns slightly further away and doesn’t say anything, shoulders tense.

The Johnny beside her huffs a breath against her cheek. “You’re fuckin’ dating.”

“Isn’t it stupid?” V says with a wide grin, and turns to kiss him again.

It’s so good she could cry: his beard, his teeth, his stupid long hair, the way he grips at her face, the way he kisses like he remembers what it’s like to have her lips. There had been times, briefly, when she wished the blond Johnny could’ve read her mind, but this is different — she wants this one back inside her, his soul, his self, all wrapped up safe in her grey matter. He rolls over her, and his whole weight presses down on her, hot and comforting.

“I shoulda stayed,” he says against her ear, quiet enough only she can hear it.

“Yeah,” she says breathlessly, eyes closed, leaning her head back. Neither of them really mean it, but it’s nice to indulge the thought. He licks her ear, hot and sudden, and a full body shudder runs through her.

V opens her eyes and the blond Johnny is still hovering over them, beers in hand. He’s turned back to watch now and she struggles to decipher the expression on his face — a curated neutrality, eyes wide and burning with something she can’t identify.

“Get down here,” she says to him.

He hesitates, then sets the beers on the table and drops to his knees. V half sits up, pushing against one arm, her Johnny moving with her slightly as she does, and kisses the blond one. It’s slow and careful, and they break the kiss after only a moment.

“Fucker,” the other Johnny says. “You’ve had her enough.”

The blond Johnny pulls back and looks him in the eyes. “You were in her head, you coulda done all kinda shit.”

Her Johnny ignores him and pulls her back for another kiss, long and lazy and indulgent. He sucks on her lips in turns, worries at her lip scar with his tongue before pulling back slightly. “Fuck, ain’t right to not feel you.”

“Been two years for me,” V says quietly. “Sometimes I think I’m forgetting.”

He pauses. “Been four years, kid.”

V shakes her head. “Was in a coma for two.”

“Fuck. God, we both got fucked up bad.” He pulls her in for another kiss, this one longer and slower as he leans all his weight against her. V lets it get sloppy and dirty, mouth open as they kiss. She fists both hands into the front of Johnny’s top and shifts her hips against him, just slightly.

V hears a quiet sigh from beside them and breaks the kiss to turn and see blond Johnny watching them, hand running absently over his belt buckle.

“Shit,” the Johnny above her says. “You got another pill? Gotta get way higher for this.”

“Get you one if we get off the floor,” blond Johnny says.

He gets up, and her Johnny pulls her bodily to her feet. Blond Johnny tosses the little bag of pills at his counterpart as V makes her way to the couch and slumps down into it, right in the middle. After a moment blond Johnny tucks in to her left, then the other on her right.

Her Johnny is on her immediately, latching onto her neck. V loses herself in the sensation, the jelly bones in her limbs and the swell of bliss in her chest, his hot tongue on her pulse point, the scratch of his beard. The friction, the knowledge of how truly, deeply fucked this whole thing is — it’s far away, and she leaves it there untouched. He climbs on top of her, and one of his legs presses against the other Johnny’s next to her.

“Forgot how hot I was,” blond Johnny says from beside her. V looks over at him as her Johnny grins into her neck. Blond Johnny’s eyes are blown wide as he watches and fuck, god, they’re all three of them stupid high. Dangerous high, maybe. Making bad decisions high for certain.

“The boyish charm kinda works,” her Johnny says casually. “‘S cute.”

“Uh-huh,” the other Johnny says. “Worked on V and Ker.”

“Pretty sure you coulda been jacked into anyone and Kerry still would suck your dick,” V says. “Or eat your pussy.”

“‘Cause he’s desperate for me,” the blond says, sounding bored. “I’m only sucking his dick ‘cause he’s hot.”

“Sure you are,” she says, disbelieving. Blond Johnny grins at her, a tacit agreement that she’s right and he’s full of shit. Her Johnny catches her mouth again, the kiss languid and loose with the drugs in their systems.

“Hey,” blond Johnny says. “My turn.” He leans over, beneath the other Johnny, and V turns to meet him there for a kiss. Her Johnny kisses her neck and — fuck. They kiss the fucking same. It’s disorienting — she had thought she would be able to tell and shit, maybe she can and it's just the drugs, but it feels like she can’t tell. Like she’d know if it were Kerry but couldn’t tell the two Johnnys apart, even though one has a beard and the other doesn’t.

“You’re a fuckin’ tease,” her Johnny says into her neck. “I need’ta — V, please. Fuckin’ missed you.”

“God, didn’t you say it felt like a few days?” the other Johnny says, pulling back from her.

“Fuck you,” her Johnny says. “Get your fuckin’ soul ripped out and tell me how that fuckin’ works out.”

“Nah, fucked you up,” the blond Johnny says. “You seriously believe in that shit? Souls?”

“Shut up,” her Johnny complains, and V can’t help but laugh. He gets a hand up under her shirt to grab her tit. It’s his left, but it’s ‘ganic, and it’s weird, and she’s so fucking high — but it’s so good, the way he grabs her breast in his whole hand, the way his thumb pushes her bra cup down to expose her nipple, the way his breath catches against her throat as he shoves his whole hand into her bra to cup her tit completely.

As he does, he brushes against the single dog tag nestled against her chest and stills. She closes her eyes and feels him grab it. The movement of his knuckles against her skin suggest he’s running a thumb over the surface.

“Y’want it back?” she mumbles against his face. She hasn't offered it to the other Johnny.

“Gave ‘em to you.” He shakes his head slightly. “Yours.” He leans up and over to really fucking kiss her, pushing downwards into her.

A hand presses against her left side and slips under her shirt, and it takes her a long moment to recognise it as the other Johnny’s as it slowly skates up her ribcage. The Johnny above her notices and he turns to glare at his counterpart. V follows his gaze.

The blond Johnny grins. “Fuckin’ chill. I’m helping,” he says, voice pitched low, almost sitting sideways on the couch to face her. His left is the one on her ribs; his right hand snakes around her back to unclip her bra, dancing up her spine. “Let’s get those preem tits out, yeah?”

V’s skin is burning. She obliges, working her top over her head and then shrugging her bra off her shoulders. The Johnny in her lap doesn’t hesitate; he ducks his head down between her tits instantly, mouth open wide, tonguing any part of her he reaches. The scratch of his beard against her makes her shudder. The other Johnny kisses her hard while she winds a hand through her Johnny’s hair. When he sucks her nipple into his hot mouth and swirls it with his tongue she pulls back momentarily to say, “Jesus Christ.”

The blond Johnny grins smug against her lips. “Was thinkin’ this was Ker’s wet dream. Maybe it’s actually yours?”

V looks down to where her Johnny is sucking as much of her tit as he can into his mouth — her tits aren’t big, so it’s a lot of it. His eyes are open wide as he stares back up at her and the other Johnny. He’s so pretty, V thinks, even through the gruff masculinity. His big brown eyes, his soft hair, and the moustache scruffy over his upper lip are the main features visible over the swell of her breast.

“Hell of a picture,” the blond Johnny says beside her, before turning to capture her mouth again in a long, filthy kiss. The other one moves to her other tit, sucking and pressing his tongue against her hot flesh.

“Shoulda fuckin’ known,” V gasps out, “that you’d get off on yourself.”

Blond Johnny laughs into her mouth.

The other one pulls back from her tits slightly to say, “V, darlin’, it’s all you.”

“God you’re a sap,” the blond says, looking down at him. “Fuckin’ eat her out already.” He puts a hand on the other Johnny’s head and pushes him down; he responds by batting his hand away and glaring. “Like you don’t wanna,” blond Johnny says. “She’s so fuckin’ good. Absolutely nova pussy, promise.”

“Fuck you,” her Johnny says with some genuine anger in his tone, then surges up to kiss V’s mouth, desperate and needy.

V doesn’t think; she trails both hands down his chest, then under his shirt and back up all the way to his shoulders. He leans back from her to yank his top off and she stops him from leaning back in so she can get a good look at him. He looks mostly the same, though a little less wiry than she remembers, more body fat, like this body hasn’t been half starved for a decade. He still has broad shoulders and that tiny little waist, and dark hair dusts his pecs. A happy trail runs obscenely down into his pants. He’s hot as hell, but it’s weird seeing him without his tattoos, and maybe even weirder without the scars.

Her Johnny full body shudders when the blond Johnny reaches and runs his hand flat palmed over where his injustice tattoo once was. “Fuckin’ weird,” he mutters, trailing his fingers over the remembered shape of it.

“You get replacements?” her Johnny asks, looking at the blond one.

The blond wordlessly strips his jacket and tank to reveal that he has. It’s not the same representation of Justice, but it still reads INJUSTICE FOR ALL across his ribs. Her Johnny grabs the blond’s right arm and twists it to look at his hand. A snake curls its way around his thumb and across his palm, but it’s not a cobra. The thick black band around his wrist is the sole tattoo that is the same as the original. He runs his thumb over the band that crosses his counterpart’s palm, then pulls to twist his arm to look at where the Tower once was, on the inside of his upper arm.

Her Johnny snorts. “Death? Bit on the nose.”

Blond Johnny shrugs, holding his arm out to show it clearer and looking at it himself. It’s the most recent of his tattoos, and he’d deliberated about what to put there for a while before settling on the Death card: a pale horse rearing up, its rider skeletal and grinning.

“Like you wouldn’t.”

Her Johnny shrugs. “Maybe get the Lovers.”

“Jesus,” the blond Johnny says. He looks at V. “He’s down fucking bad, kid.”

“Fuck off.” Her Johnny lets go of his hand. He leans over a little and flicks the golden cyberware that cuts through the centre of the blond’s torso. It makes a tiny tink. “What’s the ‘ware?”

“Netrunning bullshit,” the other Johnny answers. “Not the kinda shit you can replace on a whim.”

Her Johnny snorts, then runs two fingers from where it ends just above his belly button all the way up to his sternum, where the one thick gold strip splits into two to run along his collarbones. He follows the line up over his right shoulder.

“You netrun?” her Johnny prods.

“Some. ‘Gainst my fuckin’ will.”

Her Johnny pauses, then runs his fingers back down the ‘ware, this time along the skin just beside it. The blond shudders and breathes out thinly.

“Sore?” her Johnny asks, tone genuinely curious.

“Sensitive,” the blond says, then tilts his head back with a breathy groan. Her Johnny presses harder and a whine escapes the blond, who grabs his counterpart’s hand and moves it onto V’s tit. “Come the fuck on.”

Her Johnny cups and squeezes at her tit gently, making V gasp. “Anything on the left?” he asks, eyeing up his arm.

“Not yet,” the blond Johnny says, a little breathless.

The other Johnny grunts and turns back to V. “What about you? Still got —”

“No,” she interrupts, turning away. “FIA swapped all my synthskin out.”

Johnny's fingers run over where her tattoo used to be — Johnny + V in a shitty heart. “I’ll do you if you do me.”

Blond Johnny snorts. “Christ.”

“Can get a tattoo gun,” her Johnny continues, like the other hadn’t spoken. “Or ask someone. Get somethin’ a little nicer.”

“Kinda liked how shitty it was,” she admits with a little smile.

He’s asking her to tattoo him. To get matching tattoos. She has to remember — he’s right in that headspace he was four years ago. Dying for her, saying he was glad to have met her. Telling her they were fine, it wasn’t a betrayal for her to kill him. Saying goodbye to Night City forever.

“Hey,” she says. “You’re here. Alive. And so am I.”

He grins at her and it punches all the air out of her lungs. He never grinned like that in her head — with his whole eyes and cheeks, teeth visible through parted lips. Her eyes linger on where the little scar on his upper lip that parted his moustache used to be — she never asked how he got it. She doesn’t know. Now it’s gone.

“Yeah.” His grin is blinding. “And somehow I haven’t fucked you yet.”

“What I keep saying,” blond Johnny says from beside her.

Her Johnny kisses her filthily. His tongue presses hard against hers then licks the back of her front teeth and she laughs with how stupid it is. The blond Johnny presses his head against her temple and it suddenly lances through her again in a flash: there’s two of them. She yanks her head back from both with a shuddering gasp.

“There’s two of you,” she chokes out. Her eyes start to burn and her breathing picks up. “There’s — there’s two — oh my god, I can’t — oh fuck.”

Her thoughts are suddenly spiralling again. The ecstatic drugged out buzz in her limbs ratchets up to an unbearable scream as she feels herself slipping back into panic. How can she have both? How can she treat both of them fairly? Sure, she said she wouldn’t leave the blond one — would be such an asshole thing to do, she knows, and she doesn’t want to, but — it’s her Johnny. They were once the same person. He lived in her heart and bones and blood. If she had to pick — and she will have to pick, because he hates himself, they hate each other — blond Johnny was right. Her stomach turns violently at the thought of it. She only realises that she’s shaking her head when one of the Johnnys — fuck, she can’t tell which one — holds her head still.

“Easy,” one of them says. The voice is deep enough it must be hers.

The other one thumbs a tear from her cheek. “It’s fucked up,” he says. “Worry sober.” He kisses her, sudden and hard against her lips, as the other one licks obscene down her neck. “C’mon, haven’t you ever wanted to kiss me and fuck me at the same time?”

“Can do that,” V answers absently. She feels like her brain is far away as the Johnny on her tits teases her nipple with his teeth. “Have done that.”

Johnny kisses her again and she feels less and less like herself, more and more like her body, like her whole brain is just sensations firing across skin and muscle. “Kiss me while I eat you out,” he says low against her, as the other climbs out of her lap to his knees and presses his open mouth to her stomach. She shivers, all the way up her spine.

“Alright,” she whispers, desperate, “will that make it all work out?”

“Nah,” says her Johnny, his breath hot against her hips as he fumbles her jeans down. “Be hot as all hell though.”

He slips his hand into her underwear and presses against her, hot and firm, and she gasps, hips rocking forward. “Shit,” he says, and it’s been four goddamn years but it’s like he’s right there in her head still because she can fucking hear what he means — I thought I’d die without getting to touch you.

Her Johnny presses his face against her trembling thigh, forehead and nose and mouth, and lets out an unsteady breath against her skin. He turns further into her thigh to suck her flesh into his mouth and screws his eyes closed, huffing in air through his nose as he sucks at her skin like it’s the only thing keeping him tethered here. V gathers his hair in her hand and stares at him, the slight flush on his cheeks, the way he almost looks pained as he cups her, not even pushing fingers into her folds yet.

Beside her the blond Johnny breathes slowly. She flicks a glance at him and he’s watching the other him with a strange, desperate expression on his face. She tries to imagine seeing a version of herself — in a body she thought she’d lost — who was in love in a way she wasn’t. She can’t.

Her Johnny pulls down underwear with his right hand as his left pushes two fingers into her folds, achingly gentle. He reaches her entrance and V shudders as he spreads her wetness, then moves his fingers hard and sudden into her. She gasps then groans, hips rolling upwards.

“Oh my god, fu—” V is cut off as the blond Johnny grabs her and kisses her. She moans directly into his mouth as her Johnny works his fingers, slow now against her insides, crooking his fingers exactly right against her. She pulls back from Johnny’s mouth to take a gasping breath. “Jesus fucking —”

V cuts herself off as Johnny licks into her clit, his mouth wide fucking open. He jams his whole face into her and groans. She squeezes her thighs around his head hard as Johnny fucks her with his fingers and his whole fucking face. God — his mouth is molten hot, soft as silk, like he’s pouring over her. The other Johnny sucks hard at her neck and gropes at her tits clumsily. It’s overwhelming, more so than any time she’s done similar with Johnny and Kerry.

“She likes it when —”

Her Johnny pulls back and cuts off the blond one with a growl. “I know what she fuckin’ likes, I fuckin’ was her.” He fucks his two fingers in and out and V whines. “Know every fuckin’ inch of her body like it’s my own. Was my own. Know fuckin’ exactly how she feels when she —”

“You don’t know,” the blond Johnny interrupts, eyes wild, “whatever gonk fuckin’ trash fucked her wasn’t us.” Her Johnny shudders, face pressed into her thigh. “Don’t know how it feels to get fucked by Johnny Fucking Silverhand.”

Her Johnny pushes his face back down into her pussy and inserts a third finger, messy and desperate. Johnny eats her out, one hand under her thigh to tilt her hips deep into his face, and Johnny kisses her and rolls her tits under his hands, guitar-calloused fingertips brushing her nipples.

V groans and twists against them both. Her guts feel like they’re up in her chest and her heart is in her mouth. She can barely take a breath against Johnny’s mouth and then she comes, intense and sudden, groaning and shuddering. It catches her off guard, the orgasm slamming into her gut and rippling outward. Her whole body tenses and crumples inwards involuntarily as the pleasure rolls upwards through her spine, hot and tingling in time with the ecstasy in her blood.

“God, V, fuckin’ incredible,” Johnny says breathlessly against her cunt, then turns and bites into her thigh again, rocking his hips against nothing.

“Fuck me,” she gasps out. She fucking needs it, aching and empty, wet and wanting, more than she’s ever been in her life. Johnny fucks his fingers into her like a reflex at her request and her whole body twitches. “No, properly, come on.”

Blond Johnny kisses her and says, “Oh, baby, begging for his cock?” V’s face burns but she can’t get words out to deny it. He runs a hand down her trembling stomach and runs his fingers through her slick folds, over her clit and down, fingers pushing against the other Johnny’s briefly. He rests his hand against the inside of her thigh.

“Jealous?” her Johnny says, looking up at the other one with a sharp grin, face wet and shiny slick.

“Of you? Please. She’s begged for my cock plenty,” blond Johnny says.

“Let’s see it then,” the other says, pushing up to stand and pulling his pants and underpants off with little fanfare. He strokes himself languidly as he steps out of his pants. “Compare and contrast.”

V couldn’t give half a shit about whose cock was bigger. Even aside from the fact that she rarely can get off on penetration alone, the size of it was hardly the biggest factor. That said…

She remembers Johnny’s original cock, and for all that she hated his bragging and his swagger — well. He did have a big dick. She’s not seen it in person before and she’s staring, shit, because she had really thought his memories must’ve exaggerated. Maybe they did, but it’s, well, big, much bigger than average, and thick too, obscenely pink at the head as he pulls his foreskin down and runs a thumb over the slit. Most importantly right now, it’s definitely bigger than blond Johnny’s.

No Johnny Silverhand would back down from a direct challenge and blond Johnny strips his pants too, cock bobbing up hard between his legs. He’s solidly average sized, and it’s the prettiest cock V has ever seen, curved and flush.

Her Johnny’s mouth twitches in a tiny grin. “Cute.”

The blond Johnny looks over at V lazily as he spreads on the couch beside her and strokes his own cock slowly. “Y’know all I used to do was find chicks with a size kink and stick it in ‘em,” he drawls. “No fuckin’ finesse, no skill.”

Standing above them, the other Johnny grins wider. “Sure. If you say so.” He steps closer, eyes locked to his counterpart, displaying his cock to him with a lax grip. “Miss it?”

Neither of them are so much as looking at her anymore and if she was more sober, if it was less stupidly hot, maybe V would intervene.

“You miss it when you had a cunt all those months?” the blond Johnny snaps back.

“Did, yeah,” her Johnny says, and steps even closer, cock now mere inches from the other Johnny’s face.

“You put that thing in my mouth, I'm biting it off,” he warns. “Some fuckin’ vat grown clone bullshit. Don’t remember my cock so ugly.”

Her Johnny is undeterred. “C’mon, gotta be compensating for that tiny cock with your mouth, right?”

Blond Johnny pushes up a little from lounging. “Nah, but I am better than you. Sucked actual dick. Strap don’t fuckin’ compare to a real cock down your throat. You can’t even imagine.” A wicked grin rips across his face. “Blew Ker last night.”

The other Johnny tenses, his languid strokes on his cock slowing. V starts to wonder if she needs to step in.

“Hell of a cock on him. Guess you wouldn’t know,” blond Johnny continues. “Bummer.”

“Congrats on bein’ Eurodyne’s bitch,” her Johnny grits out.

“That what you wanna call it?” blond Johnny says with a laugh, eyes sharp on the other’s. “Bet this bitch'd have you coming in two minutes flat.”

“I’ll take that bet,” her Johnny says. “If that don’t remind you of what real dick is maybe I’ll fuck you too.”

“Gonna fuck yourself ‘fore you fuck V?” blond Johnny says, even as his cock twitches obviously between his legs. “Really love her.”

Her Johnny scoffs. “Please. This shit? Foreplay. Ain’t wasting my load on you.” He grabs the blond with one hand, twisting hard in his curls. His other hand still holds his cock. “Open up, sweetheart.”

V watches, transfixed, as the blond Johnny scoots forward on the couch and grabs his counterpart’s dick in one hand. He licks a long stripe from base to tip. Her Johnny shudders, but the blond pulls back.

“V,” he says, hand still on the other Johnny’s dick as he turns to face her, “y’wanna time me?”

It takes a long moment for V to find her voice in her dry mouth. “Uh, shit. What?”

“Said I'd have him off in two minutes.” Johnny hooks his free hand around the back of her neck and pulls her in for a searing kiss. “Know you were keen for him but y’gonna have to take my cock tonight,” he says against her lips. “Gonna suck him dry.”

“Cocky fuck,” the other Johnny says, yanking him by the hair away from her.

She feels off kilter but dutifully pulls her holo up, flicks to the timer app, and starts it immediately. Her Johnny takes his hand off his cock and lets it hang there in front of the blond one, who eyes it up before tilting his head back to meet his eyes. The two stare at each other for a tense moment and — shit, it’s hot. In V’s humble opinion Johnny has always looked good with a cock in his mouth. He's always looked good while getting his dick sucked, too. It’s the weirdest fucking thing to ever happen in her life, but, shit, this whole situation is fucked up. Them fucking each other isn’t going to make anything worse. Probably.

The blond runs a long slow lick up the underside of the other Johnny’s cock, hands free. He wraps his hand around the base and takes the head into his mouth. The other Johnny groans, deep and guttural, before he gasps and quiets himself. V is glad she’s already started the timer, to give her Johnny a little extra time.

It took only a few times fucking Kerry for Johnny to really break out of the worst of his weird gay hangups, but since then he’s approached cocksucking with the same joy, intensity and focus that he does pussy eating. He loves it. He is, as far as V can tell, really fucking good at it. She’s pretty sure that her Johnny, in his brand new body, doesn’t stand a chance.

Her Johnny currently has a smug grin as the blond one sucks at the head of his cock, as he pulls off to mouth up and down the sides. They’re both looking at each other, eyes locked. V bites her lip as he takes the head in his mouth again, because if she was going to suck cock like Johnny did, she’d go slow, mediocre, make him think he was going to last, and then she’d —

Blond Johnny pushes forward suddenly, taking his counterpart’s cock all the way to the base. Above him the other chokes out, “Fuck!” as the blond swallows around him and breathes heavy through his nose. Blond Johnny’s eyes water as her Johnny bucks forwards seemingly involuntarily.

Blond Johnny pulls back just enough that he’s not literally gagging on cock anymore, then bobs his head obscenely, hollowing his cheeks as he sucks with lips tight.

Above him her Johnny stutters out a groan as he closes his eyes and rocks forward. “Jesus fucking — the fuck you been — nothin’ but sucking cock since you got outta Mikoshi?” he stammers, putting his second hand on the back of the other Johnny’s head to grip at his curls and direct him.

Blond Johnny smacks both his hands away and fucks him with his mouth, moving his whole fucking torso with it as spit spills down his chin. He sits up straighter in his seat as he moves his head back and forth, grabbing the other Johnny’s hips with both hands to hold him in place. Her Johnny has his eyes screwed shut, lower lip between his teeth, looking almost pained as he gets sucked off. His hands flex by his sides, gripping at nothing.

When V’s timer reaches twelve seconds remaining, her Johnny grips the other’s hair and yanks him hard off his cock, then lets go and stumbles backwards with a gasp. His cock is flushed and straining and he’s clearly worked up, probably only seconds from coming. A single bead of precome wells at the tip as he shudders. The other Johnny coughs slightly as he catches his breath and wipes the spit from his mouth and chin with the back of his hand.

“That’s a forfeit,” blond Johnny says with a big smug grin. His voice is fucking wrecked.

“Fucking cunt,” the other says, still breathing heavily as he looks around for something to brace himself against. There isn’t anything, so he slumps back down onto the couch next to V.

“So, given I didn’t get your load, what do I win?” Blond Johnny is unbearably smug.

“Fuck you,” her Johnny says, full of venom, catching his breath with his head leaned back against the couch. “Whore.”

“Body’s brand new, right?” Blond Johnny twists on the couch to face his counterpart, past V. “Don’t think you got more than one round in the chamber?”

“Go die in a hole.”

“Rather do something else in a hole.” Blond Johnny leers at himself.

“Fuckin’ hate you,” her Johnny says, turning into V’s shoulder. She puts a hand on his thigh.

“Right back at ya, big guy.”

“You know I don’t give half a shit about whose cock is bigger, right?” V says tiredly. She bumps her head against her Johnny. “You know first hand that size doesn’t really do it for me. And you both know I don’t really get off on just penetration.”

“Ruining our fun,” blond Johnny says as he leans into her neck, then kisses her there. The other Johnny snorts. “Think I should get to fuck him.”

“Fucking hell,” V says, eyes closed, not looking at either of them. Her Johnny is suspiciously quiet.

“And he can fuck you,” he continues. Her Johnny says something at that, muffled against her skin. “Can’t fuckin’ hear you.”

“Ain’t gonna fuckin’ last through that, asshole,” her Johnny grumbles.

Blond Johnny laughs, smug and a little bit cruel. “Shoulda let me get you off, rolled the dice on that reload time.”

Before they can truly start snarking at themselves again, V turns to her Johnny and kisses him hard. “Just wanna ride you,” she says. “Fuck each other later, c’mon.” Then she turns her head and pulls the blond one in for a kiss as well. “I’ll suck you off or somethin’, I dunno.”

Her Johnny pulls her away from the other and kisses her sloppily. “Sounds fuckin’ great to me.”

V twists herself around and pushes until she is straddling her Johnny, him flat on his back along the couch, the blond Johnny at her back. Her Johnny groans as she climbs over him properly, pushing him down and running her hands flat palmed up his stomach and chest before wrapping briefly and gently around his throat. She runs her hands further up, over his jaw, through his beard, up his cheeks and into his hair. His dick presses against her, against the front of her and the bottom of her belly. She rocks against him, rolling her hips, smearing herself over his balls and his cock. He groans again and she repeats the motion, bracing a hand against the couch back. She leans forward enough that his cock slips between her folds, running along her clit, and she shudders and bows her head forward.

Her Johnny has his legs opened just enough that blond Johnny can sit behind her, between his calves. He kisses her back open-mouthed as she rolls her hips, hands coming around to grasp her tits. She mumbles something appreciative under her breath as his thumbs roll over her nipples, sparking shivers of pleasure through her. He places one kiss right between her shoulder blades then withdraws slowly, climbing up off the couch and stepping around to the side, eyeing them up. Both V and her Johnny watch him as he moves closer, toward the other Johnny, one hand holding his dick.

He stares down at him and his expression morphs slowly from neutral to contempt. “Waste, to have that mouth empty,” he says. His counterpart looks up at him, jaw tense, and swallows. “C’mon, Silverhand, can’t lie to yourself. Desperate for cock, right?”

Her Johnny takes a moment to suck in a deep breath, eyes closed, head flat against the couch.

“Thought you said you sorted your shit,” blond Johnny taunts. He steps forward until he can press the tip of his cock to the other Johnny’s chin, brushing it over his lips briefly. “God knows you’ve sucked enough strap. Ready to finally get the real thing?”

“I —”

As soon as her Johnny opens his mouth to speak, the blond Johnny thrusts his cock forwards into his mouth, too mean, too hard, too deep. As fast as he thrust in he pulls back, all the way, as her Johnny gags and coughs.

“Jesus,” V breathes, equally concerned as she is turned on.

Blond Johnny looks over at her. “He’s fine,” he says, then looks back down at the other. “Huh, Silverhand? Know you can do better than that. Want another try?”

Her Johnny scowls up at him. “I fucking hate you,” he says through clenched teeth, voice dripping with genuine venom.

The blond Johnny grins maniacally. “Yeah,” he says breathily. “Me fuckin’ too.”

Her Johnny sticks his chin up slightly. “Bitches that want my mouth gotta beg for it.”

Blond Johnny quirks an eyebrow, seemingly unbothered. “Didn’t make V beg.”

“She ain’t a bitch,” her Johnny says. “You fuckin’ are.”

Blond Johnny laughs. “Cute, this little brat routine. Gotta pretend like you ain’t fuckin’ gagging for it, huh? You think I wanna get sucked off more than you wanna suck cock?”

“Think I get my dick in V, so you gotta be desperate to get off somehow.”

Blond Johnny slaps his cock down against the other’s lips. “She could blow me,” he says thoughtfully. “Or maybe you admit you wanna suck me off and we get this goddamn show on the road.”

Her Johnny screws his eyes closed and faces the ceiling. “Say please, bitch.”

The blond grins. “Please.”

Her Johnny turns his head, eyes still closed, to face the other Johnny who presses his cock gently against his lips. As he pushes in V draws in a deep and genuine shuddering breath; she can fucking feel herself get wetter just from the sight of it.

“Oh my god,” she says, almost involuntarily. “Fuck, fuck, I need to —”

She cuts herself off and pushes up on her knees, reaching down to grab Johnny’s cock and line him up. She sinks down onto him, slow and careful, taking him in in tiny movements, slightly deeper each time. He moans around the other Johnny’s cock, loud and desperate, chest heaving as he breathes rapidly. God, she wasn’t lying about not giving a shit about whose cock was bigger but fuck he’s big, filling her stupid deep without even fucking trying. She takes deep breaths and tries to relax so she can take all of him. She feels so damn full, on the edge of discomfort as she slowly sinks down.

Blond Johnny meanwhile is staying still as his cock is sucked, not thrusting or doing much of anything other than watching, eyes wide, mouth slightly open. V leans forward a little and kisses him, and he groans too.

Her Johnny grabs the other Johnny’s cock and yanks it out of his mouth. “Goin’ soft on me?” he growls at him.

“Rock fuckin’ hard, actually,” blond Johnny drawls lazily, then shrugs. “Thought it might spoil shit for V if you puked on my cock.”

“Wasn’t ready. Fuckin’ do it,” her Johnny says, then grunts as he thrusts his hips up into V, making her whine. Fuck, fuck, she’s shaking in anticipation of what it’ll be like when he fucks her proper.

Blond Johnny doesn’t look confident but he shrugs and lines his cock up with the other Johnny’s mouth. The second he takes him in he thrusts forward, forcing his cock down to the base. He doesn’t go as hard or fast as earlier, instead moving smooth and certain. Her Johnny makes a strangled noise but shit, he fucking takes it like it’s nothing.

“Un-fucking-fair,” blond Johnny hisses out as he thrusts again, “that you — I had to fuckin’ relearn that shit.”

“Fucking insane,” V gasps out. She lifts herself up and then fucks herself down on Johnny’s cock. He groans, strangled around the cock in his mouth, and grips her hip with one hand, fingers digging in hard. The other hand comes around to run gentle fingers over her clit and it’s her turn to groan, deep and loud. God, she isn’t going to last like this. She rolls her hips in a slow motion, adjusting to the feeling, taking a few moments to just sit on his dick.

At the same time, blond Johnny fucks his counterpart’s mouth hard, harder than V or Kerry would ever do to him. Her Johnny rests his head on the couch, turned to the side, eyes closed as he takes it.

“Fuckin’ whore,” blond Johnny mutters as he fucks him, one hand fisted hard in the other Johnny’s hair, “fuckin’ cunt, fuckin’ bitch, getting off on this? Shouldn’t, fuckin’ deserve to —” He cuts himself off with a gasp then presses his hand down hard against the other Johnny’s temple, pushing him into the cushions. His voice is cruel and gets crueller, angrier, as he continues. “Fucker, like it when it hurts, like it — gonna fuckin’ choke you out, huh, V on your dick and fucking yourself until you fuckin’ choke on it, fuck you, fuck you, I fuckin’ — hate you, I—”

V grabs blond Johnny, slapping both hands onto his cheeks and dragging him in for a breathless kiss. “I love you,” she gasps out, and he makes a wildly broken whine against her lips. “So shut the fuck up, shut the fuck up — don’t say that, I love you, come on.” She kisses him again and rocks her hips slightly. Below her, her Johnny groans tortuously.

V leans away from the blond and pulls his dick out of her Johnny’s mouth so she can bend to kiss him too, though it ends up being more desperate panting than a proper kiss. “Love you,” she says into his mouth. “I fuckin’ —”

She’s interrupted as her Johnny whines and closes his eyes and gasps out, “V, shit, I can’t —” His hips twitch up into her and he comes, hard and hot and absolutely filthy. He groans, screwing his eyes shut and panting hard, one hand on her hip squeezing hard enough to bruise as he ruts against her. His face is flushed bright red and he turns away from her slightly as he shudders.

“Oh, oh yeah, fuck yeah,” V says, rolling her hips. His come is so fucking hot and deep in her, right up in her guts. She’s slightly disappointed that he didn’t get to fuck her properly, but they have all the time in the world to do this again and shit is it hot. “So fucking good, Johnny.” She reaches blindly for the other Johnny. “Where’s your — come on, Johnny, your cock.”

Blond Johnny groans. “Right here babe,” he says roughly, moving toward her.

V ducks slightly to suck his cock into her mouth as she slows her hips, rocking gently. It’s a pretty shit blowjob, she knows, because she’s out of her fucking mind with the E and the way Johnny’s cock and come are both still inside her. He whines at it anyway, and beneath her the other Johnny groans loud at the sight of it.

“Fucking Christ, V,” her Johnny gasps out. “You look — You’re —”

“Fuckin’ incredible,” the other Johnny agrees, breathless.

V shifts her hips as she sucks his cock and her Johnny begs, “V, you gotta — ‘s too much, you —”

She pulls her mouth off blond Johnny’s cock with a gasp. “Ah, shit,” she says, “sorry, just —”

She lifts up off her Johnny slowly. She feels his come leak from her and moans as she tips her head down. Fuck, god, she’s so worked up. She needs to come, needs more, needs one or ideally both of them to fuck her hard, needs her lips on him and her hands and pussy and everything, all at once. Her whole body is buzzing and tensing and she feels so fucking empty. She lays down over her Johnny, head against his chest, taking deep breaths to try to calm down a bit. She lifts her head and smiles fuzzily at him. He huffs out a sheepish laugh and returns the smile breathlessly.

“Didn’t mean to —” her Johnny starts to say, but she can already guess what he’s going to say and cuts him off.

“Don’t care. Was so fucking hot, baby, so fucking hot, holy shit.”

As she leans up to kiss him again, the blond says behind her, “Hmm, I care. Lettin’ down the team with that performance.” She feels him settle down behind her, back between both her and her Johnny’s legs.

“Fuck off,” she says mildly as she arches her back to push up a little from her Johnny. “Gotta be nice if you wanna fuck me too.”

The blond Johnny leans down to kiss her lower back and she can feel his dangerous grin against her skin. One hand runs gently over her folds, and she shudders before remembering that fuck, her Johnny’s come is leaking out of her.

“I’ll be nice,” he says quietly, pressing fingers into her. “I’ll be a goddamn saint for your pussy.”

“Now who’s the fuckin’ sap,” her Johnny says, absolutely no bite at all.

She laughs stupidly, leaning hard into her Johnny’s chest, enjoying the tease of his fingers, even as desperate as she is. “Say sorry and you can fuck me.”

“Jesus, V,” the blond complains, even as he starts fucking his fingers inside her.

Her Johnny rolls his eyes too. “Don’t —”

“C’mon,” she says teasingly, turning as best she can toward blond Johnny. “Don’t you wanna?”

She sees him shudder, then sigh. “Fine, whatever.” He shifts and then she feels the head of his cock press against her. “Sorry,” he says, not sounding sorry in the slightest, then snaps his hips forward, fucking into her hard.

“Fuck!” V says, louder than she means to, directly into the other Johnny’s neck.

He pauses, circling his hips slowly, leaning down to kiss between her shoulder blades. “Believe me? Good enough?”

“Nah,” she says breathily, “but — don’t care, fuck, c’mon, please, just —” She presses her face down into the other Johnny’s chest and tilts her hips against him. She’s sprawled over him, and his cock presses against her front. She looks up from his chest at his face and he has his eyes closed, a slight grimace tugging at his mouth.

As the blond Johnny pulls back out, achingly slow, V ghosts fingers along the other’s jawline. “You alright?” she asks gently.

He breathes out shakily and just barely nods. “Yeah,” he says, “yeah, ‘slong as he fucks you good.”

V breathes out a tiny laugh and blond Johnny thrusts back in with a huff, slower this time. “I didn’t say shit when you were fucking her,” he grumbles as he pulls back, then thrusts forward again, this time hard enough she lurches against the other Johnny’s chest.

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” V whines. She shifts a little so she can rock her clit against her Johnny’s cock, trapped between their bodies. “Please,” she says, and maybe it’s the drugs or just wishful thinking but she swears she can feel her Johnny’s come in her, on the blond Johnny’s cock, lubing the way as it mixes with her own wetness. She thinks about the blond coming too, having the both of them inside her, and she whines awfully against her Johnny’s chest.

“V,” blond Johnny says, breathless behind her. “Shit.”

“Yeah,” V whines, squirming on his dick and shuddering at his gasp, “yes, please, god, fuck me, need you to — god, both of your come in me, fuck, please, please.” She’s rambling, eyes squeezed shut, forehead pressed to her Johnny’s collarbone, her clit against his cock.

Blond Johnny groans and fucks into her, nice and steady, the way he has dozens of times before. The ecstasy and the come and the way she’s breathing into her Johnny’s sweaty chest elevate it beyond a normal fuck and she’s so fucking wound up she cries out, gripping hard and bruising into her Johnny’s shoulders.

“Fuck,” her Johnny says, sounding winded. He thumbs a tiny tear away from the corner of her eye, then looks up at the other Johnny, looming over them as he fucks into her. “Enjoying my sloppy seconds?”

“Fuck off,” V grits out. “I’m not —”

“Fuck yeah I am,” blond Johnny interrupts, seemingly unbothered, working his hips. He tips his head down to rest against V’s back. “Babe, sweetheart, you’re so fucking good. You’re so fucking — shit, V.”

Blond Johnny grabs her hips and fucks her so goddamn good and she rocks against the other Johnny so fucking good that she’s right back on the edge. Johnny has always been a great fuck and he’s in form tonight, fucking her nice and hard, exactly what she was craving. She glances at her Johnny’s face and realises that he’s watching his counterpart — the way he’s fucking into her it’s almost like he’s fucking himself, face to face.

V grinds down against her Johnny’s dick, which she registers fuzzily as a lot less soft than she would’ve expected. She reaches a hand down between them and grabs it and Johnny whines beneath her.

“Fuck, you hard again?” she breathes out, and blond Johnny laughs as he fucks her. It’s not easy with Johnny driving into her but she uses her grip on his cock to help her grind her clit against it and shit, fucking hell, it feels so good.

“Johnny, baby, you gonna come for me again?” she whispers and both of them groan, one into her shoulderblades and the other into her collarbone. “Can’t believe you — either of you, I —” V groans desperately at the sensation, Johnny’s cock both in and against her, the build of heat in her gut and pussy and clit and legs and stomach and shit, god, she’s so fucking close.

Johnny fucks into her harder and the other one grabs her and pulls her into a desperate, messy kiss. V groans brokenly and then the blond Johnny angles his hips just right and she yells, breaking the kiss and pressing her face hard into her Johnny’s collarbone. She whines and moans, long and wordless and then comes, hard, cunt pulsing around Johnny’s cock, legs shaking, chest burning as she heaves in deep breaths.

“Fuuuuck,” she whines. “That’s it, right there, gotta come in me, Johnny, please, please, please.”

Above her Johnny groans and fucks her faster. V lays against the other’s chest and jerks him off awkwardly with her hand pressed between her body and his dick. It’s not long before blond Johnny loses his rhythm, then groans as he comes too, emptying inside her, just as hot and dirty as the first one. V moans, pressed into her Johnny’s chest.

“Wanna — again?” she says breathily against his skin as she strokes his cock. “Come in me again?”

“Jesus, V,” her Johnny says with a shudder.

“Fuckin’ course he does,” the blond Johnny says as he presses his face into her back. “Preem idea. I would, if I could get it up again.”

Blond Johnny kisses her back, then pulls out, leaving her empty and dripping. He kisses lower, just above the swell of her ass. V feels his hand reaching beneath her. He runs his fingers slowly over her, through her folds, pressing gently against her entrance momentarily. She shivers at the feeling as it sends spiraling pleasure up her spine. His hand moves and V lifts her hips slightly.

Her Johnny breathes out long and thin and blond Johnny wraps his hand around his counterpart’s cock and guides it back to run over her folds. She can’t see but she can feel it as blond Johnny pumps his hand over the other Johnny’s cock a few times.

“Craziest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever done,” blond Johnny says breathlessly. He moves the other Johnny’s cock through her folds again. “Christ, V. So much fuckin’ come.”

She can’t see him, but she can feel the way he collects some of the mess with his other hand, left still wrapped around his counterpart’s cock. She watches her Johnny’s eyes go wide and breathing pick up even faster as she hears the blond Johnny sucking noisily — presumably at his fingers where they were covered with their come.

“Fuck,” her Johnny says. “Fuck, I —”

“I gotcha,” blond Johnny says, almost kindly, as he runs his fingers through her pussy again.

He leans forward against her, letting go of his counterpart’s cock and pushing her down against her Johnny’s chest. She has a front row seat as the blond Johnny reaches his come-covered fingers towards his counterpart, as her Johnny grabs his wrist and pulls his fingers into his mouth and sucks. He moans and closes his eyes as he licks at his counterpart’s fingers, and V feels the blond shudder above her as he pushes his fingers deeper. She watches him press his fingers down on his tongue, opening his mouth wide.

She shudders, tipping her forehead down to her Johnny’s collarbone. “Fucking Christ, you two. Stop teasing.”

The blond hums thoughtfully. “Whaddaya think, Silverhand?” He pulls back his fingers, then his whole body, enough that he can sit back and wrap his hand around his counterpart’s cock again. “Should we give her what she wants?”

Her Johnny grins. “Thinkin’ so, yeah.”

“Just sayin’ that ‘cause it’s what you want too,” the blond says teasingly. She feels him run the head of her Johnny’s cock over her again and she huffs a big breath out against her Johnny’s chest. Fuck, she almost certainly isn’t even going to come again, but the teasing is driving her nuts.

“Forgettin’ I’m in love?” her Johnny says, thrusting his hips a little. His cock skates through her folds. V’s breath catches. “Give her any fuckin’ thing she wants.”

V laughs, breathless and helpless and desperate. The blond groans in annoyance. She wishes she could see his face.

Despite his groan blond Johnny does finally guide her Johnny’s cock back to her pussy. She sits up a little more as it finally slides in and then moans. Even as wet and fucked out as she is she still has to go slow. When she takes all of him they both whine. Fuck, fuck, maybe she does have a bit of a size thing. It’s so fucking good. Or, she thinks hazily, more likely she just has a Johnny thing. Beneath her, her Johnny is panting, eyes wide, clearly trying to control himself.

He lasts longer this time, fucking up into her in short thrusts while the other Johnny lazes against her back, kissing sloppily at her shoulder blades.

Her Johnny comes with a desperate little whine when she rests a hand on his throat — she doesn’t even squeeze — jerking his hips up into her. There’s a lot less come this time but she can still feel it hot and thick inside her as she pants desperately. She lifts up off him — with great effort, seeing as the blond Johnny is against her back and doesn’t seem interested in helping — and he slips out of her. More come leaks from her, dripping down onto his cock.

“Shit,” V hisses. Johnny is hot below and above her. “Fucking hell. I…” Her brain feels like it’s genuinely not working. Through the fog, she manages to ask, “Are you alright?”

Her Johnny laughs weakly. “Shit, V. Made me come twice and asking if I’m alright? What do you think?”

“And you?” V asks the other, indicating as best she can toward him.

“Babe, I’m fuckin’ excellent. Still think he’s a bitch for not lasting longer, but I guess coming twice makes up for it,” blond Johnny says sleepily against her back. There’s no bite in his tone at all. “Really shoulda let me suck you off for real.”

Her Johnny leans his head back. “Beggin’ for your own fuckin’ come.” He pauses, then sighs. “Guess that’s pretty hot.”

V grins exhaustedly against him. She’d rather a Johnny horny over himself than a Johnny hating himself. Her grin slowly turns shit eating.

“Hey, so,” she begins, tilting her head back to indicate she’s addressing the blond, “how’s that rank? Top three, or…”

Blond Johnny bursts into genuine delighted laughter against her back. “You’re fuckin’ nuts, babe,” he says, unbearably fond. He runs a hand gently along her side. “Think threesome with myself is its own damn category.”

“So top spot then?” she teases. The angle makes it difficult but blond Johnny is determined to get his mouth on hers and they work together until he succeeds, messy and slow, right on top of her Johnny.

“You serious?” her Johnny asks, a little incredulous.

V breaks her kiss with the blond and turns to the other. “Don’t worry babe, you’re the top of my list every time.”

Her Johnny laughs, a little desperate. Blond Johnny says, “Damn fuckin’ right I am.”

V closes her eyes and rests her head against Johnny’s chest. Above her, Johnny rests his head between her shoulders, pressing a gentle kiss there. Every time her Johnny breathes in both she and the blond raise as his lungs fill, then fall again as he breathes out. A hand that she’s pretty sure is her Johnny’s runs up through her hair and scratches pleasantly as the blond mouths over the back of her neck slowly. She feels so warm, so comfortable, so full to the brim with love, like every point of contact with both of them is creating a lightness within her. The ecstasy is making it more physical, more bodily imagined, but the feelings are real. Like this, sandwiched between them, she can maybe imagine a future where things don’t crash and burn.

She smiles sleepily. “We oughta shower soon. Kinda all gross.”

The Johnny above her shifts and bites her back gently. He hums in lazy agreement.

“You oughta get into anal,” he says suddenly, and V barks out a surprised laugh.

“Both of us at the same time,” her Johnny says, unsurprisingly on the same wavelength as his counterpart. “Or, shit, if you think we could both fit —”

“I’ll think about it,” V mumbles.

The blond Johnny sighs, then starts getting up. “I’ll shower first, we ain’t all gonna fit in there.”

V twists against the other one so she can see blond Johnny as he stumbles off her onto his feet by the couch. “You good? I can —”

He smiles at her, real fucking genuine, and shakes his head. “V, chill. Want a break from being around myself anyway.”

V pushes up against her Johnny, sitting up to straddle him, and reaches for the blond Johnny. He steps back closer and leans down to meet her for a kiss. It’s deep and real, both his hands gripping her face, open and easy. She pulls back, but just barely, and presses their noses together. God — she loves this version of him, distinctly and genuinely.

“I’m not going anywhere," she whispers, hands on his cheeks, her breath hot on his face. “Swear it.”

“You’re dead fucking insane,” he says against her lips. “Fuckin’ hell, kid. You better not go anywhere.”

“All three of us could prolly fit,” she says quietly. “Are you —”

“I’m not gonna fuckin’ bolt,” he says, cutting across her. “Have a little faith, Christ.”

“Wasn’t — alright.” V sighs and presses their foreheads together. “Don’t hog all the hot water.”

“No promises,” he says, then turns and leaves.

With blond Johnny gone, V turns her attention to the Johnny below her. A million thoughts flash through her brain but she can’t figure out what to say. God, his come is still inside her, leaking from her. They’re both pretty gross and sweaty but Johnny looks blissed the fuck out, melting into the couch. V leans back down to lie over him and tucks her face into his neck.

“So,” Johnny begins, and she can fucking hear the shit eating grin pulling at his lips.

She pushes up on her forearms, braced either side of his chest, so she can see his face. “If you’re about to ask me which of you two fucks better I swear to god —”

Johnny cuts her off with a laugh, which is good because she didn’t have a threat to follow it up with. “Like I’m still in your fuckin’ head.”

Now V laughs. “Shit, that was actually what you were gonna say?”

He smiles a long, easy smile. “Maybe. Was also gonna say that you’re gorgeous.”

V blushes furiously. “You’re gorgeous.”

“Takin’ my cock fuckin’ three times over,” he continues, as though she hadn’t spoken. “Sayin how much you —” He cuts himself off. “Christ. I fuckin’ love you.”

She blushes again and laughs, ducking her head back down into his shoulder. “Love you too. And thank you,” she says seriously, not looking at his face, “for, I dunno, getting along with him.”

“V, I punched the fucker in the face,” he says flatly. “In what universe is that getting along?”

“Shared me with him,” she says quietly. “Hardly freaked at all. Means a lot to me, that’s all.”

Johnny is quiet for a long moment. “You love him. He’s me. What am I meant to do?” he says uncomfortably.

She pushes up on her forearms again and kisses him. “Just thankful, that’s all,” she says gently. “Y’know, it’s been years, and I really do love him, but it’s only now I feel complete.”

Johnny grins. “Sayin’ I win?”

“No,” V says seriously. “I’m saying you and him aren’t quite the exact same person anymore. I’m saying he didn’t just fill the space you left, and I’m saying the way I love you is different to the way I love him.”

“Fuck,” Johnny says. “Lucky I’m proper in love with you, else I’d be out the fucking door.”

V turns and laughs into his shoulder, and for a moment her laughter slips into a sob, eyes burning again. She presses her lips to his skin and screws her eyes closed. Johnny pulls her up to kiss her and they both melt into it, trading long lazy kisses. She lets the sensation overwhelm her, lets it be her full focus.

She has no clue how much time passes but eventually there’s a pointed throat clearing. V pulls back from Johnny’s lips — they look incredible right now, pink and shiny wet — and looks up.

“Every time I leave, you got your tongues down each other's throats,” the blond Johnny drawls, leaning with his arms crossed against the doorway, shirtless but wearing loose sweatpants.

“Spent six months unable to touch her, can you blame me?” her Johnny grumbles.

“Guess not.”

They get up, and V shepherds Johnny into the shower. When the hot water hits him he groans just as loud as he did during sex, enough that V is surprised the other Johnny doesn’t come to tell them not to fuck.

Both V and blond Johnny don’t really have clothes that fit this Johnny, so he gets back into his pants and hoodie from earlier. When they head back out the blond Johnny is packing the takeout away. The two of them collapse back on the couch, and they’re joined by the blond pretty quickly.

“Hey,” V says as the blond Johnny sits, grabbing him by the hair and pulling him in for a kiss. He returns it easily, and when she pulls back he’s grinning. “Wanna say thanks. For not freaking too bad, for getting along with him.” She gestures to the other Johnny with her head.

“V, I punched the fucker in the face,” he says flatly. “In what universe is that getting along?”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” the other says from beside her. “Think that one was word for fuckin’ word.”

“Just trying to say that it means a lot to me,” she says gently.

He rolls his eyes. “Already got Ker in this mess. What’s one more fucked old rocker?” V laughs, and his hand finds hers. “Bein’ honest?” He looks away from her. “Glad you’re not just fucking off with him.”

She squeezes his hand. “Like you’d get rid of me that easy. You’re stuck with me.”

They sit in silence for a moment, until V decides it's on her to break the ice before things get too awkward. “So what went tits up with your gig tonight?”

Blond Johnny shrugs. “Went a little too loud a little too early.”

V laughs. “When’s Regina gonna learn she can’t keep sending you stealth gigs?”

“When she has another merc who’ll actually finish ‘em.”

“You doing merc work?” the other Johnny asks. “Sounded like you were just lounging around bein’ Ker’s sugar baby.”

“C’mon, he’s destroying my ass, not my fuckin’ dignity,” blond Johnny says with an eye roll.

Her Johnny hesitates, fingers tapping against V’s thigh.

“It’s real good,” blond Johnny says, before the other can bring himself to ask. “Leagues better than strap. Real cocks are hot and fuckin’ twitching, man. He fucks better than Rogue ever did.”

“Jesus,” the other Johnny says quietly.

“When he comes inside, shit. Gross afterward but fuckin’ worth it.”

“And what,” he says, voice strangled, “V watches?”

“Sure, or me or Ker watch.”

V interrupts with a tiny scoff. “You never watch. Too impatient.”

The blond Johnny grins at her, smug and wide. “Oughta force me, then, if that’s what you want.”

V rolls her eyes. “Just correcting you.”

He shrugs. “Sure, so someone watches, or I eat her out while Ker fucks me, or while I fuck him. Or Ker fucks me and I fuck her. Or she fucks me while I blow him, or —”

“V fucks you,” her Johnny interrupts, still strangled, “like with a strap?”

“Oh yeah,” blond Johnny says goadingly.

“Fuck,” her Johnny says, pressing his head into V’s shoulder.

“Do it to you, too,” V promises.

“Or Ker and I just fuck,” blond Johnny adds. If she didn’t know them both stupidly well, she’d believe his casual tone. Instead she can catch the implied barb beneath it. “And V and I fuck. Ain’t always the three of us.”

“How long?”

V glances at the blond as they both try to do the maths. “Uh, like nine months?”

“I dunno. Yeah. Definitely before Mid-Autumn.” He shrugs. “Ker sucks incredible cock, by the way. Prolly still better than me, he’s got decades more experience.” He grins wickedly. “I’ll catch up to him though. Already a better pussy eater, right V?”

“Like I’ve said, I am absolutely not weighing in on this,” V says immediately. “No fucking comment.”

Her Johnny is the one that laughs this time. “Fuckin’ Christ.” He leans into the side of her face. “Will you tell me who’s better?”

“No!” V exclaims, pushing him away, but she’s laughing as he kisses her. He deepens it, slows it down, and both his hands come up to cradle her face. After a moment he pulls back with a broken little noise, bowing his head.

“Shit,” he says quietly, then kisses her again, just as slowly. He pulls back again with another tiny noise, pressing their foreheads together, eyes closed. “You fucked me up bad. Hate it, that I’m so —”

“Hey, I got you,” V says quietly. “You and me, we’re right here. Just me and yourself here, yeah?” Johnny chokes out a laugh and V says, “I’ll fucking stop both of you from being cunts to each other.”

“Good fuckin’ luck,” her Johnny says, pressing his face into the junction of her neck and shoulder. His voice breaks when he speaks and he shudders, leaning further into her.

V remembers how bad it had been, in those early days. She grips into his hair tight, enough he takes a shuddering breath. “I got you.”

“Shit,” the blond Johnny says, quiet and uncertain.

“Like I’m missing the outside layer of my skin,” her Johnny says, answering an unasked question. “Stripped fuckin’ raw. Fuckin’ sensitive. Vulnerable. It fuckin’ sucks.”

“Shit,” blond Johnny says again. He leans against her, kisses her shoulder blade. “Was it like that for you too?”

“Kinda the opposite,” V answers quietly. “Huge gaping hole inside me. Ripped out and bleeding. Like I was hollowed out. Like missing a limb.”

Her Johnny takes a deep shuddering breath, then pushes back from her, trying to play it off. “Fuckin’ anyway,” he says gruffly. “You and Ker.” His gruff and disinterested affect does nothing to hide his hesitance from either of them. “You just fuckin’ him, or…?”

The blond Johnny eyes him for a moment, then seemingly takes pity on him. “Nah, we’re mainlining. Whatever you’re picturing, it’s way fuckin’ better. Show you some of our demos.” He leans back into the couch, staring up at the ceiling. “Fucker grew a pair sometime in the last fifty-something years.”

“In the last four years maybe,” her Johnny says.

Blond Johnny snorts. “V said he socked me one the first time.”

“He did,” her Johnny says absently. “Fucked our face up. Folded right after. Then came up with the reunion gig idea.” He’s silent for a moment. “Can’t fuckin’ believe you’re —” He cuts himself off.

V decides to push her luck. If she were only talking to her Johnny, she’d say it. “You said you loved him,” she says gently.

They both answer at the same time.

“Yeah,” her Johnny says.

The other one says, “Did fucking not.” His gaze snaps around to stare at her Johnny in genuine shock.

Her Johnny huffs, then laughs bitterly. “Loving him didn’t do shit for twenty fuckin’ years.”

“Jesus,” blond Johnny mutters.

“Neither of you are that Johnny Silverhand anymore,” V says quietly.

“No fucking shit,” blond Johnny says, an edge of anger to his words.

“Guess he ain’t that Eurodyne anymore either,” her Johnny muses. “Think he’d let us both fuck him?”

Blond Johnny laughs, a little bitter. “Like he hasn’t been dreaming of fucking two Johnny Silverhands most his fucking life.”

“He’s got one. Maybe he shouldn’t have another.”

“I ain’t keeping this from him,” blond Johnny says with surprising certainty. “You wanna fuck off, good fucking riddance, but he’ll be pissed.”

“Mainlining. Nine months,” her Johnny says quietly. “You really haven’t fucked it up?”

“No fuckin’ faith, huh?”

“Nope.”

Blond Johnny humphs. “Haven’t fucked it up.” He takes a deep breath. “V’s pretty good at keeping me in line.”

To her surprise, the other Johnny breaks into a wide grin. “Hah, don’t love her my ass,” he crows. Blond Johnny crosses his arms and turns away. “How long it take? Two weeks? Three?”

“Pretty sure you were tryin’ to kill her for a month,” blond Johnny grumbles.

Her Johnny sniffs. “Extenuating circumstances. First few weeks hardly counted.”

“Think I liked it better when you were fighting,” V says numbly. She is joking, but it’s a near thing. Her face is on fucking fire with how hard she’s blushing.

“Oh, we’re still fighting,” blond Johnny says lazily. “How long, really?”

“Time was like a blur in her head,” the other Johnny says thoughtfully. “Dunno. After the oil fields.”

“Month and a half,” V supplies quietly.

“Told me I fucked up everything we had together without blinking. Unafraid to piss me off even when I was killin’ her. Took me up on a second chance anyway.”

“Christ,” the blond Johnny says. “Did the same fuckin’ thing.”

“Yeah?”

“Fucked it all up, asked for a second shot. ‘Cept after she said yes I fucked Ker, pretty sure you didn’t do that.”

“Well,” V says slowly, a tiny grin tugging at her lips, “technically he fucked you.”

Blond Johnny laughs. “Same fuckin’ difference.”

“How’d you even meet her? Said somethin’ about a junk —”

Blond Johnny interrupts before his counterpart can even finish the sentence, well before V can answer.

“I’m walkin’ around, between gigs, been in this stupid fuckin’ body for ‘bout two weeks. Everything’s fucked up and different and I can’t even get into the Afterlife, let alone in front of Rogue. Then this fuckin’ chick grabs my arm, and she’s like Hey, it’s me! and I obviously think she’s whacked, tell her to fuck off. Then she goes Johnny Silverhand, right? and,” he gestures vaguely at the air, “y’know, whatever.”

“You know, whatever? Surprised you didn’t smash her face in.”

“Oh, he did,” V chimes in. She runs her fingers over the scar on her lip. “Pistol whipped me. After shoving me into an alleyway with a gun against my head.”

V sees her Johnny’s jaw twitch. “That scar?”

Before V can speak, the blond says, “Offered her to give me one, make it even. Turned me down.”

“I’ll do it,” her Johnny says immediately. “V, lemme fuckin’ do it.”

“God, can we — not now,” she says, pleading.

“C’mon, what did you expect?” the blond says. “Some stranger tellin’ me all about how I fuckin’ murdered Alt and she knows that ‘cause she’s absorbed all my fuckin’ memories?”

“Christ, lucky I didn’t shoot you,” her Johnny says breathlessly. “You opened with Alt?”

“Opened with the Tower,” she says, a little quiet. “Went to Alt when that didn’t work.”

“Fuckin’ hated you,” blond Johnny says easily. “Then bringing up fucking Kerry a couple weeks later — miracle I didn’t give up on you then and fuckin’ there.”

“Why didn’t you?” her Johnny asks, real quiet.

The blond one turns away, jaw suddenly tense. “Ran into her at Red Dirt. We fucked.” He sighs. “Why d’you fuckin’ think?”

“Woulda been easy,” her Johnny says through clenched teeth. “She’s all over you and you don’t even gotta care.”

V takes a deep breath.

“Sure, yeah,” the blond Johnny says. “That lasted, Christ, three weeks? Four? Some kid who knows every fuckin’ mean thought I have, every worst fuckin’ impulse, doesn’t go running? Doesn’t roll over when I’m a cunt? Pushes back against me, refuses to take my bullshit, makes me wanna be better? Fuck, man, ain’t that what you see in her too?”

Her Johnny laughs, and he sounds relieved. “And she’s funny, and whip smart, and hot as all hell —”

“Alright, okay, enough,” V says desperately, face on fire again.

“Look at you,” her Johnny says fondly. “Blushin’ harder than when you were comin’ on my cock.”

V screws her eyes closed, facing straight ahead on the couch. “Yeah, well, I love you ‘cause you never let me get complacent,” she blurts out. “Always make me confront shit I don’t wanna, make me decide what I wanna be. So passionate and headstrong. And I know you’ll always fucking be there, even when I think I don’t want you to be.”

She turns to her Johnny, who is staring at her, wide-eyed. “You fuckin’ believed in me when no-one else did. Got me through hell and back again. Knew I could do better and made me work for it. Fucking died for me.”

She turns to the blond Johnny. He’s also staring, face flush. “And you saw that I was fucked up when no-one else did. Let me fuck up and be weird and empty and gave me space to grow my fuckin’ soul back. Trusted me more’n you shoulda.”

Blond Johnny blushes harder and then grabs her desperately and kisses her. The other one leans his head against her shoulder and mutters, “Jesus fucking Christ, V.”

She pulls away from the blond Johnny, leaving on hand cupping his cheek as she turns to kiss the other one, loose and easy. His hand rests on her knee and then moves slightly higher, up the inside of her thigh.

“Fuck,” her Johnny says. “We’re really gonna have’ta share.”

The blond Johnny laughs at that. “Shit, fuckin’ obviously. Does it even count?”

“Counts,” her Johnny says curtly.

“Speakin’ of sharin’,” the blond Johnny says mildly, “Ker’s on his way. Texted him a bit ago.”

V leans back against the couch with a long sigh. “Fucking hell, couldn’t wait? Or give us a warning?”

“This is your warning,” blond Johnny says.

“Shit,” V says, trying to run through how the hell Kerry is going to react — how the hell they should break it to him. “Hey, uh, don’t ‘spose one of you feels like going by, I dunno, John or… or Robert, uh, Bob? Or something? To make this easier?”

“Fuck no,” they both say. The blond one laughs and the other scowls.

“What’d you tell Kerry to get him to come here anyway?” V asks.

“Said it was urgent. Not a sex thing. Prolly gonna show up thinking someone’s dying,” blond Johnny drawls.

“Yeah, great,” her Johnny says scathingly. He stands up. “Gonna get some beers.”

As soon as he steps away the blond leans pulls her in for a long, lazy kiss. She goes gladly, indulging him. He sighs against her, bumping their noses affectionately.

“The hell we gonna do when Kerry gets here?” she says softly. She feels relaxed and loose, though the thought of Kerry’s reaction is a slight tug toward worry.

“Fuck him, hopefully,” Johnny says, matching her gentle tone.

She grins and laughs breathily, leaning into him. “Know him better than me. He gonna handle it?”

Johnny kisses her again, licking into her mouth. He pulls her lip out as he pulls back, then releases it. “No fucking clue.” He kisses her again, a little deeper. “He’ll come ‘round. Gettin’ fucked by both of us at once is way too fuckin’ hot for him to not wanna.”

She laughs again, and Johnny kisses at her jaw as she leans back. “Yeah? Which end you want first?”

“Gettin’ me worked up again,” he says lowly as his hand slips under her shirt, brushing against her stomach. “Dunno. Ker would look fuckin’ nova with my dick in his mouth.” He shrugs. “Also might wanna fuck the other guy proper.”

V laughs. “Fuck, seriously?”

“Problem?”

She laughs again, pressing her nose against Johnny’s. “Nah. Surprised, maybe. You’re fucking ridiculous. I love you.”

He lets out a choked laugh. “Shit, V. Hands down the most fucked up time you’ve said that.”

“Hey,” the other Johnny calls from the kitchen, “you got any beers that aren’t garbage in this goddamn apartment?”

Johnny pulls away from her and twists on the couch to look over the back toward the kitchen. “Not my fault this fuckin’ body likes IPAs. And god knows V’s taste is awful.”

“Fuckin’ tell me about it,” the other replies, no longer raising his voice. He strolls back over, three beers in hand. “Months I had to drink her shitty sour beers. Fuckin’ months.”

“You’re both assholes,” V says with absolutely no bite at all.

“And you’re a dick,” blond Johnny says with a grin, “and we fit together, blah blah blah.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” her Johnny says, passing the beers to his counterpart and then bracing his arms against the back of the couch, either side of her head. He heaves out a giant sigh, kisses her temple, then vaults the couch to thump down beside her. The blond Johnny hands him a beer. “Alright,” he says, “show me some of your fuckin’ demos.”