Author's Note: I show my face during hiatus to write a fic for a new fandom. I am a silly bean.

Pillow Talk
by: mazzie may

Johnny's been drifting in and out of sleep for the last three hours. The evening's activities had worn him down to the soul, in the most perfect way possible.

It's all thanks to the unbelievable woman lying next to him. He's still not entirely sure why she came over. She's in town for some training seminar, and she called him out of the blue for a late dinner. Truth be told, Johnny already had a date for the night, but backed out of it quickly to make time for her.

That's a burned bridge.

Oh well.

It was well into the night when he told her she's welcome to a guest room. Not a minute after showing her to one, there was a knock on his door. She let herself in and closed it behind her, and everything that followed after charged his bones.

Exhaustion settled on him quickly when they were through, but Johnny was afraid to go to sleep. To wake up and find her gone, taken, or worse—she left of her own free will.

She's still here, though. Laying on her back to his left, where Johnny has his arms crossed beneath his pillow, dozing on his stomach.

"What's the word, bird?" he asks sleepily, fighting off another nap. He can tell she's wide awake; sleeping people don't keep so still.

There's a stiff hesitance, and it's enough to open his eyes.

"I don't know what got into me," Sonya says after a moment.

"I got into you, sugar."

She's not so far away that she can't reach out and smack him. "Shut up," and the scowl in her voice makes her face easy to imagine. "I just mean…"

Johnny turns his head so he's facing her. There's enough light cutting across the room to trace her perfect body beneath the sheet.

"I know what you mean," he admits, his eyes once again betraying him to sleep. Here it comes. The fucking speech about how this can't mean anything, and for him to just forget about it. She'll make him swear to secrecy with threats of tactical violence, most likely directed at his impressive package.

"I can't believe you just let me in here."

Eyes have no problem being open now.

Uh.

Alright?

"Why...not?" he asks, a twinge of nervousness creasing his brow. She doesn't say anything right away. "If you're about to tell me you used to be a man—" A painfully annoyed scoff is heard from her side of the bed. "—I'm willing to not talk about it."

"You're so stupid," she hisses. "That's exactly what I'm talking about!"

It's his turn to press silence. "...Okay?"

"I just show up out of the blue, and am doing things I'd never do—"

"Not never," Johnny insists, put out by her pointing out the rarity of the situation.

"I'd never do," she continues, as he pouts. "I could have been anyone, posing as me, and you could be dead."

"This is brushing against the you're-actually-a-man theory."

"I could have killed you."

Johnny takes a slow breath through his nose. Her statement is quiet and a little sad. "I had you at your most vulnerable, with no obstruction. You're way too trusting, and that happens with stupid people."

There's a beat, and then Johnny is pushing himself up to roll on his side and face her. "Honey, baby, your pillow talk sucks."

He reaches out to grab at the three thousand thread count sheet she's hiding her incredible breasts with, and she swats his hand away. "You're not taking this seriously."

"Okay, secretly-a-murderer-Sonya; if you think…" He pauses. "Who's attacking us via sexy time? Doesn't matter," he decides before she can list anyone off.

"What makes you think I'm me?"

She doesn't say anything right away, and he rolls with her silence. "I could be, I could be… uhm. Shang Tsung. Oh my God," he interrupts himself. "Please don't be Shang Tsung. Because fuck you, if you are."

"You already did. Without a second thought."

"Is this what we're doing right now?" he asks. "Please tell me this is not what we're doing right now. If we have the energy to argue, I'd rather we return to the part where I was inside you."

Her sigh is disgruntled. "Jesus Christ, Cage."

"You're capable of using my first name," he smirks. "Or can you only call it out—ouch."

He can't see it, but there's probably a red spot on his chest where she's slapped her palm.

"Will it kill you to be serious?"

"It might. That a risk you're willing to take?"

"It'd be a change."

"Here lies Johnny 'Stud Muffin' Cage—" Johnny makes a wide gesture with his arm. "Took something serious and then died."

He can hear her smile, and it's a smidge of a hollow victory. Why does she derive so much pleasure in his pain? How totally star-crossed.

"I'm not Shang Tsung," Sonya says lightly.

"Well, thank God."

"Or used to be a guy."

"The miracles continue," he says, his voice softening. "Now that we're clear on the whole not-a-sorcerer thing, what's actually on your mind?"

Sonya rolls onto her side, away from him. When he puts a hand on her shoulder, she doesn't shrug it off. He takes it as a go-ahead, and moves closer, wrapping one arm around her waist, pulling her towards him. She lifts her head as a silent cue to for him to rest his other arm beneath her neck. "Talk to me."

"I can reason with Kano."

Jiminey Crickets, this girl always surprises him.

"He's a twisted business man, but he's a businessman. He likes to wheel and deal. As much as I hate his guts, I'm glad he's at the top of the Black Dragon pyramid. If the conditions are favourable, he's up for nearly anything."

Johnny says nothing, recognizing that it is not his turn to talk. Instead, he presses a kiss to her neck.

"He's smart, smart enough to know not to touch you." He raises his eyebrows at that. "I've been stupid and obvious," she says in frustration, clearly aimed at herself. "I try not to have people know me, because when they do, I… I can't hide anything.

"It's...a poorly kept secret. How I feel." A beat. "About you."

At that, he lets out a surprised chuckle. "Had me fooled, baby."

"You, Liu Kang, maybe even Raiden." She shakes her head. "But not Jax. And if he knows, Kano knows."

So there it is. Her finally admitting that there's something real there, here, between them, right now. So where's the feeling of victory, success, elation?

Why does it feel like it sucks?

"Kano knows that between Wrexler and laying hands on you," she huffs. "He knows there is nowhere he could go, nowhere that could keep me from peeling his skin off."

"Hot."

"Jarek is different," she goes on, ignoring him.

Johnny's eyes narrow in thought. Jarek. Not a name he's familiar with.

She shifts slightly, but Johnny doesn't say anything about it. It's a subtle cuddle, and Sonya will move further away if he points it out.

He presses his lips to the back of her shoulder. "How is this Jarek different?"

She sighs. "I can't tell his he's crazy stupid, crazy smart, or just crazy-crazy. I do know he aims to maim. Kano tortures to get information. He's good at it. He takes pride in it.

"For Jarek, it's fun. A thrill. My search for Kano was off the clock, personal. Jarek is my target. He's used a lot of blood to get away from his pursuers, hurting their family, their friends. That's why I got the job. I didn't have anyone to lose."

Johnny closes his eyes, cringing. Hearing that hurts his heart. Poor Sonya; losing everything and then hearing that'll do some good. His one-armed hold on her tightens.

"Now I have you," and her voice gets just a touch smaller, and it nearly kills him.

No wonder she pushed away his advancements—she only refused him in public. Where there are eyes and ears. Falling in love is the last luxury she has, and it's her biggest crack in the armor.

Johnny Cage is the crack in her armor.

"He's why I shut you out, after the second tournament. When those reporters caught us at the Lakers game, I had to put serious distance between us. Make everyone believe it was a one off thing that didn't matter."

He blows out a slow breath. No wonder she pulled a one-eighty from the begrudging acceptance of his feelings to someone that forgets he exists when he leaves her line of sight.

"He enjoys what he does—using people to hurt others. You could beat him in a straight fight, so he wouldn't give you the chance," she says. "He'd just shoot you. All to ruin my life, and shake my resolve. My willingness to take him out."

It's now that Johnny's reminded of just what exactly it is that Sonya does for a living. On the silver screen, Johnny's the hero that topples warlords and crime syndicate leaders. She does it for real, though, and it's not nearly so glamorous.

"Oh, honey," he sighs, pressing another kiss to her neck. "I'd take a bullet for you. In a heartbeat."

"No."

His chest tightens when she turns him away. She might care about him, but she doesn't trust him. Which is somehow more painful.

Apparently his disappointment is rather thinly veiled, and Sonya slowly slides her hand down the arm across her waist.

"...You're not an acceptable loss."

Well, he'll be damned—

"Not anymore."

—ah-ha, there it is.

"Really. Was that last bit necessary?" he chides, mock pouting. "Was it," he asks again, pulling her closer, until her back is flush against his chest. She lets out a breathy laugh, allowing herself to be cuddled.

They stay like that, breathing in tandem, just being. They're quiet long enough that Johnny's begun to drift back to sleep, but he thinks she says something about wanting to stay with him is worth the risk.

Or maybe he dreamed that part.

()

Real or not, in the morning (well, later in the morning; it's almost noon), she's still there, much to his pleasant surprise. At some point, he'd rolled away from her, but Sonya adorably followed. Her forehead is resting against his shoulder blade, and her hands are curled slightly at his lower back. When he turns to face her, Sonya's eyes open at once. It's hard to tell if she's been awake or not; her being a light sleeper would absolutely be in character.

It's fine when she goes against character, as far Johnny's concerned: lazy Sunday morning sex isn't anything she'd be up for, he thought.

That myth is wonderfully busted.

When he gets out of the shower, he finds her on the edge of his bed, toweling the ends of her hair. He'd never really noticed its length until he had to mind where it was fanned out across the sheets.

Sonya looks up at him, and after a moment her cheeks turn pink. "What?" she half-demands, struggling to maintain eye contact. It's then he realizes he's staring, and can only guess how much affection his look holds.

"Want some coffee, baby?" he asks, raking his hair back.

She takes in a sharp breath, about to reprimand him for the term of endearment. Her cheeks just turn a touch more red as she lets it go.

"...Yeah. I would."

She's nearly dressed, where he's just in a pair of basketball shorts with CAGE scrawled along the sides.

Johnny stops himself in the doorway.

"What time..." he begins, trying not to let his disappointment show. "...Do you want to go home?"

Sonya doesn't say anything right away, and he looks back her. Her blush has spread down her and he raises an eyebrow.

Clearly bouncing something around her brain, she shyly looks at the carpet.

"...I was… I was thinking that…"

He raises both eyebrows. "What's up, buttercup?"

Her answered is mumbled.

"Say what, now?"

She flicks her eyes to him, glaring over having to repeat herself.

"I said," Sonya snaps, sounding far too put out for someone that brought the scrutiny on herself.

"...that I was already home."

They both hold their breath.

The stunned silence forces its way between them like it pays rent.

Johnny recovers first, his surprise swelling into a grin.

"Welcome home, baby."

The fearful look in her eyes melts into guarded relief.

"...Yeah. Thanks."

Author's Note: In a perfect world, this would be my return to writing. Might stick around here for a while, before returning to my known work. I hope the weather's nice where you are. Review if you could!