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

Chapter 18 - Mauritius

The beach cabin in Mauritius that you had rented was a private affair, lodged in a quiet corner of the island where a rocky outcrop, lush greenery and white sand beach met.

You had rented the cabin starting from the day after you left for Texas so that your paper trail was sound. Which was worth the extra cash, in your opinion.

John stared at the straw-roof cabin with a strange expression, carefully stepping on the wooden planks towards the door to avoid stepping on the sand.

You stood behind John as he reached the front door, looming behind him as you curled your arm around his side - without touching him of course; you wouldn't push your luck - to present the cabin's keys to him.

"Don't like sand, Johnny?"

He gently took the keys in hand before unlocking the door and shaking his head, not seeming bothered to make eye contact as he immediately took in the appearance of the quaint little cabin.

The main area consisted of a small kitchenette, large bed and small lounge while a walled off area of the cabin had a small bathroom with a practical sink but a rather large bathtub. All of this decorated with generic, beach themed decor of course.

He stepped into the cabin and took off his Oxfords as he answered quietly.

"Mhm. No. I just don't like the feeling of sand in my shoes. Makes me...angry. I think."

You snorted at that, partly at the relatability and partly at the genuinely disgruntled tone he'd responded in.

"I get that. Why don't you change? You're sweating so much one would think your hair has fused with your skull. Told you the suit wasn't worth it."

John put his duffel down on the bed, looking almost petulant, if that was possible.

"I don't like shorts either."

You plopped down on the other side of the bed, reclining back against the decorative cushions.

"Well you lost your camel knees since I started feeding you so I'm sure you'll be fine, bud."

John seemed like he was preparing a sarcastic retort before he paused and took a breath.

"There's only one bed."

You raised a brow, crossing your arms and melting further into the pillows.

"Mhm. Yeah? Is that a problem? You seemed fine with it last time."

John was fighting an internal battle at this point. The dream flashed through his mind once more, and the feeling of muted discomfort that followed returned, leaving him staring at you with an unreadable expression. To save face he simply nodded.

You were abysmal at reading social cues but John's mood was clearly adverse. Even you could see that. You sat up straight and craned your neck to meet his eyes.

"I could sleep on the couch?" You offered, your tone genuine.

He took a deep breath before shaking his head and running his hand through his hair.

"No. No. It's okay."

Another pause, before John awkwardly declared.

"I'm going to wash up."

You hummed, nodding as you took off your shirt, back facing John.

"Alrighty. Leave the bathwater in the tub. I'll wash up after you."

John retreated to the bathroom with an awkward nod, leaving you to contemplate what would come out of this little vacation.

When you finally finished your nightly routine, which was admittedly drawn out in your fatigue, you immediately settled under the covers. John was already lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. You mirrored him, not meeting his gaze as you worried at your lip in thought.