7
The more things change (the more they stay the same)
Dhamily Day 3: Johann
"Babe, I think there's a crawler in the shed," Dante says as he walks into their kitchen, an armful of logs in his arms. He deposits them with a thud before turning to Johann with his hands on his hips, the most disgruntled expression on his ordinarily handsome face. The black eye he'd gotten the previous week has finally begun to heal and looking at him no longer makes Johann want to get out his knives and stab things. He hums nonchalantly all the same and takes a long sip of his whiskey-spiked coffee. Dante rolls his eyes theatrically. "Good morning Babe," he says loudly.
"Good morning, Beloved," Johann replies and spins around on his stool giving him his full attention. "Now, what was it that you were saying?"
"There's a crawler in the shed," Dante repeats, and the emphasis is not lost on Johann. He shrugs all the same; a crawler is hardly the worst thing that has happened to them in recent years.
"Did you kill it?"
Dante looks at him, one bushy eyebrow arched in such a manner that it looks like a caterpillar inching across his face. "It was dark," he admits after a bit, "I heard rustling and got out of dodge." Johann stares at him blankly, and it hardly takes a moment longer for Dante to start squirming and making excuses. "I killed the last two!" He exclaims plaintively, "It's someone else's turn to get brain matter all over their shoes. I just got these sneakers."
"From a corpse," Johann reminds him dryly.
"Well, it's not like the fellow was going to need them anymore," Dante says and shrugs. Although his words are entirely correct, Johann still gives him the look that that comment deserves, and Dante has the grace to look faintly ashamed. "I'm just saying," he mumbles and retreats to the sink to scrub his hands clean of sawdust Johann internally counts how many seconds the water runs for as he finishes off the last of his tea, pulling a slight face when he swallows down the dregs but he can hardly let it go to waste when Riche had personally grown these mint leaves for him. Of the three, she was the most skilled at not killing every plant in a hundred-mile vicinity and had been tasked with maintaining their meager garden. Sometimes they reaped carrots, mint, and potatoes from it, but mostly it was just weeds and other inedible foliage. Even the Earth has begun to turn away from them it seemed, not that he could blame her, considering what a mess of the place they'd made. A hand touches his knee's bare skin, drawing him out of his thoughts with a jolt. He lifts his eyes and finds Dante standing before him, an intense look on his face, as his hand brushes up Johann's thigh. There is a question in the purposeful gesture and Johann sees no reason not to answer it. He readjusts on his stool and spreads his legs, allowing Dante to step between them — his hands moving to rest on the counter — bracketing Johann in.
Johann lets a smile grow on his face, eyes wandering over Dante's everything with leisurely attention. "Like what you see?" Dante asks immediately and flexes one of his well-built arms. Because it is Dante, and he knows well how self-conscious the other man can be, Johann does not tease him for his question and instead leans closer to brush their noses together. "Yes," he says softly, infusing all of the tenderness he feels towards him within that one word. Dante's whole face lights up as if someone had implanted a light bulb in his skin and turned the wattage up to maximum. A hand traces the contours of his cheek, mapping it until fingers come to settle under his chin and tilt his head into position. Dante stares at him for a heartbeat, hunger in his golden eyes, before he closes the distance between them and presses their lips together. It's chaste and pure and unbearably sweet. Johann could exchange such saccharine kisses with Dante for all of eternity, would so willingly, but the beast in his belly desires more and he's never been good about telling himself no. Reaches out, fingers curling in Dante's hair and holding his head in place as he licks his lips. Feels them part and dives in to plunder without hesitation, rumbling in contentment as he does. Draws back and licks his lips in satisfaction, all the more pleased when he sees the red hue spreading on Dante's expressive face. It makes him want to kiss him again and again. So he does, hauls Dante closer by his tank top, and kisses him like he means to never let him go.
"Oh gross, get a room!"
Vanitas, Johann's brain supplies dutifully, and he reluctantly pauses to rest his forehead against Dante's. Dante has become the same coloration as a tomato now, his hands tangled in Johann's shirt and looking seconds away from losing all restraint. It's a good look on him; Johann decides and goes to kiss him again. Hears a screech and just barely ducks in time to avoid the attack he knows is coming. And come it does, with the loud pchit as something wet lands on his skin and hair. Johann sits frozen for a heartbeat while Dante reels back with an angry shout. He turns his head slowly and sees Vanitas with a spray bottle in hand.
"Get a room," the rat repeats, hissing like a disgruntled cat. He holds it higher in what he considers a clear threat, but it would perhaps be more effective if he wasn't wearing the equivalent of a tent. Although it is a shirt in theory that he must have nicked from someone, on Vanitas' scrawny frame it looks like a knee-length dress. There's some kind of graphic on the front, a bowl of soup he realizes after a bout of squinting and chalks it up to yet another case of Vanitas making no sense. Turns to his boyfriend, intending to commiserate about the rat they had so graciously allowed to live in their basement, only to see that his cheeks are still very red. Johann sighs loudly, pointedly, and with just a hint of exasperation. Dante's eyes snap up from where they had been lingering on Vanitas' exposed collarbone and he blushes harder.
"Quack, I don't know if you are aware but we're in a room," he says, gesturing at the walls surrounding them.
"Get yourself into a smaller room," Vanitas snaps as he stalks past him, like he expects them to simply let him go. His hair is loose today, hanging down almost to his lower back and thus the perfect length for Johann to sink his fingers into. Unceremoniously, if somewhat gently, he reals the newcomer into the prison cell of his arms and ignores his disgruntled squawking in favor of depositing an intentionally loud kiss on his forehead. The little shit wails like he's been stabbed, but Johann is used to it. For someone so small, Vanitas' lung capacity is awe-inspiring, although the things he deigns to use it for are less so.
"Good morning, Brat," Johann says sweetly, smiling with all his teeth. "I believe we've already discussed how using the spray bottles on our housemates isn't good etiquette, didn't we?"
Vanitas glowers at him, his arms awkwardly squished in front of his chest, cheeks puffed out into a pronounced sulk. "Was that before or after the discussion about PDA?" He asks snidely, "I wasn't listening." Tilts his head haughtily, ostensibly so he can maintain better eye contact with Johann, but it also has the lovely effect of revealing the length of his skin with its expanse of pale unmarked skin. Johann swiftly cuts his eyes to Dante and sees the same thought written in large letters all over his face.
"That's no good, Quack," Dante rumbles and steps closer, neatly sandwiching Vanitas between the two of them. "Cohabitation is all about communication; we've discussed this. How are we supposed to survive this disaster if we can't talk among each other like adults?"
It is a reasonable point, albeit slightly ruined by the way Dante's hand is visibly inching its way downwards. Johann bites his lip to withhold his snort of amusement, although he's not fool enough to think that Vanitas hasn't noticed. Oblivious the man is not, and even now he's shamelessly shifting his weight about so that his leg brushes against Johann's thigh. Johann helpfully slumps down, stretching his legs out so that he can encase Dante in them as well. Gathers his fistful of his boy's hair and lifts it to his lips, idly kissing the silky strands. They smell like Dante's shampoo, a mixture of cinnamon and something floral. "Shall we discuss this as adults do then, my dears?"
Vanitas' lips twitch before parting but what emerges from his mouth is a breathy whine rather than the no doubt scathing response he'd planned. He slaps a hand over his mouth, looking at first mortified, but then a gleam appears in his eyes and he lowers his hand releasing the loudest and most sensuous of cries. No doubt intending to embarrass Dante into withdrawing his hand. It has the opposite effect, however, for Dante merely turns even redder and tips forwards to thump his head against Vanitas' neck. Cute, Johann thinks fondly before speaking out loud. "Riche and Noé are out on a supply run; you need not worry, my dear. Be as loud as you like." Winks as he stops talking and then leans down to brush his lips against the shell of Vanitas' ear, gives it a quick lick just to make him snort and then whispers directly into it. "Or would you like me to make you mewl, kitten?" Vanitas twitches as if a spark of electricity had coursed through him. His ear has gone very pink.
"As if you could, S-sweetcheeks," he replies, and Johann cringes at the horrid nickname, "if anything, I should be the one making you squeal." Looks up through his eyelashes as he speaks, a sultry smirk on his face and his lips are very pink. Pink and round and in desperate need of being kissed. Johann brushes his thumb across them, relishing in how they part instinctively and then slips his thumb inside to rest against Vanitas's tongue. A beat passes, hardly more than a second, before Vanitas closes his mouth and sucks on it. He barely bats an eye as Johann pushes it in as far as it'll go until his index rests against those pretty lips. His other hand, which up until then had been resting possessively on Vanitas' hip strokes upwards until it reached the back of his neck. He gives the gentlest squeeze, more of a request than an order or even a suggestion but Vanitas willingly goes. Drops to his knees right there in the middle of the kitchen, without ever once ceasing to lavish Johann's tongue with attention. He's still looking up through his eyelashes, impossibly long as they are, and there is a softness to his eyes that is a sight rarer than a pleasant day in this hellscape they call home. Carefully, Johann shifts his hand and slips his index in to join his thumb. Watches as Vanitas's eyelashes flutter shut and he sighs through his nose.
Johann hears a groan, knows it to be Dante by its singular roughness and smirks. In moments like these, he finds he doesn't mind that Vanitas has joined their little entanglement, if only because it enables him to see a new side of Dante that would not have been possible otherwise. And he loves every side and aspect of his darling grouch of a best friend, loves the snarky brat they'd stumbled across just as much even if it had taken him a long time to admit it. In the beginning, it had just been him, Riche, and Dante, three recent college graduates struggling to make it in the cruel world. The only joy in his life came from what his two friends could provide him, and for a time he had thought that to be enough until rumors started to come down through the grapevine. Whispers of something monstrous and nasty having been spawned in the Capitol city. The most prevalent theory appeared to be that King Ruthven's jilted lover had unleashed a dark creation in a feat of spite. Personally, Johann found that rumor to be ridiculous for one didn't unleash the equivalent of mythological monsters onto a city full of people just because they'd been fucked and dumped. Then again, Johann couldn't exactly claim to understand the upper class either.
When the rumors had become a reality, he'd packed up Dante and Riche and thus had begun their year-long flight across the globe, eventually settling down in some coastal territory away from the vast majority of civilization. Along the way they had picked up Vanitas — an online friend that Dante had known since middle school — and his travel companion Noé, who had brought along his cat and absolutely zero survival skills. It had been a long road trip, but they had made it, somehow, and now here he was staring down at the man he'd once thought he'd rather stab than kiss. Vanitas blinks at him inquisitively and Johann responds by pulling his fingers free, heart hammering as it catches sight of the thin trail of saliva trailing from fingertip to lip. Wipes it on Vanitas' cheek and laughs when he immediately looks disgruntled and rubs his cheek on his shoulder. "Cute~"
"Fuck you," Vanitas hisses.
"No, thank you, but you're welcome to blow me, darling. That is," pauses to let the tension build briefly, "if you can even fit all of me into your mouth." Vanitas' squawk of outrage is music to Johann's ears; it sends him off into peels of giggles and renders him too slow to react as Vanitas all but pounces on him, fingers tucking angrily at his belt. Tries to help but he only gets snapped at, and Dante takes his hands up in his, pressing fluttering kisses across his palm and each finger until Johann thinks he might well dissolve into a flurry of cherry blossoms.
"I don't think we have time to fuck," Dante says quietly, "but I want to watch the Quack blow you, so settle down, Babe."
"I'll blow you," Johann returns quickly, "we're not leaving anyone out to hang." Looks down at Vanitas for confirmation and has to bite his lip to keep from crying out for Vanitas is currently attempting to unzip his pants with his teeth. He crows victoriously a moment later, and Johann's thoughts are sent into a spiral of pure bliss as Vanitas takes him into his hands and immediately starts to stroke him from tip to sack. Carnal pleasure isn't something that they have the time to indulge in frequently, so it is perhaps of little surprise that he pays no attention to the conversation going on around him. When he focuses back in, he sees that Dante has positioned himself behind Vanitas, stroking his back with one hand as he does something with the other that has the man gasping loudly.
"Fuck," Johann whispers and then repeats it louder as Vanitas sets his mouth onto his cock. Time seems to pass slowly as if everything is being perceived through a great haze and at the center of it all is the warmth surrounding his dick. Wet heat, the rough scrape of fingers, the threat of teeth, a hand fondling his balls in such a manner that it has him instinctively trying to rock forwards and then his name. Spoken in a voice already well on its way to being wrecked. Opens his eyes to see Vanitas gasp against his thighs, whole body racked with shudders as Dante settles into place, hands now gripping his hips. The two of them together are a sight that Johann wishes he could immortalize in an oil painting, all the more so when Vanitas turns his head to exchange a sloppy kiss with Dante. They bump their heads together afterward and then Vanitas is taking him into his mouth once more, and Johann is lost. In all truth, he had never stood a chase for as skilled as Vanitas is at running his mouth; he is vastly superior at using his tongue to draw all sorts of noises from Johann's throat. He is but a bird at the mercy of Vanitas' actions, and so he sings until he can sing no more, and all of his senses have been washed away in a sea of white. Vanitas milks him dry, looking as smug as one can be when they are being gently railed from behind.
"Go on," Johann gasps out and stumbles back until he can sit down, legs wobbling like they've been turned into noodles. The other two need no further encouragement. Dante pulls out even as Vanitas squirms to roll over and then they are back at it again. Vanitas' arms wrapped around Dante, tugging his hair, clawing at his back, wordless cries splitting the air like the clashing of cymbals in some heavenly orchestra. Dante, for his part, is silent other than his harsh breaths. His eyes are dark and intent, drinking in everything about Vanitas even as he seeks to fuck any coherency out of him, and Johann finds himself beginning to grow aroused once more just from the sight of them. A hand whacks his ankle, startling him from his thoughts, and he looks over to see Vanitas staring at him with pleading, tearful eyes. His lips form the syllables of Johann's name, so he goes to him, takes his hand in his and gives it a reassuring squeeze. Vanitas comes undone with a cry that borders on a keen for how loud and high-pitched it is. He slumps back on the floor, clinging to Johann's hand for Dante has not slowed in the slightest, merely lifted his sweat-slicked legs higher and bent him nearly in half in pursuit of his own pleasure. Abruptly, without any warning whatsoever, he comes to a halt and remains like that — bent over Vanitas — as tremors course through his body. He just about collapses as they come to an end, drawing a weak grunt of protest from Vanitas.
"Baldy," he mumbles, weakly hitting his shoulder. "Baldy, you're heavy." Dante moans loudly but he does make an effort to pull out and flop over onto the flour instead, already looking on the verge of falling asleep. And though Johann would like nothing more than to curl up in a bed with them and sleep the rest of the day away, he knows that they've already pushed their luck enough. Vanitas clearly thinks the same for he pushes himself up onto his elbows, blinking with bleary eyes at Johann. "Shower?"
"Separately," Johann replies, fully aware that the three of them trying to shower together will only end in disaster. "Hurry up; our darling Riche and dear Noé could be back any minute now." Dante shudders dramatically and stands up, one hand easily hauling Vanitas up with him. With Johann ushering them on, they stagger their way out of the kitchen and down the hall to the master bedroom with its decently sized bathtub. After a quick debate that is more of a series of glowers and hisses, they leave Vanitas to sink into the hot water and head upstairs to shower in the second bathroom. Johann graciously allows Dante to go first and spends his time preparing his post-shower outfit. He's still debating between a black mess tank top and a silver blouse when Dante emerges from the shower and unceremoniously shoves him into the bathroom.
Although off by half an hour or so, Johann feels vindicated when Riche does return soon after, with Noé in toe. The two of them come bearing many gifts, proof of a successful raid, and while they go to shower off the grime and dust, Johann sets about storing items in their pantry and tucking away the special goods in his hiding place. One such goodie is a bar of chocolate; he can't begin to imagine what Riche must have had to barter to obtain that treasure. As the day starts to wind down and turn into evening, they all gather in the living room clutching a mismatch of dishware out of which to drink their soup. Dante shuffles around the room like a cat trying to figure out the best method of approach and then tucking himself against Johann's side, resting his head on his shoulder. Johann presses a kiss against the top of his head, soft and tenderly. It draws a contented sigh in response. For a time there is peace, the weight of a strenuous day slowly fading off their tired shoulders as each relaxes in their own way. Today truly has been a —
"Hold on, I think there's still a Crawler in the shed," Dante says out of the blue, derailing Johann's thoughts of bliss like a train hitting an unsuspecting roadblock.
"What?!" Riche exclaims, bolting to her feet in alarm. "What do you mean there's a crawler?!" She gesticulates as she speaks, nearly spilling her soup mug until Noé rescues it from her grip and sets it down on the coffee table. "Has someone called the exterminator?"
"Oh dearie me, I had quite forgotten about that," Johann says and eats a mouthful of soup, trying his best to ignore the weird texture the meat has taken on. It's best not to think deeply about its origins, he's learned.
"Begging your pardon," Noé says quietly, "but how could you forget about a member of the Unalive living in our shed?" He looks at Vanitas as he speaks, with the expression of one who is deeply disappointed. Vanitas glowers back at him and hisses disgruntledly, "Turn that face on someone else; I didn't know about it." He looks as if there is more that he would like to say but settles for sipping his soup instead, free hand massaging his throat.
"It happens," Dante says shortly, "memory problems among the elderly and all that. More importantly, whose turn is it to go check it out?"
"I've been outside all day," Riche says waspishly, "since you're too chicken, just call the exterminator."
"I'm not paying good money for a priest when a shovel will do just as well!"
Sensing that if left to their own devices, a four-way brawl will break out, Johann regretfully sets his own bowl down and heads over to fetch their communication bag by the door. There are only two dials on it, each attuned to a different frequency, although the one on the left is one that they rarely use. There is a little sticker next to it that reads 'NO' in big block letters. Johann chuckles dryly, flicks the switch, and turns the dial all the way up. For a while, all he hears is static and then a voice comes through, garbled at first before crystalizing into something comprehensible.
"Fortis' Final Rites and Extermination Services here; how can I be of assistance on this lovely night?"
Even without seeing his face, Johann has little difficulty visualizing the smile that must be plastered onto the priest's face. He can practically hear his pure joy and excitement seeping through the communicator. "We have a Crawler problem," he says, not bothering to identify himself, not when his family are the only living humans in the surrounding 30 miles. With the exception of Roland Fortis and his roving band of priests, of course.
"Oh no! That's terrible. Have you tried asking it to leave?"
"Roland," Johann says with all the patience that he can muster.
"Oh alright, it was only a suggestion," Roland replies, his voice full of good cheer. "I'll be there in a couple of hours. You know the drill, don't go outside, don't get hurt, and do not under any circumstances feed Vanitas to the Crawler."
Johann glances at the window, eyeing the sun's position and wondering if a nighttime arrival is their best move, but Roland is a capable adult, so he holds his peace. "We'll save you a soup bowl. Thank you, Roland." Flicks the switch off as Roland gives him a cheerful farewell and then turns to face his horde of degenerates. "Children settle down; the exterminator is on his way. We need to —"
The words die in his throat for the second time that day as something slams into the patio door, causing the entire frame to rattle loudly. Dante screams, or at least he thinks it was Dante, but it might have also been himself and he rushes back to the others.
"Weapons!" Vanitas yells even as he dives for cover behind Noé. "I told you not to call the pest control!"
"I don't think that's the Crawler from the shed," Johann retorts as he watches what appears to be a conglomeration of arms attempt to break through the glass door. It won't last much longer, but Johann isn't worried; they've been doing this for years, after all. "Here we go again~" He calls out as the door finally gives in and charges.
