Chapter Twenty-Three

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*This chapter contains multimedia relevant to the plot*

**There is also sexual content ahead**

Johnny's sister and her friend Jessica left his car as soon as he parked in the very last row of the drive-in. No more than a few minutes later, Carter Parrish was knocking on the car window. Johnny unlocked the car so he could get in.

"Hi," Carter said, with an effortlessly handsome smile.

"Hi."

Carter's smile grew into a knee-weakening beam and Johnny tried not to be too hard on himself at the sickening sweet warmth that coiled around his stomach.

"So," he said with the practiced calm of someone who had a bit too much experience with hiding this sort of feelings. "This is how you wanted to spend your Saturday..."

"I'm sorry, did you have better plans?" Carter joked.

Johnny raised his eyebrows at him daringly. "Do you think the second season of How I Met Your Mother will just watch itself?"

Carter laughed. It was light and bubbly, and made gray-blue eyes sparkle with glee. Johnny had to bite down on his bottom lip to stop a helpless smile.

"Do you even know what we're watching?" Carter asked, looking at the screen a long way ahead.

Johnny rolled his eyes. "Some sappy teen rom-com," he mumbled.

"It doesn't really matter, because you parked way too far out to see anything," Carter said.

Johnny snorted. "You're welcome."

A short silence settled between them and Johnny fiddled with the keychain, hanging from the ignition.

"What kind of movie do you usually watch?"

Johnny turned his head to face Carter again. He hated—loved—the little skip in his chest as his eyes met the genuine interest in Carter's gaze.

He shrugged. "Star Trek."

"That's not a kind of movie," Carter protested with a grin.

"Sure it is." Johnny smiled.

"Never saw it."

Johnny gasped. "Unforgivable."

Carter laughed. "I don't really watch a lot of movies."

Johnny rolled his eyes. "What kind of person doesn't watch movies?"

"I didn't say I don't watch movies. I said I don't watch a lot..."

"I bet you only watch those male-targeted movies," Johnny teased.

"I do not!"

"Have you watched Die Hard?" Johnny challenged, with a sly smile.

Carter shot him a reluctant look. "Of course, I've watched Die Hard."

"The Fast & Furious series?"

"Everybody's watched that!"

Johnny laughed.

"That's not fair," Carter complained. "Those aren't masculine movies. They're blockbusters! I think I've watched most of them with Mel."

Johnny's grin faltered slightly. "They're shit movies."

Carter gave him a pointed look. Johnny raised his eyebrows, bidding him to explain.

"I never took you for a cinematic snob."

"I am not," Johnny declared firmly.

"You sure sound like one," Carter mused. "And one who likes Star Trek, of all things."

"Star Trek is soul comfort," Johnny muttered with a little smile. "Actual good movies are the ones that make you feel weird on the inside. The ones that don't give you what you want just because it'll sell, even though it would never happen in real life."

Carter looked back at him with a strange look. "I'm not a fan of those," he said. "I watched The Fault in Our Stars last year and I hated it. Sad endings are not for me."

If it had been any other person, Johnny would have had a sardonic comment to offer. But when Carter Parrish said that, it somehow sounded too precious.

"Sad endings are more realistic," Johnny reasoned.

Carter shrugged. "If I wanted realism, I'd turn on the news. When I go to watch a movie, I want my money to pay for something that has me leaving a little happier than when I walked in," he argued evenly. Then he smiled a little, looking at Johnny before adding, "That's actually why I kinda like rom-coms."

Johnny breathed out a silent laugh, glancing away from that sweet unassuming look Carter insisted on giving him. Like he had no fucking idea what it did to Johnny. And maybe he didn't.

"Lack of realism sort of ruins it for me," Johnny said eventually, meeting Carter's gaze again. "I can't root for a couple who's just not realistic. Most of the relationships portrayed in those movies would be doomed to fail in real life."

"You don't know that they would. If they really loved each other..."

"I do know, though," Johnny countered. "Roughly fifty percent of marriages end in divorce. I'm sure the majority of those started with a lovesick couple, though."

"I never expected you to be such a skeptic," Carter admitted. "Especially coming from one of the successful fifty percent."

Johnny thought on Carter's words for a while. He let his head fall back to lean against the headrest.

"Maybe that's my problem," he mused, smiling noncommittally at Carter's curious head tilt. 

"My parents have been married for so long and they're still in love," Johnny explained. "They even make a point of showing it to each other. Maybe they ruined my idea of love. My bar is too high and I just want to bring it down a little. Keep it more realistic."

Carter smiled, shrugging one shoulder—the one that wasn't pressed against the seat so he could face Johnny. "I don't think you should. Lower your bar."

Johnny found himself mirroring Carter's smile, despite himself. He shook his head gently, indicating he wasn't sure what Carter meant.

"My mom was married to an asshole," Carter said. "I don't remember him at all, but from the stories I've heard he wasn't a very good guy, or a very good husband, or a very good dad. He walked out on us before I turned three and we still haven't heard from him. I don't think either of us wants to, at this point.

"For the longest time, my mom focused only on raising me and put a lot of her personal life aside," he continued in the same even tone. "When I started high school, she asked me if I would mind her giving dating another shot. I said yes, because I obviously wanted her to have at least the chance of happiness, but I really didn't want her to deal with all the shit that could come with it. And then she met Tony—who was also married before, with a woman he loved and lost, and who has seven kids to whom he gives everything he has, and who's probably the most affectionate person I've ever met. And now they're both in love and happy. It took decades for my mom to find that, but she did. And Tony got two loves instead of just a single soul mate and then a huge gaping hole when she died."

Johnny watched Carter lick his lips as he seemed to think on his next words. When their eyes met again, he did his best to ignore the sweet ache inside his chest.

"I don't think life is a rom-com," Carter said. "But I think being less skeptical helps make it a little more like that."

Johnny tried to evaluate the way Carter was looking at him. Sometimes he had a feeling he could read the other boy like an open book, mostly because Carter didn't seem to make a huge effort to conceal his thoughts. But there were other times, when Johnny's head pulled him in different directions. Part of him knew what he was seeing, but something else—a piece of him that knew better—told him he was just seeing what he wanted to.

Yet, when Carter looked at him like that, without making any attempts to break the comfortable silence, Johnny thought maybe that more knowledgeable part of himself could fuck off.

Carter's phone vibrated in his pocket, cutting the moment. Carter reached for it, breaking eye contact.

Johnny watched the other boy look down at his phone. In the process of replying, Carter maneuvered his phone in a way that allowed Johnny to get a glimpse of the name on top—Seth Queens.

He wasn't purposefully peaking. But he was able to read the two bottom texts, before Carter blocked the screen and shoved the phone back in his pocket.

Johnny bit back a smile at the implication.

Carter was busy, because he was with Johnny now.

When Carter looked at him again, he leaned a bit closer. Just an inch, maybe less. But Johnny caught it nonetheless. And it fueled that less skeptical side of him.

"What?" Carter asked, under Johnny's pensive look.

"I was just thinking you look like the kind of guy who secretly loved The Notebook," Johnny teased.

Carter laughed. "Whatever. It's not a secret."

Johnny rolled his eyes.

"Seriously. I actually liked that movie."

"You know they died at the end..." Johnny reminded him.

Carter shrugged. "But they had this amazing love story and then died side by side," he argued. "It wasn't a sad ending."

Johnny hummed. "So, what you're saying is that you didn't watch it only because Rachel McAdams is hot?"

Carter rolled his eyes, before they fell back on Johnny. And, this time, he was visibly closer. Johnny watched him suck his bottom lip between his teeth as he looked down at the gear lever before meeting Johnny's eyes again.

"Did you watch it because of Ryan Gosling?"

It was almost a whisper. Like a question he wasn't sure he wanted—or should—ask.

Johnny pursed his lips around a smile. "He's not really my type," he whispered, leaning in.

Carter didn't even try to hide the way his eyes focused visibly in interest. Or maybe he just didn't know he was that transparent. In yet another obvious move, Carter cleared his throat, going for 'casual'. Trying, at least.

"Who's your type then?"

Johnny couldn't help it then. His eyes swept across Carter's figure, as far as their sitting positions in the car would allow. When he caught his gaze again, Johnny made sure he was transparent enough that even Carter would be able to tell. He bit his lip, waiting for Carter to react.

When he didn't, Johnny leaned farther in. Carter didn't move back, but his eyes did glance out the windows of their car, to the mostly full drive-in. Johnny saw through that too. He maybe wished he didn't, but he did.

For a second, Johnny wondered whether he should abort or try to make a further move in. Be less skeptical.

With a surge of braveness, moved by something he had never thought he would act on, Johnny reached up to turn off the lights inside the car.

"Better?"

Carter licked his lips and nodded. Johnny's heart picked up at that, and it probably flat-lined for a couple of seconds when Carter closed the little distance between them for a chaste kiss.

When the other boy tried to pull away to look at him, Johnny put his hands on his face to pull him back in. He wasn't as gentle as Carter. They had been doing this for weeks now. Touch and run. Johnny just wanted to touch now.

Carter's breath hitched when Johnny tried to slip his tongue in, and it was the sweetest sound. Almost as sweet as the way he easily gave in, no resistance, allowing Johnny to do as he pleased.

Johnny smiled into the kiss. He had been so scared to make a wrong move before, but now he just wanted to see where he could take this. Where Carter would let him take it.

His lips detached from Carter's and Johnny relished in the way the other boy seemed reluctant to let go, until Johnny's mouth found the corner of his jaw, just above the neck.

Johnny decided to let his hands wander then, sliding one down Carter's face, over his chest and down his stomach, venturing back up beneath the thin fabric of his shirt. Carter had no sound of displeasure to give him, and Johnny spread his fingers over a taunt stomach, feeling it flex beneath his touch to form firm ridges of muscle.

"Jesus," he voiced. "You're ripped."

It should have felt embarrassing to say that out loud, but the smile Carter gave him was more sheepish than smug. His lips were red and swollen, his cheeks pink and his eyes had turned the color of lead. He looked breath-taking and completely unpretentious. Johnny only wanted to kiss him even more for that.

Carter responded with growing eagerness, without ever trying to fight him for control. Johnny tugged at the hem of Carter's shirt, filling his fist with it. "I wish we could take this off," he huffed.

Carter smiled bashfully. Chewing on his bottom lip, he rolled the fabric up to his chest. If Johnny was standing in that moment, his knees would have given out, and his insides might have erupted into flames.

He couldn't just stare, he wanted to touch as well. But he needed a mental image of that to keep. In case this moment was all he could get.

He was surprised when Carter came for him next. Dropping a kiss on his lips, then on the corner of his jaw and then on his neck. Johnny's eyes fluttered close as Carter found a sweet spot just near Johnny's ear he didn't even know he had. He moaned, despite himself, as the heat in his chest spread out in electric waves. It tingled all the way to the tips of his fingers and toes, and set everything in between on fire.

His hand moved back to touch Carter's abdomen, warm and solid even when relaxed. His fingers brushed downward until they hit the top of Carter's jeans.

Carter's breath hitched into Johnny's neck. He didn't say or do anything to stop him though. Johnny's fingers found his fly and his heart skipped with thrilling excitement as he tried tried to zip it half an inch down. Carter continued mouthing at the supple skin of his neck, and Johnny finished unzipping and unbuttoning his jeans.

He wanted to feel if he was having the same effect on Carter as he did on Jenna's party. As Carter was having on him.

Carter gasped when Johnny's hands slipped inside, over his underwear, resting his forehead against Johnny's shoulder. Johnny tried a soft brush over cotton and Carter's head fell back with parted lips.

Jesus.

"Is this okay?" Johnny asked.

Carter didn't answer. Couldn't. He looked at Johnny with lustful eyes, letting out a long slow breath.

Johnny stopped.

"Yes," Carter breathed, digging his fingers farther into Johnny's hair gently. "Yes, this is okay."

Johnny smiled, kissing him again with firmer lips, to contrast the feather-light touch farther south. Carter panted into the kiss, lips pliable and unresistant. When Johnny's index finger hooked around the elastic of his underwear, he let out a shamelessly compliant moan.

It was all the encouragement Johnny needed. He didn't rush, though. He could not remember ever having dared dream he would one day find himself in his car, with his hand down Carter Parrish's pants. But here he was. And Carter was warm and hard in his hand, his whole body relenting entirely to Johnny's recently discovered desires.

Carter fell back into his seat, tilting his head back. Johnny followed him to put his lips to the other boy's neck.

"God," Carter breathed. He sounded helpless. It did more to Johnny's body than he cared to admit.

He stopped the motion of his lips on Carter's clavicle—just before he could leave a lasting mark—and rested his forehead against Carter's shoulder. 

Johnny tried slowing his breathing, while Carter's picked up. The other boy let out a whimper—an actual whimper—and Johnny closed his eyes.

Having Carter powerless in his hand was proving harder to resist than he'd ever imagined. Johnny didn't even let himself look at the other boy. He knew what he would see. Flushed cheeks, parted lips, semi-closed eyes and a look of pure, willing exposure.

With one last suppressed moan as final warning, Carter hit his climax, making a mess of Johnny's fist. He did look up then, deciding watching bliss play out on Carter Parrish's face, after Johnny took him there, was too good to miss.

Carter was left breathless. His shirt had rolled down his stomach again, but not completely. It was crumpled at the bottom, his jeans completely open and his underwear pulled down. Johnny's eyes swept slowly up, from that delectable V-line, past a quickly rising and falling chest, to peacefully closed eyes.

He was...amazing.

Johnny reached for the tissues in his glove compartment and wiped his hands. Carter zipped himself up, running a hand over his hair, while Johnny got rid of the crumpled ball of tissue. Their eyes met.

Carter's little smile faded into a more serious expression.

He cleared his throat. "Should I—" He stopped abruptly. "Do you want me to, uhm...return the favor?"

Johnny shot him a half-smile. "It's okay."

"Are you sure?"

"Are you sure?" Johnny returned Carter's question with a cautious look.

Carter's Adam's apple bobbed. He shook his head.

Johnny smiled softly. "Then it's okay," he repeated, honestly.

Carter smiled back, somewhat abashedly. He had been so perfectly relaxed before. Johnny didn't want him to tense up. But he also had a feeling this was where he stopped pushing. He had already gotten a lot from Carter that day.

Decided to cool down, Johnny picked up his phone from the little compartment bellow the radio and was surprised to find eight unread messages. One from his mother, to check on them; the other seven from the ID Lydia (brat).

He replied to his mom to say they were all fine, before answering Lydia.

He rolled his eyes, looking at Carter to find the other boy already looking at him.

"The movie's over," Johnny said, though Carter could probably conclude that on his own if only he just looked ahead. "Lydia wants to know if they can come back to the car."

"The date

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