#to be silverdyne later

[vince-linder]

Rockerboy origins

Just a lil bit of fluff for my own HC. The first meeting of Kerry and Johnny, in elementary school, back in rural Texas. Johnny still get called Robert, cause. Its his first name, and he probs changed how he want to get called after war.

It was a normal Monday morning in College Station, a usual warm summer day was about to start, the birds were chirping and the bees humming. "I don't wanna go back to this school, mum!", the small boy, may seven or eight years old looked up at his mother, hands on his hips and an angry look on his face. Brown eyes searching the gaze of his mother, but she was busy making breakfast. "You have to go, Robert. You are learning many important things for your later life." "Urghs. I am learning nothing important! They just keep us caged up. And I don't need all of this! I wanna be an artist when I am grown up!" "Stop with this stupid dream, Robert. You have to learn to get a proper job in the future."

"But I don't wanna have a 'proper' job. I wanna be free and do what I want!" "Robert John Linder!", her voice raised, not to an angry tone but enough to warn the young boy. "This talk is over. Get ready, I drove you over in ten."

"Yes Mum."

Half an hour later he was sitting in his classroom, in the last row and sitting direct next to the window. Robert was tilting his chair back and forth, playing around with it. He was bored. This whole building made him bored whenever he saw it. In the time he was caged up here, Robert dreamed of being outside, undergoing wild adventures, finding treasures and secret locations. Staring outside, seeing the sunrays dance through the green leaves of the nearby trees, just waiting for him to be climbed. To build a treehouse out of the dead branches and make it his fort. His private kingdom where everyone has to live according to his rules and decisions. If he would proclaim icecream for breakfast, it would be icecream for breakfast every day! He saw a squirrel running up the tree. This was of course one of the inhabitants of his kingdom. Sir Squeaky the First. A noble warrior, fighting for justice and nuts. "Robert! Sit straight!" The boy shifts his gaze to the front, a sigh escaping his lungs. As so often he didn't hear the bell, nor the teacher entering the class. Robert stops tilting his chair and scoots closer to his table with it. Playing around with his pencil was soothing, and far more fun than whatever the teacher was telling them to do or not to do. A pencil, the set square on the backside of it and it was nearly a plane. Ready to fight for the kingdom of the tree warriors. It would throw down nuts to every enemy of freedom. "You can sit next to Robert." This was the thing getting him out of his thoughts. Nobody ever should be next to him, he hated it. The other kids here were terrible. His gaze shifted, looking at the person who was seated next to him. Robert's face gets confused and he tilts his head. That kid was new.

"Who are you?" The new kid looks a bit shy, sitting down next to Robert and packing away his backpack. Robert openly stared at him. The new kid wasn't from here clearly. His taint was far too dark for this region, and his eyes looked... different. "Name's Kerry.", the boy looked at Robert, a small smile on his face, far too friendly.

"Kerry? That's a girl's name."

"NO! It's not!", Kerry looks totally offended, pouting slightly and crossing his arms. "Hangal."

Robert blinks, tilting his head again. This felt like an insult. But he never heard that word.

"What?!"

Kerry was still pouting, trying to ignore the bully next to him and follow the class. But Robert starts to flip little balls of paper at him, trying to get his attention back. When this 'boy' was sitting next to him, he had at least listened to him.

"Come on! What they tell is just boring. Tell me what you said!" "Called you a, uh. 'Hangal'.", Kerry looks up shortly, stopping his writing for a second. "A what now?"

"Someone incredibly dumb and stupid?" Kerry thinks for a moment, not finding the English word.

"You mean.. an idiot?" Robert tilts his head again, insults in another language. This was perfect. "Can you teach me more insults?"

"What?"

Kerry looks up, finally putting down his pencil. He looks up to Robert's face, brown eyes meeting, and sees the playfulness to his eyes. Kerry starts smiling. "Only if you teach me the English ones." "Cool. Yeah, I'll do. What language is that?" "Tagalog. I am from the philippines." "Never heard that." Robert smiled at the other boy. "But explain your look."

"And here everyone looks dumb?" Robert frowns, but starts giggling silently. "Uh-hu." They both try to contain their laughter, sitting next to each other and sharing lighthearted jokes. Until the teacher got enough of their shenanigans. "Be silent back there and follow the class! Robert, don't you dare to distract our new classmate!"

"Sorry, Mr. Johnson." both say in union. They lowered their voices, and kept on talking silently.

[genocidalfetus]

A Little SilverDyne Angst for Shippy Saturday

*this is how I think their last time together went. Johnny didn't want to hurt him, but he also didn't want anything he was about to do to blow back on Kerry.*

[vole-mon-amour]

It never not messes me up how Johnny will always be into music. How when he's all alone in V's body and he leaves Night City, the music will always be a part of his life, his muse, and his therapy (and his punishment—or at least it's once was, and it didn't help him during Samurai days and didn't keep him away from taking on Arasaka).

How he can always start recording music and land himself a music deal if he wants to (and a good one, too). But since he's trying to do what's best for him, he'll probably record for himself or play for small crowds. He's not interested in deals or maybe even the audience.

For once, he just wants to live and enjoy his life. He just wants to feel good and he's got nothing to prove or achieve. All of that in the past. For now, it's about finding and enjoying peace (and if that means staying far away from the music industry and all the deals, letting Kerry bask in his glory and being happy for Kerry from afar? So be it.)

Johnny has come so, so far. Such an extremely long way & that inner peace is the least he deserves.

(And don't get me started on how Johnny talks to Steve about music and dreams, and how he admits that Kerry is really, really good (admitting in his own way that it's okay to love Kerry and that he still does).

How he realizes that getting out of Night City is the best thing for everyone involved—him, Rogue, Kerry (and how he doesn't even tell Kerry that V is dead and he's taken her place in her body.)

How mature Johnny is after all he's been through, especially with V.

Temperance ending, my BELOVED.)

UPD: And what if Johnny takes his guitar and joins the nomads again? No need to earn money, life on the road, a family in the wild.

[timaeusterrored]

“You cool with me sleeping with Kerry?”

“Sleeping with him? He fucked you once. End of story.”

-

“Remember when you told me end of story? Who’s laughing now?”

“Still me because you married the gonk.”

“????So are you????”

[zekegenbu]

[jaymber]

Silverdyne Sunday (12/?)

[mrssimply]

💕 self-love time! talk about which ones of YOUR creations (edits, artworks, fanfics) you like the most then send to other creators to do the same 💕

Awww! Thank youuuu! It's a nice game and I won't pass an opportunity to rant about my fics ahah.

My favorites works are my two less popular fics.

The first one is To the Day I die, which is the final installment of my "Johnny goes to therapy" series. I started the series when I opened prompts something like two years ago. After that, I got inspired by @rockerboyrepo's series "difficult to love" and wrote a follow-up where Johnny 1) propose to Kerry and 2) doesn't die in the tower in 2023.

Now, I realize how out of character Johnny proposing to Kerry can sound, but it was the challenge: to make it believable and I think i kinda nailed that ;).

To the Day I Die was inspired by the feelings I got from listening to Zeit, from Ramstein (it has very little to do with the fic otherwise). I was also in a phase where I was obsessed with Johnny pinning for Kerry (Lindechir and Thedevilchicken's fics are to blame, thanks to their amazing fics!). To the Day I Die happens ten year after the previous one, and they're at a point in their relationship where their marriage falls appart, predictably. What I liked about writing this one was playing with a Johnny that is slightly less angry than the one we know, but a lot more depressed. He tries to do the right thing, even if it kills him and also, "the right thing" is absolutely not the actual right thing, of course.

I wrote that fic "delicately", like I suppose one can write poetry: each word was weighed and carefully placed. I was so proud of this one when I finished it and it was with giddiness that I published it.

Publishing was disappointing. The fic didn't, and still doesn't, get the engagement I felt it deserved due to the hard work behind it. It took all my energy not to whine about that, and to deal with the disappointment "maturely". This fic, I think, was a big step toward really learning to write for myself, because I want to, because I can, and to care less about comments and kudos.

I might sound like I'm trying to reassure myself but I think that fic wasn't really a fic: it doesn't cater to what people come looking for when they search for a Silverdyne fic, and Johnny is probably too OOC, though it is justified in the story by what happened before. So I understand why it didn't get the success I hoped in terms of views, kudos and comments, and now i can really say i don't care anymore. But i was hard when it happened, and I've wanted to say it for a while now, to acknowledge it and give voice to my inner author who was very hurt in the process.

The second of my favorites fic is the John Wick fic. It would never have seen the light of day if I hadn't lived through what I lived with To the Day I Die. As I said, this fic freed me so when I started writing The Leash and later it's follow-up (soon to be published), I knew it would not gather a lot of recognition by numbers. The John Wick fandom is small and consists a lot of fics between John and the reader, while I wrote about Santino/John, a rarepair.

Plus, I arrived late, a good while after the battle ahah. The few people invested in that ship left a long time ago, since the second movie got out in like, 2016 or something. But i didn't care, that fic had to get out. I paused for a long time because it was still hard to motivate myself when I knew it was gonna be read by like, 3 people (it got read by a little more ;)), and I was doing other projects, but after seeing the 4th movie I finished it.

Publishing was... Something. I still hoped, but I was prepared. There was something else this time, too: this fic was precious, and more than lack of recognition I feared bad reactions because the John Wick I depicted is maybe not the one most portrayed. I made him a sub (though that evolves through the story) and someone with too much empathy for his world, where I've seen a lot of work where he's really cold, detached, and generally more dominant in bed.

I was afraid people wouldn't get it, but once again, my dead friend Rockerboyrepo was here to reassure me, and to help me see it through. I gifted the fic to him as a thank you.

Now, the fic amazingly got a lot more engagement that I hoped, and it was all very positive so I'm just very happy! And maybe happy I'm converting people to that ship once again ahaha.

I'll stop here before I bore you all out, thank you once again @bearodyne for the ask!!! ❤️❤️❤️

[morganlefaye79]

So I wrote my first Silverdyne fic. At first I didn't want it the way it turned out, but I found something so bittersweet by accident that I just couldn't unsee this, and so I incorporated it into the fic. If you want to read it first before getting any spoilers, here's your chance.

But first I once again want to thank @/cyanfacade on Twitter for feeding my brainworms so much that I wanted to write this piece in the first place after I got their art of Johnny and Kerry being cuddly and happy at the beach.

Spoilers ahead!

I had a break from writing because I didn't know how to continue this fic, often I just scoll then trough my shitton of screenshots about the persons I'm currently writing. This was no different here, and I came accross a picture of Johnny and for some reason looked at his hand:

I saw that he wasn't wearing a ring on his ring finger and I started to think about it. I also found it fitting that he is only wearing silver rings. I came to the conclusion, that he just wasn't committed to anyone and chose to not wear a ring at his ring finger. Which would be fair.

Then I went over to Kerry (old Kerry to be specific) and I looked at his hand just out of curiousity? Because I had looked at Johnny's:

Kerry is mostly wearing gold overall, with the exception being the ring on his index and ring finger. Could be coincidence, I know BUT it was just too good to ignore, and so I had Johnny propose to Kerry.

It hurts even more considering he would still wear that ring on his ring finger 54 years later when we meet him carrying Johnny in our heads.

To be fair, I think during his marriage to Louise he would have worn it somewhere else or not at all, but I think as soon as the marriage failed he put it back in place.

Such bittersweet things are my fuel, and I'm not sorry to use it!

[krissmnasi]

guys being dudes

[timaeusterrored]

(Some silverdyne angst while I listen to Johnny play guitar)

“You loved him.” It was a simple statement, but Johnny hated it. Hated admitting that it was true.

“Doesn’t matter V, drop it.” He knew the merc was going to push it now. The memory that V had seen was something Johnny had tried to stop and failed. And when he woke up, he demanded answers.

“Why was Nancy keeping you away from him?” V asked, sitting up slowly as to not make himself dizzy. “He was crying, you tried to get to him, and Nancy and Denny wouldn’t let you. Why?”

“You should know. You were there.” Johnny grumbled, knowing he could just disappear. But V wouldn’t drop the subject, just hold off until later.

“Alt?” Johnny nodded slowly. “Alt had just died, is was when you went into hiding.. Nancy said you had to get your shit together before you could see him again. And that pissed you off. You loved Kerry..”

Johnny stared down at his hands, then back out at the city. He hardly remembered that day, he knew his feet carried him exactly where he needed to be, the anger of not being allowed to take Kerry home with him and hide him away from whatever had hurt him, but also the unwillingness he had to hurt Nancy as well. Kerry had been crying, that much was correct, and Johnny knew something had hurt him, mentally or physically he couldn’t tell at the time.

Nancy had called him a month later with a therapist name and an update, Kerry had shut down. Johnny was at her door 30 minutes later, because in his mind, she didn’t know how to properly take care of him. But now Johnny knew she was probably the best person he could have been with in that moment, because Johnny didn’t get his shit together, and Nancy had kept her word, no seeing Kerry until either he perked up or Johnny went to therapy. To which Johnny said fuck you and left empty handed.

He did call Kerry though, and Kerry answered. And they sat in silence until Johnny could hear him snoring and stayed on the line with him until he went out again. Just hearing him breathe and sleep was enough sometimes, even if Nancy wouldn’t let them see each other while they were both fucked.

“You get happy when we go to see Ker.. you can’t deny that.” V tried teasing, but Johnny didn’t react. Kerry had dreams when they first started Samurai, and Johnny never wanted to admit he wasn’t sure if he could have kept up if that had been the other his chose. But Kerry had been determined, Johnny would be at his side until the end of time. And at the time, Johnny just said absolutely.

[morganlefaye79]

I have some Silverdyne shenanigans for you today:

Johnny, who was deep in his own thoughts, only now realised that he hadn’t moved the whole time, “Was thinking about stuff.” He dropped the bag and took his damaged pack from earlier out of his pocket and fingered the last cigarette out, trying to straighten it as good as possible, then he sat down on the other chair and lit it too. “I forgot my swim trunks.” Johnny admitted. Only seconds later Johnny’s face was covered with one, thrown at him by Kerry, “Sometimes I feel more like your mom.”  Johnny took the trunks off his face, “I hope you washed them properly.” “No Johnny, I wore them yesterday the whole day and farted at least ten times into them because I knew I would throw them in your face.” Johnny made a disgusted face, “thought as much.” Kerry pushed his half smoked cig into the sand and started to undress, unaware that Johnny followed every move he made with his eyes. Johnny hadn’t loved many partners he slept with but he knew that he loved Kerry, and that the feeling was mutual.

I'm not tagging someone this time, but if you like to share some WIP Wednesday too, you can always tag me, I'm curious what y'all working on.

[morganlefaye79]

Playlist meme

Thank you for the tag @pandorasaquariumm this took me some time to put together although I have a Playlist for all of my oc's. I wanted to do this differently however, because I did this already for all my oc's.

I took my personal playlist, and looked for the song that I would give them + the explanation why I give it to them.

I have a song for Kerry, when Val is on the brink of death from the Relic. I always considered him to have listen to Linkin Park as a kid/ young adult.

You don't know what you've got Oh, you don't know what you've got No you don't know what you've got Until it's gone

Kerry is in my hc so used to loosing people and things that are important to him that he sometimes doesn't even realise it anymore. Losing Johnny (I'm a Silverdyne simp) traumatised him deeply.

'Cause finding what you've got sometimes Means finding it alone And I can finally see your light when I let go

And since Val came into his life with Johnny in the backseat it was not surprising that he fell for Val. Val knew it that Johnny was more likely the reason why Kerry kept him around and only when Johnny was gone for good and Kerry had closure and a proper goodbye, he could let Johnny go. Knowing he would loose Val soon as well, but he chooses to be happy even if it is short term, than to give up on all that. Because let's be honest, he will get hurt either way.

And since we takling about pain, we can switch to Val who never wanted to be a killer but was forced into it.

He is mentally very unstable, not only from his time at Arasaka but also the whole Relic desaster. He is already on a real bad guilt trip because of the many people he assassinated. Then on top of that he gets his lovers (Vicco) best choom (Jackie) killed. He knows it was an accident but it doesn't make the situation any better. The relationship with Vicco was already on edge and now he doesn't think there's anything left to fight for. But that is just the problem with Val. He needs something however small it is to fight for to keep going…

When the demon that's inside you is ready to begin And it feels like it's a battle that you will never win When you're aching for the fire and begging for your sin When there's nothing left inside, there's still a reason to fight

We all know how Johnny is at the start so no need to say that he doesn't help at all but makes the whole situation even worse. By the time Kerry comes around, Valaire already had said his goodbyes as far as he was able to. He was sure he would either die of the Relic, being shot by someone, or do it himself if no one was kind enough to take this task away from him.

Val has always been a Kerry fan so meeting him improved his mental state a bit, but not enough to keep him safe. By that time Johnny and Val got along somehow and Johnny told Kerry about Val and his mental state. Because Kerry himself was suffering severe depressions he knew how it felt and had some long talks with Val and it worked for some time. By the time Val is convinced to die soon because of the Relic, he will have a few times that he will vanish and Kerry thinks he is gone. But Val has still reasons to fight for, so he won't give up in the end.

When there's nothing left inside, there's still a reason to fight I'll be your reason to fight Give you a reason to fight

Joris already knew for many years that he had a twin, but he was told that his family in the NUSA was horrible, so he actually never felt the need to go and see them. Until the day he could see through the scemes his uncle played:

No more games And no more lies No one to blame No alibis I am ashamed to be part of your apathy All that I couldn't see A part of this system of greed

Joris was always kind of a rebel and the only one that never judged him was his aunt, when she died he was devastated. When he found out years later that his uncle had her killed because she was a "bad influence" on him he snapped. He killed his uncle in a fit of rage.

Nothing left to say as all your will decays Nothing left to do, but put an end on you

He was sure that someone would come for him, but no one did. He started to dig deeper and found out that his uncle wasn't well accepted at Arasaka HQ in The Hague, most that had to work with him rather felt hatred and so no one was sad or upset when they heard the news.

Joris inherited everything his uncle owned, most of it was sold off as quickly as possible by Joris. He didn't need houses and Villa's around the world. He also only kept one car, his uncle's Caliburn. Which his uncle nearly to never used.

Then he went to the NUSA to find his twin brother. He actually wanted to join Arasaka in NC, but when he found out that his brother was the one that blew it up a second time, he reconsidered this idea. Slowly he found more puzzle pieces to the mystery that was their family. Which left him with even more hate towards his uncle because he was also responsible for the death of his mother, who died in a house fire. The same house fire that had nearly killed him as a toddler and which scars were still visible on his face.

Vicco was a tough one, because they can be everything and do have so many facets to them that it is very difficult to take just one song to describe them. As a joytoy that has clients in the upper class of NC they have to fake many things.

This place is a circus, you just see the surface They cover shit under the rug You can see their faking

Vicco loves to play their game and for someone that never went to school he is good enough with most topics to not make a fool out of them.

Vicco is also good at getting informations out of someone, just by asking harmless questions. Rumors and informations are worth a lot of money.

Sip the gossip, drink till you choke Sip the gossip, burn down your throat You're not iconic, you are just like them all Don't act like you don't know

Vicco knows full well who and what they are. Their behaviour on the job is completely different from their private life. Only when he marries Joris he will stop working as a joytoy. But he will stay close enough to the biz to get informations still because joytoys always get the best informations while doing their job. He will later on work as a model sometimes even with Joris together. So he will keep his fake smiles for the people of NC.

I love me some good oc lore. And so I tag:

@dreamskug @wraithsoutlaws @vox-monstera @faepunkprince @a-pirate @maimaiapologist @ghostoffuturespast @gloryride @dustymagpie @wanderingaldecaldo @jaymber @fereldanwench

As always no pressure :)

[mrssimply]

16th: Silence

There are many drawings of catboy!Johnny on twitter, and no I think it's very fitting because Johnny is totally a stray cat. It's a metaphor I've used many times before, so maybe it was time I embraced it fully. On my list of ideas, this one was supposed to be... so much more than that. But every time I thought about writing yet another silverdyne long fic, I would lose steam 'cause I think the last one, To the Day I die, was like a purge and I couldn't find energy to write another one.

But it was still in my head still demanding to be known so here it is, just a glimpse of what I had in mind.

Oh, and despite being about cat!persons, there is no concept of heat (not at this moment in the story I had in mind), and it's neither funny nor sexy because well... I love complicated things ;) It's T-rated.

You can find the prompt list here.

Every fic will be posted on my AO3 Account here.

There is someone slumped against Milt’s door. Kerry thinks it’s a man, maybe a few years older than him. He’s pale, and way too thin, like he hasn’t had a good meal in ages. His skin is covered in bruises, some old, some new, and Kerry recognizes the kind: he’s been beaten up. He is naked except for a pair of ratty jeans, and Kerry would bet he lost the rest of his clothes in the fights that got him those many bruises. There is blood at the corner of his mouth, and tickling out of his right ear. Kerry is fascinated by the ear, because it’s not a human ear, it’s a cat ear. Covered in fur black as the stranger’s hair, Kerry would have missed it, if not for the blood. It twitches weakly as rain falls on it, a sluggish reflex. There are other particular features on the stranger, like his tail, limp and lifeless between his legs. The boy is sagged sideways, allowing Kerry to see where the boy’s skin slowly transforms into fur as it forms the tail. Last notable thing is his left arm: it’s a heavy piece of cyberware, military grade, crudely sewn into his flesh. The chrome flashes with the neon’s sign flickering above them that says there is a ripper’s clinic here.

Kerry lives in the building above the clinic with two of his older sisters, and the boy is literally on his way to access the back entrance, which he prefers to use. Crouching in front of the young man, Kerry extends an arm to brush the tip of the fur-covered ear. It twitches again, evading his intrusive touch. 

Biting his lower lip, Kerry makes a decision. 

Five minutes later, Kerry is back with Milt, the ripperdoc. 

“Damn”, the man whispers and it doesn’t reassure Kerry. 

“Is he gonna be alright?”

“I dunno. Help me get him inside.”

-

The boy is heavier than he looks, so it’s panting and heaving that they push him on the medbed. Diagnostics start to run as soon as Milt turns on the scanner. Kerry looks at the monitor and the cat person intermittently. 

Milt mutters about dehydration and undernourishment, about broken ribs and concussions. He straps an IV to the stranger and injects a cocktail of meds and stim to go with the fluids.

Then, the doc starts looking at the arm.

“Arasaka,” he says, more to himself than to Kerry. Hanging around his neck are dog tags, or well — cat tags, Kerry supposes.

“RJL-20.103”,” the doc reads. 

“Is that a code or something?" Kerry asks.

"Designation. Company and platoon, probably,” he explains while pointing to the two numbers separated by a dot, “and then his personal ID.”

“No name?”

“Don’t think they give them names...”

Kerry lowers his eyes. Cat people were first engineered by the army, to combine human intelligence with the agility, strength and endurance of big cats. Later, when the war was “won”, they sold the patent to interested private corps, which birthed them for commercial purposes, mostly for the pleasure business.

The boy is obviously military oriented, the tags are a clue if the arm wasn’t sufficient, and if he’s here alone, then that means he escaped.

“Deserted” would have been the term for any normal soldier, but cats are not citizens, they are property of the army, or the Corp which birthed them. They don’t get the same rights, their purpose is to live and die on the battlefield. There is an entire army corp with just cats, and they get deployed in the most dangerous zones. They are used as cannon fodder, and stay simple soldiers all their short lives since the officers' positions are given to humans.

Kerry watches as Milt tenderly moves a lock of hair away from the boy’s cheek, and remembers the doc’s son enlisted some years ago, and that Milt has had no news ever since. Kerry doesn’t remember how the conversation went, but he knows Milt and his son, Cody, parted in anger. People that enlist nowaday are guaranteed a good position, the field work is mostly done by cat people, so ambitious young folk try their chance at war, thinking themselves safe from harm in command tents. The doc was opposed to his son enlisting, but Cody felt the army would give him better, and easier prospects than staying here to learn his father’s practice.

Milt sighs, says they now have to wait and see, and goes to fetch a blanket. Kerry watches over the stray. He is filthy, but Kerry can tell he would be real pretty usually. They almost always are, with genes handpicked for their purpose. That one got long dark lashes, the echoes of a smirk on his thin lips, and the beginning of a beard. He can’t be over twenty.

Kerry brushes his fingers behind the cat’s ear, stroking the soft fur, fascinated by the creature resting on the bed.

-

Kerry fell asleep on the couch, lured by the warmth and the regular beeps of the medical equipment of the clinic. He came back after dinner to see if their rescue was awake, but was informed by Milt there had been no change. He practiced on his guitar for a while, and then the tiredness of the day caught up with him. Since he turned eighteen, his sisters have asked Kerry to help them with the rent, saying he’s now a man and has to do his share: he can’t lay around all day just playing guitar, since that doesn’t pay for food. Yet. Kerry has big dreams.

Dreams that are violently interrupted by an aborted shout, followed by a growl. He opens his eyes in time to see the catboy jump/fall from the med bed, tearing up at the tube Milt linked into him and kicking the equipment around in his wild thrashing.

“Hey, wow, calm down!” Kerry speaks while getting up. Intense dark eyes zero on him before the young catboy crouches, ears flattening on his skull. He stills, body brimming with tension except for his tail which is swishing slowly behind him. Kerry raises his hands in the air.

“It’s ok, you’re safe here. You’re in a ripperdoc clinic.”

The catboy’s head wipes around, maybe searching for the doc, or just finally realizing where he is. It doesn’t relax him in the slightest, but he looks less ready to jump at Kerry.

Milt appears in the doorframe, probably alerted by the ruckus. When the stray sees him, he finally relaxes and rises slowly to his feet. His ears perk up, although one stays bent toward Kerry, as if keeping him in check while his attention is focused on the doc.

“You’re awake, good.”

Milt comes forward, outwardly relaxed. The catboy follows him with his eyes.

“I can remove this,” the doc indicates, pointing to the tube and cable he linked to his patient for diagnosis. 

After a moment of hesitation, the young soldier leans against the med med and extends his arms. Milt removes the IV, and the wire connecting to the chrome arm. 

“How do you feel?” he asks, but gets no reply. 

The catboy is looking at Milt very intently and Kerry even catches him taking a sniff. He swallows, glances at Kerry and nods to himself like he’s reached a conclusion.

He hops on the bed and takes off his left boot. Kerry sees him manipulate the heel until a small compartment opens. He tips the boot and something falls into his waiting palm. Too curious, Kerry approaches and the cat’s gaze pins him for a second before deeming him as no threat. The experience is still jarring, but Kerry is no chicken so he comes closer anyway.

It’s another set of dog tags, and these ones are more classical, displaying the soldier’s last name, the initials of his name, blood type, the acronym “USMC” and a religious preference (which indicates “none”).

The catboy hands it to Milt, who looks at the tags with shock. Kerry takes a better look and feels his stomach fall, because the last name reads Nauman. The doc takes the little metal plates with trembling fingers and reads the rest of the data. His mouth parts around a silent sob, and it’s all the confirmation Kerry needs. 

Cody was about five years older than Kerry, and he dated one of his sisters for a while, so the young man remembers him fondly. He had no musical sense, but he could talk about the history of music for ages. He was one of the coolest guys Kerry ever knew and his death feels strange. Like an impossibility.

On the bed, the catboy looks sad. His head is bowed, eyes hidden from view but his ears and tail telegraph his emotion clearly. Beside the obvious grief, there is something else on the stranger's face. Regrets, anger, guilt…  A mix of all three. It distracts Kerry from his own emotions until he hears Milt’s harsh breathing.

Both young men catch the tears on the doc’s face, silently running as he continues to look at the tags, and they tense, unprepared to deal with such display of emotion. The soldier in particular looks absolutely terrified, eyes widening and panicking as he finds himself caught in the grief of a father.

“Thank you,” Milt breathes, barely hiding the sob in his voice. “Thank you for bringing me this I… How…” He stops, closes his eyes and turns away. “I’m sorry,” he mutters, before practically running out of the room.

Kerry and the catboy look at him go, helpless to help. Kerry feels tears stinging at the back of his eyes and blinks furiously. The news hasn’t really sunk yet, but it feels like a gaping hole opened inside his chest. 

He is pulled out of his grief by the stray putting his shoe back on. Kerry looks at him doing it with empty eyes, and it’s only when the young man jumps on his feet that he reacts.

“You’re going?”

The other nods warily, looking at him with suspicion.

“You can’t go yet, Milt… Milt will want to talk to you, you… What happened? How did it happen?”

The cat looks distinctly uncomfortable, his face is closed off but his ears are back to being flat against his skull and his tail is rigid between his legs. He eyes the door and tension fills his body gradually, like he is seriously thinking about bolting out.

Kerry catches his wrist tightly, making the catboy twist toward him with a snarl. Startled, the other boy released him with a gasp.

“Sorry,” he mutters as fresh tears rise to his waterline. He lowers his head to hide them, chest feeling tight, like the rejection is breaking something inside of him.

The cat sighs and fidgets before circling back to the med bed, hovering uncertainly. The strange feeling inside Kerry settles, and he looks back to where Milt disappeared. He lives upstairs with his wife, and Kerry supposes he will need time alone with her to process the news.

The two young men look at each other in awkward silence, when suddenly, the catboy’s stomach grumbles loudly. Kerry smiles faintly and turns to take his guitar back.

“We should find you something to eat, c’mon.”

He gestures for the other boy to follow, and after a moment of hesitation, he steps behind Kerry. 

-

The catboy took a tour of the flat while Kerry reheated the pasta his sister Emma made earlier. She works the night shift as a dispatcher for the trauma team’s med center, so she cooked before going to work. Kerry ate with his oldest sister Malika while the stray was still sleeping, eager to get back to watching him. The moment the leftovers are served on a plate and put in front of the stranger, he seems to forget all about his wariness and digs into the plate with abandon. It’s a bit obscene to watch, but Kerry can’t tear his eyes away; he really must have been starved. After a few bites, he slows down and Kerry can tell it’s at the price of a great effort but he seems to know that eating too fast will just make him sick. He frequently glances at his host, and during such instances, Kerry gets a better look at his eyes. They are of a rich dark brown, but the pupil is slit like one of a pet cat, and the young guitarist feels a bit like a mouse when that gaze stares at him intensely.

Kerry drinks his Nicola in silence, and can’t help but note that the catboy won’t touch his, but he drinks the tap water from the jug next to the can eagerly. In silence, Kerry observes his various bruises and wounds. Some look really gross, still an angry red, even though they can’t be that recent. Those around the arms are the most impressive: the skin there looks tender and sensitive, but not in a good way. He is also really dirty, with stripes of dry sweat visible on his torso, and he smells really bad too.

“What about a shower?” Kerry offers once the plate has been mostly cleared. The catboy tenses, looks around, seems to weigh his options before nodding with a displeased expression. Obviously, he’s not super keen on the idea, but he’s also pragmatic: he doesn’t know when the opportunity will present itself again.

-

Kerry shows him the bathroom before going to his room to fetch clothes: a sweatpant and an oversized shirt. Even if the cat is really underweight, his frame speaks of military training and his shoulders are wider than the average male of his age. When Kerry reappears in the bathroom, the other boy hasn't moved an iota, struck looking at his reflection and touching his jaw length black hair like he doesn’t recognise it. 

“Here, that should suit you. C’mon, I’ll show you how the shower works.”

He gets the water on slightly hotter than he prefers, and steps back when he thinks everything is set. Turning around, he loses what he wanted to say, looking at the catboy standing naked under the shitty light. He is fucking hung!

Kerry’s mouth opens in surprise and he can’t tear his eyes from the tableau; they really make them perfect. The stray smiles slyly when he catches him looking and his expression deepens when Kerry blushes and averts his gaze promptly. 

“Ok, I’ll leave you to it,” the host declares, passing by his guest, only to be yanked back and pushed into the shower. He stammers, winces when his head collides with the tiles, and sputters when the hot stream hits him in the face. 

When he finds his bearings enough to open his eyes and takes stock of the situation, the catboy is still holding him fast against the wall of the shower, and he growls when Kerry tries to disentangle himself.

The sound prompts a shiver to run down Kerry’s spine, and he forces himself to relax, hands going lax on his sides. They look at each other for a moment before the catboy relaxes somewhat, but he still holds Kerry firmly against the wall.

“Ok,” the young man breathes, “ok I’m staying,” he says and the other nods like he’s happy he made himself clear. Kerry doesn’t really understand what happened, but sure, he can stay here, it’s just super uncomfortable in his wet jeans. 

Meanwhile, the boy is back to looking at the door, like he expects to be attacked any minute and Kerry finally understands: he’s here to watch the stranger’s back while he is in a vulnerable position. 

“Can I just get rid of my clothes?” he asks and after a glance and a moment of hesitation, the cat steps back.

Kerry keeps his boxers on like they are a last barrier against the strangeness of the situation, and pours shampoo in his hands before slowly raising them to his guest’s hair, stopping with a questioning gaze.

Again, there is a moment of hesitation before the young ex-soldier lowers his head a fraction and Kerry starts massaging his scalp. He keeps an eye on the door for a while, but before long, Kerry sees his shoulders drop in relaxation. Huffing out a small laugh, Kerry continues his massage and even chances to rub the boy’s nape. 

It takes a small minute, but Kerry suddenly realizes there is a soft vibration under his fingers and he stills. With the shower running, he can’t hear it but he is pretty sure the boy is purring. He starts his massage again, trying to act like nothing happened, persuaded that remarking on it would make the cat stop.

Slowly, the boy raises his head and lets the water wash the shampoo away, allowing Kerry to wash the rest of his upper body. His gaze looks hazy, a far cry from the  previous tension, even if he jumps a bit everytime fingers brush against his scars. 

Shyly, Kerry stops when he reaches his guest’s waist, and the other boy seems to get out of his trance. He smirks and raises a challenging eyebrow at Kerry, who colors even more with a mix of embarrassment and anger. He accepts the challenge and wash the rest of his guest’s body with jerkier movements than before. He takes mean pleasure in grabbing his cock a bit too tight and even stroking it once under the pretense of cleaning it. The catboy’s expression is smug, even if he blink and jerks forward when Kerry gets to his cock. 

“There, all clean,” the host declares with a glare, taking the shower head to rinse him, and making sure to direct the stream right in his face. The ex-soldier sputters and growls, but Kerry can tell he’s not really angry. They get out of the shower and dry themselves in silence.

With a head movement, Kerry brings the catboy to his room.

“This is my sisters’ room. They’re not here. Emma is working and Malika is out with her boyfriend,” he explains as they pass the door in the corridor.

At the mention of Malika’s name, the boy perks up.

“Yeah,” Kerry says sadly, “she and Cody were together for a while. He told you about her?”

The catboy nods and continues looking at the door with something of a sad expression.

“You liked him?”

A shrug, but Kerry can tell they were close, maybe a bit like what Cody used to have with Kerry. The thought brings a fresh wave of grief to Kerry, who swallows thickly and continues to his room. He will deal with the emotions later, he doesn't want to right now.

-

In Kerry’s small bedroom, the two guitars he owns have a prime position. The one he had downstairs is his most recent acquisition. His sisters think he bought it thanks to doing more hours at Caliente, but in truth Kerry klepped it. His sisters understand nothing about music, so they didn’t recognise the quality of the instrument. The other one belonged to his father, also a good brand, though that one is really vintage. Both are electric, and there is an amp waiting in between. 

The cat immediately takes an interest now that he is not in survival mode, and Kerry wonders if he can play. He sits on his bed and pats the spot next to him before grabbing his father’s axe.

The boy sits gingerly next to him, still taking in the rest of the room, but his attention zeroes on Kerry when he starts playing. The first notes of Depeche Mode’s Enjoy The Silence float in the quiet of the flat, and despite the amp being set to medium, it sounds really loud. 

The boy listens intently, ears perking and tail tense as he looks at Kerry’s fingers on the guitar’s neck. 

“You know how to play?” Kerry asks, never stopping to play. 

A swish of tail, and then a tiny nod.

“You know that one?”

Both ears twitch back, like he is hesitating again. 

“Take the other one if you wanna,” Kerry offers and that seems to decide his guest. He grabs the axe and takes his time admiring the quality of the work. Kerry can tell he is impressed and he grins, recognising someone who knows his guitars.

When he starts playing, it’s obvious the cat is skilled: his technique is good, the rhythm is perfect, and he even adds some personal style to it. Kerry is mesmerized, and he’s clearly not prepared for what happens next.

The boy starts to sing.

His voice is low and rough, like he hasn’t spoken in a month or two, and it waivers as he tries to find the right pitch. It’s unequal, and the process looks painful but he plows through it and it’s the most beautiful thing Kerry has ever heard.

As the chorus nears, Kerry snaps out of it and starts playing again, even joining him in the singing. When they finish the song, they both linger on the last notes and Kerry can’t help but grin.

“You can speak.”

The catboy smiles smugly and winks.

“I’m Kerry,” the host says, realizing they never exchanged names.

“I know. Cody said you were like a little brother to him.”

Kerry looks down and bites his lip.

“Yeah, he really was the big brother I never had.”

His voice is rough again, sorrow making the words difficult to get out. The cat shifts on the bed, uncomfortable. When Kerry glances at him, he seems lost in thought, sorrow threatening to take him under, too.

“He was my captain. Only decent officer ‘round. He really cared about us.”

His voice is but a whisper, and when he finishes, his tail swish back and forth nervously, like he’s said too much.

“Do you have a name?” Kerry asks next, trying to bury the sadness.

The boy shrugs.

“RJL, that’s how they referred to me. But Cody called me Johnny.”

“Johnny,” Kerry repeats and the other young man stares at him intensely, a small smile lifting his mouth. The host’s expression rises to match, and the smiles transform into grins, reflecting the elation they both feel for reasons they can’t yet explain.

The moment is interrupted by the doorbell chiming. It’s Milt, asking to speak to Johnny. Taking a deep breath, the catboy accepts, ears low and tail curled around his leg. Two hours later, Johnny climbs the fire escape to knock on Kerry’s window, tells him Milt wants him to stay with him for now, until they can make him papers by taking advantage of Night City liberal regulations about cat persons. For lack of a better option, Johnny said yes, he would stay, but just for a while. 

-

Kerry was already in bed, tossing and turning, so he scoots back to give some space to his new friend, and ignores his heart when it races as the other boy lies down next to him. They talk until the wee hours of morning, avoiding the painful subjects and concentrating on music, until Johnny falls asleep under Kerry’s attentive gaze.

In hindsight, Kerry will know this is the moment he fell in love. But right now, he knows nothing about the pain and trials they’re gonna face, together and alone. He knows nothing about what Johnny will accomplish for cat people and the world, and how extreme he will get to achieve his goals. He knows nothing about the depth of the emotions he will experience for Johnny, and the destructive devotion he will endure for him. He knows nothing about how the intensity of his love will be matched, though nearly never acknowledged by his friend. He knows nothing about how dark some days will get, but that in the end, it will be worth it. For now, Kerry just watches Johnny sleep, watches his ears twitch as he dreams, his tail curled around his friend’s waist possessively.

Wows are spoken To be broken Feelings are intense Words are trivial Pleasures remain So does the pain Words are meaningless And forgettable 

All I ever wanted All I ever needed Is here in my arms Words are very  Unnecessary They can only do harm