Johnny Silverhand

Johnny had been busy entertaining Kerry, who was only in town for two more days, but Johnny had convinced to go enjoy a day of being a tourist on his own today. He loved the fucker, would miss him when he fucked back off to New York, but- He also could only deal with that love-sick puppy-dog gaze for so long. He needed a break- And to grab a couple of shirts he'd left at John's

"Open up, choom. I just need to grab my shit," he said as he knocked. Though it wasn't John who opened the door- It was some dinky looking twink in desperate need of a haircut.

"You're not the man who brings the fried fish," Fawn noted, tilting his head and leaning in to give Johnny a curious sniff.

"Who the actual fuck are you, and what middle school did John steal you from?" Johnny asked flatly.

"I am fawn, I don't go to school. ...I like your arm, it's shiny," the fae noted, reaching to touch it- Only to be lightly swatted away by Johnny.

(from here)

Johnny followed him in, peeling his shirt off over his head, his dog tags settling against his chest. The boots were next, but there was nothing methodical in the way he undressed, it was all about convenience. When he was down to just his leather pants, he pushed John back onto the bed.