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To be completely honest, Simon never thought about his future. He went into military just because it was easy, just because he was a big man and could shoot a rifle.
There was never thinking about what’s next, what other job he could take, what about retirement.
Then he met John Price, and he started to look towards the future. He knew he was promising. That he was learning fast, had leadership skills, was an absolute unit, as others called him. He was supposed to go under Price.
And then Roba happened.
On any normal day he can’t really remember all that happened then.
He knows it was sick, he knows he is sick because of it, but his mind blessed him with a dark hallway where memories should be.
But that blessing only lasted so far.
What he could remember was coming back.
All the pain, sweating, scratching. The fear. God, the fear.
He was scared of everything and everyone, couldn’t sleep with the lights out, and sometimes even light did not help. He felt observed, constantly on edge.
Once he was free from the hospital his doctor suggested he should stay in a mental health facility for some time, but since they couldn’t force him, he fled.
And that’s when Price found him.
In a small apartment Simon had rented when he first joined the army, curled up in a corner, all furniture moved towards one wall, chairs stocked on the couch, table overturned.
He got sick, having been too scared to go to the shops and all he ate were a sparse old packets of instant noodles here and there. If he even ate at all, that is.
He remembers shaking like a rapid dog, when Price crouched down before him.
He remembers the first kind touch that he recoiled from, he remembers how in a frantic state he bit John hard enough the man had to take antibiotics.
Remembers when he stopped being scared and started to lean into Price’s arms.
And that’s how it went.
Price took care of him until he got… better.
If being a paranoid idiot is better.
Price took care of him like no one ever did. Not his parents, not military. Just John. And Simon started to trust him. He would follow him like a dog in the small flat, sometimes on bad days going as far as to sit beside the bathroom doors when John went inside.
They ate together, sat together, slept together.
Simon constantly got cold, or scared by nightmares so bad he couldn’t breathe.
Many times he thought this time Price had enough, he was going to leave him behind or throw him in a hospital where they were going to strap him to a bed.
But Price never did.
~ 💀 💀 💀 ~
Simon knew he was slowing down.
His heart was pounding with fear of everyone else noticing.
There’s no place for weakness in this task force.
No place for phantom pain of his old scars, no place for joint pain, no place of fatigue of his body pulled taunt by all the trauma, by living in constant fight or flight mode.
Every new mission gets him on edge, every mission he makes small mistakes, human mistakes, but he can’t afford to be human.
Fall down
get up
trip
get up
shot
get up
stabbed
stay down
"Is there anything I need to know?" Price leaned forward, resting his elbows on his slightly parted knees, plastic chair protesting with a screech under the man’s weight.
"No" Ghost responded gruffly, looking down to scrutinize stitches he got on his thigh. He swiped his thumb along the edges of swollen, red and tender skin. It’s gonna be a bitch, waiting for this one to heal. Probably a lot of sitting uselessly on his arse. Maybe desk duty.
But no, it’s even worse, thanks to Price.
"You're going on two-week mandatory leave” the man raises his brows, raising his hand to silence Ghost when he opens his mouth to protest. “And I don’t want to hear anything about it, do you understand?" The look his Captain was giving him could break stones, but it only irritates Ghost. He works his jaw for a moment, considering if talking back would be wort it.
"Yes, sir" Ghost huffs defeated, looking up at his Captain with bloodshot eyes.
"Good lad. Now, get some rest. I'll tell sergeants to bring you dinner to your room." Simon just nods in understanding, not wanting to continue the conversation, if it even could be called one.
Price pats his shoulder lightly while getting up. He hovers for a second, like he wants to say something else, but thinks better of it and with a nod goes out of the room.
~ 💀 💀 💀 ~
Well, it's... something. The hot dog from gas station, that is. Simon looks at it for a solid minute, standing like a lost sheep directly in the way of every other customer, but no one is stupid enough to say a word. Finally, with a light shrug Simon continues his way towards his motorbike. The poor thing was at its final moments when he got back to his rented flat and went down to the parking space. He was worried it would not start up, but everything turned out well enough. Just a clean up and a quick repair after it was purring under him like always, giving him that sweet adrenaline spike he kept chasing even off duty.
He leans on the bike now, taking a big bite out of the shitty hot dog when he sees something lying down near the station wall, something that was not a garbage bag. He's looking at it, finishing his meal (snack, if you look at how small it looks in his hand) in a few bites. What the hell is that? He wonders while brushing his hands off on his pants. He furrows his brows, coming closer to the thing in slow steps, his head tilting like a dog sniffing.
Oh.
Simon kneels, looking at the poor cat. Dead. Looks like it laid here a long time, too. Such a sad spot to die and be laid to rest in. He's arguing with himself for a couple of minutes, finally deciding to at least maybe move the poor cat over to the trees, where it can be reunited with nature.
He reaches over to grab the animal by the neck, but when his fingers graze its fur, cat's head suddenly pops up making Ghost actually flinch back.
They stare at each other, frozen in shock. Well, Simon's for sure in shock, the cat may be less, because it gets up quickly but instead of running away it smacks it's head to Simon's knee, opening its little maw but no sound comes out.
Oh, what the hell.
The cat keeps brushing over his leg, it’s crooked tail going up and maw opening in attempt to meow at him.
He's not going to leave it now, he can't. It looks so sad, and probably is sick, and it's cold outside and there’s nothing around, so he doesn’t even know where the animal came from.
Probably tossed out from someone’s car, his mind suggests uselessly, making his heart ache even more for the poor animal.
Tossed out like trash.
He closes his eyes and sighs. Yeah, that's it for his evening ride, then.
A quick google search for a nearby vet later, he looks back at the cat he was petting all this time. It was really in bad shape. Patches of charcoal fur missing, ears dropped, probably infected, mucus in its eyes, tail looking broken towards the end. Who could have left such a nice thing here?
People are monsters.
So, Ghost picks up the cat, careful, but the animal seems to not care at all about losing its footing. Self-preservation instinct of a stink bug. He puts it below his jacket and zips it up, trying to not catch any fur in the zipper.
A bit awkwardly, with his hands around the cat, probably looking like a pregnant lady, he makes his way towards the motorcycle and gets comfortable on it, making sure the cat will not slide out from the jacket. He puts on his helmet and starts the bike, waiting a moment to see if the animal panics. It doesn’t, and he’s taking his chances if he’s got them, so he drives out of the station.
Turns out it's a she.
An old lady, as the vet said. Really sick old lady, no chip, no one looking for her.
She’s got no one in this world.
But that’s not the truth now, is it?
There's nothing that can be done with her tail, but her ear infections and skin infections and fleas can be managed. Simon gets itchy thinking he was holding fleas under his jacket and fights the urge to start stripping right this second.
Fucking bugs.
"So... are you taking her with you?" the young woman, vet, asks him while preparing a shot. Simon stares at the needle.
"No" he just barks, not really in the socializing mood, put on edge by the medical surroundings. The metal table was making him shiver every time he had to step closer to it, got forbid he grazed it by accident.
"Oh, so you want me to notify the shelter?" she asks, trying not to sound a bit disappointed.
"Yes. I'm a soldier. Can't take care of a cat." he explains, not knowing why, really. Maybe he wants to explain to the kitty why he's leaving her here.
The cat is looking at him, purring and blinking slowly. Ghost feels observed.
And manipulated.
"Okay, then… that will be a bit painful, but we have to give her the shots" the vet finally sets down two syringes. "Will you hold her?"
Simon nods, reaches over for the cat and stills not really knowing how to do that. After a second, he picks up the cat and goes around the table (glaring at it) closer to the vet, holding the cat in a way it doesn’t see the needles.
"You're alright girl" he whispers, petting the cat while the vet gives her the first shot. Kitty opens its maw, no sound coming out, but she looks frightened, her pupils blown wide.
"I know I know" Simon moves her higher, lets her nuzzle her head under his chin. Forget the fucking fleas.
After the second shot he's still holding her, petting her head, whispering sweet nothings, when he looks up at the vet to ask about the medicine. She's looking at the cat, worried, and kind of sad.
He knows why.
It's an old cat.
Old, sick cat, kind of ugly if he's being honest.
And it has its paws around his neck, holding onto the jacket with broken nails. Simon presses his lips into a thin line, feeling soft fur under his chin.
"Can I microchip her?" he asks with sudden determination, and the vet smiles at him widely, knowing exactly what he’s doing.
"Of course! What name would you like for her?"
"Uh..." he looks around the room as if a clue would appear in front of him. It doesn't. What names does he know?
What girl names does he know? "Margareth...?" he stutters after a while.
"Sounds great. Suits her, too" the vet smiles.
~ 💀 💀 💀 ~
"Okay, here's the deal" Simon whispers, sitting down on the floor with his legs crossed, Margareth sitting in front of him. "We got this thing, see? It's an automatic feeder" he shows the device to the cat. "And I’m not sure how it works yet, but it's going to give you food when I’m out. And we got this" he moves a box closer, Margareth cocking her little head to the side, curious.
"It's a water fountain" Ghost whispers, getting excited himself. Oh fuck, when did he became acting like a proper helicopter parent to an animal? "We have to figure out how it's working, it's gonna give you water. I mean, I still have to like, put water into it, but it's going to last longer you know? And I got you a bed to fit under my bed but..." he looks at Margareth with raised eyebrows, remembering how she started sleeping with him in bed on the first day. And he let it happen even with fleas and shit. She had a way to get what she wanted, allright? And her purring might have helped with the nightmares a bit, sue him. “We both know how it’s going to go, lady.”
Getting all this shit to work took him longer that he'd like to admit, but it got done. He’s too old for all this technology and instructions in the smallest font available.
He wasn’t exactly worried about anyone coming in; no one wanted to end up on his wrong side for rummaging through his things, and if he died, he knows someone will find Margaret a nice home under a threat of being haunted by him. She's set for the rest of her life. At least Ghost could have done this much good for this world.
Help one cat.
Make the world a better place for this one cat.
He spent the rest of his evening just watching Margaret sniff around the room and around the fountain, waited for the hour that he set the feeder to go off to see it actually worked and then watched the cat eat. It's... the best evening at base he has had in a long time. When Margaret was still eating, he got up to take a shower, yet in the bathroom doors he faltered. What if she got scared when he wasn't there? In the small flat they spent almost every second together, but that's a new place, and what if she’s upset, and...
Oh god damn it fine; he will leave the door ajar. Just to be sure.
He got his mask off in the bathroom, tossing it to the shelf above the sink. It takes him a moment, but he risks a quick glance up at his reflection. Nothing new to see. There's still someone alien before him, still a face he does not recognize. It used to be scary. Walking into seclusion of a bathroom only to get scared shitless by a stranger looking back at him. But he... there's no getting used to something like that, but he makes it work. Has no other choice, to be honest.
He should shave, the scruff on his face is going to make wearing a balaclava itchy. His hair needs a trim, too.
So that's what he does next.
Shaving is a slow affair, Simon being careful not to cut himself, since having cuts all over is not really nice when you wear a tight fabric over your skin.
Cutting his hair is somewhat faster, since he just uses a clipper with short setting, not really caring how it looks like. It’s not like anyone will be seeing him.
Once that's done, he gathers the hair from the sink and tosses it into thrash.
He switched the lights off before he goes to strip off his clothes.
Showers are never nice, if he can see himself. When it's dark it's not that bad, maybe even... relaxing. Still, he just wants it to be over as quickly as possible.
While lathering soap all over himself he looks towards the door.
Margareth is standing in the small space of slightly cracked door.
A small smile finds its way onto his lips.
For maybe the first time, someone watching him feels comforting.
Well, he feels safe when Johnny's watching him over the scope on missions, but it's a different kind of watching. This... it's just soft. It's knowing and understanding. A cat won't ask why the light is out, doesn't care about how he looks like, why is he so scarred, why can’t he look at himself.
After the shower he gets himself dry and goes out of the bathroom, looking down at the cat that follows him instantly.
"Do you want to go out? I could use a smoke" he rasps, getting clean clothes out the closet. Margareth opens her maw in response, making a circle around his leg. Simon smiles. "Yeah, we gonna go check out the perimeter, general" he scratches her under the chin, crouching down. "You're a sweet girl" he murmurs, taking note on how easy it has become to just smile.
This cat is doing things to him he cannot understand yet. But… he doesn’t hate it.
Once dressed, he picks Margareth up and hides her under his hoodie. It looks... Kind of weird, but she's small for a cat, and... well, even a normal cat would look small in his arms, so. She fits nicely in the hoodie, and Simon hopes she’s comfortable.
He pulls a soft black balaclava over his head and rolls it down his face. Grabbing cigarettes he makes it to the door, one hand weirdly snuck around his middle, where under the fabric Margaret got herself cozy.
He listens for a second if anyone’s out the door, and hearing nothing, he gets out. Walk to his favorite spot behind the gardener’s shed is an uneventful and short affair. He’s not rushing, but he’s not exactly slow walking.
The bench he went over to is empty, like usual. Sometimes Johnny smokes with him, but he didn’t tell him he’s back, yet, and the sergeant only smokes with him.
He should probably discourage the bad habit, but he’s too selfish to give up the comfort of a calm evening with Soap by his side. The man makes his muscles relax a tad, and that’s a lot in Ghost’s case.
Margaret sticks her head out from behind his collar and he awkwardly gets her out and sits her on the bench next to himself.
“This is where I always go, when I smoke. It’s calm, you know? Only Soap comes here, sometimes. Ah, you don’t know them yet.” Yet. Maybe never, Ghost’s not sure he trusts his team not to get Margaret thrown out of the base.
“So, there’s Price. He’s our captain” He takes a drag of his cigarette. “He’s uh… Well, not really old, but he’s got an old soul, I suppose. That’s what people say when others act old when they are not. Then there’s Garrick.. Gaz, they call him. He’s young, too much energy for me” Ghost grunts, looking ahead at the fields surrounding base. His eyes trail down to see Margaret look up at him like he’s the best thing she ever saw. And maybe… Maybe he was this, to her. It makes his throat close up painfully, making swallowing a torture. He gently pats her head, then strokes her behind the ear. “And also there’s Johnny” he says even quieter, like a secret. “He’s… also loud, but different. A lot of energy. Lot of fire, life… He and Gaz are so similar, yet so different, you know? I have no idea what it is about Johnny, I just… Well, never mind.” He looks back to the field, letting his head drop back on the wall behind the bench. After a quiet moment Margaret climbs onto his lap, making a small circle and lying down curled into a little fluffy ball. Simon just stares at her. At the chest, slowly rising and falling, at her whiskers flinching when they get caught by his hoodie, at the satisfied kneading of her little paws.
And every bad thing just… Stops existing for 10 minutes.
He’s sat here, in this little bubble of happiness, of safety. Of love.
He knows that this cat loves him. Maybe because of the food, the water, nice bed. But she loves him, not caring that he’s a monster. For her, he’s an angel.
And she, for him, is a God.
Bestowing him with unconditional love, understanding and care.
She stood before the bathroom keeping watch over him.
Keeping him from the world, from all evil.
She doesn’t have the power to protect him, but she gave him a will to just try.
Try to live.
And that’s more than he got from anyone in his entire life.
~ 💀 💀 💀 ~
Who the fuck is he talking to?
"Yeah, I know Margareth, but I can't right now. Yeah. I'll go out with you later, how does that sound? Good."
Johnny looked up at Kyle with utter disbelief, both of them standing in front of Ghost’s bunk door. They were going to ask him to join them in the gym, when they heard a one-sided conversation inside.
"We'll go out at... 1800? That sounds allright?"
"What the fuck?" Johnny mouths, Kyle shrugs, as surprised as Soap is.
“No idea” he whispers back, and then they both scramble away as they hear a scratch of a chair over the floor. Their lieutenant’s footsteps stalk towards the door, and they start to walk away fast, not running so they can at least try to pretend they weren’t eavesdropping.
Doors behind them open and Ghost sticks his head out.
“Hi, Lt” Gaz waves to the man nervously over his shoulder, which he never does, so Johnny smacks his hand in attempt to stop the weird gesture, which just makes them look more stupid.
Soap’s heart is beating so hard he can hear it in his own ears. Ghost has somebody?
A woman, at that? He never saw his Lt interested in anyone at the bar, or at base, or… well, he never saw his Lt interested in anyone else, period. Maybe he had someone all this time?
But... What about their banter, bordering on flirting, if it wasn’t that already… What about everything they did behind closed doors?
“Say something” Gaz hissed under his breath trying to not be heard by Ghost, who was approaching them.
“Uh…”
“Oh very fucking helpful”
“Wha- what do you want me to do?” Johnny made a dramatic gesture with his hands towards Kyle.
“Dunno, use your last brain cells to say anything?”
“The fuck are you two doing?” Ghost asked, coming to a stop before them, crossing his arms over his broad… muscled… chest… Get your shit together, you just learned he might be a taken man!
“We were, uh… Gonna go to the gym” he says uselessly, shooting Kyle a murderous look when the man draped a hand over his face.
“And for sure you weren’t standing in front of my door, right?”
“Whaaat, no, of course not” Gaz scoffed, smiling a bit too happily.
“Because that would have awful consequences.” Ghost stated calmly.
“Dinnae fash yersel', Lt” Soap waved a hand.
“Right” Ghost squints but seems placated enough. “I need your help with some reports later, I’ll come by to your room, is that all right?” he places a hand on his back, between his shoulder blades. Johnny feels himself go a couple degrees hotter.
“Sure, Lt” he chokes, trying to smile in a natural way.
“Good. Get to the gym then, boys” he winks at Johnny and walks ahead in a direction only he knows about.
Kyle is squinting at him when he looks over.
“The fuck was that bruv?”
“Whit ye haver aboot” Soap stutters, crossing his arms over his chest.
Kyle looks at him a bit longer, then stands a bit closer looking after Ghost.
“So… are we following him later to that “Margaret” of his?”
“Of fucking course we are” Johnny grins, even if his chest gives a painful squeeze.
So that’s how they end up sneaking behind the man at approximately 1820 throughout the base.
And it’s not an easy task.
Their lieutenant has not earned his reputation from nothing. And Johnny’s reminded of this when Ghost almost catches them, again.
They managed to get behind a wall in time, but it was close as hell.
“The fuck are we going to do if he sees us?” Gaz hisses, crouching down next to the Scot. Johnny just keeps his eyes on Ghost’s silhouette, trying his best to not be spotted while the Lieutenant looks around.
He looks like a predator to Soap. Eye whites glinting in evening shadows, dark posture overpowering everything around.
He would figure something out if they got caught, they should just concentrate on the stalking itself.
“A naked man fears no pickpocket” he whispers back, stands up and without making a sound stalks after the Lieutenant.
“What the fuck does it have to do with anything?” Gaz whispers behind him, and with an irritated huff goes after Soap.
And somehow, they fucking lose him.
How do you lose an almost 2 meters high man with shoulders wide as half the hallway?
He has no fucking clue.
They stand in the corridor like lost sheep, looking around, then at each other.
“Where the fuck he’d go?” Kyle breaks the silence first.
“I haven’t heard any doors open” Johnny looks around again, confused. “Slimy bastard” he huffs.
“So that’s it” Gaz sighs, disappointed.
“Yeah, suppose so” Johnny responds gruffly. “I’ll try to ask some questions when he comes over, aye?”
“Yeah, about that. Why’s he coming to your room and not you to his? That’s his office, isn’t it?”
“Dunno, but he never likes when anyone goes into his room. Think it’s the paranoia talking, but I’m no gonna question that now, am I?”
“Yeah, valid” Kyle stretches his arms above his head. “Range?”
“Range” Johnny agrees, and with last disappointed look around they start walking towards the shooting range to pass by their evening.
~ 💀 💀 💀 ~
Ghost’s not at dinner, which is not surprising. The bastard basically never eats with the rest of them, but Johnny’s still hopeful every time. He likes seeing Ghost eat, not in a weird way, but… the fact he sometimes does it, makes him feel like he trusts them.
As Johnny basically vacuums his food off the tray, Kyle talks his ear off about a new game he’s getting. Something about zombies, but it sounds promising to be honest.
“So we doing gamer night?” Soap asks, hopeful.
“Of course Suds” Gaz smiles widely. “Beer and chips and g… and other things” he grins.
“Oh fuck I can’t wait” Johnny moans with his mouth full of food. “Gonna get gey blootered”
“Boys” Price grumbles.
“Sorry, cap” they say in unison.
“So, after next mission, yeah?”
“Yeah” Soap smiles. “Speaking of, Cap, board tomorrow 1100, aye?”
“Yes, nothing changed” Price looks up at them, leaning on his elbows.
“Good. Gonna go to the gym in the morning” Soap muses, scraping the rest of his food off the plate.
“Just shower before you come to us, fucking stink.”
“Well I was going to but now I’m not so sure” Soap glares at Kyle. His phone buzzes.
He takes it out the pocket and checks the messages.
“Ghost’s waiting, gotta go” he sighs while standing up and picks his empty tray. “See ye all tomorrow, goodnight”
“Night” Kyle smiles at him, Price hums in acknowledgment.
He makes his way towards his room. He knows it’s not about reports, and against all that happened he’s excited, just… The Margaret situation gnaws at him. What if he’s the mistress here? But Ghost said he’s single and he doesn’t seem the type to lie about something like that. Maybe he’s just got multiple hookups? That seems unlikely with how antisocial the man is, but it’s not impossible, aye?
He's just…
God, he’s jealous.
He thought he was the only one that got through to the man under that mask in this way. And he did, just… maybe there’s more people that had the honor to do that.
He sighs, stopping at his door. He can see light inside, which means Ghost got restless and picked the lock. Bastard.
He leans his forehead against the door, takes a deep breath and goes inside.
“Fuckin’ finally. Got yourself a nice walk around the base before coming here or what?”
“Aye, something like that” he rolls his eyes, coming closer to stand next to the bed where Ghost’s stretched out, taking most of the bed with his fridge build. Johnny tries to formulate a question, looking into the width of Ghost’s chest.
The man props himself up on his arms, getting his legs on the floor, making Johnny stand between them.
Do you have someone else? Are you having an affair with me? Why didn’t you tell me anything?
Soap licks his lips and finally looks up, ready to just ask, but then Ghost takes his mask off.
Johnnys breath hitches.
You’re pathetic.
He has seen the man’s face multiple times now, but it’s just… something else. The scars, the sheer beauty of him, it makes him lose his mind.
He can have this one selfish thing, right?
“C’mere” Ghost rasps, tilting his head slightly, and Johnny can’t do anything but oblige.
~ 💀 💀 💀 ~
Soap’s hair is still wet from the shower when he shows up in the boardroom. He’s not late, just the last one to come. He had a shit night, couldn’t really sleep with all the thoughts of Ghost haunting him.
“Sit down boys” Price said not looking up from the papers he was holding, standing with his side to the doors. He was focused and serious, so it couldn’t be good.
“All good, Cap?” Gaz asked for all of them, looking up shortly and bumping his fist against Soap’s when the Scot sat down next to him. Ghost walked to stand there behind Johnny’s back, making his neck feel hot with his hovering.
Act normal, bawbag.
“Not really” Price sighed, finally looking up at his men. “This is not going to be a walk in the park, I’ll tell you that” he gestures with the files, coming closer to the table.
Ghost finally sits down. Next to Johnny. His tight pressed to Soap’s, shoulders touching; the man being too wide for the chair.
“Allright?” Ghost whispers to him, leaning slightly to the side. Johnny answers with a nod, and Ghost straightens back. Oh god is he blushing?
“Right, so” Price sits down on the opposite side of the table, and hands each of them a file. “Marsten made a move. Our intel says he’s traveling to England, we don’t know where he is exactly and what kind of transport he’s using, but there’s an attack planned” Johnny stills, looking at his captain with sorrow. “Attack is planned on Westfield London. The stakes are high, boys” he looks each of them in the eyes, stopping a second longer on Johnny. He knows why. That’s his job. Explosives, demolitions. He should feel pressure and stress.
But he’s in his element.
He takes the papers from the table and starts to ruffle through them.
His file contains the building’s plans, structures, everything the terrorist used before, literally everything they have.
He feels eyes on him, and he becomes distantly aware Price was saying something to him.
“Sorry, cap, I was just…”
“I know” Price smiles, although a little dourly. “Take your time, Sergeant. We need your skills more than anything, here.” Johnny nods.
“I need my journal for this, can I…?” Captain nods, and he’s out of his seat in an instant. He feels Ghost’s eyes on his back but doesn’t dare look his way.
~ 💀 💀 💀 ~
Next two days he basically lives in the boardroom.
He doesn’t remember when was the last time he got so focused on anything, but it felt… good. Like he proved to himself that he was capable.
He was deep in his notes about most possible bomb placements, when he heard the door open. He hummed in question, kind of expecting it to be Price, who spent with him entire previous day slumped over his own paperwork.
“Brought you coffee” came a gruff response. He stilled.
“Did you even eat yesterday? Haven’t seen you in the hall” Ghost came to stop beside him, leaning his tight slightly on the table’s edge.
“Yeah, Gaz brought me dinner” he straightened, grimacing when he felt how sore his back is. He cracked his neck for good measure.
“And today? Breakfast?”
“No, it’s early…” he looked up at the clock, stilling. 1300. “Oh”
“Figured. I’ll bring you dinner, Einstein.” Ghost sits down, right next to him and leans slightly into his space to look at the notes. He whistles quietly, his brows rising slightly.
“I’m not going to act like I understand any of it but… solid work, sergeant. We’ll be ready for anything with your pretty head in the team” Ghost looks at him, corners of his eyes crinkling from a smile hidden behind the mask. The man reaches up and ruffles Soap’s hair. He swats the hand away, fighting his own smile, and leans back on the chair.
“God, I feel possessed” he drapes his hand over his face and scratches at the scruffy hair across his jaw. He should shave soon. “It’s like... ah can physically feel gears turning” he knocks a finger against his temple.
Ghost is looking at him when Johnny looks up, it makes him feel a bit of warmth against his cheeks.
“That’s fucking hot” Ghost says in a flat tone. Johnny chokes on his own spit.
Chackling, he looks at the man with big eyes. “Eh?” he rasps between coughing.
“I said” Ghost purrs, leaning his elbow on the table, his figure slightly looming over Johnny who no longer can hide his blush. “Its fucking hot. You. The way you… know so fucking much about this shit” Ghost glances towards notes. “God, I love me a smart man” he purrs warmly, and Johnny flinches as his chair gets dragged closer to Ghost with one move of the man’s arm. He’s looking up in those dark golden eyes, swallowing hard. His eyes wander down, to the lips covered by fabric. Ghost, exactly knowing what Johnny’s thinking every time, slips his thumb under his balaclava and pulls it up, over his nose. When he leans down, grabbing Johnny’s chin, the Scot exhales shakily before their lips meet.
It’s soft, and teasing, just like it always is with Ghost. Johnny melts right into the contact, feeling Ghost’s fingers flex around his jaw, squeezing, then sneaking down towards his throat where they stay, slightly pressing into his jugular. Johnny hums in quiet agreement and Ghost presses harder, his kisses growing violent with the way he bites down on Johnny’s upper lip.
Soap whines softly, his hand landing on Ghost’s thigh, fisting the fabric of his sweatpants.
“So pretty” Ghost sighs into his lips, nibbling on the corner of his lips, his cheek, jaw… throat…
Ghost’s hand goes down over his chest making Johnny shiver. Ghost looks up then, Johnny sighing in disappointment from the lost contact, but then he looks down.
Ghost moves his chair from the table without much issue, looking at Johnny with blown wide pupils, then goes on his knees before him.
Oh my god.
~ 💀 💀 💀 ~
His head hurts so badly.
It’s been four days of planning, sketching, and briefing. He had made a presentation of everything he gathered to the rest of 141 and a team that will be going with them. He went through everything three times. He still thinks it’s not enough.
He feels like there’s sand in his mouth, snatching all the moisture.
Price ordered him to go get some rest, after he caught Johnny sleeping in the boardroom the previous night.
His head’s still running on adrenaline, making him think about next possible notes, about little detail, not something they need, but Johnny feels like he can’t skip over anything, there’s just too much on the line.
The world tilts.
His legs lead him towards different room than his own.
He can feel anxiety like lead, coursing through his veins, causing pain that flares up from his wrists to his neck, making his clenched jaw hurt.
It’s not like he doubts his abilities, he knows he’s fucking good. But this job is making you think about every little possibility.
Before he knows it, Ghost’s door is in front of his face. He started to lean forward from the headache, and he lets himself rest his forehead on the door, before finally knocking on it with his knuckles. He picks his head up second before door opens.
“Johnny?” Ghost furrows his brows, standing in the little space of the open entry. “What are you doing here?”
“S’rry, ahm just…” Johnny lets his eyes roam around over the hall. “Ah ken yer no… That ye dinnae like guests, but…” he presses his palm into his left eye and groans. “Me heid’s been killin’ me…” He’s gonna vomit. “Ahm sorry, ahm gonna…” he juts a thumb behind himself taking a shaky step back.
“You look half dead” Ghost says, and the lack of comment about his choosing of words is telling enough, he really has to look bad.
Ghost’s jaw ticks, visible over thin balaclava. He looks over his shoulder at his room, then makes the decision, opens the door wider and grabs Johnny’s forearm firmly but gently and drags him inside and locks the door. Johnny’s getting dark spots in his vision from the migraine, so he puts no fight when Ghost sits him down on the bed.
“Gonna take your shoes off, aye?” Ghost steals a quick glance up, at the slumped mass of his sergeant. Johnny just blinks at him. Ghost makes a quick work of his shoes and makes him lay back on the bed. “Ice pack?” a negative grunt. “Close curtains?” an affirmative grunt. “Me?” another affirmative. Ghost’s steps moving away, the rustle of curtains closing, then soft steps coming back.
Then a warm presence next to him, making the mattress dip.
Johnny slides down a bit and presses his face between Ghost’s chest and the sheets. He can feel his lieutenant’s hand slowly stroking his hair and neck, and after a low hum he makes, the hand starts to massage his nape.
It takes a while, a painful while, but he finally falls asleep.
He wakes up slowly, feeling better and bad at the same time. He’s sweaty, there’s pressure behind his eyes – luckily no pain, but the feeling is still unpleasant.
He can feel warm pressure on his lower back and on his nape just below his shirt.
“You’re up?” Ghost whispers, close to his hair.
“Yeah” he rasps weakly. “Feel pish. But will live.”
“No headache?”
“No anymore” a hum, acknowledging his answer.
“You scared me a little, you know?” soft lips graze his forehead, and he leans into the contact, swallowing the disgusting taste in his mouth.
“Sorry. Ah deh get em often, but when ah do… It’s bad”
“It looked bad. Don’t fret now, but I called Price when you were out. Just in case it got worse, and we’d have to call medic to my room.”
Johnny snorted, amused. “Have you ever gotten a migraine, Ghostie?”
“Yeah, well, I did, but not… not like you, idiot.”
“Yeah, so, apparently if the three doctors I saw for it were not lying, that’s how a standard migraine goes, Lt.” he goes to shift on his elbows and stills. The weight on his back felt weird. And Ghost stilled, his muscles going rigid.
“Ghost…?” he looks up at the man, confused.
“I, uh…” Johnny tries to look over his shoulder at his back but Ghost’s hand on his cheek stops him. “Johnny. I need you to keep a secret”
“What?” Johnny laughs a bit nervously. That’s getting weirder by the second. The weight shifts.
“I need you to keep a secret because there’s something really dear to me” Ghost’s voice is so serious, Johnny is just able to stare at the man, getting stressed by the second. “Do you promise not to tell a soul about what you’re about to see?”
Johnny swallows. “Yes”
“Promise?”
“Promise. On me maw, swears down”
Ghost purses his lips into a thin line, and with a great amount of hesitancy lowers his hand.
Johnny looks at him for a tad longer, then looks over his shoulder slowly.
There’s a fucking cat on his back.
A cat!
He gawks.
“What the fuck?” he looks up at Ghost then back down at the cat, which picked it’s head up and is looking at him, blinking and starting to knead his shirt, purring.
“That’s Margaret” Ghost says, suddenly shy.
Margaret.
Oh god.
Johnny laughs, finally having the puzzle he was missing.
“That’s Margaret” he breathes, amused. “God, she’s… sweet” Johnny’s lips stretch into a wide grin. “An ‘ere I thought ye were sneaking a bird over!”
“Do I look…” Ghost pressed two fingers to the base of his nose. “Johnny, we’ve been hooking up all this time”
“Yeah but does it stop you from hooking up with others?”
“I’m gay, shitface” Ghost glares at him, but Johnny doesn’t even look his way.
“Hi bonnie lass, yer the one stealing me man, are ye?” he slowly maneuvers so he doesn’t toss the cat around on the bed and settling on his back he picks the kitty up and brings her closer to his face. “Proper nice lady, this one” he smiles widely when the cat starts to purr instead of trying to get free from his hands. It’s like a ragdoll. He steals a glance at Ghost, and the man looks… Jealous.
Soap smirks.
“Whit, fear she’d like me more than ye?” he looks back down at the cat. “Yer bonnie” he purrs to the animal, stroking her ears gently. Margaret is so small, and so… Trusting. He’s way bigger than her, he could just… Crush her by accident or something. And yet, she’s right here, leaning into him and kneading his chest. A warm smile makes its way onto Soap’s lips.
“I ken now” he whispers. “Why’d ye say she’s dear to ye” he looks up at Ghost, still smiling softly. Ghost is looking at him kind of sheepishly.
“I…” he starts, but words die in his throat. Johnny grabs his hand, gently stroking it.
He takes a deeper breath.
“I found her under a petrol station’s wall. Thought she was dead and wanted to… You know, put her into the forest or something. So she’d have a nice spot to rest. But turned out she was alive, so I took her to the vet and… Fuck, look at her.” He gestures towards the cat. “Look into these eyes. I couldn’t leave her”
“Fair, couldn’t leave her meself if I saw ‘er” Johnny smiles at the cat, then looks back up at Ghost. “That’s sweet” his voice barely above a whisper, wanting this to be theirs, only theirs, so Ghost doesn’t feel the need to turn it into a joke. “Ye hav a good heart” he leans in and kisses the man lightly, just because he can.
And Ghost, the angel of a man, cuddles closer and hides his face into the crook of his neck.
He’s just a big kitty himself, Johnny thinks.
“I will keep this secret” Johnny whispers, pressing his cheek into soft blond hair.
“But…” he hears Ghost sigh heavily and smirks. “I will require visits to my new favorite lady”
“If you have to” Ghost grumbles, but Johnny can feel him smile into his neck.
~ 💀 💀 💀 ~
“Flabbergasted” Gaz deadpans looking over at the recruits. “They got some balls on them to make a wager with Ghost”
“Imagine the lore ye get to tell others. ‘I challenged The Ghost and lived’ kind of shit. Well, if they live, tha’ is” Soap took a big bite of his slice of cake.
“That looks like a slim outcome to be honest.” Kyle drops his arms. “What you say we stop this before someone dies? No need for paperwork.”
“Yeah, we prooly should” Johnny grimaces and makes his way towards Ghost who at this moment had a competition against some dumb private in doing pushups. How did the kid think he could win, that’s a real question. Soap licks off chocolate from his thumb, coming to a stand next to Ghost. Couple of kids look at him, interested that anyone’s coming close to the big scary lieutenant.
“Aye, big guy. Brought ye sum sweets” he lightly pokes Ghost’s ribs with his boot.
“I’m a bit busy Johnny” Ghost responds in this nice, deep, sexy… Voice he gets whenever he works out, the nickname sounding… It’s doing things to him he can’t show in public.
He swallows.
Don’t. Get. A. Boner.
“Cheesecake with chocolate on top” Soap cocks his head, shooting a glance at Gaz. Kyle raises his hand and silently with his fingers counts down from 3. He could hear privates start to snicker between themselves.
Perfectly at 1 Ghost suddenly gets up.
“You lot have a longer break, but let that be a warning, right?” he points a finger at the poor guy who had to do pushups against him, the boy sweating buckets.
With “Yessir” ‘s as their background noise the three of them started their way towards their own bunks, Ghost rolling up his mask over his nose and taking a slice of the cake.
Johnny watches him take a big bite and slide the tip of his tongue over the scar crossing his upper lip.
He almost walks into a post, too.
“Is it that good?” Kyle laughs when Ghost moans while taking another bite.
“Fookin mint’” Ghost rasps, glancing at Gaz and then looking over at Johnny and actually smiling at him, while licking his upper lip again. Johnny feels himself blush, and Ghost, that motherfucker, winks at him.
Kyle snickers again.
“So, what do yall say we go out? Tomorrow’s gonna be a shitshow with the prep and all. Might be good to go for a drink today. I can persuade Price” Kyle rises his brows in question.
“Ye cuz yer his fav pup” Johnny takes another slice and curses when chocolate melting in the high summer temperatures slides down his hand. He tries to lick it off and he stills when he feels Ghost’s eyes on him.
“Gonna ignore that. Anyways, give me half hour and I’ll get him to go. Maybe he’d pay for drinks even?”
“Oh, aye, do tha’ ” Johnny nods. “Last time I paid, have no recovered from tha’ yet, ye bunch of drunkards”
“Well to be fair most of those drinks were yours, Suds”
“Away n bile yer heid, bampot. At least I got to me bunks by me own twa feet!”
Kyle squinted his eyes at him and opened his mouth to shoot a comeback, but Ghost was faster.
“So instead of this bicker you could go ahead and start persuadin’ the old man” he nods his head in general direction of Price’s office where the man most probably is.
“Gonna stay with the Lt mysel. Have to spare me knee fir mission” Johnny grins.
“Yeah, sure, you just want the whole ass cake” Kyle comes closer and with a bit of wrestling takes two slices, for himself and the captain. “Gonna call you two, okay?”
“Sure, countin’ on ye” Johnny stared after his friend for a moment, then looked up to say something to Ghost when the man grabbed his elbow and started dragging him somewhere.
“Wow wow where’s the rush to, Lt?”
“Shut up” the man just grumbled, his pace fast and confident. “Brings me cake in the middle of day, makes me leave my privates, and, from all the different options, he brings me cheesecake” the man is seething. Johnny audibly gulps, walking behind the man.
They stop suddenly and Johnny looks up at his Lt scared for his life.
Ghost raises his brows expectantly.
“Come on, open the door for us, sergeant” Soap looks at the door. It’s his room.
What’s going on?
“Unless you want to fuck in the hallway?” Ghost supplies faking irritation.
Soap has never in his life unlocked a door faster.
~ 💀 💀 💀 ~
They were at least three drinks deep each, when Johnny starts the topic.
“Price” he’s looking kind of at nothing; his eyes trailed on general direction of his glass. “Ye ken I could teach demolitions when I’m retired?” Price shoots Ghost a look, like he’s an actual keeper of the Scot (which he probably is).
“What made you think about that?” the captain asks, curious, and maybe a tad worried. Johnny’s not the type to dwell on the future, or at least he doesn’t voice it.
“Just…” Johnny shrugs. “When ahm no longer able to go out in the field, what I’m gonna do with me life? Sit pretty in some house with proper white wooden fence? Two bairns runnin’ around?”
“Damn that’s getting depressing” Kyle snorts. “You need another drink, old man?” he clasps a hand over Johnny’s shoulder. The man smiles and shoves Kyle in the ribs, but Ghost can see something in his eyes.
“Only if ye pay” Soap grins, Kyle rolls his eyes but flags the bartender and orders them all next drinks.
Simon thinks about it all, about the solemn shadow over Johny’s eyes, about his slumped shoulders, about how after their quick fling in his room before, Soap just sat at the edge of the bed looking at his hands.
And it all fell into place just at this exact moment.
Johnny thinks he might not be coming back from this one.
It grips his heart in ice claws, piercing the muscle and making his blood cold and heavy like lead.
It makes sense, which is sick.
It’s Johnny’s mission. Not really theirs. He’s got different demolition experts on call, but they all know he’s an absolute unit in this field. They all count on him. He’s in charge this time.
And Simon knows if Johnny has to, he will stay to the very end of the mission, he will see it through, even if it kills him.
“What about those poor kids ye trained today?” Johnny looks up at him, trying to find anything to get his mind on a different track. And Ghost will give this to him.
“They are... difficult” he grimaces. He gets his bourbon, takes the glass in his hand and swivels it around.
“Means?” Price arches his brow.
“Some of them are good. I mean, it’s always this way, yeah? Some are just field meat, some will be great snipers, some great leaders. They’re not shaped yet.”
Johnny downs his drink in one go and Kyle laughs at him.
“On one hand, they are really promising. Best group I had in a long time” Ghost scratches his cheek over the fabric.
“And on the other hand…” Ghost tilts his head.
“You got different fingers”
. . .
“What” Ghost looks up at Johnny, dumbfounded.
“On yer other hand, ye got different fingers” Johhny supplied, like it made any sense.
They blink at each other.
“Can I switch teams?” Ghost turns to Price.
“No” Captain replies gruffly.
“Damn” Ghost mutters to himself.
“This is enough for you, big guy” Kyle cackles at how Johnny slips while standing up.
“Oi, I’m fucking sober, ye cunt” Soap rights himself quickly. “Just slipped” he squints at Gaz, then flashes him the bird when his friend laughs. “Gonna take a piss” Soap salutes, and goes towards the bathroom, draping a hand over his eyes. There’s a taunt line to his shoulders, his body tense, his hands flexing involuntarily.
“He’s going to get himself killed” he murmurs, looking up at Price.
The captain, ever so observant, is also looking Soap’s way.
“We will not let that happened” he looks up at Simon.
And he believes him.
~ 💀 💀 💀 ~
Tomorrow’s the day.
Johnny can feel the dread closing around him like moving walls, making him get tunnel vision. He should work good under stress, great even. And he’s sure he’s going to be sharp tomorrow on the mission, but today… The waiting is what’s getting him antsy.
They are lying in Ghost’s bed, Johnny pressed against the man’s warm side, and Margaret curled into his other side. They both seek his warmth, it seems. Johnny’s been looking at the cat for almost an hour now. They tried to watch a movie but had not succeeded, as both of them have shit on their minds. So, they opted for radio in the background, so the silence doesn’t eat them alive.
“I need you to make a promise” Johnny rasps, finally breaking their quiet.
Ghost hums in question, shifting slightly, and Johnny becomes aware the man was napping. Waking him up makes him feel bad, but there’s no going back now.
“I need you to promise me, that if I tell you to run, you will run.”
“Is this some kind of sport or what” Ghost mumbles.
“No, I mean the mission, Ghost” Johnny shifts away, not in a mood for bickering. Ghost lifts his gaze at him.
“You can’t be serious?” he asks after a moment.
“I am. Really fucking serious” Soap glares at him. “You have to promise me that.”
“And what’s going to happened with you, if I ran? Because I’m sure you will stay and get yourself killed. That’s your great plan?” Ghost sneers, trying to get Johnny to fight him.
Soap knows about this tactic, was at its end many times, and many times he had taken the bait and let his anger consume him.
But not this time. There’s too much on the line.
“Ghost…” he squeezes the base of his nose, taking a breath, resigned. “I’m sure I can do this. That whatever charges they bring, I will do this. But I don’t want to have the weight of your life on my shoulders.” He looks up at the man. “Not yours, not Gaz’s or Price’s. If I say you have to go, you all need to go. I’m begging you, Ghost” he swallows, looking at the man hopelessly. “I know where I can hide. I know which parts of the building are sturdy enough. I will get myself out, Lt, but to do that, I need you to trust me.”
He sees Ghost’s shoulders go slack, his jaw clenches but his eyes drop on the blankets. They are silent again, but Johnny knows they need it. Ghost needs it to work it all out in his mind.
“Okay” Ghost sighs finally, looking up. “I trust you, Johnny” his voice is soft, like he means more than the mission, more than military.
And maybe he does, if the soft look says anything. If his hand, sneaking into his own and threading their fingers together, means anything.
And when Ghost leans to nuzzle his face into Johnny’s neck, his leg coming up to lay across his hips, Johnny knows exactly what this trust means.
~ 💀 💀 💀 ~
They needed intel before their departure. It was sudden and harsh, had to be done in 3 hours, so of course Ghost went.
Mission was quick, efficient, without problems and setbacks. Ghost gets out from the heli and strides straight to his room, thinking only about how he's going to cuddle with Margaret for the hours left before he's going to have to get himself together and get back to work. He feels his back aching, his shoulders sagging, and a weird feeling of draught at the back of his throat. The door is so close and so far away but he gets there. Margaret greets him with her mute meow, running up to him. Ghost closes the door, rips off his mask and stumbling he grabs the cat and goes over to bed.
He's gonna crash.
When did he become so weak? When did his body betray him, exactly?
He goes down, boneless, all the strength left going towards not crashing the cat. He curls up around her, still mostly in his gear.
Margaret starts to lick his face, cleaning it like he's her kitten that needs pampering. He lets her. It's the most comfort he allows himself to get now.
She gets him. She knows what he needs, somehow knows what to do even when Ghost himself has no clue.
It's the instincts, he supposes.
People don't really use them anymore, not consciously anyway. And Margie, being a literal predator, a not-really domesticated one at that, knows her instincts well. Her purring makes his heart rate slow down, her rough tongue scraping over his forehead in soothing motions.
Ghost doesn't remember falling asleep.
He does, however, remember waking up.
For a moment everything's fine.
Margaret is sleeping still where he curled around her, her soft purrs filling the silence surrounding them.
And then he moved slightly, and it all became very real very fast.
The pain overwhelmed him for a moment, deep aches inside his bones, joints, muscles, everything. It felt like a broken bone, but less stabbing, more... stable. It did not make it any easier to bear. He groaned against his will and made a conscious decision to curl up more but discovered no energy to do so.
Well, faking death it is.
He let his body go limp and just stayed there.
Someone knocked at the door.
Simon did not remember falling back asleep, but not being conscious was good. Better than the pain that waited for him once his eyes opened. The knocking came again. He did not react. No point, he had no strength for anything.
Then he heard the key turning in the lock.
He should move.
He really should move.
He didn't.
"Hi, love" he heard Johnny whisper after a minute. He hadn't heard him come inside. "What's wrong?" a warm hand on his waist. He's still in his gear. Why?
He grunted in response.
"Bad one, huh?" Johnny began to unclip pouches from Ghost's belt and pants. Simon just blinked, his eyelids heavy as hell, every blink a war.
"Come on" Johnny murmured.
With Johnny's help and quite big amount of awkward shuffling and half-coordinated moves, Simon was left in his shirt and boxers. Johnny pulled a blanket over him and sat back down on the edge of the bed.
"Ye up for dinner?"
"No" Ghost rasped, distantly feeling hunger, but no strength to eat. Mere thought about chewing made his jaw slack from fatigue.
"Okay. Want me to stay? We still can have a wee nap before debriefing"
"Stay"
"Of course" quiet shuffling pointing at Johnny getting his boots off embraced his ears, and Simon let his eyes close. No point in being conscious. Johnny's got him.
As he felt Scot's hot body press against his back, he purred lowly, just like Margie still cuddled to his chest, and let his mind drift away.
~ 💀 💀 💀 ~
“Let me check it” gruff voice of his Lt comes from over his shoulder, and Johnny lets his arms fall to his sides as the man checks over his gear. Ghost pulls on a couple of straps, checks the knives and radio. He nods with approval standing before Johnny, and now it’s his turn. Behind him Price is checking over Kyle’s gear the same way.
Johnny’s worried as all shit. Ghost barely pulled himself together for this mission, what if he… No. It’s The Ghost. He’s gonna be fine.
“All’s good” Soap declares after a thorough search, only having to tighten the straps that Ghost couldn’t reach himself.
They stand together in this little bubble of unstable privacy.
Johnny places a hand over Ghost’s heart, looking up into his eyes.
“Trust me” he whispers.
“I trust you” Ghost whispers back, his golden eyes locked on his icy irises.
Fire and ice, they are.
“Ready, boys?” Price’s voice makes them step away from each other slightly, both looking up at their captain.
The man looks at every one of them, his gaze serious, stone cold.
“Let’s get those motherfuckers” he barks, nodding at them, and fixing his hold on his semi-automatic he boards the halo, his bloodhounds following close after him.
They’re waiting in a van, looking at cameras showing them inside the city hall. Every entrance, every corridor.
Another team was at stake out for the previous week, as soon as intel about Marsten came to them, but they saw nothing. 141 joined them just now, since the most possible date of attack was estimated for today.
Apparently, Laswell’s intel wasn’t unequivocal, which’s weird enough, the woman being the best at finding shit out.
Marsten was careful.
“I don’t think he’s going to blow up the whole building” Johnny murmurs, sitting next to Price. “Dogs found fuck all, no suspicious lookin’ fuckers, no weird “maintenance” maneuvers. Chalking up; no demolition.”
“Better for us, right?”
“Yeah, that minimalizes possible victim numbers, but that means he’s probably going for suicide mission. And those are much harder to subjugate.”
Price hummed in agreement, his eyes never leaving the laptop’s screen.
Johnny can see a K9 handler with his chunky sniffer lab move across his screen. The dog stops, sniffing after some guy in a jacket. Soap stills.
“Cap”
Price looks up at the same moment the guy looks behind himself at the dog that sat down, signaling sniffing out explosives. His clumsy appearance luckily calms Marsten who chooses to ignore the dog, that the handler begins to baby-talk to, trying to get him to walk to keep up the appearances.
“That’s fucking him” Soap gets up quickly. He hears Gaz and Ghost do the same, somewhere between them getting ready he hears Price signal to other teams that they got him exactly at the same moment as someone from that team reaches out that they saw him, too.
“Let’s go” Price nods and he’s up and out the van in a second. They are all in civilian clothes, trying not to bring too much attention to themselves. As far as they’re aware, Marston has not seen their faces yet, and even if he did, with how many people are inside he’s gonna have hard time in singling them out.
Johnny felt cold grab at his chest once he saw how many people really were inside.
“Lead us, Logan” Price rasps into the comms.
“Go left on the embranchment, he took the stairs up next to Milano Couture”
“I see him” Kyle murmurs, but they hear him loud and clear through comms.
“Ghost you go back, turn right and go on those stairs. Wait there. Johnny, you with me, Gaz, you wait three minutes and go up after us”
“Rog”
Johnny’s already at the stairs while Price talks, his eyes stuck on the man they are stalking. He’s going through his notes in his head, trying to decipher what kind and how much explosives Marsten has under that fuckass jacket.
There can’t be much, if it’s not visible. There’s no buff to the clothing, no place to hide it, not really. Unless there’s more men with explosives stashed, it shouldn’t be too devastating, if the bomb do goes off.
Unless there’s no bomb in his jacket, but it’s somewhere in the building.
“He’s heading east”
“Got eyes on him” Johnny informs the woman leading them. “Ghost”
“Going the other way, will meet him on the other side”
“Was that a joke?” Johnny hums.
“No. Would you like one?”
“Well, no better time than now I guess”
“What has four legs and one eye?” he can hear a lilt in Ghost’s voice. That’s gonna be awful.
“Dunno, Lt”
“A chair and half a fish”
“That’s… worse than your other jokes, somehow.”
“You loved it, Johnny”
“Never” he smiles lightly, coming to a stop in front of some shop when Marsten suddenly stops. “He stopped” Johnny murmurs, looking the other way. He can see the bastard’s face reflecting in the shop’s glass.
“Can see ‘im too” Gaz speaks up a second later, and Johnny sees him passing the guy. “Can’t see shit, don’t think he’s got much under the jacket” Kyle supplies after coming away a safe distance.
When Marston continues his walk, Johnny slowly starts walking after him.
“Heading to the center” Logan informs others who have no visual.
“What the fuck?” they hear Ghost’s voice. “There’s nothing under his jacket; he just zipped it open.
What? Then what did the fucking dog sniff?
Johnny felt hair on his neck stand, a sudden cold shiver making its way up his spine.
Kyle once joked he’s got a Spider sense for explosives.
And it’s talking to him now.
“Price, I dinnae like this” he hisses. “Tell them to evacuate people”
“Logan, you heard him. Start the evac.”
“We can’t scare him away now, we need…”
“Start the evac. Now.” Johnny hears himself growl, his steps becoming faster.
There’s a family with two kids, sitting in front of an ice cream café.
The little girl’s in a pink dress, her sibling only a few months old, strapped in a carrier.
Their mum’s got a flower dress on, her hair soft blond curls. The dad is in a shirt with some picture of a weird ass fish.
Johnny imagines them all dead, chalked children’s remains, the little carrier smashed, meat, bones, burnt skin everywhere…
There’s a delivery guy, dragging a wagon filled with crates of clothes and different shit. He’s going in the direction of a store but stops once he sees Marston.
And everything clicks into place.
“Get down!” Johnny hears himself roaring, pulling out his gun from the hidden holster. People mostly instinctually get down or cover behind things. Soap’s fast, but the fucking bastard is faster. Marston covers behind the crates, which Soap is trying to avoid, now knowing what’s inside.
“Get out! Get out, now!” he yells at people closer to him, looks at the family for half a second to be sure they will run to safety.
He sees Ghost sneaking towards Marsten and his associate, so he makes a risky move and shoots right next to the crates to keep their target’s focus on himself.
Ghost, abnormally in tune with his sergeant, makes his move as Johnny provides him cover and distraction.
The crate guy is dead before he knows what’s coming.
But it’s more difficult with Marsten.
They need to try to keep him alive. It’s too risky to kill him, not knowing how the explosives are supposed to be detonated, or if even they are in those crates. Which Soap is sure they are, but still. They need to cover every possibility.
And Johnny wants the fuckass to suffer, not go out quick.
Ghost makes a move to Marsten, but then a shot falls from somewhere else.
Kyle takes out the shooting man, but there’s another. There’s other men, and soon enough Marsten hides away.
Fuck fuck fuck fuck
Without much thinking Soap lunges after the man.
“Bravo 7-1 after the target” he hisses through comms, sliding behind a counter to hide from bullets whistling around him. He locks eyes with a girl, worker of the store, hiding behind the counter. Her eyes wide open, her hand covering her mouth. He brings a finger to his mouth and gestures for her to stay. She’s at least a little bit safe here.
Well, not if the building goes down, but at least no bullet will take her.
Holding himself low on his knees he sneaks from behind the desk and looks around in time to see someone’s shadow disappear behind staff only doors.
There he is.
Johnny stalks after his target like a predator; quick, silent, efficient.
For a second he thinks about Margie sneaking on a toy in the same primal manner.
The door is silent when he opens it. Quick sweep of the room makes it safe to enter. There’s boxes, crates.
“Bravo 7-0, demo team secures the crates. Soap, how copy”
“Solid” he murmurs under his breath. He opens his mouth to say more, but a small move at the corner of his vision makes him gustily back off behind a stack of crates. A bullet whistles in place where his head was a second ago, he hears a curse and steps.
He snarls, curling his lips like a dog.
In quick moves he’s out from behind the crate and it takes him exactly three seconds to reach the bastard.
What a waste of oxygen.
They topple over to the floor, carried by the force of Soap’s tackle. The Scot pins the man down quite easily, being of a bigger posture, even if he’s a bit shorter than his target.
He keeps him pinned with all force, tho, not taking any chances.
“Bravo 7-1 got the target, need help!”
“Be there in one minute” he hears Ghost answer. Then something slices his wrist open, and he yelps, unable to stop himself.
“Mother-” he curses, cutting it short to grab the man harder but a glint of blade makes him recoil, right before he would get stabbed in the thigh. His hand is covered in blood in second, his vision going slightly blurry for a moment. It’s enough for Marston to surprise him and get his gun in Soap’s face. Soap reacts quickly, twisting his opponent’s arm before he fires. The bullet almost grazes his ear, making his head buzz and ring.
Butt of the gun smacks his temple, and he goes to the floor, hitting his head on the tiles. Vomit comes up his throat.
That’s fucking it? That’s how he’s dying?
No fucking way.
But before he gets up again someone tackles Marston. The man yelps, apparently not hearing his new opponent.
Ghost pins the man down and Soap sees flash of panic in terrorist’s eyes.
And then he hears a click.
It’s louder than everything, than ringing still in his head, than distant shots, than his own voice starting to scream for Ghost to get the fuck away…!
The blast disorients him.
Adrenaline makes him get up fast, but at the same time it makes him clumsy, his movements jerky. He hears footsteps, someone running.
There’s charred remains before him.
There’s black soot on the walls.
And there’s Ghost, slumped under the wall he got blasted right into.
~ 💀 💀 💀 ~
„No no no no no” Johnny’s frantic voice buzzed from somewhere above him. He felt someone touching him, world tilted as his head lulled to the side. His throat bobbed uselessly as he choked on his own blood, coughing involuntarily, the slight jerk causing him another wave of pain. Blood was dripping from the corner of his mouth, thankfully not running down his throat for now.
“Yer okay, yer gonna be all good, Lt” Soap’s voice was scratchy. Did he get caught in the explosion? Was there an explosion…? He wanted to ask, say something, but his wide eyes just had enough strength in them to roll up to look at sergeant’s face. He was dirty from debris and dust but seemed fine. He was good.
Ghost tried to take a breath, instead making a choked sound as he inhaled his own blood.
“No no no” Johnny muttered again, his hands somewhere around Ghost’s head. He could feel his wet and slightly sticky fingertips on his cheeks.
His mask is torn.
Oh.
Johnny rips remaining stitches of the mask, freeing his face and neck altogether. Ghost would be mad, in any other circumstance.
But he was dying.
So that’s how it’s going to end?
And he had to tell Johnny.
He grabbed the Scot’s wrist, hard enough to bruise, and tried to make a sound. He felt blood but wasn’t sure who’s. What came out was a wet gurgle and a whistle of breath, making Soap’s eyes go wet with tears. He was getting pale, or was his vision fading?
“Medevac is on their way, Ghost, just stay with us”
“J’nny..” he rasps, trying to use all the remaining energy in his body to just tell him, tell him, it’s important. “M’…na’e” his chest hurts so bad, he can’t get enough air inside.
“Shh, don’t talk, yer gonna make it worse you dafty” Soap cups his cheek in his rough, dirty palm, and Ghost, without a single thought, leans into it. Johnny’s other hand is somewhere on his chest, but it went numb some time ago.
“S’mon…” he chokes. “Si-mon” he looks at Johnny, determined to make him understand.
“Who...?” Johnny shakes his head, broken.
Simon places Johnny’s other hand over his own chest, tapping his finger along the probably broken sternum. His body is so numb, the pain feeling like it belongs to someone else.
“Simon” he mouths, not able to make a sound anymore.
And tears start to fall from Johnny’s eyes. Simon’s hand goes lax, no longer held tight by last drops of adrenaline, but Johnny catches it before it hits the ground. He braids their fingers together, squeezing tight, even when Simon doesn’t reciprocate the gesture.
“Simon” he repeats, a painful smile along his lips. “Oh, Simon, you…” he shakes his head, swiping his thumb under Simon’s eye with the same hand he’s holding his palm with. He hums, leaning into the touch.
There’s just one more thing… One more.
He tries to open his mouth to say it. Just say it, please…
He can’t make a sound. But he doesn’t need sound, not really. Not for this.
He’s shaking now, every last ounce of energy going into this simple gesture. He squeezes Johnny’s hand and starts tapping on his knuckles.
. .
I
. _ . .
L
_ _ _
O
. . . _
V
.
E
_ . _ _
Y
_ _ _
O
. . _
U
Johnny stills. Simon knows he’s looking at him, and he wants to look back. He wants it so bad, but his eyelids are so heavy…
He’s so tired. So fucking tired.
Johnny’s breath hitches as Simon’s eyes slide shut. It doesn’t even hurt anymore. And Johnny’s right there, touching him so softly.
He feels Johnny’s lips against his forehead.
“Please don’t go, please don’t go, I love you” he whispers, voice desperate, lips ghosting over skin. “I love you, Tha gaol agam ort, Tha gaol agam ort…” Johnny’s voice breaks.
And Simon’s breath stops.
~ 💀 💀 💀 ~
“I cannae do this, Price”
“John, just sit down for a moment and think…”
“No, I cannae live like this. I cannae just sit and think aboot how I can lose it all in a minute. And I ken, I ken that’s what this job is aboot. But I can’t.”
“Soap”
“I can’t do both anymore. I can’t”
“We’re gonna make this work, I promise you that.”
~ 💀 💀 💀 ~
Doctors are waking him up today.
Johnny spent the whole night just talking to Simon about everything and nothing, holding his hand, stroking his hair.
He was scared shitless, to be honest. There was no head trauma, but somehow, he still feared what he will see once the man was conscious.
And the worst part, and Johnny feels so bad for thinking it’s the worst, Simon will most likely be cleared for light duty after about three weeks, if everything goes good. He’s gonna go back there, get himself killed in some new way. And Johnny can’t do anything about it.
He can’t ask Simon to just stop. He knows how dedicated the man is, how much he needs all this, even if it kills him. The structure, mask, being a government-made monster.
And for the first time in his life, Johnny himself feels sick thinking about coming back. There’s so much to lose, suddenly.
But is it really sudden? No, it’s just the wake up call he needed, needed it to show him how much is at stakes.
So, when Simon opens his golden eyes, after waiting for it for hours, Johnny cries, then stands up and leaves the room. Price calls after him, but Johnny can’t do that. He finds the nearest bathroom, closes himself there, and leans forward with his hands on the edges of the sink. With his head bowed he tries to stifle the sobs that wreck his body, grimaces at the thought he should be more put together, he’s a fucking soldier.
But he’s human, too.
And his lover just woke up, after him thinking he wouldn’t, and he’s got to come to terms with the fact that he will have to watch it all again and again.
He slaps a hand over his mouth, feeling his skin slicks with tears, his scruffy facial hair accumulated by the wait by his love’s hospital bed now wet and suddenly very irritating.
There’s a soft knock at the door, then; “Suds?”
He can’t.
He unlocks the door, and Kyle slides in and closes it back. The man takes just one look at him before he walks closer and pulls Johnny into a strong hug.
Soap just presses his face into his friend’s shirt, his hands uselessly flexing around his waist, sobs escaping him finally.
“ ‘s gonna be okay” Kyle whispers, pressing his nose into Johnny’s hair. “I promise we’ll gonna make this work, Suds. I’ll help you. We’ll find a way” and against his better judgement, Johnny believes him. How could he not? Kyle always got his back.
~ 💀 💀 💀 ~
“ ‘m tired” Simon mumbles, not sure if anybody could hear him. His head is swimming, he’s distantly aware of stitches pulling somewhere at his middle, his head pounding.
“I know, but you’re gonna be all good soon, Simon” he hears Price, feels him touching his hair so gently. His eyes slide shut, but sleep won’t take him, indifferent to his suffering.
“ ‘ere Johnny?” he rasps a bit louder, then swallows against some disgusting taste in his mouth.
“He’s gonna be here in a minute, promise”
“Mkay” he sighs, his mind coddled in sticky webs, body floating somewhere besides his consciousness.
He’s still somewhere and nowhere when he feels familiar hands on his own.
“Hi, love” Johnny whispers against his forehead, kissing it. Simon hums, content.
He thinks he said “Johnny” but hears nothing, yet still, the man hums in question.
“ ‘m tired” he repeats, almost soundless.
“Yeah, figured. You’re right battered.”
“No” Simon groans lightly. “ ‘m tired. Everyfin…”
“What?”
Simon just makes a broken noise, feeling pressure behind his eyes. His mind still disconnected, but he knows there’s something, he feels something, what is it…?
“ ‘m done” he breaths.
“What? Simon?” Johnny squeezes his hand, suddenly scared. Why was he scared? Simon somehow gets a sudden rush of energy, gaining control of his body, and he shifts to his side in jerky motions, then curls around Johnny’s arms and sighs softly, like it’s the most comfortable he’s ever been.
Johnny’s frozen, but Simon doesn’t know why. And he’s so warm and nice.
And he finally can sleep a bit.
~ 💀 💀 💀 ~
He’s alone with Price for the afternoon, before the stubborn Scot comes back to stay the night.
“Yeah, I’ve… I noticed, Simon” Price’s looking down, gaze unfocused, deep in his own head.
Simon looks up at him with bloodshot eyes, tired as all hell, sitting propped up on the bed. Johnny brought him extra pillows, so his back doesn’t hurt. And he can even place one between his tights to sleep comfortably.
God, he’s old.
Price finally looks up at him.
“We both knew it was a matter of time.” His voice is soft and sympathetic. And maybe for the first time in his life, Simon doesn’t hate it. “Your body, what it has been put through… It was always going to end this way.”
“Thought I’d be dead before it did.” Simon murmurs, looking down at his hands. His fingers are stiff, like always after sleep, since… He doesn’t remember when. His head is starting to hurt, though he got painkillers for that and they should kick in soon.
He was so cold Kyle went to the nearest shop and got him two fluffy blankets, both now tightly tucked around him.
“I remember” Simon rasps, after silence he did not notice. “How it was when I… came back from Roba.” He swallows. “How I was always cold, how my joints hurt, how… I was all the same as now. I can feel my body just giving up” he whispers, scared to put it out into the world.
“That’s what stress does to your body, I’m afraid. And you had a lot of it, unfortunately.”
Price leans forward, elbows on his knees.
“Do you want… To leave?” Simon doesn’t respond. How could he? This is all he ever knew.
“God knows you deserve a retirement. You did enough, Simon”
He looks up at Price, then.
“I… I’m not sure I can live outside of this. It’s all I ever knew” there’s a lump forming in his throat.
“But maybe it’s time to learn. You can still adapt. You can still get the peace you deserve.” His captain’s eyes are soft, careful.
“What if I don’t want peace?” he whispers, scared.
“I’m sure with MacTavish by your side, peace will not be so bad” Price smiles a bit and straighten himself before placing a hand on top of Simon’s hand. He squeezes it two times.
Johnny comes around about an hour later, finally in a new set of clothes, freshly shaven, a pillow and a blanket in his hands, Kyle at his back. The other man is carrying a duffel bag, seemingly full to the point of not being able to zip it up the whole way. Simon squints at it.
“Are you moving in or something?”
“He basically is” Gaz states, amused.
“Shut yer gob” Soap grumbles, tossing his pillow and blanket at Simon. He catches the pillow with one hand and looks at it confused. Then he looks up at Johnny, still puzzled. The three men all stare at him.
“God he’s like a puppy” Gaz whispers.
“I ken. Why’d ye think I fell so bad?”
“I completely understand now”
“I’m here” Simon furrows his brows. “And I can hear you all just fine”
“Yeah yeah” Johnny comes closer and ruffles his hair, at which against his will Simon hums, tilting his head towards the contact.
His eyes snap open.
“Margaret?” he asks, suddenly scared.
“She’s all good, don’t worry. Kyle looks after her when he’s at base. Hope you’re not mad at him for going into your room?”
“No, not… Not if it’s about her” he looks towards Kyle and Price, a bit sheepishly.
“Still can’t believe you snuck in a cat” Price arches his brow, arms crossed over his chest.
“Knew you’re a big softie” Kyle smirks. “She’s got a pink blanket and all...”
“Actually, the blanket is…” Johnny starts.
“Hers.” Simon barks. “It’s hers.” He glares at Johnny.
“He got her an automatic feeder and those fountains with water, too” Gaz looks at Price.
“Damn, she must be real special” Price seems genuinely confused saying that. “Can I meet her?”
Simon sees he’s looking at him after a second and nods, a bit embarrassed.
“Yeah, she… I think she’d like that. I told her about you. About all of you” he’s getting hot in the face, damn it.
Price seems even more surprised but doesn’t comment on it.
“All right, all set?” Gaz breaks the awkwardness, looking up at Johnny.
“Yeah, got everything” Soap answers not looking up from the bag he’s shuffling in.
“Okay then, we’re gonna go now, before the nurses throw us out. Take care, yes? We’ll be back tomorrow at about noon.” Price comes closer and actually hugs Simon. He stills for a moment before with a dose of uncertainty bringing his arms around the man. He nuzzles his face into his shirt and stays like that for what feels like a small chunk of eternity. Price strokes his back, patient in a way Simon feels he doesn’t deserve. When they finally part Price steps away from the bed and looks up. Simon, following his gaze, looks at Kyle, who stands there awkwardly. Even if Simon considers him a close friend, he wasn’t really openly affectionate with the man. He never liked physical contact. Price was allowed so close since he literally nursed Ghost to health after Roba, and Johnny… That’s his Johnny. But Kyle…
Simon feels the blankets under his palms, remembers how Gaz stayed vigil besides the door, and every time he helped him in the field, even while having his own problems, and…
There’s a sudden urge of affection.
Simon doesn’t know this feeling well, but when Gaz opens his mouth to say his goodbyes Simon brings his arm up, inviting him into a hug.
Kyle shoots a glance at Soap, and when the Scot nods, comes closer and sitting on the edge of the bed to not loom over Simon, he hugs him.
Simon stills, muscles going rigid, his mind screaming, begging him to get away. Kyle, feeling his discomfort, starts pulling away, but Simon fists his shirt keeping him close with all the strength he can muster. So, Gaz stays.
It takes a moment, but Simon’s mind silences gradually. He recognizes the man’s scent, his warmth, he recognizes him.
Simon sighs, his head drooping on Kyle’s shoulder, his wide shoulders slumping. Gaz’s hand comes up to his nape, making him still for a moment before he gets used to the feeling.
“I’m here for you” Gaz whispers. “You’re my friend, Simon”
Simon just nods, his throat clenching around emotions and words, but he knows Gaz understands.
They part slowly, Gaz holding Simon’s hands for a while, Price and Johnny giving them all the time they need.
“Be good. Take care” Gaz smiles warmly and Simon feels himself mirror the gesture.
“I will” he rasps.
“Good. We’ll be back with food tomorrow. Rest” he gets up, hugs Johnny clapping him hard on his back.
Johnny sits beside the bed once they’re gone. He places the bag on his lap, starting to get things out of it.
“Okay, so. We got your phone” he starts placing all the things on the bed. “Got you a subscription on some book app, so ye can listen to something. Got yer headphones, all the chargers, notebook, got the robot nanny” he waves a device with a screen, opening his mouth to list another things.
“Robot nanny?” Simon asks confused.
“So ye can watch Margaret. And ye can talk to ‘er, too. Look” Johnny fumbles for the on button, finally switches the device on and after some fiddling his room shows up on the screen. Simon just looks at it like he’d just seen aliens.
“See?” Johnny shows him the screen. “Say something”
“Uh…”
“Very imaginative. Margaret?” Johnny leans towards the device. “Pspspsps, Margie?”
Suddenly a cat’s head pops up in front of the camera. Simon laughs in disbelief. The cat sniffs the camera and tilts her little head.
“Hi Margaret” he says, his voice heavy from emotions. “Hi baby” the cat makes a silent meow and stretches reaching one paw above her head.
Simon laughs again, delighted, then looks up at Johnny, the man already looking at him with a soft smile.
Simon can’t help himself. He reaches a hand and brings Johnny closer by his nape, kissing him sweetly. The kiss doesn’t last, because he can’t stop smiling like an idiot.
“I’ve made a great choice” Simon purrs, nuzzling his nose on Johnny’s.
“With?” Johnny answers, whispering.
“You” he rests their foreheads together, fingers curling into Johnny’s hair. The man shuffles closer and hugs Simon tight, kissing his temple and hair. Simon hums.
This seems to not be enough for Soap, because he gets on the bed and with some help from Simon, shuffles his enormous form onto his lap and cuddles him, stroking his hair and nape. Simon feels… Like a giant dog trying to sit on its owner’s lap. But it’s not a bad feeling. He smiles a bit, amused, before nuzzling into Johnny’s neck.
~ 💀 💀 💀 ~
Shuffling up the stairs was a somewhat embarrassing event. There’s no lift in Simon’s flat, and he refused to rent a room somewhere else. He just wanted his old, sad, disgusting flat. But he started to regret that stubbornness once he realized Johnny was going there with him. Oh, and Kyle.
“That’s… uh” Gaz mumbles once the door opens. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I expected” he shrugs, finally.
Simon grunts something in response, going inside with Margaret hugged to his chest. She’s got beige harness with little white mouses on her, gift from Price. He also got her some pretty expensive snacks, which Simon is not going to comment on.
His flat is… just bare. There are only necessities, he’s got no couch since he’s got no table and no TV, he would just sit or lie down on the bed, so why a couch? Kitchen was already made when he rented the flat, so it’s fairly good. Basic but that’s all he needed.
There’s a couple of Margaret’s things lying around the flat; some toys, blankets, pillows Simon saw in the market and though she absolutely needed.
“That’s just pure pathetic” Johnny states, and gets a smack over the head from Kyle.
“Thanks” Simon says to Gaz, letting Margie to her feet. The cat just sits next to his leg and stares at him. “So, uh… Yeah” he scratches his neck, uncomfortable.
“We’re gonna make this work” Johnny sneaks his arm around Simon’s waist.
Later, once they ate some take out and were left alone, they just sat there in the kitchen.
Simon was in pain. His ribs were broken, his sternum too, he just… God, he kind of wished they’d put him in a coma again.
“Si?” Johnny places his warm hand on his own. Simon felt himself shiver and became aware of how cold he was. He swallowed.
“I’m” he rasped. “Hurtin” he whispered, not knowing how to communicate it in a different way.
Johnny pursed his lips, worried.
“Sleep?”
“Yeah” Simon sighed.
He wanted to shower, he really did. But it turned out much harder than it looked.
So instead, he got into a warm sweater, with much of Johnny’s help, since moving his arms hurt like all hell. Getting comfortable in bed was also a bitch.
Everything was a bitch, now.
~ 💀 💀 💀 ~
Two weeks have passed. He was feeling a tad better.
Johnny still had to help him with most things, even if Simon could do them if he just clenched his teeth and had set his mind to it.
He just… Being taken care of was so good. It felt so good.
Sleeping for half the day and all night, getting a warm meal that tasted miles better than military mass food, having a cup of hot tea always near, getting cuddled when he got cold.
He felt like a dog finally taken out of a kill shelter, that got adopted by a single girl in her twenties.
But of course, his “girl in her twenties” was the loud-ass Scot that was currently cooking them dinner.
He wasn’t top tier cook, but he could make decent food and that’s all Gho- Simon wanted.
Once he got a warm plate in his hands, something gripped his chest.
It’s time. There’s only a week of leave left.
“Johnny?” he starts, raspy, then coughs awkwardly.
Soap stills, sensing a serious talk. He becomes taunt, shoulders raised slightly, eyes focused on something in front of them. He knows something’s coming.
“I need to…” Simon sighs. “I need to talk with you. About going back”
He could hear Johnny gulp.
“What about it” Soap went for an unbothered tone, which sounded fake to both of them.
Simon hesitated.
Has he read that wrong? Maybe Johnny expected him to go back, them to go back.
“I… uh…” he set the plate on the table. “I-I know… You know I became… less… physically able” every word hurt to say, but it had to be said. Johnny pursed his lips. “But if I need to, I’m going to get my shit together” he adds quickly, getting lost in all those signals.
Johnny sets his plate down and drapes a hand down his face.
“Simon, I…” he takes a deeper breath.
They stay silent for a moment.
Just fucking say it, get it over with.
Then they open their mouths at the same time.
“I want to retire”
“I want you to retire”
They looked at each other, shocked.
Then Johnny breaks into a laugh. A real, full-on laugh.
“Oh god I legit thought you’d tell me you’re going back” he cradles his head in his hands, laughing still. Simon doesn’t know what to do, so he does nothing. He waits, and after Johnny gets his head on right, they look at each other.
Johnny furrows his brows, seeing the solemn look in Simon’s eyes.
“Si? I’m sorry, I… Fuck, I shouldn’t have… Assumed that it’s purely a good thing”
“No, it’s… it’s fine, I understand you, I’m just…” he looks down at his hands. They were shaking slightly. He takes a deep breath.
“I knew it was coming for a long time. You know about my past, Johnny. My… About how fucked my mind is. And it seems my body finally caught up to it, you know? Price told me about it. How after prolonged trauma and constant stress you get sick. Autoimmune diseases, or something like that. Your body gets so used up it gets sick. And I got sick. I get chronic pains, fatigue, headaches, all the good stuff” he huffs a fake laugh. “I… was scared it was going to kill me one day. I mean, I wasn’t scared at first. I wasn’t scared of anything that could happen to me, before… Before I met you” he risked a look up at those baby blues. He had to swallow a couple of times before he could continue, but Johnny was patient. He was always so patient with him.
“When I came back from Mexico” he drops his gaze back down but feels a bit more confident when Johnny takes his hand. “Price took care of me. I kept sleeping and lying motionless, paralyzed by pain, by fear. But he took care of me. He still does, but I got better, didn’t need him to hover over me nonstop. I would get annoyed if he did. I thought I’m getting along just fine, that I can take care of myself. And I can. But you showed me that I don’t have to. You just…” he makes a gesture with his free hand, not knowing how to fit it all into words. “You just fucking did. And now I-I don’t feel like a fucking failure when you cook me food, tuck me in, shower me. You just do and I have no shame over it at all. And I just want to… Stay here. Do things for you that you do for me. I want to stop fighting” he felt his eyes sting, his vision becoming blurry. “I don’t wanna fight anymore, Johnny. I’m so tired. I’m so tired and I just want to rest before all this ends. I want to deserve some rest” he can’t stop the tears now even if he wanted to.
And when he crashes, Johnny catches him. Like he always did. And he holds him until Simon comes around again.
“I want to teach” Johnny whispers finally. “I want to… You know, demolitions and shit. I think I have so much knowledge I need to share it. And it would pull me out of field”
“I can’t ask you to do that” Simon’s throat could be made of broken glass, for all he knew.
“You don’t have to. I’ve made up my mind. Just give me some time to work this out, allright?”
“Okay” Simon whispers, nuzzling his head into Johnny’s shoulder.
~ 💀 💀 💀 ~
They searched for a house. There were some arguments about location, of course, but as stubborn as Simon can get, he couldn’t not fall in love with the little house in Scotland they came across.
So, Johnny won this one.
The house had one bedroom, a kitchen and living room joined together, small vestibule with wood hanger and a beautiful wooden arch over the entrance to the main space. Fireplace in the living room became Simon’s favorite thing, mainly because Johnny tended to it and all that was left for Simon to do was bask in the delicious heat of fire. They had a small backyard with apple and pear trees, Johnny insisted on getting strawberry plants in the spring.
Also, the wooden porch. God, how Simon loved to sit there, mug in his hand, Margie on his lap. It was pure heaven.
There’s one more thing. Ever since moving in together Simon found himself snoozing and dozing off much more often. Once, when Johnny was off on a mission, Kyle came over to keep him company, to make him feel less useless and anxious, he told him that it has something to do with trauma - how you start sleeping more next to somebody you feel safe with, because your body tries to make up for all the lost rest. And... he didn’t like being asleep too long, before. But now... it's nice. It's nice to be a warm pillow for Johnny, who spends almost every evening studying for his exams preparing him for being a teacher.
It's nice to longue around on the bed or couch all day. Of course, most days he keeps himself active. Goes for a run, works in the little garden they got behind the house, repairs little things around it.
But where he once felt antsy doing nothing, now it was so so nice.
He's become a fat, domesticated cat.
Just like Margie.