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Johnny was seated on the couch, his head leaned back on the arm rest, a book resting on his chest as he read. He was hearing but not listening to the history documentary playing on their television. It was something Simon had put on, something about castles and the bloody history their walls had seen. Simon was a history fanatic, it was one of the things Johnny loved most about him. All of the knowledge he held about history, things he had shared and the things Johnny had yet to hear.
The man in question was sitting on the other end of the couch, Johnny’s feet in his lap and a cup of water nestled in his hands as his eyes were locked on the screen. He hadn’t moved hardly at all since sitting down. Johnny felt the occasional rub on his legs or his feet. A simple movement for Simon to feel him and know he was there. They hadn’t spoken to each other in almost an hour but the best thing about them was that they didn’t have to. They were happy just enjoying each other’s presence and doing their own things.
They had decided to retire to civilian life shortly after Johnny’s close call with Makarov. Both of them still woke from nightmares about it. Johnny about the shot itself and Simon about finding his body. He had been nearly dead when Simon had found him and it had taken almost a year for him to fully recover. He still had trouble some days with migraines but he would take that over losing the chance to grow old with Simon. His migraines weren’t too bad, he mostly spent them in bed with the curtains pulled over the windows and an ice pack on his head. Simon also made sure to do everything in his power to be quiet and help Johnny with anything at all. Being quiet came easy to Simon, having spent years training himself to be.
Their retirement had come as soon as Johnny was cleared to go back to active duty. They had argued about it but Simon had been firm in his standing. Whether Johnny came or not he was done. He couldn’t handle losing one of the people he loved. Now, two years since then, sitting with his feet in Simon’s lap, watching his husband stare at the documentary, he couldn't believe he had actually fought him on retirement. His concern had been the transition period from soldier to civilian. It had been hard for both of them, Simon especially. He had gone through the transition once before with disastrous results.
Johnny set his book down, making sure to mark his page and just stared at his husband. At the scars on his face, arms and hands. The ones he had spent many nights kissing or running his fingers over. He knew the stories behind the major ones but most of them Simon didn’t even remember getting. They were bullet grazes and knife fights as far as both of them knew. Johnny reminisced on the night Simon had finally let him in, the moment when things between them changed. It was after their return from Las Almas. Johnny had walked into Simon’s room and confessed everything. Simon had taken it in stride and waited until Johnny had gotten everything off his chest before responding in kind. They had been absolutely gone for each other and still were.
Simon told him all the time how he had changed his life for the better. How he finally had someone to come home to. Someone to search out when life became too much. He had someone to love and care for in a way he hadn’t in a very long time. Johnny had been honored, truly honored, by hearing this come out of his mouth the first time. He still felt honored by it. But hearing it through the mask of The Ghost, his eyes looking anywhere but at Johnny. It had been endearing and Johnny couldn’t imagine life without him. With their marriage directly following Johnny’s release from the hospital, he didn’t have to.
He wondered for a moment what Simon’s life would look like if he had never confessed that day. If he had kept his feelings to himself like he had considered doing originally. In truth he had come and left from Simon’s door on base almost ten times before he had actually knocked and made the confession. It had been one of the scariest moments in his life, and he had been shot in the head.
He stared at his husband who was no longer holding his cup, leaned back into the couch, eyes half closed and trying so hard to stay awake to finish the documentary. He picked one of his feet up from Simon’s lap and nudged his leg softly. Simon’s eyes opened fully, his head moving from where it was laid against the couch. He smiled at Johnny, grabbing his foot and placing it back in his lap. His attention fully on Johnny and the shorter man smiled, deciding to ask the question that was plaguing his mind tonight.
“What would you do if you had never met me?” He asked and Simon stared at him with a look of utter confusion, as if the idea of life without Johnny was something he had never considered. There was also a hint of ‘you woke me up for this’ in there too but Johnny chose to ignore that part of the look, keeping his blue eyes trained on the man in front him.
“I don’t know.” Simon replied, leaning back into the couch and letting out a deep breath. “I could probably take a few guesses though.” He continued, looking at the ceiling and seeming lost in thought. Johnny had thought the answer would be easy for Simon. He had assumed he would get a ‘I'd either be in the service or in a grave’ but it seemed to be much more than that to Simon. He finally met Johnny’s eyes before he spoke again, smiling softly.
“Honestly, love. I’d still be in the military. I’d still be eating processed food out of the vending machines or shitty MREs when I got the chance to eat on missions. If I had never known your name, my life would be unchanged. I’d wake up every day and be Ghost, go on missions and go to bed. It would be a constant loop, the exact way it was before you.” He stopped for a moment, thinking and considering what he had said. Johnny watched him patiently, waiting for him to continue. Simon’s life would be vastly different without Johnny. But it would’ve been predictable, to a certain extent. Which Simon was now realizing was not something he wanted now or had really ever wanted for himself.
“I’d probably still be driving Tommy’s old truck.” He laughed and Johnny smiled, rolling his eyes. When he had first come home with Simon on their shared leave he had been appalled at the sight of the death trap Simon called his vehicle. The truck had been his brother’s since Tommy was eighteen and Simon was twenty. Simon was now thirty six and had only gotten rid of it last year because Johnny had begged him to. Not because he didn’t want Simon to have a part of his brother, but because the truck was more work than it was worth. Simon was fixing something on it every other day. Not that Johnny minded seeing his husband under a truck, shirt pulling up slightly to reveal his hips bones and lower stomach dusted with blonde hair.
“I probably would have never considered doing yoga, just dealing with the soreness in my body from all those years. I’d definitely be a better football fan.” He sighed, laughing as he turned to look at Johnny. The shorter man rolled his eyes at his husband’s words. Simon had grown up cheering for Manchester, being a Manchester boy. But he hadn’t sat down and watched a game in quite a while. He had been busy fixing the truck or spending time with Johnny to make their home perfect for them.
Johnny himself cheered for his own Scottish football team but he, just like Simon, hadn’t caught a game in a long time. He had been focusing on the same things around the house and making sure to keep in contact with Price, Gaz and Laswell. Simon kept in contact with them sometimes but he had always been bad about answering his phone. Now he just told Johnny what he wanted to say and the younger man sent it.
“Okay.” Johnny relented, turning his focus back to their TV. Another history documentary had started. “I get it. I get it.”
Trying to steer the conversation to an end. He had gotten his answer and was smiling like an idiot. Simon chuckled next to him, reaching over to grab Johnny and pull him closer. Johnny slotted against Simon's body, his head resting right over his husband’s heart. He threw his arm over Simon’s stomach, snuggling closer to him and inhaling his scent of fresh laundry and pine. His legs curled up over Simon's lap, Simon's hand resting over his thigh.
“I wouldn't trade a single day with you for a hundred years the other way.” Simon whispered into his hair, kissing his head. Johnny could feel the smile on his face and couldn’t stop his own from crawling onto his face. He moved his face up to look at Simon with a look in his eyes that said nothing more than ‘be serious with me’. He knew how much Simon had loved serving. There were moments where he hated it, but for the most part he loved it. It was his job and he wouldn’t have traded it for anything. But, he had. He had traded his job to live peacefully with Johnny.
“I’m serious, love. If I hadn't been so lucky to have you by my side I’d still be shooting pool with Price in shitty bars, suffocating under my balaclava from the scent of cheap alcohol, sweat and cigarettes. I’d be stocking up on bourbon to drink the hard nights away. Getting so drunk my body had no choice but to fall unconscious. I'd probably have my bike out in the shed. I wouldn’t have any decorations in this flat. I would see no point in it. I wouldn’t ever come to a place that felt like home.” He settled himself into the couch and a little more, curving his arms around Johnny's body and pulling him completely into his lap. Johnny had yelled out at the movement, not expecting it. He threw his arms over Simon’s shoulders and cursed at him which only made Simon laugh.
“Subconsciously, I’d be looking for someone like you.” He whispered, against Johnny's neck and Johnny smiled at him, kissing the side of his head. It was rare that Simon was this open about his thoughts and feelings. He usually kept them bottled up for no one to see. Johnny had learned his tells though, how his body looked when he was expressing different emotions. He had learned Simon’s eyes and body far before he had learned his facial expressions and his words.
Simon had never been one to show his love through words. He presented it through actions. It was little acts of Johnny’s favorite coffee made perfectly each morning. It was doing all of the grocery shopping for Johnny to cook whatever he liked. It was laundry being washed and folded, his favorite products being replaced in the shower when they were empty. It was Simon standing behind him and cutting his mohawk despite his jokes about hating the hairstyle. But after he cut it he would rub his cheek into it when they slept.
Simon leaned in, placing a soft kiss on Johnny’s lips, dipping him slightly so his back connected to the couch, placing himself between Johnny's spread legs. He kept his full weight off of him and smiled. Johnny laughed, placing his hands on Simon’s cheeks and rubbing over the scars there.
“All that being said.” He said. “You know my body can’t handle the military anymore. You make the best homemade meals. I do miss that old truck but you were right that it was a piece of junk” He leaned down placing another kiss on Johnny’s lips, it was deeper this time, tongues brushing together for a single moment.
“I can’t sit still long enough to watch a football game anymore. I have to be doing something and you know that. I would take this wedding band on my finger.” He slipped his hand into Johnny’s left one, bringing it to his lips to kiss over the band there. “Over being a single man. Because I really don’t know what I’d be doing if I had never met you.” He whispered against his hand and Johnny felt his cheeks burning. He cupped his husband's face when Simon let go of his hand. Running his fingers over unmasked cheeks. He never wore a mask anymore. Johnny got the chance to appreciate his husband’s beauty everyday.
“I also love watching you do yoga.” Simon whispered and Johnny laughed, shaking his head and bringing his husband’s face down to meet him.
“Idiot.” He said and kissed his husband with all the love in his body, wrapping his arms around Simon’s shoulders and digging his fingers into his hair. Simon smiled into the kiss and knew, there was no one he would rather spend the rest of his life with. Johnny MacTavish-Riley was the only person he would ever love this way, until they were spirits running around and haunting this old house.