A/N: I was feeling down and so I shoved as much fluff as possible into this in attempt to make myself feel better. It didn't work, but I think I kinda like the fic anyway. Enjoy?

Word Count: 1,350+

Pairing(s): John/Sherlock

Warning(s): shameless fluff, grown men giggling, filed under Things I Write On My iPhone in Gas Station Parking Lots, mentions of death, and manholes.

Having Fits

They stumbled into the hotel room laughing like loons. It wasn't an especially humorous situation, in retrospect - they'd nearly died in that shoot off and the serial killer they cornered died before they could catch him and make him reveal the location of the bodies; he'd tripped and fallen right down an open manhole - and yet there they were, breathless and over-spilling with mirth.

Sherlock was the first to collapse onto the bed, mirthful tears leaking down his cheeks; the mattress was uncomfortable as expected (the hotel room was shanty) but right then it didn't matter. John barreled in beside him, red faced with laughter; they'd only gotten one bed, a rather small one no less (the staff made assumptions like everybody) but right then it felt fine. More than fine, in fact.

It was less the situation and adrenalin and more the sound of each other's laughter than urged them on now, deep baritone mingling with breathy howls. John had gotten to the point where he truly struggled to breathe; Sherlock's ribs ached through the buzz of euphoria.

John, surprisingly enough, was the first to be freed from the giggle fit, of only for the sake of his lungs. He twisted his head around to look at Sherlock with a baffled sort of grin; the detective struggled to calm himself, hands pressed against his mouth in vain effort to physically push the laughter back into himself. The sight was, in essence, the toppling of the first domino, a thought kept to oneself:

How cute.

The second domino: a thought voiced aloud, quite by accident.

"I love you."

Sherlock's laughter stopped abruptly, hands still clasped over his mouth; his eyes took on a likeness to saucer plates. John's jaw went slack – Did I just say that? – but before he could say anything else Sherlock's giggle fit returned with a vengeance.

John's face reddened, hardly from oxygen deprivation now. "What!"

"John, you... Your face... Can't breathe." Sherlock's head arched back and he shook with now-silent laughter, air evading him entirely. John gaped at him, boggled.

"Hey! I just made a serious confession!" John insisted. "This isn't funny!"

Sherlock could not answer, far too busy pressing his hands to his mouth and attempting to fight down the fits of laughter ripping out of him. Had he not been too busy being irritated John would have been overcome with adoration at the sight.

Instead he reached over and swatted Sherlock on the leg. "You're a bastard."

Said bastard controlled himself just long enough to wheeze, "Good God, John, you call me dramatic."

"Dramatic?" John sat up half way to glare at him. For whatever reason this sent Sherlock into hysterics again, literally kicking his legs into the air. "Oh, that is it," said John. "I'll show you dramatic."

John flipped over and nearly on top of Sherlock, pinning the still howling man with one arm and using the opposite to pry Sherlock's hands away from his mouth. Sherlock was still crying with laughter when John pressed his mouth against his and he continued to do so afterwards. He was, in fact, still giggling when he arched his body into the kiss and returned it.

It was a strange feeling, having someone laugh against your mouth, John thought, but not an entirely unpleasant one. Sherlock's happy breath against his lips was warm and his lips were soft and grinning against his, abet quite pushy. If John fooled himself into thinking he'd only kissed Sherlock to prove some sort of point before, all such notions were soon turned to moot when Sherlock opened John's mouth with his and shoved his tongue inside. Sherlock kissed like it was a both a battle dance and a comedy show.

Somewhere between Sherlock giggling into his mouth and shoving his hands into Sherlock's trousers, John started laughing, too. Quite dazzled, John broke the kiss but not the contact, nose pressed into Sherlock's grinning cheek. "Why is this ridiculous?"

"Because, John," Sherlock said and chuckled a bit more. "We're ridiculous people."

"True. Our ridiculousness combined may end the world."

"I never was that fond of the world."

John tilted his gaze to meet Sherlock's, grinning. He was pleased to see his own feelings reflected there, even if John wasn't certain just what those feelings were. Good ones, certainly, if the growing warmth in his chest was anything to go by. For a while they just laid there and looked at each other, the last of the giggles escaping here and there. Eventually, slowly, Sherlock's eyebrows arched. "Your hands remain on my arse, if you care to recall."

I do, John thought. I care to recall your glorious arse very, very much. But he didn't say that because it occurred to him just what this was. It was him on top of his crazy best friend in a shabby hotel room on a crappy mattress they'll have to share tonight doing things they won't be able to take back. Thinking of it rationally made things, well, awkward, and John quickly retracted his hands and rolled off of Sherlock.

Sherlock smirked. "What?"

"Uh," John said. He always had been a conversation savant.

"Yes," Sherlock replied, not to be outdone. He cleared his throat, gaze trained carefully on the ceiling. "Well. That was... spontaneous. Should I deduce what your true intentions here are, or were you wanting to tell me.

John blushed profusely. Inwardly he made a mad scramble for some sort of rational reply, or at least an evasive one. His mouth had other ideas, however, and he said, "I told you. I love you."

Sherlock arched an eyebrow. "Yes, you did." He paused – there were very few awkward silences when you were a Holmes, but they did exist. Eventually, he said, "I knew before that, I think. I had simply... assumed ... before very recently that you meant it platonically." A pause; John was blushing so much that he seriously wondered if the rest of his body was suffering blood loss. Sherlock fought a smile. "I am a glad I was wrong."

John's startled. "Wow. You, glad to be wrong? That's new." John was grinning like a maniac now; if he knew anything about Sherlock, it was that he valued his genius and prided himself on being correct in nearly everything, namely the reading of others. Glad to be wrong? Sherlock might as well have proposed with all that said to him.

Sherlock flung an arm to press haphazardly over John's face. "Tell no one," he said, only half-joking. John's grin did not cease and, in a great flood of spontaneity, grabbed the arm against his face and pulled Sherlock against him.

"This ok?" John wrapped his arms around Sherlock and held him close, grinning against his hairline. Sherlock voiced no protest. John chuckled faintly. "You know what?"

Sherlock hummed wordlessly; his chest still pulsed with a dull, dubiously comfortable ache.

John kissed Sherlock between the eyes, a rumble of delight rising in his chest. "I really still can't believe he fell through that manhole."

Sherlock's face split into a crooked smile. "I was rather dwelling on the 'John Hamish Watson's hands in my trousers' part of the afternoon, but whatever gets you off..."

"Well shit, it nearly slipped my mind," John teased. Damn it, he was still grinning; it was uncontrollable. He was going to smile until the world ended. Or at least until his cheeks fell off. John fought another sprig of laughter. "We're in trouble now, aren't we?"

"Almost undoubtedly." Sherlock slid his arms around John's neck and slid his lips across John's, more a passing taste than a kiss. John shivered. "It would be far too boring without the trouble, John. You know how I hate boring."

"Let's not let that ever happen, then," John said, and kissed Sherlock senseless. Sherlock didn't bother to inform him that he doesn't have to try, that John is the opposite of boring even when he's being mundane. They have time to make up for, after all - best not waste a second of it.

My e-mail is refusing to give me my alerts again, so I'll have to check back here manually for a few days to read the flood of reviews I'm sure you guys plan on leaving me.