SKYFALL, Johnny Kavanagh

Young and in love

Maeve's Point of View

"Hi, Johnny."

He looked like absolute shit.

Because even half-strangled by hospital sheets, pale as milk, eyes only halfway open and one arm flopped over the blanket like a tragic Victorian poet, he still managed to smile when he saw me.

A dopey, too-big, too-soft, medicated to high heaven smile.

"Sunshine." Se breathed.

"Christ, how many drugs did they give you?" I muttered, stepping into the room and pushing the door shut behind me with my hip.

Johnny's parents were both there – his Ma standing near the window like she needed a physical barrier between her and her emotions, and his Da in the chair beside the bed looking like he hadn't sat down properly since the 80s.

They both nodded at me, a mix of relief and awkward parental concern in their eyes.

"Don't mind him." His Da said, standing. "He's still floating a foot off the ground."

"Oh, I can tell," I muttered, stepping closer and catching Johnny's lopsided, completely unbothered grin. "He just tried to wink at me with both eyes at the same time."

"It worked." He said. "You're smiling."

"Barely."

"Still counts."

I moved slowly toward the bed, letting my sarcasm be the shield it always was. "So. They patched you up, huh?"

He nodded, or tried to. "Told you I was fine."

"You were bleeding through your compression wrap and passed out."

He grinned. "Still scored the try though."

"You're insufferable."

"Still hot though."

I blinked. "Wow. Surgery didn't touch the ego then?"

"Nope. Still massive."

"Johnny, sweetheart." His Ma interrupted, her voice the tiniest bit strangled.

"She needs to know." He said seriously, blinking at me like I was a mirage. "That I love her. That she's my sunshine. That we're going to get married and live in a cottage and name the kettle Gerard."

I turned and covered my face with both hands. "Oh my God."

"Unless you don't want a kettle." He added quickly. "We could just microwave everything. I'm flexible."

I turned back around and forced myself to breathe through the laughter trying to crawl up my throat. "You're so high."

"High on love." he said with a dramatic sigh. "And morphine. But mostly love."

"You absolute donkey." I whispered, stepping closer to him and brushing a strand of sweaty hair off his forehead. "You scared the hell out of me."

"I scared myself." he said. "Woke up thinking I was in limbo. Then Da told me I wasn't dead, just stitched up like Frankenstein."

"You look like Frankenstein."

"He's been like this since he woke up." His Da muttered, running a hand down his face. "Keeps talking about dogs and babies and furniture."

"We're getting three dogs and one cat." Johnny said helpfully. "Unless you don't like cats, then we'll adopt a hedgehog."

I stared at him. "Do you even know how to care for a hedgehog?"