Probably Safer Together

by fakebodies

Summary:

There's probably less chance of getting stabbed in your sleep if you share a bed with someone who'll look out for you

Lightfoot's inability to sit still was something John had grown accustomed to, even fond of. It could get a little distracting while they were driving, but the roads they travelled were usually empty and if he swerved they'd both just laugh it off. Five minutes later, Lightfoot would be back to drumming on the dash with his fingers, humming along to whatever song was on the radio. Every now and then he'd glance over at John, grinning, and John would smile back indulgently. He didn't smile much these days, but it was damn near impossible to frown at Lightfoot.

It's easy to travel with him, for the most part. Lightfoot could be obnoxious and he rarely went the night without picking up some girl, but it didn't bother John too much. He was rapidly growing accustomed to sleeping on couches, though, and finding he didn't entirely mind. It was worth it to see Lightfoot grinning the next morning, fixing himself breakfast in his boxers, every now and then shooting John a smug look over his shoulder. John would shake his head, smiling slightly as he stood and cracked his back, joining Lightfoot in the kitchen for a cup of stale coffee. He wonders how long this thing between them will last.

Lightfoot's inability to sit still gets him a solid punch in the jaw from Red, and any other time John would've hit back harder. Now, he just rubs Lightfoot's back, focused on making sure he's okay instead of beating Red to a pulp for wiping the smile off of Lightfoot's face. Lightfoot says nothing when John hovers a little, and John wonders just how close he's allowed to get. It's one thing to laugh together, to smile and joke, because at the end of the day Lightfoot's straight, and there's always a line. John's pretty sure he's toeing it.

He's a little surprised to find Lightfoot already laying in bed- John's bed, not his own, which is new and definitely makes the line a little fuzzier. John ignores him as he strips down to his undershirt and boxers, and Lightfoot smiles apologetically when John stands next to the bed.

"I didn't want to get stabbed in my sleep. Figured you wouldn't let that happen." Lightfoot shrugs, moving over so John can lay down beside him.

"You figured right. Nobody's laying a finger on you while I'm around." John nods, laying down beside Lightfoot and pulling up the sheet.

"Sorry for stealing half of your bed." Lightfoot tucks his arm under the pillow, lowering his voice. John smiles a little, rolling onto his back.

"It's fine. I don't think I could forgive myself if something happened to you. I trust Red about as far as I can throw him."

"Aw man, I'm nobody special." Lightfoot smiles back, half-shrugging. "It's not like you couldn't find a better travel buddy. I keep making you swerve."

John looks away, shaking his head. "Don't talk like that."

Lightfoot just shrugs again, closing his eyes. John watches him, sighing. He doesn't like the idea of Lightfoot getting hurt, let alone dying. He's gotten so used to the other man's face. It just wouldn't feel the same, traveling without Lightfoot beside him to sing along to the radio and crack jokes when he decides John's being too quiet.

Lightfoot opens his eyes, smiling sleepily at John. "I can hear you thinking. You're gonna keep us both up like that."

"Sorry." John chuckles. "How's your jaw?"

"Sore. It's fine, nothing that won't heal up in a couple days."

"Alright. Keep an eye on it and keep an eye on Red. I don't want him to break your jaw next time around."

"Sure, yeah." Lightfoot crosses his eyes, grinning. John rolls his eyes, holding back a laugh.

"Get some sleep, you don't want to wake up exhausted. Tomorrow'll be long."

"Sleep well, Thunderbolt.." Lightfoot yawns, closing his eyes again.

"You too." John nods. He's a little more convinced what they have will last past the bank job, and a little less worried about crossing any lines- especially when he wakes up the next morning with Lightfoot's head on his chest. He has to admit it's a nice change from motel couches.