Man's Best Friend [John Wick x Male Reader]

Chapter 9 - Purity Doesn't Suit You

Physical intimacy had always been foreign to John. Emotional intimacy came almost just as rarely but he knew a few kindred spirits who he'd come to care for to a lesser extent. Helen was an anomaly - a person who'd wormed her way into his heart little by little, and the only person who'd made physical touch feel like a reward, rather than a threat.

Which is why he was slightly perturbed by the fact that he was currently nestled into your side, his head propped up against your arm that was stretched out over the back of his sofa.

He studied the movie with a frown on his face, pondering his current situation. This week had felt...good. Psychologically stimulating in a way few things were, nowadays. But it was sudden. It was new. It was a break from routine that made him feel adrift. He didn't know what to make of the warring emotions.

Then again, when he'd found the idea of being around Helen consuming his thoughts, he was just as distressed. Only the situation was different.

She promised peace, while you promised violence, but both of you were exceedingly kind to him.

Maybe that made him easy - kindness being his only prerequisite. Or maybe it was the acceptance of all of him, his violent qualities included. He didn't know.

But for now, he felt safe, and that's more than he could say about the majority of his life. He turned his head to look at you and found you staring right back at him. You smiled, the little half smile he'd realized was more genuine than the blindingly bright one you'd pretend to give someone. "You alright, Johnny?"

He broke eye contact, looking up in a way that would have looked like an eye roll to anyone else, and then looked back at you again. "Tired."

You nodded. "If you fall asleep, I'll carry you to your room. Don't worry."

"Still can't believe you can manage that," he mumbled.

You huffed silently, but he had felt your chest pointedly rise and fall. "Maybe if you ate more I'd actually have trouble carrying you, Beanstalk."

John was both amused and offended, a combination of feelings that seemed to occur around you frequently.

He didn't remember falling asleep, but he did remember fingers brushing his hair out of his eyes as he was laid down on his bed.

~~~

When John woke up it was to an empty bed and blessedly, painkillers on his bedside table. His side was aching, but this usually happened whenever his excitement wore off after a mission. It was difficult not to focus on the pain, when there was little else to focus on.

He made the trek down the stairs and into the kitchen, in search of a glass of water. A note on the cabinet commanded his attention.

Hey

I looked around in your fridge for ingredients. Shit is fucking abysmal btw, we're buying you more groceries asap. Anyway I made some pasta for you. Tell me about some of your favorite foods tonight so I know what to make you. I wouldn't want to make you something you don't enjoy.

I'll be kinda busy at the daycare today but you can come over in the afternoon. Dahlia is still here after all.

Talk to you later

(Y/N)

He stared at the note, marveling at the easy familiarity. It was like you weren't two men who'd hardly know each other for two weeks and already killed almost a dozen men together.