Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The sound of screeching metal startled him awake. He tried to pry open his eyes but one was stuck shut. His face felt wet, he breathed rapidly as he began to panic. What's wrong with his eye?

"Hey," A soft voice reached his ears and he desperately leaned toward it as he gasped for air. 

"You're going to be okay, kid but I need you to breathe for me. Can you do that?"

A gentle hand landed on John's chest, grounding him and helping him ease his breaths. "That's it you got it. What's your name, son?"

"J-john." The flashing lights and shrill sounds around him assaulted his senses and made his head swim. He was tired, he just wanted to go home. 

John blinked against the fog that had settled over him in his panic. Finally it cleared and he could see a firefighter silhouetted in the window. The car window, why was he in the car?

Where was he? 

"Wouldn't you know that's my name too. Most people just call me Price though. I'm going to get you out of there, okay?"

John nodded slowly something about the way Price spoke, full of familial warmth, sparked a sense of comfort in his brain. He tried to look around, look at the rest of the car but a hand on his chin stopped him. 

"Keep your eyes on me, son." Price spoke as he began prying the mangled car door open with his tools. "How old are you?"

"Twelve."

"That's cool, what kind of hobbies do you get up too?" Price finally pried the door away and knelt in front of John. 

John tried to look around again but Price stopped him. John's memory was slowly coming back. 

"Where's my mum?" He tried to turn but Price's grip was firm yet gentle as he guided John out of the car. 

"Where's da?" Tears welled in John's eyes but Price kept his hands on John's shoulders as he guided them toward an ambulance. 

"My sisters?" Price sat him down on the gurney, careful to keep himself in between John's eye line and the mangled car. Price knelt so he was eye level and tried to keep his features reassuring. 

"You were in a car accident." Price spoke slowly, carefully selecting each word so as to not startle the young boy. Price's soft eyes never left John's. "I'm sorry, son, they didn't make it."

The dam broke, John sobbed, loud gasping cries. Price instantly leaned forward and wrapped his arms around the young boy. Price's grip tightened with each shuttered inhale and he slowly rubbed his gloved hands over John's back. 

When John's breathing calmed down a fraction Price pulled away, setting a large hand on John's bloodied cheek. Price gently turned John's face to look at the gash over his eye. 

"We need to get you to the hospital so they can take a look at this cut. Do you have any relatives we can call?"

John just shook his head, another fit of sobs wracking his small frame. 

"That's alright." Price spoke softly as he wrapped his arms around John again. "I'll look after you. Everything will be okay. I've got you, John."

John awoke with a start. Instinctively, his hand reached for his left eye trying to swipe away the phantom blood on his skin. Instead, his fingertips met scar tissue. He grazed over the jagged skin moving from above his eyebrow to his cheekbone. He breathed slowly, reminding himself he wasn't there, he was safe. 

John MacTavish could tell you the exact day his life was irrevocably changed. The memory kept him awake most nights as much as he tried to shove it into the recesses of his mind.

The physical reminder never left however, the scar over his eye stared back at him everytime he looked into a mirror. 

That was a day of immense loss but it was also the beginning of a new chapter. John Price saw a bloody, traumatized young kid and took him in, no hesitation. 

John MacTavish would be forever grateful for the kindness of John Price. 

Price almost immediately began the legal process of becoming his adoptive father. John remembers the day the papers were all finalized after a year-long battle with lawyers and adoption agencies. They'd gone and bought three different kinds of ice cream and every junk food they could grab. The small family sat on the floor in the living room eating it all, playing video games and talking. They cried and laughed all night and the next day, helped each other through the stomach aches. It's one of his happiest memories. 

After that John's teenage years sped by. He'd had some trouble focusing classes but Price was attentive and noticed his grades slipping right away. They'd gone to the doctor and John finally got an answer for his restless mind, ADHD. 

When John graduated high school it was bittersweet. He saw Price in the crowd as he walked the stage, the man was practically jumping up and down, shouting his pride for his son. John was overjoyed at Price's show of affection but he couldn't help but feel the weight of the family he'd lost. He imagined his mother and father standing next to Price, his sisters next to them, and it brought an ache to his chest. After the ceremony he cried into his adoptive father's shoulder, tears of joy and sadness. Price understood, he always did, and rubbed his back until the crying subsided. 

John applied for college, getting scholarships from both his grades and Price's firefighter career. He tried different majors for a while but quickly realized it wasn't for him. 

When John turned 22 he applied for the firefighter training program. Pushing himself to his limits to break records, to show he was meant to be there. Most people there knew Price, he'd been instrumental in the community for many years. John wanted to carve his own path, make sure his name shined along with Price’s and not in his shadow. 

It paid off, and after his year-long probationary period, he was finally assigned to a firehouse. The instructor handed each of them a letter, a smirk on his face when he handed John his envelope. John smiled fondly when he opened it: Station 141 - Captain Jonathan Price. 

John couldn't have been more thrilled. 

He woke up early that morning, his shift didn't start until 7:00AM but he was wide awake at 5:00AM. It felt like he'd been waiting for this day his entire life, if he was honest he'd certainly been waiting for most of it. A purpose, a fulfilling career right alongside his father. 

John passed the time by sketching and writing down random thoughts in his journal. A habit he picked up not long after his diagnosis. Price had given him a journal one day and bought him many drawing books throughout the years.

He had long been showered and dressed, his duffle neatly packed and waiting by the door. John's phone vibrated on his nightstand, he quickly reached over to grab it and saw it was a message from Price. 

The clock struck 6:30AM and he decided he was done waiting. His apartment was a ten-minute walk to the fire station and he decided it wouldn't be a bad idea to be early on his first day.

Once he walked through the bay doors he was greeted by a man he assumed was around his age, warm eyes met him as he approached. When he got closer, he could tell it was Kyle Garrick. Price talked about him often, saying that him and John would be a dangerous pair. John couldn't wait to test that theory.

John stuck his hand out. "John Mactavish. I was just assigned here."

The man eagerly returned the handshake, a knowing smile forming on his lips. "Kyle, call me Gaz. Welcome to the 141."

John smiled at Gaz, before letting his hand drop back to his side. "Thanks, I'm excited to meet everyone."

"Let's not keep you waiting then." A mischievous glint sparked in Gaz's eye and John grew slightly nervous and he shifted his weight to his other hip. 

Gaz's smirk deeped as he raised his voice. "Cap, the FNG is here."

Fuck. 

He'd almost forgotten about the obligatory haze the new guy shtick. 

Some more men appeared seemingly out of nowhere each eyeing him incredulously. John steeled himself, doing his best to keep his back straight under their scrutiny. Kyle winked at him as he stepped aside. 

Bastard. John knew for sure now that they'd get along. 

"Punctual, that's a good start. I'm Captain John Price. Welcome to my station." Price reached a hand out with a wink while John resisted the urge to roll his eyes. 

"Cap, we know he's your kid, you never shut up about him." Gaz chimed in. 

“Shut it, Garrick.” Price smiled as he turned and began pointing at the people around the room. “These are our paramedics, Alejandro and Rodolfo.”

"Welcome, hermano." Alejandro greeted with a warm smile on his face.

Rodolfo waved. "Call me Rudy."

John smiled back at the pair.

“You’ve met Garrick.” Price continued. “That just leaves Riley, where the hell is he?”

“Here.” The man in question came out from behind the firetruck. The first thing John noticed was that he was absolutely massive. Once he was closer, John saw his eyes. Most of his face was hidden by a black face mask but his eyes were all consuming. They were kind but guarded, he found himself getting lost in the deep caramel color, wanting to know the man behind them. 

The taller man cleared his throat. It took a second too long for John to notice the man was reaching a hand out for him to shake.

“Lieutenant Simon Riley, call me Ghost.”

“John MacTavish, nice to meet you.” John quickly returned the handshake. Real smooth, MacTavish. 

“Welcome to the 141, Johnny.” Was all he said before disappearing again.

John felt a blush creep up his cheeks. I am supremely fucked. 

Chapter Text

"Give him the tour, Garrick." Price clapped John on the shoulder as he left. 

"Right," Gaz approached John and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "I shall be your guide, FNG."

John rolled his eyes as he allowed Gaz to steer him around. Gaz showed him around the bays first. Pointed out where his turnout gear would go and which truck he would ride in. The bays were the most extensive part of the station, housing two ladder trucks and an ambulance.

Toward the back of the bays sat a small gym and John's breathing caught momentarily when he saw the sole occupant of the room. Ghost was lifting weights, far and above what John weighed by the looks of it. He packed away that knowledge for later. Gaz steered him back into the bays after telling him he was drooling and John punched his shoulder. 

The ceilings in the bays were high and a lofted area was nestled in the corner. Gaz led him there next, showing him the kitchen and instructing him to, under any circumstances, never eat the food in the green bento box despite there being no name on it. Unless he had a death wish. 

Gaz led him back through a small hallway showing him the dorms then finally leading him into the locker room. It was small, with lockers lining two of the walls with a bench separating the room down the middle. There were doors on two of the walls opposite the lockers, one to the showers and one leading back out to the hallway.

"You can use this locker." Gaz pointed to one of the lockers on the wall and handed him a permanent marker. 

"Thanks," John grabbed the marker, sprawling MacTavish on the door. He set his duffle bag down and opened the locker as Gaz unlocked his own locker to the left of John’s. 

"It's pretty cool that your dad helped build this station, even choose the number," Gaz spoke as he rummaged through his locker. 

"Still can't believe he went with a Three Musketeers reference." John started to laugh until he saw Gaz giving him a funny look.

"What are you on about?" Gaz asked, one eyebrow raised. 

"You know, all for one and one for all? One for one, 141?"

Gaz just stared at him for a moment. "You're shitting me."

John shrugged. "Ask him."

Gaz huffed, slamming his locker shut and running toward Price's office. John just laughed. 

"Was wondering when he would catch on to that." A voice spoke from behind John causing him to jump. "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you."

John cleared his throat. "All good."

John turned to look at Ghost, face instantly going red. The man had just entered the locker room, he'd taken his shirt off and used it to wipe sweat from his brow. John's eyes trailed over Ghost's toned torso noticing the faint scars that seemed to lead his eyes up. Eventually, his gaze made it to Ghost's eyes and he could swear the man was smiling at him behind the damned mask. 

"You're as red as a firetruck," Ghost said as he moved toward his own locker. 

“Well, some of us can't hide behind a mask.” John tried to play it off but the heat in his face quickly betrayed him. 

To hell with it, John thought and in a moment of boldness, he asked. “Bet you’re ugly underneath that thing, aye?” Ghost titled his head and any brash facade John was trying to muster was immediately gone. 

“Quite the opposite.” Ghost’s voice was teasing as he responded.

He has to be hot, look at the rest of him a deep part of John’s brain offered and he immediately tried to quell that train of thought.

John turned back toward his locker and wondered if he could crawl inside it. Alternatively, if he could at least stick his head in and slam the door shut hard enough and end his suffering. 

Luckily he didn’t have long to spiral when the shrill sound of the alarm rang through the station. John fell in step right behind Ghost as they ran to the fire engines.

“Dispatch said your suspect is stuck?” Price spoke as he approached the police’s Field Sergeant already on scene. 

“Affirmative.” Sergeant Kate Laswell confirmed as she met the firefighters. She noticed John and gave him a fond smile before she turned and motioned for the team to follow.

Kate has been another steadfast presence in John’s life. She and Price had been friends since high school so when Price became John’s adoptive dad, she was also given the honorary title of aunt. Kate and her wife would come over often for dinner and they’ve even spent some holidays together as a small family.

John watched as Kate led them deeper into the town’s park. He had many fond memories of this place, summer picnics, and snowball fights. They’d play football in the fields often, he smiled as he remembered Price’s face when John finally scored a goal on him.

“Kids name is George, he thought it would be funny to steal some lady's purse. Karma moves fast though,” She spoke as she stopped in front of a well and set her hands on her hips.

“You’re kidding. He’s not,” Gaz pointed a finger toward the well and then downward. “Is he?”

Kate nodded, a small smile on her lips. “He sure is, Kyle. I’ll leave you to it.”

Gaz started to laugh until Alejandro smacked him on the shoulder. He looked sheepish for a moment before he turned toward John who was also holding back laughter. Gaz put an arm around John’s shoulder and they quickly devolved into a fit of laughter together.

Ghost huffed from behind the pair and John could swear that counted as a laugh.

“Garrick! MacTavish!” Price’s voice was stern but he was also attempting to conceal his own laughter. “Get the ropes so we can haul this delinquent out. Garrick, you’re going in, MacTavish, Riley, and I will lower you down.”

“Damn it,” Gaz sighed as he walked back to the engine to get a harness.

John followed him and smirked while patting his shoulder. “Shouldnae made fun of the kid Kyle, that was cruel.”

“You’re an arse, MacTavish.” Gaz laughed as he swatted John’s arm away. The pair reached the engine and John opened the compartment that housed the materials they’d need.

“Johnny’s right,” Ghost spoke as he reached for the ropes in John’s hand. Their fingers brushed for a second and John felt the familiar heat rising in his cheeks. “It’s cruel to laugh at someone while they’re down.”

“A well,” John tacked on, proud of his play on words. 

Ghost seemed to appreciate it as well judging by the slight crinkle in his eyes. Though the rest of his face was still hidden John was quickly learning how to read between the lines. That didn’t however quench his curiosity, he wanted to know what the man’s entire face looked like. He made a mental note to sketch some rough shapes when he got home. John memorized Simon’s wavy blond hair, it was cropped short on the sides but kept longer on the top, curving gently over his forehead. Brown eyes John was certain he could draw in his sleep and pale skin that had a dusting of freckles in some spots. His fingers itched for a pencil.

John mentally kicked himself, first day and he was already acting like a lovesick teenager. Pull yourself together ye numpty, John shook his head and jogged to catch up with Ghost and Gaz.

It didn’t take long to haul the scrawny teen out and Gaz only complained once about getting his boots wet. Alejandro and Rudy made sure he was uninjured before Price gladly handed the kid off to Laswell.

Back at the firehouse Price announced he was cooking and since it was John’s first day he gets to pick, much to everyone else’s chagrin. Price of course knew what he was going to pick and already had the ingredients ready but decided to ask anyway. A fond smile crossed his features when John picked exactly what Price knew he would, ham and roast potatoes.

With his assigned chores done and nothing to do for the moment, John found himself in Rudy’s company watching in interest as he restocked and inventoried the ambulance.

“How long have you and Alejandro worked together?” John asked as he leaned on the rear door.

“Ten years, I think?” Rudy shrugged as he made a few notes on his clipboard. “Grew up together.”

John nodded, part of him wishing he had a relationship like that growing up. He watched Rudy grab something out of a cubby and a glint of light on his hand caught John’s eye - a wedding band.

“How long have you been married?” John asked.

A sly smile crossed Rudy’s features. “Feels like my whole life.”

“Mi luna?” Alejandro called from outside the ambulance.

“Estaré ahí mi sol.” Rudy set his clipboard down and smiled at John as he left.

John tried to remember what little Spanish he learned in school; luna was moon, sol he couldn't quite remember. A quick search on his phone gave him an answer though: sun. Interesting nicknames for childhood friends, John thought. Then he thought some more, and a little more, then it finally clicked. 

The look on Rudy’s face when John asked if he was married followed by the pet names; Alejandro and Rudy are married. John’s palm met his face, it felt incredibly obvious now that he thought about it.

John shook his head and decided it was time to bother Price. He quickly climbed the stairs and moved into the kitchen, plopping himself down on one of the stools that were pushed against the island.

“Why didnae you tell me Alejandro and Rudy are married?” John asked as he rested his chin on his hand.

Price shrugged not looking away from the pan. “Aren't they obvious? I'm also bending quite a few rules to ensure they can continue working together so they don’t exactly advertise it.”

“Makes sense.” They sat in comfortable silence for a while. John was fully content to watch Price cook, he knew if he offered to help he would get slapped with whatever utensil was closest. Only took getting whacked in the head with one set of metal tongs for that lesson to stick.

John's thoughts circled back to Ghost. Naturally, curiosity got the best of him. He looked around to ensure it was just him and Price before he spoke. “What’s the deal with Ghost?”

“Son, don’t go looking for trouble.” Price’s voice was stern as he pulled the ham out of the oven. 

John raised his hands in mock surrender. “I would never.”

Price just rolled his eyes. “He’s ex-military and one hell of a firefighter.”

“How come you’ve never mentioned him?”

“He’s a private person and I try to respect that.” Price gave him a pointed look. “Now go round everyone up, dinner is ready”

The entire firehouse ate dinner together. It was a loud, messy affair but John found himself enjoying every minute of it. Dinners alone in his apartment were much quieter and he would always look forward to the occasions that he would get to stop by Price or Laswell’s houses for a meal. 

This, however, he could get used to. He was over the moon that everyone seemed so willing to accept him here and that he himself was fitting well into their established dynamics.

John did however notice a glaring absence from the table. While everyone was enraptured in their conversations he decided to quietly slip away but not before making up a plate to take with him. He walked down the hallway until he met his destination and knocked twice on the door.

After a beat, a gruff voice sounded from within the room. “Come in.”

John smiled as he opened the door, plate in hand. Ghost’s office was small, an oak desk sat in the middle that was clearly antique. There was a bookshelf behind where he sat and John could make out the titles of some classics. The walls were painted the same white as the rest of the firehouse but they were adored with medals and plaques from when Ghost was in the military as well as some from his time as a firefighter. There were a few pictures, one John could recognize as the 141 crew, the rest were unfamiliar faces. John made a mental note to ask Ghost the story behind each photo one rainy day.

John’s eyes settled back on Ghost who had been waiting patiently as he watched John take the room in. He had leaned back in his chair, hands clasped over his stomach. 

“Brought ye a plate.” John scratched the back of his neck as he set the food down on Ghost’s desk.

Ghost eyed the plate but didn't say anything and John began to worry he’d overstepped.

“Couldnae have you missing out on one of Pa’s best dishes and I figured you’d want to eat in private cause of the mask so, yeah. Sorry, I- ” John cut himself off before he could start rambling too much. “I’ll leave you alone.”

John was just about out the door before a voice stopped him.

“Thank you, Johnny.” Ghost’s voice was uncharacteristically soft and his eyes didn't move from the plate but John could still feel the sincerity behind the words.

“Don’t mention it. Have a good night, Lt.” John gave Simon a warm smile as he shut the door behind himself, the familiar blush returning once more.

Chapter Text

Months had passed without John realizing, he felt at home in his new job. He'd always made friends easily but his new coworkers felt different, felt like a family. John didn't fully realize how much he missed having siblings until now. 

Guilt grew within him, a deep dark part of his mind scolded him for replacing his sisters. Rationally, he knew this was unfair to himself but he couldn't help the dark thoughts bouncing around his head. 

His nightmares began to resurface more often, and he avoided sleep as the prospect of relieving his trauma within his dreams was prevalent in his mind. The bags under his eyes grew but he was determined not to let his exhaustion affect his work. For the moment, John was successful in this. His hands never shook until he got home but he was sure Price was beginning to notice. John caught his father's worried glances more than once, even thought he caught Ghost looking at him but shook that off as his brain wishing for it. 

John decided a distraction was in order and with Valentine's day quickly approaching, he had a perfect idea. 

The bout of insomnia he found himself in the night before the holiday he decided to use to his advantage. He'd stopped by a local shop and grabbed a pack of blank cards and some energy drinks. The cashier raised an eyebrow at him but he ignored it, no way he was the only one buying enough caffeine to stop his heart at two in the morning. 

John got back to his apartment and quickly grabbed all his art supplies, spread them about his coffee table then got to work. It wasn't until forty-five minutes before his shift that he decided his creations were ready, he carefully put each card in their respective envelopes and placed them in his jacket, grabbed his duffle, and began his walk to work. 

The station was full of its normal bustle when he arrived. The shift change always came with a small amount of excitement no matter how tired they might be. John went to his locker, got dressed in his uniform, and headed to find his first target with a small skip in his step. 

Gaz was lounging on the couch in the common area when John threw an envelope at him. Kyle raised an eyebrow as he held the small object in front of him. "What is this?" 

John plopped down onto the nearby armchair and shrugged. "Got you a Valentine's day card since I know you're single as hell."

"Fuck off," Gaz laughed as he opened the envelope. Inside was a small card, on it John had drawn a quite intricate recreation of Gaz being lowered down the well from a month ago. Gaz laughed at the drawings and then read the card aloud. "Water you doing alone on Valentine's day? I'm concerned for your well being. That hurts, you know. I'm totally telling everyone about your little crush as revenge." 

John's cheeks grew red. "I don't know what you're on about."

"Yeah, sure." Gaz just smiled. "Thanks, mate."

"You're welcome. Happy Valentine's Day you lonely bastard."

"Pot, meet kettle."

John rolled his eyes as he stood. He headed toward the ambulance bay next. Alejandro and Rudy were easy to find, typically they were always nearby the other. The pair were huddled over some equipment as John approached.

He pulled two envelopes out of his pocket and handed them to the men in front of him. "Happy Valentine's Day, lovebirds."

The pair smiled as they accepted their envelopes and opened them. Alejandro’s had a drawing of a sun inside while Rudy’s was a moon.

"The sun and moon walked into a coffee shop. The sun says 'Oh man, I forgot my wallet.'" Alejandro read his card, he furrowed his brow at the unfinished story. 

"'Don’t worry,' the moon replied 'I’ll cover you.'” Rudy finished the joke as he read his. 

Alejandro laughed warmly and wrapped an arm around Rudy. "Happy Valentine's Day mi luna and to you hermano."

Rudy blushed and tried to hide his face. "Thanks for the card, John."

"Of course," John waved as he left, only two more to go. 

It was proving more difficult to find Ghost than John thought it would be and he was really starting to understand the nickname. It took just over an hour before John found the man perched on the roof smoking a cigarette. 

"Those will kill ye," John spoke as he approached 

"So they tell me." Ghost shrugged, eyes still staring out at the city. 

John just stood next to him and placed his hands in his pockets, content to enjoy the chill air and sights for a moment. The fire station was located just north of downtown giving them a remarkable view into the heart of the city. John remembers the first time he came up here at night, the city lights had taken his breath away. He had a newfound appreciation for the city he grew up in.

"Got you something." John felt his nerves kicking in as he handed Ghost the envelope. Ghost’s card was decorated with many small drawings of ghosts but the biggest one on the inside was depicted wearing turnout gear.

Ghost hummed as he opened it and read John’s squiggly handwriting. “How do ghosts keep in shape? They exercise regularly." Simon snorted before he continued. "Ghost to show how you stay fit.”

John cringed a bit as his message was read aloud, maybe it was funnier in his head. He was about to say something to try and cover his ass when Ghost spoke, the crinkle in his eyes appearing in full force.

“Two ghost jokes in one card? Not bad, Johnny.” Ghost folded the card and put it in the breast pocket of his jacket.

“Thanks, Lt.” John visibly relaxed. “Happy Valentine's Day.” John gave a Ghost a pat on the shoulder as he left, feeling the return of butterflies in his stomach that were an all too often occurrence as of late.

“To you too, Johnny.” Ghost called as John left.

One more he thought as he walked along a familiar path. He approached Price’s office, knocked once, and threw the door open not waiting for a response. 

"Knocking is moot if you're just going to barge in, John." Price spoke, not looking up from the documents he was reading at his desk. 

John laughed and sat in the seat across from Price. He pulled out an envelope and placed it atop the paperwork Price was working on. "Brought you a Valentine's Day card cause you're so incredibly lonely."

"Cheeky," Price shook his head as he opened the card. Inside was a drawing of a baby with a mohawk, a small price tag attached to the blanket it was swaddled in. "Love is worth the price tag, thanks for eating all those adoption fees.” 

Price let out a boisterous laugh. “You were quite expensive, kiddo."

"Worth it though?"

"Absolutely."

Chapter Text

John spent longer than he'd like to admit sketching different versions of Ghost’s face. He couldn't sleep, so he didn't have anything better to do with his night anyway.

Frustrated he set his journal aside, none of the variations he conjured seemed quite right. He scratched at the stubble growing on his chin, he’d have to shave it soon. He was sure he looked like a right mess but he couldn't bring himself to care much anymore. 

Sighing he crawled out of his bed and stretched. His spine popped from being sedentary for too long and his neck was tight from working in his journal but he found the pain familiar, an old friend. 

He moved into the kitchen and grabbed the energy drink he’d left there a few hours ago after accepting sleep was not coming. He chugged the rest of it and began his mindless routine of getting ready for work.

Despite his best efforts, John’s restless nights only seemed to increase. He can feel the storm brewing behind his eyes, headaches crawling their way forward, and is desperately trying to hold himself together. 

His new job gave him purpose he hadn't felt before and he was getting along with everyone like he'd known them for years. Though guilt began gnawing at him once he assimilated with his found family, nightmares of the family he lost continued to plague him. He knows the cracks are starting to show. The shake in his hands harder to hide the longer he continues without rest.

He can’t bring himself to face his nightmares, to face the feeling he’s replaced the family he lost, but he knows he is on borrowed time.

John got himself ready quickly, trying to make sure he looked somewhat presentable. The chill air of late winter was welcome as he walked to the station.

He tried to avoid anyone as he went to the locker room to get into his uniform but it would seem the universe had different plans. He took a deep breath and reminded himself just because he was tired that didn't give him the right to be snappy. 

John walked up to his locker and tried his best to put on a happy face. “Mornin’ Gaz.”

“Good morning Johnny boy.” Gaz smirked and John stifled a groan.

“Why are you the way that you are?” John spoke as he opened his locker.

“Ask my father.” Gaz shrugged. “Speaking of I’ve been meaning to ask, why isn’t your last name Price?”

John was confused by Gaz’s question. He hadn’t divulged his past to the team but he never considered the possibility they’d wonder about their different names of all things. He grew nervous under the spotlight he was suddenly under. “I’m adopted.”

"You're adopted?" Gaz raised an eyebrow, confusion lining his features.

"Aye, he never told you?"

"I- well, no the way he talks about you is so fatherly and you both look alike. Guess I assumed? How'd he end up with you?" Gaz's tone was light but it still struck a nerve.

"It's a long story." Soap shrugged as his anxiety spiked. He began quickly tapping his fingers on his thigh, something he picked up from his mother. 

"Oh come on, the shift is just starting, we have all the time in the world." Gaz pressed, not noticing the shift in John's demeanor. 

"I don't want to talk about it, Gaz."

"But-"

"Gaz!" Ghost yelled as he entered the locker room. "Lay off 'im."

Gaz jumped slightly at Ghost's sudden appearance. "I'm Sorry, John,” His apology was genuine, guilt lacing the words. “I shouldn't have pried."

"It's alright it's just- it's hard." John gave Gaz a small smile to show he wasn't mad and shot a thankful look toward Ghost. 

Gaz nodded and mumbled another apology before he excused himself from the room, patting John's shoulder as he left. 

“What is going on with you, MacTavish?” Ghost asked as he moved to stand next to John. 

John knew he was already in trouble by Ghost's use of his last name. Regardless, he straightened up and tried his best to not look as exhausted as he felt. “I’m alright.” 

“Bullshite.” Ghost leveled a glare at him and John immediately felt his walls start to give, Simon chiseling away at his defenses. John's heart fluttered, he was helpless under the worry Simon directed his way.

John sighed and stared at the ground, feeling small under Ghost’s intense gaze. “Jus’ haven't been sleeping is all.”

“Why?” Ghost’s voice was soft, the serious Lieutenant persona set aside for the moment.

It was a simple question, but there was no simple answer. John still hadn’t told anyone about his past and the nightmares as well as his current state was a direct result of it all. He was far too exhausted to divulge his trauma to Simon, to even process it himself.

Ghost seemed to understand John’s trepidation and didn't press which John was grateful for. 

“Head to the bunks, I’ll get your chores covered. Get some sleep or I’m telling Price to send you home.” Ghost's voice held no real heat and John nodded before wordlessly heading toward the bunks. 

He hoped maybe the combination of his exhaustion and the high he felt from knowing Ghost cared would allow him some dreamless sleep as he settled into one of the awaiting beds.

John could see his parents chatting in the front seat, his sister rambling to his left, and his other sister asleep on his shoulder to his right. He debated joining her, it was just about bedtime anyway. He wondered if his dad would still be able to carry him inside for a moment before remembering he was far too old for that. Mom said he was becoming a strong young man.

Screeching tires broke his thoughts as the vehicle violently jerked to the side.

Metal crunching, his sisters screaming. His ears felt like they were bleeding. His world spun. It was too loud, too dark.

The car settled, his sisters stopped screaming.

Silence. His head hurt and he tried to yell for his mother, his father, anyone.

He heard shifting from the driver’s seat, his father's hollow eyes met his. “How could you replace us so soon, son?”

John couldn't respond, only stare as maggots started crawling from where his father's eyes had been. The warmth his voice typically held was nowhere to be found.

“Thought you loved us, sweetheart?” His mother turned, the same hollowness in her features.

John could feel his heart pounding against his chest and he couldn't break his eyes away from his parent's decaying faces. His sisters advanced on either side of him, arms moving to wrap tightly around him. He was frozen, decaying appendages pinning him, maggots from his sister's arms crawled all over his body.  

He could do nothing but scream. 

He thrashed widely against the restraints, desperately trying to escape the cold around him.

A voice broke through his panic. It was familiar, warm, gently flowing to John’s ears like a siren song. He desperately tried to focus on it, he could feel it close to his heart, a promise of safety in the baritone melody.

John screamed as he woke, he shot up from the bed, frantically swiping at the phantom maggots on his skin. A warmth settled on his shoulders he could hear someone reminding him to breathe and counting in his ear. He focused on the voice, eventually able to level his breathing after great effort. He blinked away his tears and looked around, surprised to find Ghost sitting on the edge of the bed, the man’s worried eyes staring back at him. 

“Johnny?” Simon’s hands squeezed on his shoulders, grounding him. “You were having a nightmare.”

“Sorry.” John wiped away the moisture on his face and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Simon’s hands fell into his own lap, John missed his warmth immediately.

“Why?” Simon's voice was sincere as he spoke. “Happens to everyone.”

John stared at the floor, unable to meet Simon’s eyes. “Do you...?”

“I do. Most of mine are from when I was in the military.” Simon paused, his voice unsure as he continued. “Do you want to talk about it?”

John finally met Simon’s eyes feeling the last of his walls fall at the sincerity he found within the brown irises. He wasn’t as afraid of the prospect of divulging his trauma as he thought he’d be. He felt comfortable in Simon’s presence. The man’s eyes held no pity, only worry and understanding. 

He felt himself relenting, wind howling at him to let go now that the walls around him had crumbled. He felt like every nerve was on display but he couldn't bring himself to be embarrassed or ashamed of his emotional state. John hadn't even let Price see him fall apart like this but Simon wasn’t scared away nor did he seem to be trying to send John home. 

“I was in an accident, was just a kid. We were driving home when we were hit by a drunk driver, killed my entire family. Gave me this scar so I could never forget.” John touched the marred skin around his eye for a moment before he let his hand fall back down.

“I’m sorry, Johnny.” Simon moved one of his hands up to rub circles on John's back.

“Price was one of the firefighters on scene, took me in. I didn't have anywhere else to go.”

“He’s a good man.”

John nodded. “Keep having the same nightmare. I'm back in that car but it's so much worse. Their faces are lifeless, they ask why I replaced them. They-” His voice broke as he spoke, sobs threatening their way forward. The image of their decaying faces haunted him. “They look at me like I killed them.”

A sob broke free and John leaned forward to hide his face in his hands as he cried. Simon moved so they were closer, their thighs touching as he continued his motions on John’s back.

“You didn’t kill them and you didn’t replace them.” Simon reached over to grab John’s hands and gently pulled them away from his face. He then moved one hand to John’s cheek turning his head to look at him. “They would want you to be happy, Johnny.”

“I know I just-” John paused, trying to find the right words. “Cannae shake the guilt.”

“I understand, the people we lose never quite leave us but our minds can sometimes twist their memories. It can be hard not to give power to the voices in your head. You have to try and rewire that part of you, focus on the good memories you have, and let go of the guilt. It will take time but you’ll get there, I know you will.”

John nodded slowly and they sat in silence for a while, Simon's soothing company never waivered, the hand on John’s back continued its steady path and John couldn't help but lean into the warm calloused hand that gently held his cheek.

“How do you deal with it? The nightmares?” John’s voice was just above a whisper.

“Not in a healthy way I'm sure.” Ghost’s eyes were sad as he spoke. “Some nights I get more sleep than others, many nights I’m up watching garbage reality shows.”

John broke into a small smile as he conjured a mental image of the Ghost watching reality television. “We talkin’ Catfish or Shark Tank?”

Simon huffed. “Please I have some taste.”

“Bar Rescue?” John was feeling the tendrils of his nightmare ebb with the familiar banter, he was grateful for Simon’s calming presence.

“Great British Bake Off.” Simon answered and John’s cheeks warmed at the sight of Simon’s eyes crinkling behind his mask.

“That is not garbage!” John laughed and Simon followed suit. They fell into easy conversation after that, John’s nightmare becoming a distant memory. 

John wasn’t sure how long they were lost in conversion before the call alarm signaled it was time to get back to work.

He was not sure if it was the small nap he got or the moment he shared with Simon, but his hands aren’t shaking when they go out on their call and his headache is subdued. 

After their jobs are done, he turns to Ghost as they’re putting the tools away into the fire engine.

“Thank you, Simon, for earlier.” John tapped his thigh nervously as he spoke. 

“Don’t mention it, Johnny.” Ghost honest to god winked at John before leaving to get into the engine. 

John smiled, feeling lighter than he had in weeks, and he followed right behind Ghost.

Chapter Text

Ghost really wasn't sure what was possessing him. He supposed it was his true nature, Simon crawling forward. The overwhelming urge to comfort Johnny was something he found he couldn't fight.

He had noticed the dark circles right away and opted to ignore his own confusion at how quickly he became in tune with the other man.

A few days passed since the moment they shared - not a moment just one coworker looking after another. That's all.

The thought felt hollow as soon as it formed but if Simon was good at anything it was lying to himself.

Why'd you cradle his face then? Simon shook his head and tried to refocus.

"Hey, Lt!" Speak of the devil. Ghost turned to see Johnny waving at him from the other end of the hallway. Johnny jogged over, closing the distance while Ghost leaned on the wall.

"Gaz invited me and some of the others to the bar tonight, you want to join?" Johnny asked with what Ghost assumed were his best puppy dog eyes.

"Not particularly." Ghost crossed his arms. Bars were not his favorite place to be. Too loud, too many variables. He'd usually decline anytime Gaz tried to wrangle everyone together after the first time he joined. The night ended with him and Price dragging an entire station's worth of drunk firefighters home and he would rather not do that again.

"Oh come on, Simon." Johnny pleaded and Ghost realized he was wrong, there were the puppy dog eyes.

Ghost sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Fine but I am not dragging any of you fuckers home."

"Deal! I'll finally get to see what's behind that mask." Johnny wiggled an eyebrow at him.

"Who said I need to take it off?"

"How else will you drink?"

Ghost shrugged. "Stick a straw in there."

"You're full of shite." Johnny laughed and shook his head.

"Whatever you say." Ghost smiled behind the mask, hoping Johnny couldn't see the blush creeping up his neck as he walked past. Simon relented to the man’s request far too quickly.

Ghost entered his office and shut the door behind him, he paced the room for a moment before settling behind the desk. A large stack of reports stared back at him but he made no move to tackle them.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there lost in his thoughts before a knock on the door brought him back to the present. He pulled open one of the files in front of him so it wouldn't look like he’d been just staring at the walls before he called for the person to enter. He glanced up briefly to see Alejandro saunter in and sit in one of the chairs across from him.

"You coming out with us tonight, hermano?" Alejandro asked as he leaned forward, placing his elbows on the desk.

"Unfortunately." Ghost answered without looking up from his paperwork.

“Oh don't be a grouch.”

Simon looked at him indignantly. “I am not a grouch.”

Alejandro laughed. "It’ll be fun, you haven’t joined us in ages.”

“Because you’re all menaces when you're drunk.” Simon pointed at him with his pen. “I will not babysit any of you tonight.”

Alejandro raised his hands in surrender. “We’ll behave.”

“Sure.” Simon shook his head and looked back at the page in front of him.

Alejandro was silent for a moment before Simon saw him begin to smirk out of the corner of his eye.

“Gives you a chance to talk to your crush.” The paramedic said in a singsong voice.

Simon whipped his head up to look at Alejandro. "What are you talking about?"

Alejandro just laughed, shaking his head as he stood. "You're both clueless." He called over his shoulder as he left and shut the door behind him.

Crush. He scoffed. He's a grown man, he doesn't get crushes. Crushes were for school boys, not military veterans turned firefighters.

Plus there's no way Johnny is into him. Ghost was not built for love, he was built to work. To complete a mission and move on to the next. That’s it. No one fell in love with Ghost, especially not people like Johnny. How could he? Why would he?

Simon thought back to Johnny's nightmare, how they had talked after. The blush John had when he'd given Simon the Valentine's day card.

Does Johnny have feelings for him? Does he have feelings for Johnny?

Yes was his immediate thought and he bit his tongue. He's thinking about this far more than he should and he certainly didn't have the energy to delve into the inner workings of his feelings right now.

Simon forced himself to focus on the stack of paperwork in front of him. Reports. Mind-numbing reports. Something he could control. That he could do.

He lost himself in the monotony of his tasks, thankful for the quiet that settled in his mind. Accident reports, budget projections were all things he could handle and has handled in this station for years.

The rest of the day passed in a blur and as soon as his shift was over he left, waving goodbye to the few people he passed on his way to the garage. Simon’s drive home was short, his old truck barely making it back each time. He entered his small house and sighed, pulling off his mask and leaving his boots piled by the door. He dropped his duffle and headed toward the kitchen.

Simon’s home wasn't much, he didn't spend much time here after all. The station was more a home than this place. He hadn't done much decorating since he bought the townhouse a year ago and some of the extra rooms still sat completely empty. The only fully furnished spaces were the kitchen, master bedroom, and living room. Even still they only held the bare minimum. The only thing keeping the place from looking like an Ikea showroom was the pile of dirty laundry on the floor in his bedroom or the dirty dishes in his sink. More stuff to add to the list of things he didn't currently have the energy for.

He sighed and grabbed some leftover takeout. He knew he should probably cook real food so he’d have the wherewithal to deal with people tonight but leftovers were easier. Since his mind has been racing all day he figured he deserved something easy for once. It wasn’t the healthiest but it was comfort food.

After he ate he moved into his bedroom to change. He didn’t have a wide variety to choose from, he’s spent most of his life in a government-issued uniform. Simon did have a few nice options though and he settled on a black pair of jeans with a deep burgundy sweater. He looked at himself in the mirror and was surprised his normal slew of self-deprecating thoughts didn't come.

He shook his head and looked at the clock on his nightstand, he’d need to leave soon. Simon proceeded into the bathroom and splashed some water on his face. It was just drinks. Just drinks with Johnny and the team.

He shut the light off and headed to grab his boots, lacing them with practiced movements. He left, locking the door behind him, and got into his truck. Pleasantly surprised, as always, that it still started.

Simon arrived at the bar a few minutes later than the designated time, opting to stay outside and smoke a cigarette before heading in. The repetition of the action served to calm his nerves a little. He still wasn't sure exactly why he was nervous.

Maybe there was something to what Alejandro had said earlier.

He snuffed the cigarette out under his boot and rubbed at his face before replacing the mask over his mouth and heading inside.

It wasn't hard to find the team, they were certainly one of if not the loudest group currently in the bar. At least they picked a table in the corner, semi-secluded from the rest of the rowdy room. Must’ve been Price’s suggestion. Ghost looked around as he walked through the crowd, he had been here before but still, he noted the exits and eyed various patrons. It was an old habit, one he didn't see leaving anytime soon.

“There he is!” Price raised his glass as Simon approached the table.

“Hey Lt! Saved ye a seat.” Johnny pulled out the chair next to him, it was situated at the end of the table. Ensuring Ghost wouldn't feel claustrophobic while also giving him a clear vantage point of the entire establishment.

“Thanks.” Simon smiled behind the mask as he sat. Either Price told him or Johnny had really good observation skills, part of him leaned toward the latter.

“Now that we're all here,” Price began as he raised his glass again. Johnny slid a bottle of beer toward Ghost. “To the 141!”

“The 141!” They all called as they cheered their glasses.

Simon lifted his mask just enough to take a drink but was careful to use his hand to hide his exposed chin. He could feel John’s eyes bore a hole into the offending hand. Simon placed his mask back down and looked over, John quickly looked away hiding his own face behind his drink. Simon looked up just as Alejandro shot him a thumbs up, he responded with the finger.

“Forgot to mention, John,” Gaz smiled as he gestured toward their empty glasses. “FNG buys a round of shots for everyone.”

“Oh, I see so you didnae invite me because you like my company.” John laughed.

“We like your wallet.” Alejandro playfully elbowed John.

“And your company.” Rudy chimed in.

“Aye sure.” John waved them off as he stood. “It’s been two months when do I stop being the FNG?”

“When we get a newer new guy.” Price smiled and patted John on the shoulder.

John huffed, making a dramatic show of rolling his eyes as he left. “I’ll be back.”

Simon kept an eye on John as he meandered through the crowd and toward the bar. After a moment he’d lost sight of Johnny so Simon resumed idly conversing with the table for a while. Some time passed before Johnny’s absence became suspicious to him.

Johnny was just getting shots it shouldn't have taken more than a few minutes but, looking at his watch, Simon realized it’s been almost twenty. No one else at the table seemed to notice, most already well on their way to inebriated with the exception of Price who was tonight's designated driver.

Simon anxiously scanned the bar until his eyes finally settled on Johnny. He noticed right away the stress in the other man’s stance. The way he shifted his weight and gripped the bar might as well have been a call for help. Simon belatedly noticed the drunk brunette man that was encroaching on John’s personal space.

One of the man’s hands moved to John’s waist and Simon was up in an instant, ignoring the confused calls from Price. As Simon approached he could clearly hear the tension in John’s voice over the music.

“Said I’m not interested.”

“You just haven't been with a real man.” The brunette leaned toward Johnny who flinched slightly. “I can show you-”

Ghost acted on pure instinct, he was behind the brunette before he even realized he was moving. Ghost roughly grabbed the man's hair and smashed his head into the bar before pulling him back up so Ghost could speak directly into his ear.

“He said he’s not interested.” Ghost growled. “Now piss off.”

The man nodded quickly and ran for the door as soon as Ghost let go. He watched the door swing shut before turning back toward Johnny.

“You alright?” Simon asked.

“Aye, thanks for the save.” Johnny spoke and Simon noticed the tension in his voice was gone, a blush creeping on the man's cheeks instead.

Simon nodded and put an arm around Johnny’s shoulders. “Come on.”

Johnny grabbed the tray of shots and allowed Ghost to steer him back to the table. After Ghost’s actions at the bar, the rest of the patrons moved quickly out of their way as they walked through the crowd.

“Everything alright?” Price asked once they were in earshot, worry evident as he regarded them both.

“All good Pa.” Johnny smiled as he placed the tray on the table.

They both sat back down and if Simon settled his chair closer to Johnny’s no one said anything. The occasional brush of their thighs sent shivers down Simon’s spine each time but he relished in the contact.

Simon nursed one glass of whiskey the rest of the night, making less effort to hide his face from Johnny as the night went on.

The remainder of their evening was far less exciting and Price counted the singular, one-sided bar fight as a win for the typically rowdy group. They filed out of the establishment well after midnight, Rudy and Alejandro grasping onto one another while Gaz and Johnny held onto each other. Price laughed as he steered them all toward his SUV.

Simon helped wrangle them all into the car, finding he didn't mind the chore as much as he did the first time. He was just about to shut the door when Johnny grabbed his wrist.

John had an intense look in his eyes, an emotion Simon couldn't quite place. They stayed like that for a moment before Johnny finally found his words. “Glad ye made it out tonight, Simon.”

“Yeah, me too Johnny.” Simon smiled and tried to close the door again but John tightened his grip and leaned forward. His face was inches from Simon’s and he could feel John’s breath on his cheek as he spoke.

“I saw a bit of your face,” John spoke as if he was revealing a big secret. “You're a bonnie looking lad, Si.”

Simon’s mouth dried up as he processed the words John just said. He couldn't think of anything to say to that, instead he awkwardly patted Johnny on the shoulder and mumbled a goodbye as he left to find his own car.

Simon really hoped Johnny wouldn't remember that tomorrow.

Simon sat behind his desk staring at the same stack of paperwork that was mocking him yesterday. He couldn't bring himself to focus on anything other than the feeling of Johnny's warm breath over his face. He shuddered at the memory, still wondering if John remembered any of it.

The bell rang and effectively cut his ramblings short. Simon ran out of his office and nodded toward his fellow firefighters as they all piled into the engine, the sirens roaring to life as they pulled away from the station.

"Dispatch says it's a pretty nasty pileup." Price's voice crackled over their headsets.

Simon noticed the slight tense of Johnny's shoulders as Price made the announcement and made a mental note to keep an eye on him. They'd been called to car accidents before and John had been steadfast each time.

Though now that he knew about Johnny's past, and if last night was anything to go by, Simon found himself on a protective streak.

"We'll be coordinating with the 106 who's already on scene. Police have got the highway shut down. Vargas and Parra head towards triage; they will direct you where you're needed. Garrick, MacTavish, Riley, and I will search the vehicles that haven't been checked yet."

"How many cars are involved?" Gaz asked.

Price sighed. "They don't have a full count yet."

"Steamin' Jesus." Johnny rubbed at his face. "It's going to be a long day."

Ghost hoped Johnny was wrong about that for all their sakes.

Chapter Text

John awoke slowly, his mind and body fighting consciousness as his alarm blared nearby. He slammed down the snooze button and rubbed at his face trying to ward off the headache that permeated through his skull.

His mind slowly drifted through a hazy recollection of the night before. The way Simon looked in the low light, how he came to John’s rescue, the way his eyelashes fluttered under John's breath.

John abruptly sat upright, ignoring the dizzying protest from his aching head.

He called Ghost bonnie while mere inches from his face.

Whatever higher power was up there must've taken pity on him, he'd had just enough sense left in him not to kiss the man then and there. His palm met his forehead, he’d probably scared Simon away for good now.

John sighed and debated calling in sick but decided against it. He should just talk to Simon, dancing on eggshells never did anyone any good.

He quickly got ready for work and walked to the station. Hastily waving to everyone as he moved to the locker room to get into his uniform. Once dressed he wasted no time walking toward Ghost’s office, he didn't even get to the hallway before the bell rang. Part of him couldn't help but think that was a sign. Whether saving him from embarrassing himself further or getting his heart broken he couldn't know.

The entire crew pulled into the engine and John couldn't bear to look at Simon just yet but he pointedly ignored the smug look Gaz was giving him.

"Dispatch says it's a pretty nasty pileup." Price's voice crackled over their headsets. "We'll be coordinating with the 106 who's already on scene. Police have got the highway shut down. Vargas and Parra head towards triage; they will direct you where you're needed. Garrick, MacTavish, Riley, and I will search the vehicles that haven't been checked yet."

John's anxiety spiked at the mention of the pileup. Being at the scene of car accidents came with the job but It always brought back memories. If there was any skill he'd picked up on since becoming a firefighter it was compartmentalizing.

He couldn't help anyone if he had a panic attack in the field.

"How many cars are involved?" Gaz asked.

Price sighed. "They don't have a full count yet."

"Steamin' Jesus. It's going to be a long day." John decided to sneak a glance over at Ghost but was surprised to find the man's eyes already on him. The brown irises looked almost worried though John couldn't place why.

John turned his head and trained his eyes out the window. Simon's gaze felt heavier after last night.

They arrived on the scene and no words could have prepared them. A trail of fender benders led to the center of the pileup; there was smoke billowing out from the pile of mangled metal.

Laswell approached as they filled out of the engine. “Captain, ladder 106 is clearing cars on the west side, you boys take the east. Triage has been set up in the median we need all paramedics there.”

“You heard her, let's move.” Price’s voice bellowed as he led the way.

The closer they got the worse the smell of gas and iron became. John could hear people yelling for help, Price pointed toward some vehicles, giving out orders as they walked through the scene. John and Ghost broke off and started on the nearest vehicle while Price and Gaz pushed forward.

The teams were meticulous, clearing vehicles, putting out fires, and sending victims off to Alejandro and Rudy.

Simon and John worked seamlessly, barely a word spoken as they moved in tandem with one another. They got halfway through their side when Price called for them.

“John, Ghost, need an extra set of hands here!” The captain called just as John and Ghost finished clearing another vehicle. The pair ran toward where Price and Gaz were, a minivan came into view and John’s heart clenched at the sight. The driver's side had been entirely crushed, the passenger side warped from where it had been hit by other cars.

"Ghost, use the jaws we need this door open." Price ordered.

Ghost nodded and immediately began prying the mangled metal apart. A whimper caught John's attention and that's when he noticed the boy in the back seat.

John blinked and could see himself, could see his family in the car. He shook himself and the boy came back into focus, the child's wild eyes desperately flitted around the car trying to find answers that wouldn't come. John was thankful the car seat blocked much of the kid's view around him. Instincts took over and he sprung into action, leaning into the broken window to distract the scared child.

“Hey kid, what's your name?” John tried to keep his voice level, he knew exactly how terrifying the kid’s current situation was. He’d do anything to take that pain away from him.

The boy’s glassy eyes settled on him. “What happened?”

John looked over to where Price and Ghost were lifting a woman out of the passenger’s seat, she wasn't moving and he already knew what they’d find in the driver’s seat. John took a deep breath and turned back to the boy. “There was an accident. Why don’t I get you out of that car seat, aye?”

The boy nodded and John leaned further into the window, careful not to get broken glass on the child who thankfully looked uninjured, the car seat likely kept him safe as the car was thrown around. John unbuckled the boy and immediately felt a set of small arms wrap around his neck as he stood. John put his hand on the back of the boy’s head and gently guided the small face into his own neck. The firefighter needed to make sure the boy didn't see any more of the carnage around him than he already had.

Price turned to say something to John before the captain noticed the boy in his arms. A flash of heartache crossed Price's eyes and John could tell they were stuck in the same memory.

John swallowed thickly, he could feel his breath becoming short as the adrenaline started to fade.

“I'm going to get him to the paramedics.” John's own voice sounded foreign to him.

“Alright, son.” Price nodded, concern clearly etched in his features beyond the dirt and grime.

John turned to leave and met eyes with Simon for a moment, a solemn look met him within the brown pools before Price called for his help. They parted ways and John ran toward triage, the boy softly crying into his neck as they went.

John spotted Rudy and made a beeline for the kind paramedic who immediately noticed his approach and gestured toward an ambulance. John followed Rudy inside and gently set the boy down on the gurney. “This is my friend Rudy, he is going to take care of you.”

Rudy gave John a worried look as he left but he paid it to mind. He could feel the panic attack starting and desperately needed to find a place to hide.

He walked behind the ladder truck harshly rubbing at his chest in an attempt to keep his heart in check. It didn't work. It was too much. This was all too much.

He leaned against the truck and slowly lowered himself to the pavement. His head was swimming, he couldn't breathe.

John squeezed his eyes shut trying to fight the panic crawling through every nerve. The world around him felt far away as he curled in on himself and dug his nails into his scalp trying to use the pain to ground himself.

Gentle hands grabbed his own, pulling them away before he could do more damage to himself. He let his own arms fall to the side as one of the gentle hands returned and landed on his chest, warm and firm.

"Breath son." Price's voice was soft, an eerie callback to the first time he heard it and the memories currently trying to crawl through his head.

He fought to match his breathing with Price’s and cursed himself for breaking down in front of the man and while on scene.

He'd kept himself in check for years, Price only saw him cry, never had seen him have a panic attack like this. Simon was the first to see it, he'd hidden that piece of himself for so many years. A small part of him was thankful he didn't have to anymore but a larger part was filled with shame. He was meant to be strong, the one no one had to worry about. How was he supposed to do his job if he couldn't stay out of his own head?

Distantly he heard two voices talking around him but he couldn't make it out. He couldn't hear over the pounding of his own heart.

"We're pretty much wrapped up here," Price began, his hand still firm on John's chest. "Take the rest of the day, son. Kate is going to give you a ride."

A smaller hand landed on his knee and he finally noticed Laswell, he hadn't heard her approach. "Let's get you home."

John nodded numbly and allowed Price to help him stand. He swayed for a moment before he waved them off. He knew he looked like a blubbering mess but he didn't think his pride could take it if the entire team saw Price and Laswell helping him walk.

"Johnny?" Simon appeared in front of him, his voice sounded worried but John couldn't look at him. He walked past with his head down and quickly hid in the passenger seat of Laswell's patrol car.

Laswell got in a minute later and they drove to his apartment largely in silence in silence. She made light conversation trying her best to lighten the mood but John’s mind was elsewhere.

She stopped in front of his building and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I'm just a call away alright?"

John just nodded, not quite trusting his voice, and got out of the car. He entered the building and ascended the stairs, thankful he didn't run into any of his neighbors on the way. He fought to keep his hands steady as he fumbled with his keys.

Finally, the door opened and he went inside, relieved at no longer feeling like the eyes of the world were on him.

John realized belatedly that he was still wearing his turnout gear. He felt tears prick his eyes and quickly rid the fabric from himself, haphazardly throwing the protective gear in a pile by the door. He grimaced at the grime and dried blood that littered the material before realizing that the same grime was stuck to his own skin.

He all but ran to the bathroom, making it just in time to heave his breakfast into the toilet.

John deflated on the bathroom floor and cried. He cried for that little boy who became an orphan today and the one that became one years ago.

Once the tears subsided a bit he dragged himself into the shower. The burning heat helped distract him as he scrubbed harshly at his skin. After he felt somewhat clean he dressed in soft pajamas and headed to his small living room.

He sat on the couch, remote in hand but made no move to turn the television on. He heard his phone buzz a few times but didn't look, he didn't have the energy to talk to anyone right now.

His eyes eventually drifted to his journal on the coffee table. He grabbed it and let his hands guide the pencil as he lost himself in the familiar motions. The sun had long set as he sketched away, the small light from the lamp illuminated the pages just enough.

In a moment of clarity, he finally realized what he was drawing. There staring back at him were portraits of his family as he wanted to remember them: happy, alive. He sighed and could feel the familiar sensation of his eyes welling up. He set the journal back down but didn't close it.

A knock sounded from his front door but he didn't move. He didn't want to talk to anyone, he'd hoped after no one answered they would leave. After a minute they knocked again but John still made no move to answer. They knocked a third time and John sighed realizing whoever it was wasn't going to take no for an answer.

He opened the door prepared to be annoyed at the person behind it, instead, he found he was relieved.

"Simon?" His voice came out weak and he cringed at the sound.

“Brought you some food.” Simon gestured to the bag in his hand, a familiar logo printed on it.

“That’s the place by the station.” One of John’s favorite picks for lunch, his empty stomach grumbled in anticipation remembering the way his breakfast had left him hours ago.

Simon hummed an affirmation and John stepped to the side to let him in. Simon moved easily into the space despite it being his first time there, the thought brought a question to John's mind.

“How’d you know where I live?” John asked as he followed Simon to the kitchen. John stopped in the doorway and wrapped his arms around himself watching as the taller man shrugged and began pulling various containers from the bag and placing them on the table.

“Asked Price.” Simon looked around the kitchen before he turned back toward John. “Utensils?”

John pointed toward a drawer by the sink and tried to ignore how much his heart was longing for the domestic sight currently playing out in front of him. He was pleasantly surprised he hadn't pushed Simon away with his drunken antics, the thought alone serving to help alleviate some of the heaviness that had settled over him from the day’s events. Simon cared enough to seek out John’s address and bring him his favorite food. His heart soared at the thought but he couldn't help but feel he didn't deserve any of it. He’d panicked while in the field and been sent home because of it. He could feel his hands starting to shake.

“Johnny,” Simon was in front of him suddenly, he placed a hand on John’s shoulder and gently guided him toward the table. “Come eat.”

Simon took his mask off as he sat and looked at John, his warm smile and freckled features felt like home sitting right across the table. John wanted to tease him about how unceremonious the moment was but found nothing came to mind. He was just happy that Simon felt comfortable enough around him to do so.

They ate in silence, John trying to get as much down as he could against lingering nausea. After they finished Simon cleaned up while John stared at the surface of his table. It was old and he remembered finding it on the side of the road, Price helped him carry it up to his apartment. Many scratches covered the wooden surface but it was the first piece of furniture that was his own and he couldn't bear to part with it. He traced the surface slowly with his index finger. He didn't notice Simon sitting back down until the man spoke.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” Simon asked.

John struggled to put it into words. Guilt, grief, inadequacy. His feelings were just as jumbled as his thoughts. Simon waited patiently though, John finally met his eyes and was spurred on by the comfort he found within them.

“I panicked while we were on a call.”

“After you did your job and got that boy to safety.”

John sighed, the image of the boy still clear in his mind, blending with images of himself.

“The kid’s going to be okay,” Simon spoke like he knew exactly where John’s mind was going. “His mom’s in rough shape but she’ll live, he’s staying with family in the interim. He’ll get to hug his mom tonight thanks to you.”

"His mom's okay?" John's voice was unsure, just above a whisper. He saw her, how still she was, and his mind immediately went to the worst case scenario.

Simon nodded and John felt that heaviness over him lifting a bit more.

John’s eyes settled on the table again, watching as the moisture from his eyes created droplets against the grain. A hand grasped his own and he looked up.

“It's okay, Johnny.”

John nodded and wiped at his eyes with his free hand, mentally kicking himself for crying in front of Simon again. But maybe it wasn't a bad thing, Simon didn't seem to care much, and maybe the other man was right. Maybe it was okay.

“You should get some sleep.” Simon squeezed his hand and stood, pulling John up with him. Simon helped John through his nighttime routine and got him settled into bed. Simon started to walk away after but John's voice stopped him.

“Are you leaving?”

“Not going far, I’ll be on the couch if you need me.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it, Johnny.” Simon left the door cracked as he exited the bedroom, allowing John to see Simon on the couch through the small opening.

John watched him for a moment before he brought the blankets up and wrapped them tightly around himself, sleep claimed his exhausted mind quickly.

"Johnny!"

John gasped awake, nearly falling out of the bed if not for Simon gently holding his shoulders. He couldn't remember the nightmare, a small mercy, but he could certainly feel the emotions crashing through him. John felt a sense of deja vu with Simon's warm hands steadying him after the ordeal. It did wonders to calm his heart.

Simon leaned forward, gently placing his forehead against John’s. The proximity helped John further ground himself. He matched his breathing with Simon's.

Eventually Simon pulled away but kept his hands firmly in place. Concerned brown eyes met wet icy blues.

"Alright?"

John nodded, once again not trusting his voice. Simon used the hands on John's shoulders to guide him back into the bed. Simon started to stand but John grabbed his wrist.

"Stay," He whispered, hopeful. "Please."

An emotion passed over Simon's eyes, something close to apprehension but it was gone as quickly as it came. Simon's eyes softened and he nodded.

John moved to give the taller man room and they laid side by side. They weren't touching, John didn't want to further push his luck but just feeling the warmth radiating off the other man was enough to lull him into a dreamless sleep. Even if it wasn't, the heavy arm that eventually landed on his chest would be.

Chapter Text

John woke to an empty bed. He wasn't surprised, he knew Simon had to work and he pushed down the part of himself that was disappointed by the man's absence.

They, after all, were still merely coworkers. Though the title felt wrong as soon as it entered his mind, coworkers don't typically stay the night after witnessing the other at their lowest. 

Maybe Simon was just being nice and didn't want to leave John, in the pathetic state he was in, alone. Something about that didn't seem right either though. 

John sighed and pulled himself out of bed. As he opened the door, the smell of food met him. Filling his nose and confusing his senses until he entered the small kitchen and spotted the note on the fridge.

Johnny,

Headed to work and didn't want to wake you, knew you need the sleep. I made breakfast, there's a plate in the microwave and the coffee pot is ready you just need to turn it on. Call me if you need anything.

-Simon

John smiled down at the neat script along the page as his cheeks warmed. The uncertainty in his previous train of thought melted away. 

"Something more than coworkers." He mumbled aloud.

Unlike Simon, John already had the day off which he was thankful for. While he felt better, physically and mentally, the toll of the previous day still weighed on him. He busied himself preparing the breakfast Simon had started all the while smiling to himself like a lovesick teenager. He was very thankful at this moment that he lived alone and no one could see how giddy he was.

Fed and somewhat well-slept, John finally felt human again. He pulled out his phone and sent a heartfelt thank you text to Simon before checking his missed notifications from yesterday. Most were from calls from Price, and a few texts from Laswell and Gaz. He spent a few minutes responding to everyone before he threw the device on the coffee table.

He settled back on the couch, the portraits he drew the night before stared back at him. His mother’s crow's feet, his father’s kind smile. He didn't feel the usual pang in his chest that came with their memory. Instead, he felt warmth. Simon had lifted a heavy weight that John had been carrying for years last night. 

Briefly, John thought about visiting their graves today but quickly decided against it. He wasn’t sure he could do that alone in the emotional state he currently found himself in.

The sound of his ringtone broke his train of thought. He grabbed the device and noticed a familiar contact photo on the screen.

“Hey, Pa,” John answered.

“How are you doing, son?” Price asked in greeting.

John could hear the concern in his father’s voice clear as day and felt a pang of guilt for being the cause of it. He quickly moved to reassure the other man. “Better than I was yesterday.”

"Glad to hear that we've been worried. Ghost said he stopped by and brought you food."

"Aye, he did." John’s cheeks flushed again remembering seeing Simon at his door.

"Anything else?" Price teased.

“I- He made breakfast?” John responded confused. 

“He stayed the night?” Price’s voice wasn’t accusatory but it was far too smug for John’s liking.

John paused for a second before he blushed, belatedly realizing what he just revealed to his father. He mumbled a hesitant, “Aye.”

"Course he did, explains why he was acting weird this morning.” Price said softly.

"He was?" John’s eyebrows furrowed at the idea. Simon Riley acting weird because of him? Surely there was another reason. 

Price just laughed before changing the subject. “You still up for dinner tonight?”

“Dinner?”

“At my house, with Kate.”

“Oh sorry, aye, of course.”

"Alright,” The older man chuckled. “Laswell will pick you up around five. See you tonight son." Price replied before he hung up, leaving John even more confused. 

John stared at his blank screen for a moment processing what Price had just said. Simon was acting weird after last night? Did he do something wrong? 

Maybe he was too forward asking Simon to stay. 

John rubbed a hand harshly over his face trying to wrangle his thoughts. Simon wouldn't do something he didn't want to or that would make him uncomfortable. Hell, the man stayed the night and made breakfast after helping John through a breakdown. That's not something he would do if he was uncomfortable. 

The thought that Simon did want to stay opened a whole new can of worms John wasn't quite ready to process.

John decided he need to turn his brain off and grabbed the remote. He turned the television on and was greeted by the perfect distraction, or reminder, he wasn't sure. Either way, he spent much of the afternoon watching the Great British Bake Off and imagining Simon’s warmth next to him.

Time passed without much input from John. Eventually, he glanced over at the clock realizing he’d need to start gathering himself for dinner. He sighed and stood, leaving the show running in the background as he got ready.

It wasn't long before his phone chimed, a text from Laswell letting him know she was outside. He quickly pulled his sneakers on and locked his door. He bounded down the stairs and hopped into the passenger seat of Laswell’s car.

“Hi, kid.” Laswell smiled.

“Hey Kate, how are you?” John respond as he buckled his seatbelt.

“I’m good, you look like you're doing better?” Kate asked as she pulled onto the road.

“Aye,” John answered honestly.

“That because the Lieutenant spent the night?” Kate smirked.

“Steamin' Jesus.” John hid his face in his hands. “Does the entire town know?”

Kate laughed. “Your father is a gossip.”

“Don't I know.”

The drive was short, Price’s house came into view after a few minutes. John smiled as it did, almost as if it were a habit. This was the same house Price had owned for years, the one John grew up in. It was small but held plenty of room for the two of them. It always felt warm and John wasn't sure if that was the memories that inhabited the home or the people.

John used his spare key to let Laswell and himself into the home. He kicked off his shoes and padded over to the kitchen where he knew Price would be cooking.

“Hey, kiddo” Price pulled John into a tight hug as soon as he was within reach. John eagerly returned the embrace. 

They separated at the sound of the stove beeping, Price patted the side of John’s face before running to retrieve the food before it burned.

John set the table while Price brought the food over, a routine they easily fell into. Laswell poured drinks and they all settled in their respective seats. It was familiar and John absolutely lived for these nights. Having dinner with two of the people who helped raise him. Nothing else mattered at the moment, the company around him a balm that easily soothed any aches. The world outside these four walls melted away. The sound of familiar voices was all that met his ears. 

Though a part of him couldn't help but wonder how another certain presence would fit into the dynamic. Like he’d belonged, John assumed.

He was lost in thought as he ate until Price broke the silence with a question John couldn't possibly have prepared himself for.

Price clasped his hands in front of him as he stared at his son. There was a glint in his eyes as he spoke. “So, do you have feelings for Simon?” 

John choked on his food at the question. Leave it to Captain John Price to get right to the point. 

"Price be gentle with the poor boy." Kate laughed as she leaned over and began to pat John’s back.

“It’s fine if you do,” Price continued, unperturbed. “I really don’t have to do any paperwork until you get married.”

“Jesus Pa really?” John spoke as he reached for his water. The cool liquid helped soothe his now aching throat. 

Price shrugged. “Think you two would be good for each other.”

“Are you trying to set up your firefighters, captain?” Kate asked with a sly smirk.

“No explicit rules against fraternization, it's just frowned upon.” Price smiled.

“But he’s a lieutenant?” John raised an eyebrow at his father who merely waved him off.

“And I’m the captain, I make the rules. Remember, Alejandro and Rudy are married and still work together.”

John felt both their eyes on him and he flushed. There was no hiding his feelings from them, though he was still trying to figure them out himself. 

“I think I do but I doubt he does?” It came out more of a question than a statement. John wasn't sure who he was trying to convince but he knew it wasn't working. 

“He does.” Price stated as he leaned back and sipped his whiskey.

“You think so?” John nervously fiddled with the food on his plate, a glimmer of hope bubbling in his chest. 

“Never seen him distracted like he was today. Think he does he just doesn't know what exactly to do with that.”

John let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding and smirked. “What happened to ‘he’s a private person.’ and ‘son, don’t go looking for trouble’, huh?” John said in his best imitation of Price.

Price laughed and took another sip. The older man simply shrugged and stood, grabbing everyone's dishes and heading toward the kitchen. 

John threw his hands up and scowled at Price's back. 

Kate snickered as she stood, amicably patting John’s shoulder as she intercepted Price. "You cooked, I'll get the dishes."

"Thanks, Kate." Price smiled as he handed her the stack of dishes. 

John left the dining room once the pair disappeared into the kitchen and he missed the look Kate sent Price. 

Seconds later he heard the telltale sound of his father's slippers behind him. He led the way out to the porch, holding the door so Price could exit as well. John sat on the old porch swing while Price settled in his rocking chair. The very one John always teased him about, said it made him look old. Price always argued that it was comfortable and why change what works? John in response would throw his hands up and nod like Price had just proved his point. 

A comfortable silence stretched between the two as they sat watching the stars twinkle amongst the night sky. John idly searched for the constellations his dad used to point out to him as a child. Price continued those lessons when he adopted John, buying him a telescope one year for Christmas so they could look for planets as well. 

Eventually, Price broke the silence. His warm voice carried softly through the humid night air. 

“How long have you been dealing with panic attacks?”

John knew this was coming after yesterday’s events but that didn't make him feel any more prepared for the conversation. He sighed and looked down at his feet, unable to face the concerned look in his father’s eyes. He’d hidden them for years because he never wanted to burden his father. A small part of him knew that was ridiculous, Price has been nothing but supportive over the years.

“Dunno. Usually, I can manage them on my own.”

Price sighed and John could practically feel the look of pity he was sure was emanating from his father. Price moved to sit next to John and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. 

John spared a glance over to his father, worry and guilt shone in his misty eyes. Not an ounce of pity. John deflated in his father's arms. 

“You don’t have to son, and I am sorry you’ve felt that you did. I am here, whatever you need. You’re not alone.” Price moved so his chin was resting atop John’s head, his arm still wrapped firmly around the younger man.

A sob broke free from John’s throat and he buried his face into Price’s neck. His father gripped him tighter.

Price pulled away after a minute, grabbing John’s face in both hands. His tone was serious as he spoke. “It’s time you talk to someone, son. I know you didn’t want to go to therapy when you were a kid and I wanted to respect your wishes but, I should have made you go. It's been ten years, you have to find a way to let them go.” A tear fell from Price’s eye, mirroring the ones falling from John’s.

“I’m not saying you need to forget about them,” Price continued. “But you can’t keep carrying this pain around and pretending everything is fine.”

John nodded, blinking harshly against the tears spilling from his eyes. He knew his father was right. He’d avoided therapy for the same reason he hid his panic attacks: he didn't want to burden anyone.

“I’ll start looking for one tomorrow.”

Price looked like he could breathe easier after John spoke those words. He pulled his son into his chest, holding him tightly. “I love you, John.” Price spoke, the affirmation slightly muffled by John’s hair but the love he held for his son clear in the baritone voice.

“I love you too, Pa.” John responded with just as much affection. 

John is slowly starting to realize that he isn't a burden. That he doesn't need to hide his most vulnerable emotions. 

Price had been slowly trying to chip away the walls John had built since he'd adopted him. Simon had helped by delivering the final blow.

Inside his heart, he made a promise. He promised his father, he promised himself. He’d learn to ask for help. He would work to convince himself his feelings weren't a burden to everyone, that he wasn't a burden to everyone.

He’d learn to finally say goodbye to the ghosts of his family that had been following him all this time.

The first step was therapy.

Chapter Text

John quickly decided after his first session that therapy sucks. 

Well, that's not entirely fair. 

It's helping him, he knows it is but he's exhausted and he's sure it's showing if Simon and Price's hovering is anything to go by. Even Gaz had been hanging out with him more. 

But the exhaustion is not the same as before. When he was avoiding sleep and nightmares plagued his nights. He’s had a few sessions now and is doing the work. He can feel the grip his triggers had on him loosening. Slowly developing healthy ways to cope when he needs them that no longer involve hiding and shutting down. 

Despite the exhaustion, he feels better now than he had in years. He feels fully alive for the first time. 

John got ready quickly that morning, walking to the fire station with a slight pep in his step. He waved to Gaz and Rudy as he made his way to the locker room. He got into his uniform, shut his locker, and left the room. He high-fived Alejandro as he passed through the kitchen on his familiar route toward Ghost’s office. Everyone in the station knows his routine by now, even if it hasn't fully registered to John yet. 

John and Simon hadn't talked about the night Simon stayed over, or anything in between. Seemingly content to keep dancing around each other. Like horny birds, Gaz had said one day which earned him a swift punch to the shoulder from John.

John had been worried things would get awkward but he found the opposite to be true. They'd been working together better than ever. Their dynamic stayed just as comfortable as it had always been, albeit probably a bit more flirty. Another fact Gaz liked to tease him with. John couldn't describe it, they just worked. He'd never connected with a person the way he does with Simon. 

Johnny knocked, waiting only a second before opening the door. Something Simon would raise a brow at the first time John did it but the man never complained. Now, Simon simply hummed a greeting as John walked in without much preamble and placed himself in the seat across the Lieutenant's desk. Simon continued his work like it was a normal occurrence, John supposed at this point it was. 

A comfortable silence reigned over the room, soft words dancing through the air occasionally. John scribbled away in his journal, Simon filling out paperwork. They found themselves like this often in the mornings or whenever they had downtime. It quickly grew to be John's favorite part of the day. 

Hours passed as no calls came through and John would not be the one to say the dreaded "q" word out loud and break the good thing they had going. 

John tapped his pencil on his chin after he'd finished the sketch he had been working on. A landscape, the small lake Price frequented whenever he wanted to go fishing or just get away from the city. 

His eyes flitted around the room eventually settling on a photo that hung on the wall behind Simon. It looked older, Ghost was wearing a balaclava instead of the simple face mask he sported now. He had an arm around the man next to him whose face was also covered but instead of a balaclava, he wore a gaiter, helmet, and goggles. They appeared to be in the desert somewhere, a decrepit building could be seen behind the pair. Curiosity got the best of John. 

"Who's that?" John asked nodding his chin toward the image. 

Simon looked up and followed John’s gaze to the photo in question. A sorrowful look crossed his features. "Gary. Roach while we were in the field. He was my Sergeant, my right hand."

The was hung heavy in the air and John immediately felt guilty for bringing it up. He was about to apologize when Simon continued. 

"Took this picture right before we shipped out. All smiles, neither of us knew it'd be our last mission." Simon reached out and gingerly plucked the frame off the wall, holding it in front of himself with reverence. 

"How long did you know him?" John asked, gently urging Simon to continue. He subconsciously leaned forward, eager to absorb everything Simon was willing to offer.

"Six years. We enlisted at the same time, went through basic training together. Two bright-eyed kids looking for a purpose." Simon paused, his eyes growing distant. Lost to the memory of the man in the picture. "That mission…he stayed behind so our team could get out. Saved a lot of lives that day including my own."

John reached across the desk and placed his hand on Simon's forearm. Simon set his hand atop John's and continued. "He was a good man, the best of us. We went through a lot of shite together and he pulled me out of a dark place more times than I can count.” 

Simon paused again, eyes looking down at their hands. “Should have been me."

“Simon,” John began to protest but Simon’s eyes lifted to meet John’s, grief flashed through them followed by a grim acceptance. John could relate to it in a way, the feeling of wishing you had died instead of the other person. 

“I know. Old habits die hard I suppose.” Simon sniffled a bit, deep in thought before his eyes lightened. "You two would have been a dangerous pair."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Simon sighed and moved to place the frame back where it belonged. "Maybe I can take you to meet him one day."

"I'd like that." John squeezed Simon's forearm. 

Simon blinked rapidly a few times before he continued. "I… didn't take it well. His death. Left the service not long after. Floated around numb for a while until Price found me. Nearly dragged me here."

"Price's firehouse for wayward boys." John joked trying to lighten the mood though the statement certainly held some truth. 

Simon snorted, his eyes returning to their normal warmth, no longer distant. John counted himself victorious, he’d do anything to keep that warmth present. 

A familiar spark of mischief crossed Simon’s features before he spoke again. "It's not a firehouse, it's a firehome. " 

"Och. Awful, Si." Johnny laughed, thinking for a moment then, "Should put that on a mug for him."

"He'd like that." Simon’s eyes crinkled and John felt a blush creeping up his neck at this sight.

"Aye, he would. Going to remember that for his birthday." Johnny smiled, holding eye contact with Simon. His brown eyes had softened and John was sure the same softness was reflected in his own. 

"Johnny."

"Simon?"

"What do you call a soldier who survived mustard gas and pepper spray?"

John raised a brow, morbid curiosity had him nodding for the other man to continue. "What?"

"A seasoned veteran."

Jonny tried to look annoyed. He really did, but the laughter bubbling in his throat betrayed him. He shook his head to hide his smile. "Alright, I've got one."

"Shoot." Simon leaned forward, elbows resting on his desk. 

"What do you call a funny mountain?"

"What?"

John leaned forward, meeting Simon halfway, their faces both too close and not close enough. "Hill-arious."

Simon let out a breathy chuckle. "Terrible."

They simultaneously leaned further forward, faces inches apart now. John cursed the desk in between them. His eyes glanced down at the mask, the lips that were hidden behind it. He licked his own lips, watching as Simon's eyes tracked the movement. 

Simon's chin moved beneath the fabric, about to say something. John’s pulse quicked watching as Simon’s hand began reaching up but was halted, the moment interrupted by the call alarms screeching to life. 

They jumped into action, the moment lost. John left his journal on Simon's desk as he fell into step behind the Lieutenant. 

"Where are we headed, captain?" Ghost asked as he sat in the fire engine, John beside him. 

"Warehouse fire." Price sighed. "This is a big one, no one goes off on their own. Vargas and Parra, MacTavish and Riley, Garrick you're with me. Stay with your partner, if anyone gets separated you radio immediately. We'll be searching for survivors, command reported five employees unaccounted for. We need to move fast. It's an older warehouse, no longer up to code."

They arrived on scene moments later. Night had fallen but the raging inferno lit up the evening sky. Embers danced around the structure almost like it was sparkling. 

Under different circumstances, John would've thought it was beautiful. 

The firefighters hastily got out of the engine. Oxygen masks were quickly affixed and turnout gear was fastened with practiced hands. The 141 ran toward the blaze. 

Price opened the door and Ghost veered left as soon as they entered, John right on his heels. They weren't focused on fighting the inferno, other stations were actively trying to suppress it from the outside as well as working to vent the roof. 

John kept his eyes and ears peeled for movement, or lack thereof, while simultaneously staying within Ghost's shadow. 

The building groaned around them. Johnny's eyes widened as he looked at Ghost. 

"Come on." Ghost picked up his pace as they searched. 

Something caught John's eye, and he squinted, staring at it for a moment before realizing it was a boot. "Ghost, over there!"

Johnny led the way, there was a leg sticking out from under some debris. He shared a look with Ghost and they both moved to grab one end before they simultaneously lifted it up and away. 

The man was completely still, John rushed forward to check for a pulse. He dropped his head when there wasn't one. Simon placed a hand on his shoulder, allowing a second to mourn before wordlessly tagging the body and they moved. 

The structure groaned and shifted around them once more and they quickened their pace. A repetitive tapping caught their attention and they eagerly followed it toward the source. The knocking stopped as they rounded a corner. A supply closet came into view, there was a swipe of blood on the knob and the door had been blocked by falling debris. 

John ran toward the closet. Hopeful, he knocked on the door. “Anyone in there?”

He was met with silence, Ghost sent him a sympathetic look. John shook his head and raised his voice. “If you can't speak knock for me. Three times.”

John waited with bated breath, the sound of the fire around him all that met his ears. He was about to lose hope when he heard it, faint but there. 

Knock knock knock  

Together John and Ghost moved debris and busted the door open. A young woman was huddled in the corner, broom handle held firmly in her fist, and John quickly approached. He kneeled beside her and handed her an oxygen mask. 

“Hey there, my name’s John what's yours?” He asked as he helped place the apparatus over her face.

“M-martha.” She rasped behind the mask.

“Nice to meet you, Martha. Simon and I are going to get you out of here, aye?”

The woman nodded weakly, her eyes wide as she looked behind the firefighters. The fire outside the closet raged on, they needed to move. John smiled, trying to reassure her as best he could behind his own respirator. He shifted his stance to wrap her arm around his shoulder and hauled her up.

Ghost quickly led the way outside, John and Martha close behind. They maneuvered around spot fires and debris down a long hallway before they reached an exterior door. Simon held it open as John helped Martha through. The woman sagged in relief as soon as the clean night air met them. Simon grabbed her other side and they led her toward where paramedics had set up a triage. They gently laid her down on an awaiting gurney and Simon reached for his radio.

“Captain, we’ve accounted for two victims: one DOA, the other is with the paramedics.”

“Copy, Garrick and I got one, heading out now. Vargas and Parra found one DOA. That leaves one more.” Came Price’s response.

“Copy, MacTavish and I are headed back in.” Ghost nodded toward John as they headed back toward the door they just exited. John mourned to cool air for only a moment before Ghost opened the door and they trudged inside.

The building continued to groan and creak as they moved deeper. John tried not to focus on the noise of the structure failing or the fire raging around them. He focused on the sound of Ghost’s boots and listened for any signs of the last victim.

Suddenly their radio crackled back to life, the incident commander speaking urgently to everyone on the channel. "All stations evacuate immediately. I repeat: all stations evacuate immediately. The structure is about to collapse."

Simon turned around, his eyes widened as the commander's words sank in. 

“Double time Johnny,” Simon yelled urgently.

John didn't need to hear more. He ran, leading the way and backtracking skillfully to the hallway he knew held an exit. 

Another rumble shook the building and John quickened his pace. The sound of Simon’s boots slamming on the linoleum behind him reassured him the man was still with him. The repetitive sound created a harrowing melody with the cacophony of noise around them. 

The fire raged on, unperturbed by the impending collapse. It licked John’s sleeves as he rushed through various rooms and hallways. The turnout gear protected the fragile skin underneath as sweat built along it, no longer from the heat.

The door finally came into sight but John didn't have time to feel relief. A deafening crack boomed above him and the ceiling came crashing down, knocking him to the ground.

He tried to yell for Simon but was overtaken by the onslaught of rubble, hiding the other man from his view as the world darkened.

Chapter Text

Simon's head was pounding, body contorted at an odd angle on the ground. There was a weight over his chest and legs. Gingerly, he moved his limbs to gauge his condition.  He could feel his cracked ribs as he took shallow breaths but nothing was broken, just bruised. He's had worse. 

His memory was hazy as he tried to recall how he got here, desperately he grasped at the loose threads flowing around his mind. 

They were sent to a warehouse fire. 

The structure had become unstable due to the inferno. 

There had been a call to evacuate. 

He'd been following John- 

Johnny. 

He bolted upright, pushing away the debris that lay over him and hastily wiping sweat away from his eyes. He switched on his flashlight and scanned his surroundings. There wasn't much room to move, ceiling tiles littered the space as he carefully crawled around. 

Simon could hear shallow breathing somewhere near him beyond the sounds of the crackling blaze nearby. 

Carefully he searched the rubble, he had been right behind Johnny, the man had to be nearby. His flashlight caught on something reflective and he crawled as fast as he could toward the source. It was a pant leg, the reflective band on the ankle of John’s turnout gear peaked out from under some shelving. Simon slowly moved the debris, careful not to harm the man underneath. 

He set the material aside, and turned back to see what he had uncovered; bleary blue eyes shone as Simon's light fell over Johnny's face. 

"Si?" Johnny breathed, weakly reaching a hand out. 

Simon froze, his eyes stuck on the rebar piercing through John's chest. He was laying on his back, the rebar pinning him to the ground and blood pooling around him.

Simon could feel his heart picking up, his palms becoming clammy. 

Not again, his mind screamed, not like this. 

Johnny whimpered, breaking the trance Simon had been trapped in. He moved swiftly then, falling to his knees and grabbing John's outstretched hand tightly in his own. 

"W-what happened?" John looked confused as his eyes scanned his surroundings. It was then Simon noticed John's helmet was nowhere in sight, a small cut trickled blood down the side of his head. His mohawk was matted with blood and sweat. Simon barely resisted the urge to brush his fingers through the hair to try and get some of it out. 

The space they'd found themselves trapped in, likely saving them from being completely crushed, was quickly filling with smoke. 

He needed to act. He needs to do something. 

All his training, military and first responder, felt far away at this moment. Fear crowded his senses. 

Through no small feat, Simon willed himself to assess the situation tactfully. Johnny likely had a concussion, blood loss. 

He needs to pack the wound. 

Simon let out a shaky exhale and got to work. 

"We were responding to a call. Building collapsed." Simon recalled the events as he ripped his jacket off, balling it up and packing it around John's wound. 

Johnny gasped, a hand reached out blindly before it grasped Simon's thigh. "H-hurts, Si."

"I know, I know. I'm sorry Johnny, just hang on alright? I got you, I'm going to get you out of here." Simon stood, frantically casing the room for any weak point in the debris. He growled in anger when he couldn't find one. 

They were trapped. He couldn't dig them out on his own without risking further collapse. The hallway was fully destroyed and Simon could barely recognize his surroundings. He tried his radio, cursing himself for not doing so sooner. 

"This is Ghost, anyone copy?" Silence. Simon wanted to scream. 

"M'tired." John rasped and Simon ran back to his side. Blood soaked Simon's pants as he kneeled beside Johnny. He did his best to ignore it, though he couldn't help but notice there was too much. 

"You have to stay awake, Johnny. Stay with me." Simon squeezed John's hand, relieved when it weakly squeezed back. He racked his brain for something he could give Johnny to focus on, something to keep his mind occupied and away from the pain he was surely in. "Listen, you stay awake and I'll take you to dinner, yeah?"

"D-dinner?" John smiled, blood staining his teeth. "I'd like that."

"You pick, anywhere you want. Just stay awake." Simon’s voice was desperate as he held onto the man beneath him. 

"Station 141 check-in." Price's voice urgently echoed from the radio on Johnny’s shoulder, the device mercifully intact. Simon reached for it.

"Parra and Vargas are out."

"Garrick, solid."

Simon quickly hooked the radio to himself and grasped the call button. "MacTavish and I are trapped. We were heading toward an exit door on bravo side when the collapse started."

"Alright, we've got a team headed that way just hang tight. What's your status? " Price asked, voice tight, likely noticing the absence of John's response. 

Simon looked down at where his hand was grasping Johnny's, willing his voice to stay even. "Johnny's hurt. Rebar pierced his chest. Probable concussion."

"Is he conscious?" Alejandro cut in. 

"Yes. Barely." Simon noticed with dread John's eyelids had begun drooping. He brought up his free hand and applied pressure to the wound, hoping the pain would keep John awake. 

It worked, Johnny's eyes flew open and Simon mumbled soft apologies as he kept the pressure steady. "There you are, that's it, stay with me, Johnny."

"Keep him that way," Price urged. "we're almost there. What about you?" 

“Solid sir,” It wasn't entirely a lie, the pain in his ribs had been reduced to a dull ache by the adrenaline coursing through him.

"Can he feel his legs? " Alejandro asked, trying to assess John’s condition. 

Simon cursed himself again for not thinking about that sooner, the paramedic was doing much better keeping a level head than Simon currently was. 

He couldn't help but feel he was failing Johnny. 

Simon moved one of his hands, alternating squeezing John's ankles. "Johnny, can you feel my hand?"

"A-aye, both."

"Good. That's good." Simon sighed in relief before he reached for the radio. "He's got feeling in both legs."

"That's a good sign, no spinal damage. Keep him talking, hermano, we're coming to you." 

Talking, the one thing John MacTavish seemed to never stop doing, the one thing he wasn't doing now. 

"Johnny," Simon desperately tried to keep his voice normal. "figure out where you want to go for dinner yet?"

"G'nna surprise ye," John hummed, blinking owlishly as he looked at Simon. "And a movie?"

"Yeah," Simon smiled fondly and nodded. "yeah we can see a movie too."

"It's a date then," John spoke softly, his head lolling to the side as the words left him. 

"No, no. Johnny hey," Simon grabbed John's face with his free hand, gently shaking until tired blue eyes met his. "you have to stay awake, remember? No date otherwise."

"Tha's mean." John's voice was growing weaker and Simon could tell he was fighting hard to keep his eyes open. Suddenly, John's expression shifted, his brow creased as his eyes scanned over Simon. "Are ye hurt?"

Simon wanted to laugh, John was lying in a pile of rubble, impaled by rusty rebar and surrounded by a pool of his own blood but here he was asking if Simon was hurt. 

"I'm solid Johnny, let's just worry about you." Simon reached out, gently carding a hand through John's mohawk before moving a calloused hand to a clammy cheek.

"Someone has to worry about you, Simon." Johnny's brow creased further and Simon realized he wasn't going to drop it. 

Simon shrugged, if this was what would keep Johnny talking, who was he to deny the man? "Pretty sure a couple of my ribs are cracked, I'll be sore tomorrow but I'll live."

John's eyes scanned over Simon again before his face relaxed slightly, seemingly satisfied by the answer this time. He finally looked down at himself, eyes widening at the sight of the injury. Simon still had one hand keeping pressure on it, the bleeding had slowed but only slightly.

"Tha's no' good." John's eyes began to water, frozen looking at the metal protruding from his chest. 

"Look at me Johnny," Simon rubbed a thumb over John's cheek trying to divert his attention. "help is on the way."

"Am I gonna die?" John's voice was just above a whisper, his eyes met Simon’s and he felt his stomach drop at the terrified look within the blue irises. 

"No." Simon leaned forward and placed his forehead on John's for a moment before pulling away. "Not on my watch."

A few tears fell from John's eyes and Simon gently wiped them away. The man leaned into his touch and Simon felt his heart shatter, he'd do anything to take the pain away. He felt helpless, utterly and entirely helpless. 

"Simon, think we've got eyes on you. Can you see our lights coming through anywhere? " Simon could sense the fear in Price's voice even through the static of the radio, he felt the same fear within himself. 

Simon turned to move but a shaky hand caught him.

“Where ye g’ing?” John asked, exhaustion slurring his words.

Simon gently held the hand on his wrist, noting in the back of his mind how cold it was. Johnny's hands were supposed to be warm, the man was always a source of warmth. It felt wrong. Everything about their current situation felt wrong. This shouldn't have happened not to anyone, not to Johnny.

“Price is nearby I have to let them know where we are. I’ll be right back. Just stay awake.” Simon squeezed John’s hand in reassurance before gently placing it back down. He did his best to ignore the strangled noise John made as he moved away. He blamed the wetness of his own eyes on the smoke.

Simon carefully crawled in the direction of what he was pretty sure was once an exterior wall. He clutched the radio tighter, shut his light off, and waited, holding his breath as his eyes readjusted.

A flash crossed over his face through a small gap and he quickly yelled, “Stop!” 

The light was gone for a second before it returned, casting a small pinpoint on his cheek.

“Simon?” Price yelled, no longer through the radio. 

Simon sagged in relief hearing the captain's warm voice in person. “Yes, we’re here!”

“Stand back we're coming through.” Came Price’s warning as they began moving and sawing away debris and rubble from the other side.

Simon crawled the small distance back over to John, relieved to see the man still conscious, though his eyes looked distant.

“Johnny?” Simon held onto the injured man’s hand again. “Still with me?”

John tried to speak but his words were slurred and Simon was unable to make out what he had said. Simon realized with dread Johnny was running out of time. 

The sound of debris shifting met his ears, they were so close.

“Hear that? They’re almost through.” Simon moved both his hands up to cup either side of Johnny’s face, blue eyes stared at him but held little recognition. “Keep those pretty eyes open Johnny.”

Johnny mumbled something before his eyes slowly fell shut, face growing lax in Simon’s hold.

“No, no. You have to wake up please." Simon desperately shook the man just as he heard more debris give way. "Johnny!”

A second of silence passed before the smoke in the small space suddenly whooshed out and help rushed in.

“John!” Price raced over, falling to his knees next to his son. “Get the saws over here now!”

Gaz was right behind Price, tools in hand. Rudy and Alejandro crawled through next with a backboard. Everyone worked diligently, just like they always would, no one wanted to think about the fact that it was one of their own that they were trying to keep alive.

Simon and Price gently lifted a far too-still John slightly to the side so Gaz could cut the rebar. As soon as it was cut they carefully placed John onto the awaiting backboard. Alejandro and Rudy skillfully hooked him into various machines before the pair lifted the backboard up and out of the space they’d been trapped.

Price was right behind the paramedics but Simon couldn't bring himself to move just yet. He was frozen, kneeling on the cold ground next to a pool of Johnny’s blood. He could feel it crusting on the material of his pants, drying into the skin of his hands. He wanted it gone, he wanted this to be another one of his nightmares so he could wake up. So he could blink and Johnny would be there, sitting across his desk smiling like Simon was something to be treasured.

“Ghost?” Gaz’s voice was gentle, Simon hadn't realized he was still there. “Let’s get you out of here and get you checked out, yeah?"

Simon nodded, the pain in his ribs returning in full as Gaz helped him navigate the debris. The sun was beginning to rise, leaving him to wonder how long exactly they’d been trapped. He shook the thought away. It didn't matter now.

The ambulance with John had already left so Gaz ushered Simon into one from another station and climbed in with him. Simon let the paramedic check him over as the ambulance was driven toward the hospital. They confirmed what he already knew, three cracked ribs. Nothing major. Nothing compared to what Johnny had sustained. 

Simon handed his bloodied turnout gear to the paramedics to be disposed of as he and Gaz headed inside the hospital. He denied any further treatment, nothing could be done for him except pain management, which he didn't want. He needed the pain, clung to it. How could he be comfortable while Johnny was fighting for his life?

They entered the hospital and Ghost led them through the winding halls until they reached the waiting room. Alejandro and Rudy were sitting hand in hand with matching looks of worry on their faces. Gaz walked over to them while Ghost headed toward the captain. 

Price was at the nurse's station filling out paperwork as he approached. To most, it would've looked like the man was the picture of calm but Simon knew him better than that. Knew the stiffness in the man's stance meant he was barely holding it together. 

Simon stood next to his captain, carefully getting the man's attention. "Are you alright?"

Price's brow furrowed as he looked Simon over, the look of worry creasing his features was so familiar Simon was left wondering how Price wasn't Johnny's father by blood. 

"Did you get yourself checked out, son?" Price deflected. 

"I'm fine." Simon was going to leave it at that until Price leveled him an unimpressed glare, once again so achingly familiar. "Couple of cracked ribs." 

Price nodded, returning his eyes to the clipboard before him. "Get off your feet, Simon. He's in surgery. It will likely be some time before we hear anything."

Simon wanted to press Price again, to make sure he was alright but decided against it for now. He patted Price's shoulder and turned away, walking over to the waiting room and sitting by himself. 

Eventually, Price settled in the seat next to him; they sat in silence lost in their own spirals before Simon decided he'd had enough. 

"Are you alright, Price?" 

Price scoffed and leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. "No." He responded simply. 

Simon hummed in understanding. He was sure none of them were. Gaz's knee hadn't stopped bouncing since they'd arrived, Rudy's eyes were red and Alejandro had a white-knuckled grip on his husband's hand. 

"The kid has been through enough." Price continued, his voice just loud enough for Simon to hear. "Wish I could take it all away."

While Simon couldn't relate to the sentiment from a parental perspective, he could certainly relate from that of a friend's. Though the friend label no longer felt correct, hadn't really for a long time if he was honest. 

"Me too." The words left him before he could stop them and Price turned slightly in his chair. 

Price stared at him for a moment,  seemingly searching for the right words before he sighed and bluntly stated: "You love him."

Simon opened and closed his mouth a few times before pressing his lips together in a tight line. That was the last thing he thought Price would say and he couldn't find it in himself to deny it but he wasn't ready to speak it out loud. 

A small knowing smile crept along Price's tired face. "Simon."

"I don't know." 

"I think you do, son." Price’s face turned serious as Simon turned to look at him. 

Simon nodded, the only confirmation he could will himself to give. What he felt for John, what he's been feeling, has been overwhelming in the best of ways and he wouldn't trade it for anything. The way John's eyes softened when they fell upon him made Simon's chest warm every time. If he could listen to only Johnny's voice, his laughter, for the rest of his life he would die a happy man. 

A hand settled on his shoulder. "You deserve this, Simon." 

Simon's eyes grew misty as Price looked at him with so much warmth and understanding. Price squeezed his shoulder before letting his hand fall back down. 

"You should tell him." Price stated matter of factly, like it would be the easiest thing in the world. 

Simon nodded again, not trusting his voice. He didn't dare speak the what if I don't get the chance that hung heavy on his tongue. 

"John?" Laswell's voice brought them both to the present, neither had heard her approach. Her normal put-together appearance was long lost, hair falling out of the neat bun she usually kept it in. "What happened?"

Kate sat next to Price as he recalled what had happened, she slumped in the chair once he'd finished. 

"Hasn't he been through enough?" She sighed staring down at the linoleum. 

Hours passed, and each person took turns pacing the room. Laswell’s wife stopped by with food that went largely untouched. Appetites were hard to come by in the wake of everything they’d gone through. 

The sun was setting, casting a warm glow along all their tired faces. No one noticed a doctor was finally walking their way until she stood in front of the group.

"Captain Price?" The doctor clasped her hands in front of her as she looked around the room.

Price bolted from his seat and practically ran to meet the doctor. Everyone else in the room stood, anxiously awaiting news on their missing member. 

"You are listed as Mister MacTavish's emergency contact, if you'll follow me please?" She gestured for Price to follow as she turned away. 

The pair left the room and Simon felt an ounce of anger sidle up with his anxiety. Why couldn't she just tell everyone? Why do we have to keep waiting? He could see the same thoughts dancing behind the rest of the team's eyes. Kyle deflated back into his chair with his head in his hands. Rudy was holding onto Alejandro who looked ready to bolt. Laswell let out a shaky breath as she sat back down. Simon stared at the doors a moment longer before following suit.  

Price returned almost a half hour later looking far more haggard but with a relieved smile plastered across his features. 

"John's surgery went well, he'll be out for a while but he's gonna be alright." Price's voice wavered as he spoke the last part. He nodded toward the hallway behind him motioning for everyone to follow. "He's set up in a room."

Simon was right behind Price as he led the group down a few hallways and closer to Johnny. Finally Price stopped in front of a room and went inside. Simon’s breath caught in his throat when his eyes finally landed on John. 

Johnny looked pale, the echoes of a grimace on his face even as he slept. There was a small bandage on his temple and his mohawk was no longer coated in grime, back to its natural fluffy state. 

Simon approached the bed and grabbed Johnny’s hand, the same hand he’d been holding throughout the entire time they were trapped. It was warm now, as it was supposed to be, and Simon could finally start to believe things were going to be okay.

Chapter Text

A soft breeze ruffled through his hair, gently brushing against the bare skin of his arms. It was warm and the air smelled like fresh rain. The grass was soft under his feet as he walked through the field. He didn't know where he was yet his feet seemed to know where they were going, carrying him down a hill and toward a pleasant looking cottage. 

The small home was nestled between a pair of old willow trees and a little, well-tended garden lay beyond the front door. Smoke gently billowed out of the old chimney and as he got closer he could smell something savory cooking. He had never seen the cottage before, but it felt like home.

John slowly pushed the door open, there was a woman in the kitchen with her back to him but he didn't need to see her face to know who she was. 

A floorboard creaked as he approached and the woman turned then, her warm smile cascading over him like a blanket. 

"Hello, sweetheart." His mother smiled warmly, the sound of her voice immediately causing his eyes to water.

John couldn't help the sob that worked its way up his throat as she reached forward and enveloped him in a crushing embrace. 

"Mom?" John breathed in disbelief tears cascading down his cheeks and he was helpless against them. 

"My wee bairn has all grown up." She pulled back, grasping his face in both hands. She wiped away his tears, pausing as she noticed the scar over his eye. She tutted, worry creasing her brows. "I am so sorry my love."

"Not your fault, Mom."

She sighed, running soft fingertips over the marred skin before grasping both of his hands in her own. She steered him over to a small table and sat him down. John mourned the loss of contact as she left his side and moved toward the stove. She prepared a serving of what she had made before she came back over and set a portion down in front of him. 

A bowl of beef stew sat before him and he felt the familiar pang of tears in his eyes. 

"Do you still remember my recipe?" She asked as she sat across from him. 

"Aye, how could I forget." 

Many precious memories with his mother were spent cooking this very dish. Soft music playing in the kitchen, tiny hands stirring a large pot. He hadn't been able to bring himself to make it since her death but now he found his hands itching to cook the comforting dish. 

His mom watched him fondly as he ate, resting her chin in her hand. "I am glad John found you, he's a good man."

"He has taken excellent care of me, I don't know where I’d be without him." John smiled thinking about growing up with his adoptive father before taking another bite of his mother's stew.

"Poor man is worried sick about you right now."

John tilted his head slightly, flashes of debris and rebar played in his mind. The hairs on the back of his neck stood and scared brown eyes swam through his vision. 

His mother hummed, the familiar sound bringing him back to the present. "And that Simon is pretty gentle on the eyes."

"Mom." John tried to hide his blush behind his hands. 

"I think you’ll both be good for each other. Your father likes him too."

"Dad's here?"

"We're always with you sweetheart, even if you can't see us."

John's eyes began to water again as he averted his gaze. "I miss you." 

"I know but it's not your time yet." She reached across the table to grab one of John’s hands. "Sweetheart, you need to let go of that guilt of yours. You are not replacing us. I am overjoyed you have found good people to walk beside you."

John nodded and felt a tear fall, leaving a warm trail down the side of his face. "I don't want to leave you."

She walked over to John and stood in front of him, raising delicate hands to cup his cheeks. "You have so much life ahead of you, so much more to give to the world."

"You'll stay with me?"

"Always." She wrapped him tightly in her arms. "It's time for you to wake up."

He slowly nodded against her chest as he held on to his mother tightly, trying to soak up her warmth one last time. 

"I love you."

"I love you too, sweetheart." She pulled back, looking at him with misty blue eyes that matched his own. “Now go, live a long beautiful life.”

John could hear familiar voices floating in the air around him as his brain slowly came to life. The echoes of his dream left a comfortable warmth in his heart, contrasting the sharp pain in his chest. 

Previous events slowly came back to him. The building collapse, being injured, Simon talking him through the pain. 

He groaned as he slowly shifted, feeling a weight on his hand tighten. 

"Johnny?" Simon's deep voice met his ears and he couldn't help the slight curl of his lips. 

He opened his eyes, his vision filled with Simon's worried face. 

"Si," He tried to speak but it quickly turned into a cough, the action pulling uncomfortably at his chest. 

Price was suddenly beside Simon with a cup of water. He guided the straw into John’s mouth so he could take small sips. The cool liquid was a welcome relief from his parched throat. He weakly smiled up at them both after Price set the cup aside.

“Okay?” John rasped as he looked at Simon. His memory was still foggy but he remembered a distressed expression in Simon’s eyes. 

"I'm alright Johnny. How's your pain?" 

John tried to answer Simon's question, something along the lines of my chest is on fire but a cry came out instead that resulted in another coughing fit. Tears rushed down his face as Price rubbed his back. Distantly he heard other voices sounding anxious but they were drowned out by the sound of his heaving breaths. He gasped as it finally subsided, what little energy he had was completely eradicated. 

He deflated into the thin mattress, eyes shutting as Price ran a hand through his hair. Sleep met him rapidly as his father's voice echoed through his fading mind. 

"Get some rest, son. We'll be here when you wake up."

The next time he woke up wasn't as distressing, he floated gently into consciousness, pain medication keeping his wounded body comfortably numb. He sighed, opening his eyes slowly against the thankfully dim lighting. He assumed it was late, or really early, by the sheer amount of people asleep around the room, save for one. 

“Good morning, son.” Price spoke quietly as he settled a hand on John’s shoulder. 

"Pop," John uttered weakly. 

Price gave him a small smile behind his mustache. "How are you feeling?"

"Like a building fell on me."

Price squinted his eyes, shaking his head slightly. "John."

"Sorry." John smiled sheepishly. "How long has it been?"

"Couple of days in total but six hours or so since you woke up the first time. Everyone finally relaxed a little, and he finally stopped pacing the room."

Price nodded his head and John followed to gesture to the other side of his bed, realizing the dip in the mattress was from Simon. He was leaning on the bed, arms folded and head resting on them, sound asleep. 

John resisted the urge to reach out and grab Simon’s hand; he could see the deep bags under the man's eyes and didn't want to risk waking him. 

"Sorry to put everyone through that," John mumbled, eyes still on Simon’s peaceful face.

"Just don't do it again."

John nodded meeting Price’s eyes again. "Well, you'll have to tell my captain I can't go into structure fires anymore."

"I will." Price laughed, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms over his chest. It looked like there was something else he wanted to say but he decided against it as some of the room started to wake. 

"John!" Gaz shouted as he got up from where he'd been sleeping, uncaring of his volume. 

"Garrick, why are you yelling?" Alejandro grumbled before he looked up, met John's gaze, and answered his own question. "About time cabrón!"

"Sleeping beauty over here," Gaz joked as he lightly punched John's shoulder. 

"Glad you're awake, John." Rudy smiled warmly as he came up behind Alejandro. 

Laswell stood and stretched, crossing the room to place a hand on John's knee. "Scared us for a bit there kiddo," 

John smiled feebly around the room, he was quickly overwhelmed by the sudden attention. Before he knew it everyone was huddled around his bed, matching looks of worry etched into all their features, and asking questions he didn’t have any answers for. While he appreciated their concern and was more than happy to see their faces, he could already feel exhaustion creeping up on him again. 

Price must've noticed John's shift in demeanor and in his captain voice he addressed the room, "Alright let's give him some space."

"But-" Kyle quickly shut his mouth at the stern look Price leveled him with. 

"Come on boys," Laswell began as she started steering everyone out of the room. "let's pick up breakfast."

John sighed, shooting Price a thankful look as he relaxed his shoulders. The worn group of first responders left the room with the sound of Gaz's grumbling, Simon shutting the door behind them all before he wandered back to stand at John’s side. 

"How are you feeling?" Simon asked softly, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with the heel of his hand.

John tried to shrug but the action pulled at his stitches and he winced. He voiced an unconvincing, "I'm alright."

Simon just hummed, rolling his eyes fondly. 

John looked at him in earnest then, noting the way he was favoring his left side. He looked exhausted, with dark bags contrasting freckled cheeks, and his blond curls dangling limply over his forehead. 

"How are you?" John finally asked. 

"Solid."

"Simon,"

"I'm alright, Johnny."

John squinted his eyes at Simon, he knew the man was stubborn but luckily so was he. "Then why are you standing like if you breathe too deep you'll break something?"

"Not going to drop it are you?"

"Nope." John smiled, feeling a bit of deja vu. "You said you thought your ribs were cracked?"

Simon nodded, subconsciously bringing a hand up to his side. "Three."

"Steamin' Jesus sit down would ye?"

Simon complied, dropping down gingerly in the chair he had slept in and scooting it closer.

"So," John smirked, remembering something Simon had said during the collapse. "do ye really think my eyes are pretty?"

"Johnny," Simon blushed and quickly averted his eyes. 

John chuckled before turning serious. Something behind Simon's eyes had him worried, curious. "What's going on in that head of yours, Si?"

He let the question linger for a moment, Simon still didn't look at him so he pressed. "Simon?"

Simon looked down at where his hand rested atop the blanket, right next to Johnny’s. He opened and closed his mouth a few times before his words came out in a rush. "Johnny when we were trapped and you closed your eyes I…I thought that was it. I thought I'd lost you and I didn't know how to handle that without ever telling you," Simon paused, quickly snapping his mouth shut. 

Johnny waited a moment before he gently encouraged Simon to continue. "Telling me what?"

"I- fuckin' hell Johnny, I don't know. You look at me like no one ever has, like I mean something and I find myself chasing after your light, and when I thought it was almost snuffed out I thought a part of me had been too. Johnny, you make me feel alive and-"

John didn't need to hear more of Simon’s rambling and decided to put the poor man out of his misery. He reached a shaky hand up, grasping at the collar of Simon’s shirt, and pulled him forward. 

Their lips met, pressed together for a moment before moving swiftly in a storm of tongue and teeth. It was an urgent conference, full of all the emotions they had both been holding in since they'd met. 

John shifted the hand on Simon's collar to splay over his chest, the other moving to Simon’s neck, deepening the kiss. Simon brought both his hands up to cup John’s cheeks, eagerly following John's lead. They fit together like they were destined to be one and the same, and maybe they were. John thought, beneath the haze, that there was nothing else on this Earth that could elicit such passion from him the way Simon does. 

They broke after a while to breathe and John was sure the floating feeling deep in his bones wasn't just his pain medication. 

As much as John wanted nothing more than to pick up where they left off, his energy had well and truly left him. His head fell heavily back down to the pillow and the warm smile Simon wore told him the other man could see the exhaustion behind his eyes. 

"Stay?" John whispered as he blinked slowly, looking up at Simon beneath brown eyelashes.

Simon didn't answer, instead, he carefully crawled into the bed. John eagerly made space for him, Simon laid an arm around him and John placed his head on Simon's chest. It was some of the best sleep he's ever gotten. 

John's hospital stay passed by quicker than he thought it would. He wasn't often left alone, he was sure he had Price to thank for that. It almost seemed as though they coordinated a schedule but John wouldn't let on that he knew. 

His most frequent guest was Simon and he found himself more and more entranced by the man as the days passed. Kissing quickly became a habit between them, a quick peck as Simon left or a soft kiss to John’s forehead as he fell asleep. Every time, to John, it felt like magic. 

Beyond the new development in their relationship, he'd learned a lot about Simon. John learned Simon was a big fan of sweets, often keeping sugary snacks in his pockets or a drawer in his desk. He'd learned that Simon was an only child, his father wasn't a good man but his mother did her best. Simon promised to take him to her grave so they could meet, and John promised the same. 

A week passed quickly in his medicated haze, his stitches still pulled uncomfortably but he was no longer in the ICU and his tests were all coming back without abnormalities. John hoped that meant he'd be discharged soon, he hadn't forgotten about Simon's offer for dinner though he wasn't sure he'd be able to go out to a restaurant anytime soon. 

It was early afternoon and Simon was in his unassigned chair at John's side. It was almost an echo of how John would sit in Simon’s office, perched on his own unassigned seat. Simon had brought John’s journal with him that morning after remembering it was left on his desk. John was eagerly scribbling along the pages, he hadn't noticed the other man watching fondly. 

"When did you learn how to draw?" Simon asked as he watched John's pencil dance along the page. 

"My dad taught me before he died," John answered, sticking his tongue out a bit as he focused on what he was shading.

Simon hummed lightly. "Do you paint too?"

"Never got around to dabbling in other mediums." Johnny shrugged and looked up at Simon. "What about you?" 

Simon tilted his head in lieu of an answer so John elaborated. 

"Ye got any hobbies?"

"Does watching garbage television count?"

"I told ye, Great British Bake Off is not garbage!" John laughed and Simon joined in, John relished in the sound of the other man's laugh. He decided he wanted to ensure that Simon did it more often.  

“Baking.” Simon offered quietly.

John smiled widely at Simon, he was about to inquire further when the door opened, effectively cutting off their conversation. A doctor walked in followed closely by Price. Simon stood from his chair while Price filled the space on John's other side as they waited for the doctor to speak. 

She pulled his chart, making a few notes before she addressed the room. "As long as nothing changes we will be able to discharge you tomorrow afternoon. You will need to be on strict bed rest, however. Do you have someone that can help you?"

John didn't want to impose on anyone, he was sure he could manage okay on his own. Price opened his mouth to say something but Simon beat him to it. 

"Johnny can stay with me." Simon turned to Price and shrugged at the captain’s amused look. "You've been telling me I need to use my vacation days."

Johnny couldn't help the blush that crept up his cheeks, he was even more eager to be released now. 

"Alright then. Remember, your wound is quite severe, in addition to the trauma to your heart, you will need to take it slow."

John felt something in the room shift. Price visibly tensed while Simon shifted nervously on his feet.

"His heart?" Simon asked tentatively, Price wouldn't meet anyone’s eyes. 

"Yes." the doctor looked between Price and John before she ultimately decided to continue. "His heart stopped during surgery. We had to shock him to regain normal rhythm."

"Oh," Simon said in a low tone, eyes glaring daggers at Price. 

"I'll get your discharge paperwork sorted." The doctor gave John a clipped smile and took her leave. 

The air hung heavy in the room as the door shut behind her. John looked down at his lap, thoughts racing. 

His heart stopped, he had died.

"Is that why the nurse spoke to you first?" Simon's eyes didn't leave Price. His posture was rigid as he balled his hands up tight. 

"I didn't want you to worry." Price raised a hand up trying to placate Simon. 

"He fucking died and you didn't think that we-” Simon shook his head. “that I should know?"

The tense conversation continued around him but was quickly drowned out by the sound of blood rushing in his ears. He stared down at his hands as he realized suddenly that his dream wasn't one. It wasn't just his body's way of coping with the pain, it was real. He had really spoken with his mother. He felt warm trails falling down his cheeks, a sob worked its way up his throat that he tried vainly to suppress. 

Simon turned to John at the sound, posture immediately softening as he looked at the smaller man. "Johnny?"

"It wasn't a dream," John said breathlessly.

"What wasn't a dream?" Simon asked, voice gentle. 

"I..” John looked up, tears flowing unabashed as he clenched the threadbare blanket in trembling hands. “I saw my mom. She said it wasn't my time. Told me she'll always be with me, then I woke up here.” 

"Oh, son." Price breathed leaning forward to wrap John in a tight embrace. John felt Simon's hand rest on his thigh, both men doing what they could to comfort him. 

Price pulled away and John looked between both men with misty eyes. He cleared his throat and offered them a sad smile. "She said she liked the both of you." 

John reached a hand out for each of them to take, squeezing tightly when they did.

His mother’s words echoed in his ears and he kept them close to his heart. He could feel her love flowing through the people beside him and he knew, now and forever, that he would never truly be alone.

Chapter Text

John sat on the bed anxiously tapping on his thigh, he was dressed and ready to leave the stuffy hospital. They were just waiting for the nurse to finish the paperwork and for Simon to get back. He'd gone home to get groceries and make sure the house was in order. 

Price had left too, he had to work today but promised to stop by John’s apartment to grab some things for him and drop them off at Simon's house tonight. The tension between the two had dissipated some, Simon was still a bit short with Price but the captain took it in stride, understanding and accepting Simon's reason for it. 

Gaz had stopped by to keep John company in the meantime but, try as he might, John was having trouble matching the other man's energy like he normally could. 

"So," Gaz started, waggling his eyebrows in a comical way that had John rolling his eyes. "You and Ghost?"

"Huh? Well," John sputtered, unsure of what to say. He and Simon hadn't exactly put a label on anything yet. Gaz however seemed to know more than him on the matter, staring at him with wide knowing eyes. "Simon and I-"

"See!" Gaz interrupted and pointed an accusatory finger at John. "You call him Simon! No one else is allowed to call him that except Price. I did it by accident once and I couldn't look the man in the eyes for a week. I was so scared."

"We haven't really talked about it?" John shrugged. 

"Oh come on! He kissed your forehead when he left! You have to give me something, it's been so boring at the station without you."

"Well, when he gives me his lollipop at recess and asks me to be his boyfriend you'll be the first to know.” John joked while rubbing at his tired eyes. 

“You suck,” Gaz pouted as he leaned back in his chair.

John laughed lightly at his friend's dejected face before sobering up a bit. “You know you can call me if you get bored, right? I’m going to be stuck on bed rest for a while, I'll have my phone with me.”

“Thanks, mate.” Gaz’s warm smile returned. “Hopefully I won’t interrupt anything unsavory because that-”

“Shut the fuck up, Kyle.” They dissolved into fits of laughter, only interrupted when Simon came into the room pushing a wheelchair, a rattling bag from the pharmacy hanging off his arm. He raised an eyebrow looking between the both of them before fondly rolling his eyes.

“Ready to go?” Simon closed the door behind him and hooked the bag to the back of the wheelchair. 

Johnny wiped a stray tear from his eye and smiled at Simon. “Please.”

Simon nodded and moved forward to help John into the wheelchair. Gaz stood from where he had been sitting and shot an exaggerated wink at John from behind Simon before slipping out the door.

John just shook his head as he shifted off the bed and gingerly slid into the awaiting wheelchair. 

"That's it, you got it," Simon whispered soft reassurances as he helped Johnny through the front door. 

"Isn't this bad for your ribs?" John asked breathlessly as he walked, holding firmly onto Simon's arm. 

"They're mostly healed."

"Simon,"

"Johnny."

"It's only been a week ye big bastard," John spoke, detaching his weight from Simon and gingerly walking the rest of the way into the living room. The taller man didn't stray far, hovering a hand by the small of John’s back just in case. 

John lowered himself onto the couch with a tired sigh, pressing his eyes shut for a moment against the pain throbbing from his chest and outward. 

Simon pulled an ottoman over and gently placed John's legs on it then dropped a blanket over them. "Hungry?"

"I could eat."

“What are you thinking?”

John hummed, it was late, far past dinner time, and he didn't have the appetite for real food but he was a little hungry. He remembered a certain someone mentioning one of his hobbies was baking so he smiled at Simon through his eyelashes and answered, “Cupcakes.”

“Alright.” Simon chuckled before turning and moving into the kitchen.

The main area of the house was an open floor plan and if John turned his head he could watch Simon from his spot on the couch. So, he did. He watched as Simon moved around the kitchen, looking just as much in his element as he did at the firehouse. 

John gaped when Simon grabbed an apron to put on, a basic black fabric with I'm making you some shut the fucupcakes embroidered on the front. Simon looked up with a wink and John laughed before moving his gaze around the room while Simon got to work.

John wasn't entirely sure what to expect from Simon’s house. It was nice, bigger probably than Simon needed, and very empty. It held the bare minimum furniture, though, Johnny could tell he sprung for a nice couch which his aching body was very appreciative of at the moment. 

The walls were bare save for a few photos mounted by a well-stocked bookcase. John decided, with the amount of free time he was about to have, he’d draw some pieces for Simon to put up. 

John wanted to find a way to thank Simon for his generosity, maybe that would be a good place to start. He had his journal and he asked Price to grab his pencils and some of his larger sketchbooks. He wasn't sure what exactly he'd draw but he was sure something would come to him eventually. 

John sat lost in thought and staring at the wall for an indeterminate amount of time before he huffed. "This sucks."

Simon snorted as he came to sit down next to him, wiping his hands with a kitchen towel. "That's your big revelation?"

"Aye." John nodded and let his head fall onto the cushion behind him. "Stickin' to it.”

“How is your pain?” Simon asked, worry creasing his features.

John just grumbled in response as he squeezed his eyes shut. He felt the couch shift as Simon stood. After a brief silence the sound of shuffling returned to his ears before a warm hand was placed on his knee. 

“Here,” Simon said, handing John his medication along with a bottle of water.

"Thanks." John quickly took the offered pills and washed them down with the water. 

Simon hummed before sitting back down and reaching an arm around to tuck John into his side. "Cupcakes will be ready in forty minutes, want to start a movie in the meantime?"

“Sure,” John replied as he moved the blanket to fit over Simon’s legs and leaned back to nestle into Simon’s warmth.

John must've drifted off, the next thing he consciously registered was Simon handing him a plate with a cupcake on it. He took it and openly gaped at the dessert, the frosting was a blue and red ombre making a beautiful purple in some spots. Eagerly he took a bite and carefully suppressed the moan that tried to work its way out of his throat.

Put simply, it was the best cupcake he's ever tasted.

John looked over at Simon with wide eyes once he swallowed. “Hells fuckin’ bells, Si.”

Simon just laughed sheepishly as he ate his own. They sat together eating their desserts while the movie played on. John sat his plate down on his lap and looked over to Simon.

“How’d you learn to bake so well?”

There was a pregnant pause, John felt the all too familiar sensation he'd put his foot in his mouth. He worried he’d overstepped, but Simon met his eyes and gave him a small, sad smile.

“My mother taught me. These were one of her recipes.” He finally replied, a distant look overtaking his features. Then, unprompted, “My favorite thing to make is pies. Feels like she’s still with me when I do.”

John grabbed Simon’s hand and held it tight. John's heart ached for him.

“When dad would disappear for a few days we’d finally be able to relax. She would grab my hand and bring me into the kitchen to show me how to make banoffee pie. She’d set up the old record player and play Billy Joel and we’d dance around the kitchen covered in graham cracker dust, it’s some of my favorite memories with her.”

John brought Simon’s hand up and gently kissed his knuckles. “I think she’s always with you, Si.”

Simon nodded slowly and pulled Johnny closer. “Think so too.”

The doorbell rang, announcing Price had finally arrived. Simon stood, placing a kiss on the top of Johnny’s mohawk before leaving to let Price in. John stayed rooted to the couch, limbs heavy from pain medication.

“Got you some clothes, toiletries, and your drawing supplies.” Price listed off as he set John’s backpack by the couch. “How are you feeling, son?” 

John laughed dryly. “Tired.”

“Won't keep you then.” Price leaned down to hug John, lingering for a bit longer than he normally would before he stood back. John raised an eyebrow in question but Price just smiled with tired eyes. “Get some rest, John, I’ll check in tomorrow.”

“Love you, pop.”

“Love you too, kid.” Price called over his shoulder as he left.

John stared at the spot Price had been in for a moment before looking at Simon. “Do you think he’s alright?”

Simon shrugged as he sat back down and pulled Johnny back toward himself. “Probably just worried about you. Been a hard time for him.”

“Yeah,” John agreed, worry easing slightly. The movie droned on in the background and John let his heavy eyelids fall shut, focusing solely on the sound of Simon’s heartbeat beneath his ear.

"Johnny." A voice rumbled from somewhere in the room, rousing John from his slumber. 

John peeled one eye open and spotted Simon in front of him. He looked relaxed, a band tee stretched tightly over his torso and an old pair of sweatpants hung loose on his hips. John blushed and wondered distantly when he had got up to change.

Johnny squinted, inspecting the shirt closer. “Is that Ghost? A bit on the nose eh Ghost?”

"Good music.” Simon shrugged, looking down at himself for a moment before looking back at John. “Let's get you ready for bed, yeah?" 

"S'alright, I'll take the couch," John mumbled against the blanket as he pulled it over his chin. 

"Johnny-"

"No, Simon. I'm not putting you out more than I already have."

Simon crossed his arms and worked his jaw, tapping a finger against his bicep for a moment before he sighed. 

"We'll share," Simon stated before crossing the room and easily picking John up, leaving no room for argument. 

Not that it mattered, John was too flustered to form one anyway. 

John was confused though when Simon passed the bed and entered the master bathroom depositing John on the edge of the bathtub.

“Take your shirt off.” Simon rustled through the drawers beneath the vanity before pulling out a few items.

It took longer than John would like to admit for him to realize what Simon was doing. 

Carefully he pulled his shirt off and set it aside, grimacing at the state of his chest. The bandages covered most of his skin and deep bruises peeked out from the edges. Explains why it hurt every time he breathed or moved. Hurt to do anything, really.

Simon came over, gently unwrapping the bandages and throwing them away. “Going to clean the stitches.”

John just nodded as Simon began cleansing the wound with practiced hands. He squeezed his eyes shut against the uncomfortable pulling sensation he felt, he knew Simon was being as delicate as he could but it didn't stop the aching feeling within his skin.

“You're doing great, almost done,” Simon reassured with a soft tone as he meticulously worked to clean any grime away.

Simon started humming a soothing tune and John desperately focused on the baritone timbre instead of the discomfort radiating from his chest. Simon gently patted the stitches dry before carefully rubbing ointment over them. Finally, he grabbed bandages and gently moved John’s arms out of the way as he wrapped his chest.

“There you are, all done.” Simon set a hand on John’s shoulder, rubbing a calloused thumb over smooth skin. 

John finally opened his eyes, a stray tear falling down his cheek as he took a deep breath. Simon moved his hand up and gently brushed it away. 

Simon turned to grab a bundle of fabric that had been on the counter and John realized it was some of his clothes that Price had dropped off. Simon helped him into his pajama pants and an old t-shirt, setting the dirty clothes in the hamper.

“Come on,” He said softly before picking John up again.

“I can walk you know,” John mumbled into Simon’s shoulder.

“I know.” Simon chuckled as he gently laid Johnny on the bed. He pulled the covers around John before laying on the opposite side and turning the lamp off.

As John's eyes adjusted he looked over to Simon,  taking in the faint scar that ran over his mouth and the warmth of his brown eyes in the dim moonlight. He could stare forever and never grow tired of learning every small detail of the man next to him. 

They both stared, drinking in each other's presence before Simon opened his arm and John scooted closer. John rested his head on Simon's bicep and held the hand that was on his shoulder. He felt Simon place a kiss on his temple as they both melted into the mattress. 

John, addled by exhaustion and pain medication, decided to utter the question that's been festering in his mind since they left the hospital. If he'd been fully cognizant he probably would've been embarrassed by its blunt delivery, but he wasn't, so he slurred out, "Are you my boyfriend?"

He felt Simon chuckle lightly before he spoke. "Is that what you want?"

"Yes," John answered immediately. 

"Then, yes," Simon answered and John felt his cheeks flush as he gave into the familiar pull of sleep, a faint smile on his face. 

Warmth on his face brought him into the waking world as the morning sun streamed in through the curtains. John was surprised he was up before Simon, knowing that the man still stuck to his military habits of waking early, but the pain in his chest acted as an alarm clock of its own. 

He moved to get up so he could find his medication but paused as he noticed the pained look on Simon's sleeping features, a tense pinch in his brow. John sat up and inched closer, noting the light sheen of sweat that coated Simon's forehead. 

"Si?" John tried placing a hand on Simon’s chest. The sleeping man shifted but didn't wake, Johnny knew better than to startle someone having a nightmare so he settled on rubbing gentle circles in Simon's chest hoping to lull him awake. 

Simon's face suddenly contorted before he shot upward, knocking John backward with the momentum. John tumbled off the bed landing on his back with a grunt, squeezing his eyes shut against the sudden ache pulsing through his chest. 

John sucked in a tight breath and sat up on the floor. He watched as Simon looked around with wide glassy eyes, breathing heavily. 

"Simon?" John spoke cautiously, keeping his tone light. 

Simon's head whipped over to John and he blinked a few times before recognition settled on his features along with an overwhelming look of guilt. 

"You're okay," John spoke softly as he stood and gingerly sat down on the edge of the bed. Simon’s eyes studied his movements and John did his best to hide his wince, he definitely needed to take his medication now. "You with me?"

"Did I hurt you?" Simon asked so quietly John almost didn't hear him. It felt wrong for Simon's voice to sound so unsure, so small. 

"No Si, I'm alright." John reached out and held Simon's clammy hand hoping to help ground him. 

Simon reciprocated, squeezing his hand tightly before he spoke with a rough voice. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, Si. Remember what you told me? Happens to everyone."

Simon looked down at their joined hands absent-mindedly running a thumb along John's knuckles. 

"I could've hurt you."

"You didn't," John assured leaning forward to place a chaste kiss on Simon's lips before pulling on their joined hands to coax him up. "Come on, let's make some breakfast."

Simon didn't move. "I should check your stitches what if-"

"Simon." John reached up to grab Simon’s face and waited until brown eyes met his before speaking with conviction, "You didn't hurt me. You could never hurt me. Okay?"

Simon searched John's eyes before slowly nodding. "Okay."

They stood from the bed and Simon gently pulled John into his chest, hugging him tightly in the warmth of the morning sun. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" John asked against Simon's shirt. 

Simon didn't say anything for a while and John wasn't going to press, not yet, he was content to just be there. Eventually though, Simon spoke his voice low as he recalled the dream. 

"I was back in the collapse but I couldn't get you out in time." Simon started to shake slightly. "You died." He whispered. 

John squeezed Simon tighter. "You did get me out, Si. Saved my life."

Simon placed his chin on top of Johnny’s head and brought a hand up to the back of the shorter man's neck, thumb on his pulse point. 

John let Simon be the one to break away, smiling up at him as he leaned down. Simon kissed him then, slowly and sweetly. John could feel the emotions behind it, the need to feel a reassurance of life. 

Simon pulled back and smiled. "Let's get breakfast, love."

John immediately blushed at the pet name and he certainly looked forward to hearing it more often

Simon had two weeks of leave to use and a small part of John was nervous that Simon would start to feel stifled by his presence. Though a bigger part of him realized, and could hear his therapist's voice saying, that it was his own insecurities speaking. Simon offered to help take care of him, he wanted John here.

And if John was honest with himself he wanted to be here too, for as long as Simon would have him.

Chapter Text

Simon's nightmares persisted throughout the first week. Through some trial and error, resulting in many hurried apologies from both parties, Johnny found the best way to ease Simon awake was just to talk. 

Leaning against the headboard with a slight perimeter around Simon, Johnny would fill the darkness with random nonsense until brown eyes fluttered open and met his own with recognition. 

John never missed the way Simon would immediately look him over, just like he had the first night, confirming for himself that he hadn't injured Johnny before tentatively pulling him closer. They would lay in each other's arms and watch the sunrise through the window, John continuing to fill the silence with occasional input from Simon. John wouldn't suggest getting up until he was sure Simon's pulse had slowed and his breathing was steady. 

Once John was sure Simon was fully with him they'd head to the kitchen for coffee and tea. Easily falling into their morning routine of having breakfast together on the couch and watching an episode of the show they had started binging together.

"Hey Johnny?"

"Hm?" John turned his head from where he was sprawled on the couch to look at Simon. There was a glint in the taller man’s eye that Johnny was all too familiar with.

“What do you call a mischievous egg?” Simon asked as he handed John a plate and sat beside him.

John squinted at Simon, then the plate of eggs, and then back at the chef. “Si-”

“A practical-yolker.”

“Damn it.” John hid his smile around a forkful of eggs. He scooted closer to Simon and draped a blanket over their legs. He snagged the remote before Simon could and then leaned back, melting into the cushions and starting the next episode.

They spent most of their time like this, nestled up close feeling the warmth and love radiating off each other. John couldn't do much but go from the bed to the couch. Eat, sleep, repeat. His entire being itched to move. He quickly found himself missing work but a part of him was eager to have these days spent, just Simon and Johnny.

John typically passed out after an episode or two and once he woke, Simon would help him through some light physical therapy so he didn't wither away. Keeping up with the routine the doctor gave him when he was discharged was something Simon was very retentive about.

Despite his reduced ability to move and frequent naps, John still tried to help out around the house. Folding clothes over his lap and ordering food from his phone before Simon had the chance to argue. Though Simon wouldn't ever be mad, the man was self-aware enough to realize his cooking skills didn't reach far beyond eggs

After lunch one day, Simon had run to the store to grab more groceries. As it turns out, healing from being impaled works up quite the appetite and they were running low on the staples. So John took the opportunity to stretch his legs without Simon’s worried hovering, not that he minded the concern that much, but he needed to do things on his own to remind himself that he could. 

In his pacing, he noticed a small Polaroid that sat on Simon’s bookshelf. Gingerly he picked it up and read the smudged writing on the bottom, Norma and Simon 19-, the year had been smudged off but the picture was still clear. Simon looked young, one front tooth missing but it didn't distract from the large, radiant smile on his face. His mother stood behind him with her hands on her son’s shoulders. She looked like a kind woman with short curly hair surrounding a warm smile and freckled features. She wore a well-used apron, the picture looked to be taken in the kitchen. John wondered if it was one of the days Simon had told him about, of seventies music and familial recipes.

It reminded him of his own mother, of days spent in the kitchen and laughter echoing off brightly painted walls. John liked to think their mothers would get along well if they'd met. He imagined them trading recipes and embarrassing stories of their sons, the mental image brought a tear to his eye he hastily wiped away.

He knew what he’d draw for Simon now, he took a photo of the Polaroid on his phone and gently placed it back. He smiled fondly at the familiar faces looking back at him from their perch, a composition already forming in his mind's eye. The trick would be working on it without Simon seeing, John had never been good at being sneaky or subtle for that matter. 

John sat on the couch, journal in his lap as he hastily sketched a draft. Slowly the image in his brain took shape on the page. He heard a key turn in the front door and quickly shut the journal, haphazardly tossing it onto the coffee table. 

The door opened to reveal Simon balancing many paper bags in his arms. John’s fingers itched to keep working but instead, he followed Simon into the kitchen and helped put away groceries.

“Forgot something in the car,” Simon huffed suddenly before stalking off.

John had his head in the fridge putting away some vegetables when Simon came back into the room. He shut the door, turning to face Simon who immediately shoved a bundle into his hands.

“Wha-” John’s brain took a moment to catch up as he stared at the bouquet in his arms. Bright sunflowers were surrounded by yellow roses, thorow wax, and blue larkspur. All held together neatly in a burlap wrap. “You got me flowers?”

“Reminded me of you.” Simon shrugged, leaning casually back on the wall as he observed John.

Johnny blushed, looking at the bouquet and then back at Simon. “Ye big sap.” 

Simon smiled warmly at him, a beautiful pink hue manifesting on his neck.

By the second week, John was moving around much easier though his exhaustion still lingered. Progress on his gift for Simon hadn't gone past rough sketches much to his own annoyance. John tried not to be too bothered though, it made sense, hard to keep a secret from someone you're currently living with. Plus, he didn't want to accidentally take his frustration out on Simon, that would mean admitting he was keeping a secret and thus far he thought he was hiding it well.

He hoped he was at least.

Monday afternoon John had his first round of doctor's appointments he need to attend to ensure he was healing well as well as talk about the plan for getting him back to work.

The appointment came with good news and bad; he was healing well but it would be another month before he could even think about being back at work and it would only be for light duty. John cringed at the thought of being stuck behind a desk but he tried to stay optimistic, thankful he could return to work at all. 

The doctor also said he would be alright to be on his own soon and John found himself not wanting to return to his own apartment. Being with Simon, in his home, felt so comfortable and he wasn't ready to let that go just yet. Simon was silent at his side as the doctor spoke and John thought he saw a hint of sadness in those brown eyes as well.

Maybe Simon didn't want him to leave either?

The rest of the week passed far too quickly John decided as he lay in bed, Simon wrapped firmly around his back. It was Friday night already and John felt a pang of despair settle in his gut as he remembered Simon would have to go back to work soon.

Simon, ever attentive, spoke softly into the silence, “what’s wrong?”

"You have to go back to work Monday," John mumbled into the pillow, feeling much like a petulant child.  

When Simon went back to work he’d be alone, which he didn't usually mind, but now he found himself dreading it. He’d lived alone for years, why was he feeling so apprehensive about things starting to go back to how they used to be?

Probably because he didn't want them to.

Simon hummed and started untangling himself from John. He only had a second to mourn the warmth before Simon rounded the bed and held a hand out. 

“What are you doing?” John asked as he allowed Simon to help him up.

"I was going to wait until Sunday to show you this but now is as good a time as any." Simon held his hand as he led the way toward one of the rooms in the back of the house. One, if John remembered correctly, was empty. Simon stopped in front of the door and turned toward John, opposite hand on the door knob. "I know you'll be bored, so I thought I'd surprise you."

Nothing could've prepared John for the sight that met him once Simon opened the door. His heart swelled and he could feel his eyes beginning to water. Inside the room was a brand-new easel and a large drawing table. Littering the surface of the table were tubes of paint, every shade and color he could possibly need. Brushes and canvases cluttered the shelves along the walls. 

Slowly he entered the room, hands ghosting over charcoal and oils. He even recognized his collection of graphite pencils in a cup on the desk, Price must've grabbed them from his apartment and given them to Simon. The windows overlooked the small creek behind the house, the moon shone through the glass casting a cool glow throughout the studio. It was serene.

"Now you can dabble in other mediums." Simon smiled but his eyes looked nervous. 

John realized he hadn't said anything yet. He desperately tried to beckon his words forth but all that came was a heavy exhale. 

Simon was stuck by the door, hands moving slightly at his sides like he wanted to reach out but was unsure if he should. 

Oh, John was fucking this up. Big time . 

This was probably one of the most thoughtful things anyone has ever done for him and all he could do was stand there and gape like a fish. John rubbed aggressively at his eyes and took a deep breath. 

"Simon I-" John cursed himself, unable to find the words to thank Simon. Instead, he settled on showing him, crossing the room quickly to pull Simon into a bone-crushing hug. Simon relaxed, rubbing one hand up and down John's back as they swayed together. 

"Thank you," John finally spoke into Simon's neck. 

The warm chest he was pressed against rumbled as Simon hummed, pressing a quick kiss to John's forehead. 

"When did you have time to do all this?" John asked as he pulled back to look at Simon. 

Simon scratched the back of his neck, a sheepish smile on his freckled face. "You’ve been sleeping a lot."

Johnny just laughed, he certainly had, and all his sleeping had impeded the progress on the gift he was working on but at least it had given Simon plenty of time to craft one. 

“You like it?”

“I love it, Simon.” John pressed a quick peck to Simon’s cheek. “Thank you.”

Monday came faster than John had wanted, Simon departed before the sun rose leaving John with a kiss on his forehead and a lingering warmth on the sheets where he used to be. John slowly rose from the bed that morning, making breakfast and settling on the couch with practiced ease. Simon had told him he could watch the next episode of their show but John couldn't bring himself to continue without him.

Instead, John finished his breakfast grabbed his coffee, and headed into the space Simon had lovingly created for him, his own studio. He pulled out his worn journal and set it next to himself and opened his phone to the picture of Norma he found. John stared at the rough sketches he’d made of an aged-up Norma Riley and a current portrait of one Simon Riley. 

With Simon on a long shift at the station, John had plenty of time to work without worrying he’d spoil the surprise.

John grabbed a large canvas and settled it onto the easel, deciding he'd start with his sketch and then put the many paints Simon had gotten him to good use.

Hours passed as two faces started to take shape, one he’d be able to sketch with his eyes closed and one he’d only just learned but felt just as familiar. John was so enraptured he hadn't heard the front door open, only realizing Simon had come home when there was the sound of dishes clattering in the kitchen. Johnny quickly draped a cover over the canvas and stretched his aching back before leaving to find Simon.

Simon raised an eyebrow at him as he hurried into the kitchen. “Been drawing?”

Johnny looked down at his hands realizing belatedly that he was covered in graphite. He’d always been a messy artist, Price used to ask him if he’d just been drawing on his hands and not the page. He was thankful for the dropcloths he’d spotted in the room, which would be imperative once he started painting. John smiled sheepishly at Simon before moving toward the sink to wash the residue off.

“Did you spend all day holed up in there?” Amusement was clear in Simon's tone as he leaned on the counter next to the sink.

John hadn't even realized the sun had set, totally enraptured in his art, he gave Simon a very unconvincing, “no.”

Simon shook his head lightly and chuckled. “I’m assuming you haven't eaten then?” John mumbled another no and Simon gestured toward the oven. “Price sent me home with some leftovers, should be ready in a few minutes.”

“Ah, Pa knows me well.” John grabbed a towel to dry his hands and turned toward Simon. 

“That he does.” Simon took the towel once John was done and hung it back up.

“Any interesting calls today?” John asked, eager to live vicariously through the other firefighter.

"Another kid fell in that well."

"You're shittin' me."

"I'm serious." Simon laughed as the timer went off. He grabbed plates and dished out the servings before they both walked toward the table. "A man set his boyfriend's shite on fire in his front yard. Nearly started a forest fire."

John whistled as he took his seat and brought the plate toward himself. "Laswell get to arrest him?"

"Mhm, disturbing the peace or something like that. The man tried to argue that he was 'protecting his peace', Laswell was not amused."

“I'm sure,” John barked a laugh. ”you do not want to mess with Laswell. One time she caught me attempting to sneak onto the roof of the school. Had no idea she was there, turned her siren on and scared the shite out of me. Fell off the ladder, not far obviously, I was fine just some minor bruises. She threw me in the back of her patrol car and took her sweet time bringing me home. Price was pissed at first until Laswell told him what happened and they both had a good laugh at my expense.”

“Why were you trying to get on the roof?” Simon asked, likely assuming some teenage shenanigans had been taking place. John was surely about to disappoint him.

“Stargazing. The school’s roof has the best unobstructed view in town.”

A fond smile formed on Simon’s lips. “That’s sweet.”

“Ah shut it, Riley.”

“It's adorable.”

John threw his napkin at the other man, Simon easily caught it and laughed as he set it down on the table.

“Yeah, yeah.” John waved his fork around in the air before stabbing it into a potato and popping it into his mouth.

“How are you feeling today? Any pain?” Simon took a sip of his drink, watching John carefully.

“A dull ache here and there but mostly good,” John answered, the doctor's words echoing in his mind. “Doc said I'm right on track.”

“So,” Simon hesitated, staring intently at his plate before he continued. “you’ll be going back to your apartment?”

John’s shoulders slumped, the prospect of going back to his cold and quiet apartment was not something he was looking forward to. “Suppose I should.”

Simon nodded slowly and took another bite. It looked like there was more he wanted to say but couldn't find the words.

John really hoped he was reading Simon's body language correctly, noticing his sadness mirrored within the other man. He decided to test the waters, “my lease is up soon.”

Simon perked up, their eyes meeting across the table. “It is?”

“Aye.” John held his breath and hoped. 

“What if-” Simon nervously swallowed. 

John waited as patiently as he could, still holding his breath and tapping a restless pattern into his thigh as the seconds passed.

Simon squared his shoulders, seemingly making up his mind. “What if you didn't renew it?”

“Simon?” John released the breath he'd been holding, hope growing brighter in his chest.

“Move in with me.” The words quickly fell out of Simon's mouth and he seemed to almost surprise himself as he shifted nervously in his seat. “Please?”

“Okay.” John couldn't stop the smile that split his face as he spoke, the matching smile Simon wore made his heart flutter wildly in his chest.

“Alright,” Simon nodded, moving to take another bite. “good.”

They ate the rest of their meal quickly, moving to the couch each with tea in hand. The opportunity of making the past two weeks their new way of living made them both giddy. They went through logistics, figuring out how to get the rest of John’s belonging there, and talking about bills and chores.

The butterflies in John's stomach were relentless as they spoke about the future, their future.

John had just hung up with another moving company when Simon got home from work. He'd been calling around for quotes despite the entire station's worth of firefighters that had offered to help. Initially, he didn't want to bother all his coworkers but he still couldn't do any lifting and he was starting to seriously doubt he’d be able to afford to hire anyone. He stared dejectedly at the numbers scribbled in front of him.

Simon dropped his duffle down and sidled up to John, studying the page a moment before he whistled. “Fuckin’ hell they're expensive. Have you decided to stop being stubborn yet?”

“I am not stubborn,” John grumbled.

Simon hummed, pressing a kiss to John’s temple. “Pick a date, I’ll tell everyone at the station.”

“Thanks, Si.” John crumpled the page and tossed it in the garbage. “I made dinner.”

“Yeah? Thought something smelled good.” Simon moved to inspect the pot that was still simmering on the stove. He grabbed the spoon and stirred it around a bit as John watched.

“It’s one of Mom’s recipes,” John swallowed against the lump that formed in his throat, “beef stew.”

Simon met John’s gaze and an understanding settled on his features. He nodded and grabbed out bowls filling each of them and meeting John at the table.

John stared at the bowl in front of him, steam gently wafting the familiar savory sent into his nose. He waited for the expected weight of grief to settle over him but it never came. He realized through his next spoonful that it instead filled him with an all encompassing sense of warmth, he could almost feel his mother sitting next to them at the table.

After another three days of being holed up in his studio space, John finally felt satisfied with the finished piece. He glanced at his watch, cringing a bit once he notice the paint flecks along the face, Simon would be home in an hour.

He just barely resided the urge to wait by the door like a lost puppy.

Instead, John changed out of his paint stained clothes and cleaned up around the house to pass the time. He was washing his palettes when he heard Simon turning the key. John ran toward the front door and grabbed Simon's arm, using the appendage to eagerly drag the man into the living room.

“Johnny?”

“Stay there!” John spoke as he ran out of the room, leaving Simon standing in the center with a dumbfounded, albeit fond, look on his face.

John grabbed the painting off the easel and held it gently in his hands. He poured his heart into the piece, into every movement of his brush used to carefully craft gentle curls and freckled cheeks. He's done portraits before but nothing as meaningful as this and never with paint. Despite the new medium, John was incredibly proud of how it turned out.

He’d drawn them with their heads leaning against each other, both facing forward with their matching smiles. Their portraits crafted atop a warm orange background. John quickly placed it within the frame Price had picked up for him, cursing himself for almost forgetting the final detail. 

John stared at the portraits, the smile lines and crowfeet of Norma Riley’s face, and the matching features on her son. A feeling of uncertainty settled in his gut, what if it just made Simon upset? What if he hates it?

He took a deep breath and willed his heart to slow back down.

“I'll never know if I stand here forever,” John mumbled to himself.

John took one last look at the smiling faces in front of him and left the studio before he could talk himself out of it. He returned to where Simon was still standing, a curious smile on his face, John held the frame against his chest as he approached.

Simon glanced at the object and then back at John, raising an eyebrow as he asked, “what's that?” 

“I made this for you.” John took another deep breath and finally offered his gift to Simon. 

Simon took it carefully, brown eyes scanning each smear of paint with an unreadable emotion. John felt his hands becoming sweaty as he stood there, waiting for an indication of anything .

“Mom,” Simon breathed, his hand trembling as he traced her features behind the glass. Shining brown eyes met John’s, tidal waves of emotions behind them. John sucked in a breath at the sight. “How’d you-” Simon’s question was interrupted by a sudden sob and John moved in an instant, setting the frame aside just as Simon's knees buckled.

John gently guided him to the carpet, holding Simon tightly against his chest and he sobbed. They remained on the floor as the room began to darken from the setting sun and stayed until Simon’s breathing evened out.

Simon pulled away and grabbed the frame, looking at his mother's face with reverence. “I miss her.”

“I'm sorry, Si,” John whispered

“No, don’t be.” Simon slowly shook his head and looked at John with a sad smile. “It’s beautiful Johnny, thank you.” 

John just nodded, his eyes watery as he rubbed a firm hand across Simon’s shoulder blades. He reached his other hand up and brushed away some stray tears off freckled cheeks.

Simon sniffled as he looked down at his mother's face again. “She would've loved you.”

“Well, who wouldn't?” John smirked, not one to pass up an opportunity to lighten the mood.

It worked and those familiar creases formed at the corner of Simon’s eyes. John reveled in it, happy he could give Simon something to remember his mother with. 

“You are a menace, MacTavish.” Simon laughed, wiping the rest of the moisture off his face as he smiled.

“I’m a delight.”

“You're something.”

John looked at Simon, he realized at that moment he'd do anything for him. Anything to see those eyes crinkle, to hear his laugh, to bask in his warmth. Their talks of a shared future echoed in his mind and he felt his cheeks warm.

“I love you.” John blurted out before he could stop himself.

Simon froze and John realized this really was not the best time for him to have just said that. He opened his mouth to apologize at the same time Simon moved, crashing their lips together. Simon tasted salty and sweet and so very much like coming home.

“I love you too,” Simon responded as they separated, cupping John’s face in a large hand.

John lunged forward capturing Simon’s lips again. Eager hands grasped any skin within reach, teeth clacking as they poured their love for each other into every motion.

Simon suddenly picked up John, the smaller man made a startled noise against Simon's lips as they began moving. John recovered quickly, wrapping his legs around a firm waist, and kissing along Simon's jaw. 

Articles of clothing fell away, leaving a telltale trail as they made their way hurriedly toward the bedroom. Simon deposited John on the bed and kicked the door shut. 

Chapter Text

"Are you sure we can't throw it away?" 

"You are not throwing away my table, Pa." John crossed his arms, holding firmly to his decision to keep the worn piece of furniture. 

Price stared at the offending table with his hands on his hips and sighed. "It's garbage."

"It was garbage. It's not now."

"It's been garbage since you found it on the side of the road and made me help you haul it up here." Price pinched the bridge of his nose and sent a pleading look toward Simon that very obviously said back me up here.

Simon shrugged, also staring at the table. "It'll match my cabinets."

Price furrowed his brows at Simon, a flash of betrayal lighting his eyes  "You too?"

"It has character." Simon remarks with a twitch in the corner of his scarred mouth, Johnny marvels at him. 

"The table lives on!" John smirks and pumps a fist in the air, victorious.

John still couldn't fully explain his attachment to the table, he supposed it was probably just sheer stubbornness at this point. 

And spite. 

It would make the most sense. 

"Fine." Price sighed. "Help me get it in the truck, Simon?"

Simon moved before Price had finished speaking, easily grabbing the table and carrying it out of the room on his own. 

Johnny felt the butterflies return in his gut watching the man's biceps shift while he moved. 

Price had ordered John to a corner out of the way, unallowed to help citing his injury as reason, despite it being mostly healed at this point. 

As he watches the entire fire station move around his tiny apartment, John suddenly wonders how he got here. It's been six months and in that time his life has been irrevocably changed. He's found a career that excites him, he's died and he's fallen in love. 

He's fallen in love. And now they're moving in together. 

John bites his lip to hide the smile threatening to crest his features at the thought. 

“John?” Price's voice brought him out of his head. 

Turning toward his father he quickly notices the guarded look in the older man's eyes, parental worry creasing his features but John could also see a hint of something else in those eyes. Hope maybe? Hope that his son could have this, that things would finally start simmering down in the boiling pot that had thus far been John's life. 

Hesitant, an emotion that didn’t fit the captain, Price asked, “are you sure about this?” 

Johnny's not sure of much, but he is sure of Simon. So he answers, almost giddy, ”I've never been more sure about anything.”

Price quirks an amused eyebrow at his son. “You're both not moving too fast?”

“Yes. Probably.” John shrugs, an excited smile splitting his face. “But that's always how I've done things, aye? Head first.” 

Price smiled wider at that and John followed suit. The older man clapped a hand around John’s shoulders, smiling wide behind his beard. “Alright, son. I'm still giving him the shovel talk though.”

John laughed, “figures. Be gentle though?”

His father just chuckles, patting John on the shoulder before leaving to yell at Gaz to be careful with the dishes he's haphazardly throwing into boxes.

Johnny just sputters at the man's back for a moment before it disappears into the kitchen. He knows he can’t actually be mad, he's more thankful that he has someone like Price in his life to look out for him, come hell or high water.

He may not have always made it easy but Price was always there, watching over the traumatized boy he pulled from a mangled car. 

Saying goodbye to his apartment was more of a process than he thought it would be. This was his first place, where he'd learned to live on his own and became an adult. Where he tried out many things, most of which didn't work out, but also where he found the one thing that stuck. Found the path he was on now. 

While the space wasn't as crawling with warm memories as Price's home, it was sentimental because of the growth he'd done while there. 

Though now devoid of everything that made the space his, he found it easier to turn away. And with Simon smiling at him from the doorway and John found himself eagerly crossing the room, grabbing Simon's hand and locking his apartment up for the last time. 

Price does give Simon the shovel talk once they arrive back at his- their home. Johnny watches through the window, trepidation bleeding out of him as he watches their body language. The sounds of the rest of the firefighters moving furniture and boxes around the house are lost to him as he tries to read the pair's lips. 

It seems the shovel talk Price had planned turned more into an assurance for Simon that he is allowed this if the comforting hand Price places on the other man’s shoulder is anything to go by. John can’t see Simon’s face but the fatherly look on Price’s tells him everything he needs to know. 

The stern captain does eventually make an appearance though and after a curt nod from Simon, they clap hands and head inside. Johnny quickly steps away from the window to avoid being caught watching, though the smirk on his father’s features as he passes is telling enough.

Getting his furniture into Simon’s house was just about as much of a whirlwind as it had been getting it out of Johnny’s apartment. 

This time it's his turn to yell at Gaz as the man nearly trips into the threshold, almost sending John’s collection of old journals tumbling to the floor if not for Alejandro's quick reflexes. 

Turns out Simon was right, John's shoddy old table did, in fact, match the cabinets. Its scarred surface brought warmth to the otherwise showroom-looking furniture scattering the house. 

In fact, most of John’s belongings worked seamlessly to vitalize the home. Nearly threadbare blankets were thrown over the back of the couch, mismatched pillows lining the cushions. Pieces of John easily bled into every space, creating a beautiful patchwork of two lives coming together as one.

Simon also prominently displayed much of the artwork and photographs John owned, replacing the previously bare walls with life. The portrait John had painted sat prominently on a wall in the living room now surrounded by photos of John’s family, him growing up with Price, and some photos of Roach that Simon dug out of a photo album. 

Polaroids of everyone at the firehouse that Gaz had taken graced the walls along a string and fastened with small clothespins.

They break from unpacking for dinner, everyone had brought a dish at Price's behest and they had an impromptu housewarming party. John's heart warmed watching everyone laugh and drink, eternally grateful for the people in his life. 

Almost everyone gets comfortably inebriated and the laughter around the home echoes until the sun begins to set and Price starts steering everyone out. 

Alejandro and Rudy hug them both as they exit and Laswell slides Simon a gift card to a local Cafe she loves taking her wife to with a wink. 

Price pulls John and Simon into a tight embrace as he leaves, a very drunk Gaz stumbling along behind him. 

Gaz grabs John's shoulder as he passes smiling warmly at his friend before leaning forward and whispering, "you have a boyfriend."

John chuckles, blushing a little as he replies in a hushed whisper. "Aye, sure do."

"Nice." Gaz leans back, nods once, and allows Price to continue to lead him outside. The elder man rolls his eyes fondly as John closes the door behind them both. 

With everyone gone, it leaves just the two of them, finally alone in their home. John catches Simon's eyes as he finishes looking around the room, the glassiness of the brown pools sending a pang of anxiety through him. 

"Si?" Johnny hesitantly stepped forward, uncertain of the reason for the sudden shift in mood. Simon blinks, a tear tracking its way down his cheeks until John catches it with soft fingertips. Simon’s eyes finally meet John’s and he feels the wind knocked out of him at the sheer vulnerability behind those watery brown eyes.

"Finally feels like home," Simon remarks, smiling wide as he snakes a strong arm around Johnny’s waist.

Johnny melts at the look in Simon’s eyes and he curls himself easily into the other man's arms. 

Night has long fallen as they sit together on Simon’s couch, wrapped in Johnny’s blankets and eating through the mountain of leftovers their fellow firefighters gave them as a midnight snack (feast, more like, if John’s being honest with himself). 

An idea passes through John’s mind as he chews a bite of a tamale Rudy made. Finishing his mouthful, he pulls out his phone, and one quick search later he shoots a simple text off.

John smirks to himself as he hears Simon’s phone ding, the directions for one of the fancier restaurants downtown sent to him with a few winking emojis. John watched Simon look and his phone and then up at him.

“What’s this?”

“Don't tell me you forgot about your promise big guy?”

Simon, bless his heart, seemed entirely lost. John couldn't help but think the utterly confused look on the man’s freckled features was adorable, but he was getting his dinner date even if he had to pry it out of the other man.

“You promised me dinner during the accident." He gestured vaguely at himself. “I survived! You owe me dinner, Riley.”

Realization finally crossed Simon's features. John was about the mark himself victorious when Simon crossed his arms and raised a brow.

“I promised you dinner if you stayed awake,” Simon reminded, a small smirk playing on his lips. “you passed out just as help came.”

“Semantics, Simon.” John scoffed, crossing his own arms and leveling his eyes at Simon.

Their stalemate persisted for a moment before John stuck his lips out in a pout and Simon relented, rolling his eyes fondly and relaxing his posture.

“I’ll make a reservation for tomorrow night.”

John smiled wide and threw his arms around Simon’s shoulders. “Can’t wait.”

Simon hummed and planted a sweet kiss on John’s overgrown mohawk. “What time is your appointment tomorrow?”

John sighed, nervousness settling back into his bones. That appointment would determine if he was fit to go back to work or if he had to wait longer. He’s kept up with physical therapy and done everything by the doctor’s order. John was hopeful but couldn't help the anxiety also curling in his gut. If the doctor wasn't satisfied with his progress he might have to wait another month. 

Simon had a shift tomorrow during John’s appointment but Price pulled some strings so he wouldn't be alone, perks of being a Captain.

“One.” John let out a shaky exhale against his will. “Pa is stopping by to bring me to it.”

“It’s going to go well.” Simon tightened his arms around John as he spoke.

John dropped his head into the crook of Simon’s neck. “I hope so.”

Price arrived right on time, wrangling an anxious John into the car. The drive was short and the small medical office stood ominously in front of them.

A warm, reassuring hand landed on his shoulder, followed by a comforting baritone, “come on, son.”

John nodded, more so to himself, and let Price steer him inside.

He was quickly ushered away and the doctor quickly, and eagerly, began poking and prodding at him. The scar was viewed, he stretched and moved, they took scans and xrays.

Now, he sat on an exam table, his father stood against the wall as the perpetual comforting presence he knew him to be. 

John couldn’t help the bounce of his knee as they both waited for the doctor to return with his results.

“Son,” Price’s steady voice echoed through the sterile room. “take a breath.”

“Aye, I know.” John took a deep breath in just as a knock sounded and the doctor strolled in, halting his calming breath in its place.

“Mr. MacTavish,” The elder woman nodded, “I am Doctor Cambell and I’ll be going over your results today.” The doctor paused and John nodded tensely for her to continue. She pulled her computer closer to herself and she began speaking again. “Your scans all look good, I don’t see any complications from the initial wound.”

John couldn't help but feel there was a but coming, further proven by the doctor’s eyes softening toward him. He tensed preparing for the inevitable blow that was incoming.

The doctor smiled and John relaxed minutely as she decided his fate, “you will be on light duty for two months but you can return to work as early as Monday.”

John’s shoulders dropped in relief, out of the corner of his eye he saw his father relax as well.

Monday. 

Two more days, that's all he had to wait. 

Back at work and surrounded by his family every day in no time. John could feel an anticipatory buzz under his skin already, excitement and relief bubbling within his chest.

“Thank you!” John barely resided the urge to hug the woman.

She nodded and moved toward the door. “I'll get the appropriate paperwork sent over.” 

With that, she left and John smiled brightly at his father. 

“Hear that? Put me in, Cap!” John hopped down from the exam table, bouching lightly on his heels.

“Light duty. Don’t think I’ll forget that.” Price spoke as they exited, walking through the offices and back out to the car.

“Still,” John couldn't contain his smile as he sat in the passenger seat. “I can finally get back to work.”

Price patted John’s shoulder before he started to drive. “I’m happy for you son.”

John pulled his phone out to shoot off some texts to everyone at the station. Simon’s response was immediate and John feels even giddier at the text he receives.

Johnny: doc says im cleared! back to work monday!

Simon💀❤️: That’s great news, Johnny. Has been pretty dull here without you.

Johnny: so you do like me?

Simon💀❤️: A little.

Johnny: 😊

Price drops John off at home before returning to his captain duties, leaving John to pass the time alone until Simon gets home. 

Their reservation is set for just after six tonight, John busies himself with getting himself together. His mohawk was well into mullet territory, far too long to be within uniform regulations when he returns to work. 

John sets up his clippers in front of the bathroom mirror, trimming down the sides of his head and then pulling out scissors to tame the soft curls down the middle.  He leaves it a little longer than usual, bordering on within regulation and not. He wants to have something Simon can run his fingers through, the action melts John every time and the other man knows it.

He's trimming up his beard when Simon sneaks into the room, slotting himself against John's back and placing warm hands on his waist.

“Look at you.” Simon hums, his voice a deep baritone as he places kisses along the back of John's neck.

John shivers at the contact, desperately wanting to continue this but knowing if they do they won’t be making their reservation. 

“Oi,” John affectionately pats the hands on his waist, “go get ready you animal.”

Simon just winks as he steps out of the bathroom and Johnny tries to ignore the red hue on his own cheeks as he finishes trimming his beard.

Simon parks at a garage in town and he quickly moves around the car to open John’s door. Hands intertwined, they make their way into the bustling nightlife of their town. As they walk down the sidewalk it isn’t hard to make out the opulent entrance to the restaurant once they turn the corner.

John knew the restaurant was fancy when he picked it but seeing all the other patrons in three-piece suits he couldn't help but feel out of place. Not to say he hadn't dressed up but his simple button-up shirt and slacks seemed to not quite cut it. Though the deep red dress shirt and black jacket Simon sported were certainly doing something for him.

They were sat at a table in the corner and John fiddled with the cloth napkin in his lap. Menus were placed before them and the waiter left after pouring them each a glass of wine Simon chose. 

Silence stretched between the two as the cacophony of noise from the rest of the tables quickly started to overwhelm John’s senses. The words in front of him blurred and he looked up to see Simon watching him.

“Johnny? Are you alright?”

John wrung the napkin tightly in his hands as he met Simon’s eyes. “Think I fucked up.”

Simon visibly tensed and John slapped himself on the forehead, cursing his wording.

“Wait no, Si, I-” John took a deep breath, pausing to find the right words. “The restaurant, a bit stuffy, aye?”

Simon relaxed, eyes roaming the room for a moment before returning. His gaze settled on John for a moment, an understanding crossing his features before he smiled and stood. He placed some cash on the table and moved to John's side, extending a hand, “come on.”

John grabbed the offered hand and stood, allowing Simon to lead him back out to the busy street. “Where are we going?”

“This way,” Simon spoke as they walked hand in hand.

John snorted at Simon’s non-answer but left it at that. It was clear by his pace Simon had a plan, just not one he was keen on sharing yet. John trusted Simon implicitly though and was content to follow him anywhere, falling easily into step with the taller man.

Simon finally stops in front of a food truck and John quirks an eyebrow at him. It’s nothing fancy the truck itself looks to be barely functioning but is decorated brightly in pink and white with cartoon drawings of cupcakes dancing along the side. When they stand in front of the window the woman inside turns to greet them, her face lighting up as she spots Simon.

“Simon!” She smiles as she leans through the window. “I was beginning to think you were hiding from me, dear.”

“Wouldn’t dare, Gladys.”

Gladys laughs, loud and bright, her olive skin glowing warmly under the fairy lights that line the interior. When her eyes find John she nearly squeals, clapping her hands together as she cranes her neck to look at him. 

“Is this the famous Johnny?” She gasps, eyes widening behind her large glasses.

John blushes, squeezing Simon's hand a bit tighter as the spotlight falls on him.

“Oh, it is!” Gladys leans further forward, teetering dangerously close to falling out, but she's undeterred as reaches both hands out to pinch Johnny’s cheeks, “you were right, Simon. He is handsome.”

Simon sputters and blushes a lovely pink on his neck, “Gladys-”

The woman just smiles at them both patting John’s cheeks affectionately before retracting back into the truck, busying around the space in a way that looks to be second nature. 

With her back turned Simon slides some cash into the tip jar, winking when he catches John’s eye

Gladys turns back around and hands a paper bag to Simon along with two hot drinks. “On the house, dear.”

“Please let me-” Simon starts but Gladys puts a finger up and levels him with a stern and extremely maternal glare.

“No, Simon.” Gladys scolds, leaving no room for argument, “now go take your boy on a date.” 

Simon pretends to relent, smiling warmly up at the older woman. “Thank you, Gladys.”

Gladys hums and waves them off, turning back toward the side of the truck to fiddle with some pastries. 

John can tell this is a song and dance they’ve done many times before, Gladys saying it's on the house and Simon finding a way to pay regardless. 

The entire interaction left John with a warm feeling in his chest and once they were far enough away John asks, “how’d you meet her?”

“Responded to a call near where she was parked one night, nothing serious. As we were packing up she came over with some cupcakes for us. They were delicious and you know my sweet tooth, ‘course I wanted more of them. She parks in the same spots most nights and I started stopping by at least once a week.”

John moved to hold Simon’s arm as they continued walking, once again unaware as to where Simon was leading them. Simon handed him one of the drinks and John eagerly sipped it, letting the beverage warm him from the inside out.

The taste of cinnamon and chocolate coated his tastebuds, the drink reminding him of early mornings with Simon. Each with their respective drinks, barely awake yet, and huddled on the couch under a mountain of blankets. 

“I like her.” Johnny smiles around his next sip.

“She reminds me of my mum,” Simon said so quietly John almost didn't hear it.

John squeezed Simon’s arm tighter and placed a kiss on his shoulder, hoping to convey as much love as he can through the action. Simon responds with a kiss on the top of John’s head and they continue their trek through the night.

They end up in the park that sprawls through the center of town. Simon leads them to a secluded corner surrounded by oak trees and John can still hear the small fountain running nearby. It's an oasis just for them and he wastes no time laying down on the slightly damp grass, patting the spot next to him for Simon.

Simon obliges, laying down and wrapping an arm under John’s neck pulling him close. They lean into each other's warmth and under the safety of the stars, the rest of the world falls away.

"I love you, Simon." The words fell off John's tongue like he's said them for years. 

"I love you too, Johnny." Simon’s reply is immediate and just as earnest. 

There are no fires, no emergencies; there's Simon and Johnny.

Right now, with the moon as their witness, they fall into place. Their broken pieces molding into each other, effortlessly creating the patchwork of a new life, one that is entirely theirs. 

Twin flames drawn into each other, melding together and burning into one blinding inferno. 

Chapter Text

Three Years Later

"Hello Mrs. Riley, it’s nice to see you again." John spoke softly, his voice barely a whisper in the serene cemetery.

A gust of wind moved through his hair and despite the weather and late hour, John didn't feel cold. He felt a sense of ease staring at Norma Riley’s name etched in the granite. He always had something new to tell her, updates of his life with Simon, and every time- though he couldn't explain it- he felt heard. 

He and Simon have visited many times throughout the years and in a coincidence neither had expected, they realized that Norma was buried at the same cemetery as John's family, just in different areas. 

They had visited John’s family first, Simon stayed back to clear some of the overgrowth away with his pocket knife, telling Johnny he'd catch up once he was done. 

John was grateful for his moment alone with Norma, he had a very important question to ask. One that had been weighing on him for a long while now.

He smiled at the headstone before him, placing the small bouquet he brought in front of the memorial. The bright flowers were a stark contrast to the dying grass around them, Autumn's approach making the air crisp and the ground cold. 

Johnny looked down at the stone, well kept despite its years spent in the elements. He brushed some leaves off the top and took a step back and admired the serenity of the plot. It was in a back corner of the cemetery, a lone plot that sat below an ancient oak, its branches stretching over her in a thick canopy and protecting her from the elements.

“I was-” John let out a shaky breath, wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans as he steeled himself. “I was wondering if you would give me your blessing to marry Simon?”

John looked up at the stars to fight the tears welling in his eyes, he watched them twinkle against the inky blackness for a moment before he returned his gaze to the stone in front of him.

“I love him in ways I didn't know I could, he makes me a better man. I want to know what it would be like to grow old with him, to watch his hair turn gray and his smile lines deepen. I want to wake up to his honey eyes every morning and that be the last thing I see before I fall asleep every night.” 

John’s hands shook as nervous energy cascaded through him, his confessions pouring out of him and into the still air. 

“I want to be the man he sees me as, to be Johnny. I want to take care of him on the bad days as much as the good and be the one to carry him when he needs it. I want to give all of myself to him if he’ll have me, always and forever.”

John took a deep breath as his words finally left him, the nervous energy he had felt quickly dispelled into something brighter, excitement for the future he had just described.

A sudden gust of wind rushed around him, it dissipated as quickly as it came but it left him feeling inexplicably warm. 

John chose to take it as Norma's permission. 

Smiling widely he placed a hand on the stone and muttered a quiet “thank you” before stepping backward and stuffing his hands in his pockets. 

He thought of the ring he’d bought a few months ago, safely hidden away behind his mess of art supplies. His relationship with Simon was nothing short of magical. He never knew he could love someone so deeply, so wholly. Every part of himself yearned to be near the other man so the decision to propose was an easy one. He couldn't imagine his life any other way than by Simon’s side. 

After a while Simon joined him, snaking an arm around his waist and placing his hand in John's pocket. Instinctively John wrapped his fingers around the cold flesh, rubbing a thumb along scarred knuckles. 

"What were you two talking about?" Simon asked, leaning into Johnny's side. 

"You."

"Good things I hope?"

"Yeah," Johnny smiled up at Simon, "very good."

Simon quirked an eyebrow but didn't question any further instead stepping forward and kissing the top of the stone. He whispered into the cold material, "love you mum," and stepped back to Johnny's side. 

They headed home after spending some more time with Norma. Tomorrow was a big day, they would be celebrating 10 years since Station 141 opened. Price was holding a big party at his house, everyone pitching in what they could bringing snacks, alcohol, and desserts. 

Simon and Johnny had spent all morning in the kitchen and now cupcakes lined the dining room table with frosting that looked like fire. A large crockpot sat on the counter that was slowly simmering a hearty chili. 

John couldn't wait to not only celebrate the place that had welcomed him with open arms all those years ago but also celebrate his father's accomplishments. A deep sense of pride and love swelled in his chest every time he thought about the station he now called a home away from home. 

The station’s anniversary also came at a good time, John had a hard time hiding his giddiness about his impending proposal as soon as he’d bought the ring. Simon was perceptive, so John was glad he could now blame his overly good mood on the upcoming party. John had decided to propose a day or so after, wanting to avoid overshadowing anything but also not wanting to wait longer than he already had. 

A part of him worried Simon was on to him but the man never pressed, just smiled fondly at John and then continued whatever he had been doing. 

John told Simon everything and vice versa. At this stage in their relationship, they both knew that, whatever it was, they would always talk about it when the time was right. Simon’s incredible patience is one of the many things that John keeps falling for.

The next morning was a whirlwind of packing the car and making sure they had all the food before they drove to Price’s house. John unlocked the door to let them in, unsurprised to see Gaz, always the first to arrive, lounging on the couch.

“Aren’t you supposed to be helping Price set up?” John smirked as Gaz pretended to be offended.

“I’m supervising!” Gaz exclaimed as he stretched his arms over his head. “It’s the most important job.”

“Sure looks like it,” Simon smirked as he walked toward the kitchen.

“Not fair that you both gang up on me now.”

“What can I say we’re a good team.”

Gaz sent John a meaningful look before he stood and manhandled him out the back door. 

Price spared a glance at them as the pair stumbled further into the backyard but just returned his attention to the grill with a fond roll of his eyes.

"John!" Gaz looked around making sure no one was in earshot before he continued, "I don't see a ring on the Ghost's finger did you chicken out?"

"No!" John punched Gaz's shoulder "I'm doing it this weekend."

Gaz raised an eyebrow, "planning something big then yeah?"

John paused, realizing abruptly he hadn't planned anything. 

Gaz's eyes widened, "you bought a ring but didn't plan the proposal?" 

John smacked him again, the display finally earning Price’s attention again from across the yard. Price crossed the lawn quickly looking between both men before he sighed, "got cold feet, John?"

"No!" John yelled, thankful it was still only the three of them outside.

“He didn't plan bloody anything, Price!”

“Son-”

“Steamin’ Jesus!” John exclaimed and turned toward Price and Gaz. ”I was going to just ask him! I don’t need to create some ridiculous grand gesture to show my love for Simon and he doesn't need to for me! We show each other every day, the way he puts the coffee on for me every morning even though he drinks tea. When I put out a heat pack because I know his old injuries bother him when it's cold but he’d never ask for one. He’s so incredibly patient even when I’m bouncing between several tasks. He helps me finish every single one instead of making fun of me for being scatterbrained. He has made me a better person and I want to spend the rest of my life growing with him.”

John took a deep breath to recenter himself, finally noticing the shine in his father’s eyes and the warm smile that graced Gaz’s features. 

After his breathing had finally evened out he noticed that both of them were no longer looking at him but rather something behind him.

“Johnny?”

John jumped as Simon’s voice echoed through the air. When he turned around Simon was standing right in front of him, his eyes shining golden in the afternoon sun.

“Got something to ask me, Johnny?”

John gaped, opening and closing his mouth a few times before he quickly steeled himself and grabbed Simon’s left hand. He didn’t have the ring with him but he supposed he didn't need it, just as much as they didn't need some dramatic proposal. 

All he needed, in this life and the next, was Simon.

John squeezed Simon’s hand, fighting butterflies when Simon squeezed back.

“Simon Riley,” 

“Yeah, Johnny?”

“Will you marry me?”

Simon smiled warmly, “I'd love nothing more, Johnny.”

John brought up his free hand and gripped Simon’s shirt collar to pull him close. Simon moved without protest and their lips crashed together, both desperately sealing their commitment to each other without words. 

A chorus of cheers surrounded them as they pulled apart and John’s cheeks burned as he looked toward the source. 

Price was openly crying, holding on to Laswell for dear life as she wiped her own eyes and held her wife's hand. Gaz had a hand on Alejandro and Rudy’s shoulders, shaking the pair as he cheered wildly. He didn’t hear any of them arrive let alone file into the backyard with them but he was eternally grateful for their support.

A warm hand wrapped around his waist and John looked back to see a blush decorating Simon’s beautiful face.

“Come on fiance,” Simon purred, “this party is not for us.”

John smirked, “you’re right, fiance-”

“Get a room!” Gaz shouted as he pretended to gag.

Price smacked the back of Gaz’s head, “leave them alone.”

“Congratulations you two.” Laswell pulled them both into a tight hug before she stepped back and handed Price some cash. 

“What’s that about?” Simon spoke, raising a brow in question toward Laswell.

“I thought you’d propose first, Price said John would.” She sighed. “I lost.”

“Sorry Laswell.” Simon smiled around his words, something secret flashing in his eyes as he glanced at John briefly.

“It’s alright, you're buying drinks next time though.”

“Deal.”

The party refocused after that. Food was dished out and Price gave a perfect speech about how grateful he was for the entire station and how proud he was of each of them. There was barely a dry eye present once he finished and John hugged Price tight after they all toasted. 

As it got late into the night they all settled around the fire. Everyone draped comfortably on their own piece of furniture as laughter echoed through the trees. 

Johnny was sitting in Simon's lap, both on a rickety chair he only had half a mind to worry about breaking under their combined weight. He couldn't find it in himself to move anyway with the large arms wrapped firmly around his waist and the warm presence along his back.

“Johnny?” Simon whispered, the feeling of his breath along the shell of Johnny's ear sending shivers down his spine. “Got a secret to tell you.”

“Oh?” John chuckled, shifting to wrap his hands around Simon’s. “What's that?”

“There's a ring in my gun safe.”

John turned his head toward Simon, nothing the deep blush that decorated his cheeks, “were you going to…?”

Simon just nodded.

John laughed, laying his head back onto Simon’s shoulder. “We really are quite the pair eh Si?”

“That we are Johnny.” Simon punctuated his sentence with a kiss on John’s hair. “That we are.”

John glanced around at their group and wondered, not for the first time, how he got so lucky. How one decision to follow his adoptive father's footsteps had led him here, engaged to one Simon Riley and happier than he ever knew possible. 

He still misses his family, feels their loss so keenly but it doesn't hurt like it used to. No longer a nagging claw and the edge of his mind that he'd betrayed them by moving on. 

Now, he sees his sisters’ jovial pranks in Gaz. He sees the proud look his parents used to give him through Price’s eyes. He sees his mother's smile in the mirror and feels her warmth all around him. He can feel his father guiding his pencil as he draws. 

But his new family is not his old; they are a universe of stars born from an old nebula.

Alejandro and Rudy opened his world to new experiences, showing him warmth and kindness without hesitation as soon as they met. 

Gaz is his greatest wingman, a ride or die to make endless bad decisions with. Someone who has his back, who will tell him when he’s wrong and cheer him on when he's right.

Laswell had been and always will be a steadfast supporter in his life. She and her wife were there at almost every milestone, cheering John on from Price’s side. She is one of his greatest mentors, teaching him how to navigate the world with grace and power.

Price is his father in every way but blood. Everything he has he can say without a shadow of a doubt is thanks to the older man. If Price hadn’t taken John in that day, well, it's not a hypothetical he likes to think about.

John Price saved his life and gave him a new one, one he will be eternally grateful for.

And then there’s Simon.

Simon Riley is his greatest love. The piece of his puzzle he hadn't realized was missing. John is ecstatic to spend the rest of his days with Simon. He looks forward to the challenges they'll face together, to learning and growing as one indomitable unit.

Simon held John’s broken pieces together and John his. 

John never thought himself much of a religious or spiritual man but he’d thank any god he could for guiding him toward Simon. 

Together they burned brighter, an eternal beacon, now and forever.