Title: Waiting for the Rain [to Come]
Pairing: Brook Lynn Ashton/Johnny Zacchara
Rating: PG
AN: No set timeline but Claudia is still alive.
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A heat wave hits Port Charles that summer. The days are hot and sunny; the nights are muggy and dry. Brook Lynn wants to hate the weather, blame it for all her problems but that isn't the case. The heat wave is just another frustration added on and it doesn't help distract her from what she is really missing—dark eyes and broad hands, a whisper of a rough voice against her ear.
She misses Johnny.
Brook Lynn makes her way over to the balcony of their apartment, grabs up her guitar on the way outside and takes a seat on one of the padded chairs. She tucks her feet underneath her, skin feeling sticky and hot. She brushes a lock of hair away from her face in frustration before tapping her guitar gently, relaxing herself. She plays a note, and then another, plucks at the strings carefully no real beat before her fingers start strumming away finding a melody. Her eyes close of their own accord and she bites at her lip, head tilting to the side as she listens carefully. She hums, a soft sound accompanying the string of notes—the music her fingers make.
She thinks of Johnny underneath every sound.
She hopes he is safe.
The night air is almost suffocating but she tries to get lost in the music instead… shut away the troublesome thoughts trying to make their way through. Port Charles hasn't rained since Johnny left almost three weeks ago now and she still hasn't heard a word. She doesn't want to think of it as a sign. And when things get to be too much, a little voice in the back of her mind tells her to trust her instincts—Johnny's okay… he isn't leaving anytime soon… he made a promise (I'm coming back, Brook. I always come back.")
Brook Lynn doesn't even notice her fingers moving furiously over the strings of her guitar, fast and hard and unthinking. It's absolutely beautiful in all its chaotic rhythm, hypnotic and haunting. Her eyes lock on the way her fingers move—pluck of strings and glide of fingers. She lets herself get lost in it all, welcomes the distraction she has been craving from the heat and uncertainty surrounding her.
She doesn't hear the balcony door slide open, too focused, too far gone.
The tempo picks up before she lets it wind back down… fingers moving slower now when she feels a touch against her shoulder and she gasps, stands up and whirls around with her guitar as a block.
"Whoa, hey! Brook, it's me. I didn't mean to scare you."
Brook attempts to get her racing heart back under control. The guitar is still held up protectively between them and her eyes are wide, disbelieving. It only takes her a moment (or two) to really look him over, make sure she isn't imagining things—the heat can be a real bitch of a thing, playing mind tricks on you.
"Joh—Johnny?"
"Yeah." And he smiles at her, a curl of lips at the corners only marred by the split and bruise he's sporting.
"What—" She breathes out, placing the guitar on the chair and stepping closer. She has so many questions but settles on, "What happened to you?"
"Long story," he offers softly, grimace on his face.
"I've got time." Brook bites back, letting the anger win over the concern. "It's been weeks, John. Weeks and not one damn word. Your sister wouldn't even—"
"I know. And I'm sorry. I got back here as soon as I could. Things just got a little messed up for awhile."
She backs up a little, gives herself some room feeling angry and annoyed. The tension in her shoulders only grows; the unease in her chest deepens and she feels the walls come up.
"Hey, hey, come on, don't." Johnny's face creases, concern etched in the frown lines on his forehead. "I'm sorry." He steps closer and she doesn't step away this time. He grips her arms in his hands, thumbs rubbing over the skin soothingly. Johnny leans forward, tucks his head in against the side of her face as he inhales and nuzzles his nose and mouth against her cheek. "I'm so sorry… about Claudia and my dad and taking this job and everything, okay? I didn't mean to scare you."
Brook can't stop her arms from wrapping around him even if she wanted to. She holds on to him but she doesn't let her body sink against his like it wants to; she still needs to hold back for the moment.
"You did," she reveals, soft and honest.
"Sorry," he mumbles, chastised and apologetic.
"John… how bad?"
He sighs, breath puffing out against the top of her head. He unbuttons his shirt, takes her hand in his and moves it under the white tank he's wearing and her fingers trail over skin and… bandages. A square patch of gauze over his lower right abdomen. Her fingers caress the seams of tape. He doesn't stop, drags her hand further up… another bandage along his chest so close to where his heart beats she actually shudders, closes her eyes and forgets to breathe for a minute. "It isn't—"
"Don't tell me what it isn't, Johnny. Don't," she hisses against his jaw. "You could have—"
"I didn't. I'm okay." He interrupts emphatically, voice a soothing pitch. He kisses her temple, her cheek (where a tear tracks down slowly), her jaw, the corner of her mouth (eliciting a hiccup of a sound)… and finally her lips, a meeting of mouths and she knows he feels her lips tremble against his. "Shhh, I'm fine, Brook. I made you a promise. I wasn't going to—"
His words break off as she moves in willingly; her body falls right against his as she lets her walls crumble down and take him in. Johnny is here; he's okay. He wasn't before but he is now and that is all that really matters because he is back with her. Safe and sound and here.
"I missed you so much," she whispers against his throat.
He chuckles, a low thrum vibrating against her skin. "You're all I could think about. Even when—" he clears his throat rubs his palms over her shoulders, down her back, and then to rest against her hips. "I think I was hallucinating at some point… could have been the heat or the blood loss, maybe the fever," he admits wryly. "But I thought I saw your face, heard your voice. I don't know… it just felt real," he finishes with a nervous laugh.
Brook Lynn lets that sink in even as her fingers trace a path over the gauze. She can feel his heartbeat under her fingertips, steady and strong. She wants to be mad—at his father, his sister (who wouldn't tell her a damn thing), his job—and she kind of is, feels it simmer, but she knew what she was getting into when they started this thing between them. She settles on being relieved instead—palm resting flat over the wound on his chest—and tucking her face against Johnny's neck and breathing him in.
"Are you okay?" He asks breaking the quiet.
She sniffles, nods against his skin. "Damn heat wave."
"Yeah," he whispers, taking her chin between thumb and pointer finger and tilting her head up to look into Brook's eyes. "You sure?" She bites her lip, nods. "Come here," Johnny says, pulling her closer and she leans in, bracing forward to catch his lips in a soft kiss, reassuring them both.
---
Brook Lynn watches Johnny as he sleeps. His bare chest rises and falls with every breath. Her fingers itch to trace over the bandages on his body but she knows he needs his rest so she doesn't. She makes her way out of bed slipping on Johnny's dress shirt and buttoning it up as she wanders outside where she'd forgotten her guitar. The air is still humid but she catches the faint smell of moisture in the air… looks like the rain might be coming after all. Brook smiles at the thought, lingering outside for awhile longer before grabbing up her guitar and heading back inside. Closing the door, she feels arms wrap around her and she jumps.
"When'd you get to be so quiet?" She huffs on a laugh.
Johnny chuckles, holds her close. "I don't know. When did you get to be so jumpy?" He shoots back, brushing his lips over the bared skin of her shoulder where his shirt has fallen off. She doesn't say 'every time the phone rang and I thought it'd be someone telling me you were dead' but she thinks it. She stays quiet, simply grabs his arm with her free hand and wraps it tighter around her. She leans her head back against his chest making sure to avoid his wounds.
"Think it'll rain soon?"
"Maybe." Brook Lynn hums quietly. "I hope so."
Johnny trails more kisses along her skin. "Let's go back to bed," he says on a yawn making them both laugh.
"I'll meet you there. Need to put this away first," she explains. Brook can't resist looking when he walks away. She just needs that little extra reassurance to let her know that this is real... Johnny is back and he is going to be fine. When she puts her guitar away she walks past the balcony, making sure it's locked and smiling wide at the raindrops that hit the door.
Things are definitely looking up.
And when she hears Johnny call her name from their bedroom—laughing as he tells her to hurry up—her smile grows that much wider.
She still has questions but they can wait until later.
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