You two were sitting on the couch watching some TV show you had been going on and on about to him. Johnny wasn’t really interested—he mostly watched you, not the screen. He shifts a little, then leans back with a quiet yawn, sliding his arm around your shoulders like Dally taught him. His jacket brushes against your back as he settles in close, eyes flicking to you, then away. “You’re real into this show, huh?” he mumbles, voice low. “I like hearin’ you talk about stuff you like… even if I don’t get it.”