Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Base was always bustling after a mission of this size. Men and women rushing to medical, recruits running around to handle errands for their sergeants, and of course, the 141's infamous Lieutenant Ghost Riley buried under a pile of paperwork. 

He wasn't too mad about it, knowing Price had it worse, but no one liked having to do all this after all the hell they go through on the field. All he really wanted was a shower longer than five minutes and an uninterrupted nap. 

Johnny was here a little bit ago, offering to help. Ghost sent him off, too overestimated to deal with the other man, though now he was wishing he'd let him stay. Maybe then he'd have gotten more done, made more progress towards the much needed rest he was craving. A soft knock on the door sets his nerve on edge, but he calls for whoever it is to come in. 

He doesn't look up, his eyes focused completely on the papers in front of him. Perhaps if he was rude enough, they'd just go away and bother someone else. 

"What do you want?" He growls at the still unseen soldier. There is a moment of silence, then the lock on his door clicks. That gets his full attention. His head snapped up, eyes finding the person immediately. 

All the air is shoved from his lungs at the sight of her standing across from his desk; arms crossed, lips turned down into a frown, and wearing a uniform that definitely wasn't hers. 

What was she doing here?

-

There were few people in the world who Ghost truly trusted. Most of them were in the 141. But there were some on the outside. People he's known for a long time. The family he made after his was murdered. 

The family he kept hidden from everyone to keep them safe. 

She shouldn't be here.  

"I've been calling you for days." Your voice is filled with frustration and disappointment. 

"I've been working. I've only just gotten back." 

"I called you sixteen times! " 

"You know I don't use my phone while on duty." 

"You didn't think to text me or something when you got back?" 

"I haven't been back that long." 

"When did you get in?"

"I don't-" 

"When, Simon?" 

You were one of the only people in the world that could say his name so easily like that. 

"...48 hours ago." 

"Oh, so, you got back before I decided to fly all the way out here. You had at least 36 hours to respond to me and you didn't." 

You had him there. Your plethora of missed called hadn't gone unnoticed, he'd just assumed it was nothing, or that you'd gotten a hold of someone else to help with whatever you needed. But there was a more pressing issue right now. 

"How the fuck did you even get on base? Do you realize how illegal it is for you to be here uninvited? You could get arrested, or worse. You're risking both of us just standing in this room! I know you're smarter than this, so what the fuck-" 

"Simon." Your voice silences him immediately. Your tone held a weight to it that made his blood go cold. He sits up straighter, eyebrows furrowing. 

"What happened, love?" He asks quietly, not sure he really wants the answer. 

"Nana's gone." 

Oh fuck.  

"Shit…" 

"We all knew it was coming, she was, like, 98. But my family is already between each other's asscheeks over her shit and the will hasn't even been read yet." You sigh, finally sitting in one of the chairs across from Ghost's desk. He doesn't reach for you, though he wants to. He's still on base, still holding to the mask. 

"She was a good woman," He says. You nod, the exhaustion clear on your face. You must have driven all night to get here. 

"I need you to come home." 

"I-" 

"You have to come to the funeral and to the will reading. Nana's lawyer said that it was important that anyone named has to attend." 

"I'm in the will?" 

"If you'd answered your phone- " 

"I was working!" 

"I know!" Your voice breaks a little, his strong girl showing her cracks. Ghost raises his hands slightly in a surrendering gesture, and waves for you to continue. 

"The lawyer sent a big massive email to everyone with the list of people named in the will with explicit instructions that everyone is to attend. Nana never told anyone who the executor of her will was either, and apparently they're on that list. You are on that list, same with Gary. So yeah. I need you to come home. Please." 

There isn't a single second moment of hesitation. Ghost digs his keys from his pocket and tosses them to you.

"I'll see what I can do. Go to my room and stay there. You look like shit."

-

Ghost never requested leave. He usually had to be forced to take a break, threatened to go or else. So color John surprised when his Lieutenant drops the required paperwork onto his desk. 

"You're requesting leave?" John asks, looking over the forms with raised eyebrows. 

"Emergency. Something's come up that I need to take care of." Leave it to Ghost to remain frustratingly vague. 

"When should I expect you back?" 

"Two weeks." 

"Long time." 

"It's necessary." 

"Mm." John flips through everything again, double checking all is in order. "You're planning to leave as soon as possible?" 

"Affirmative, sir." 

"All your reports done?"

"Done and filed, sir." 

"Alright." John signs his approval and puts the paperwork in a safe spot on his desk. "I'll see you when you get back." 

"Thank you, sir." 

"Not a problem, Lieutenant. We all could use a little break."

Chapter Text

You're exactly where he expects you to be when he gets back to his room. Curled in his bed, the borrowed uniform you'd had was thrown across the floor. He sighs at the sight of you. You looked so tired, even in your sleep. Your grandmother's death must be weighing heavily on you. 

Not that Simon blamed you, of course. That woman was one of the only good people in your blood family. If it hadn't been for her, you would have turned out very differently. And maybe so would he. 

She had held her hand out to him when you brought him back with you that rainy day. Given him fresh clothes, a warm meal, and a soft bed. All while the two of you were on vacation no less. Then she'd told him that her home was open to him whenever, that she didn't mind a few strays.  

He never thought he'd ever take her up on that offer. But then he'd found you again in the States. Then he found home.  

He sits heavily on the bed and finally reaches for you, shaking your shoulder a little to wake you up. You groan, blinking your eyes open with a pout. 

"We're leaving tonight," He says quietly. "While everyone else is down. Easier to sneak you back out that way."

"M'kay," You mumble with a yawn before rolling over onto your side, facing away from him. Simon huffs, amused. 

"You never change," He chuckles. You just grumble something incoherent back at him, making him laugh a little again. He moves quietly around his room, changing his clothes and packing his things. He didn't have anything super formal or necessarily good for a funeral, but you probably had something waiting for him already. That or the two of you would be stopping at a mall on the way back. 

Glancing at his clock he decides it's probably a good idea to follow your lead in taking a nap. He was going to be driving for a while, he should rest while he could. 

He throws the sheets back and shoves you towards the edge of the bed, snickering at how you grumble and groan at him squeezing onto the mattress next to you. 

"These beds weren't made for two people, love." He says. 

"Scoot the fuck over." 

"Nowhere to go."

"Ugh." You flip around and all but crawl on top of him, laying heavily across his chest. If you were anyone else, this would be intimate, sexual even. But it was you, and you'd laid like this on him enough for it not to matter anymore. 

He throws his arm around your waist and holds you loosely. You were a comfort to him, despite your presence here being a cause for quite a bit of stress, knowing you were breathing, that your heart was beating, it calmed him. You'd always been good at that. Keeping him calm. Centered. Even despite your differences in age and status in the world, you always knew what he needed when he needed it. 

You were his best friend, the sister he never had. His soul mate in every way but romantic. Made for him, just like he was made for you. Simon wasn’t a big believer in the Divine, but God surely had a plan when He dropped you into his life. 

Laying like this helped you, too. You had nightmares just as bad as his some nights and found sleep hard to grasp. When Simon held you, you were safe. He was stronger and more frightening than the demons that haunt your dreams, they stayed away when he was nearby. 

He makes sure to set an alarm, not wanting to miss the perfect time to leave, and settles deeper into the mattress, squeezing you a little as he does. It’s the fastest he’s fallen asleep in a long time.

-

Simon needed to write up a report on the absolutely shit security this base had. You were a civilian. Smart and dangerous in your own way, but a civilian nonetheless. You shouldn’t have gotten in so easily, especially in a uniform you likely borrowed from Gary. It was ill-fitting at best, you should have been stopped before you even got in the doors wearing that. But you’d gotten around everyone, and Simon was more than disappointed in the soldiers you had to have passed on the way to his office. 

He keeps his hand wrapped around yours, holding you close to his side as he sneaks you past cameras and the few late-night crew that wandered the halls. Once the two of you hit the open air outside the base, he let you go.

“Run to the garages, stay low.” He says, shoving you a little in front of him. You don’t hesitate, immediately taking off the direction he points you. There was no real reason to do this, it was fairly empty out here, it was highly unlikely either of you got stopped, but it was better to be safe than sorry. 

No one would be surprised to see Ghost walking around at night, it was probably also already known that he was leaving for a few weeks.He walks leisurely towards the garages, keeping you in his sights as you dart around equipment, using the shadows to keep you unseen by any guards watching. 

“Pick one,” He rumbles once the two of you rejoin in the garage. He gestures towards the civilian vehicles that he’s been given permission to borrow while he was on leave. You poke around at a few of them before picking a large black Jeep. Simon throws his things in the back, shoving you into the floor of the backseat as well. 

“This isn’t suspicious at all,” You tease, wiggling into a more comfortable position in your little hiding spot. 

“Just stay there until we’re out of the gates. They shouldn’t look back here, but keep still and quiet. ” He says, climbing into the driver’s seat and starting the car. You hum a soft yeah, yeah , but otherwise follow his order. The guards at the gates are surprised to see him, clearly not expecting anyone to be coming or going from base at 3:30 in the morning.

“Evening, sir. Heading out?” The young man asks, taking the paper Simon hands him. His proof of leave and permission to take a military owned vehicle. 

“I’ll be back soon,” Simon says. The young man clears his throat, shifting a bit nervously as he checks the authenticity of the papers. It was protocol, but no one liked the idea of calling The Ghost a liar or forger. 

“A-alright, Lieutenant. All good. We’ll see you when you return.” The young man hands the papers back and salutes Simon respectfully. Simon hums and nods, pressing on the gas so the Jeep rolls through the opening gates. 

You wait several minutes before moving from your spot, climbing over the center console to get into the front. You put your seatbelt on, lest Simon fuss at you, and settle back into the passenger seat with a sigh. 

“You know how to get home?” You ask.

“Yes.” 

“We gonna drive all day?” 

“Most likely.” 

“Can I-”

“No.”  

You laugh, rolling the window down to feel the rush of the wind as Simon hits the highway. You lean out the window a little and let out a little Whoo! , making Simon chuckle in the seat next to you. You grin back at him before reaching over and pulling the balaclava from his face, exposing him to you. 

“Nice to see you, Si.” You say softly. 

“Nice to see you, too, love.” He hums, scratching at the stubble growing on his jaw. He’d need to shave for the funeral. 

“You’ve got new scars,” You say, poking at one on his brow. It’s still a little tender, but he doesn’t twitch. 

“Occupational hazard.” 

“Be more careful.” 

“I’ll try.” 

“Succeed. You have to give me away when I get married one day.” 

“Gary could do it.”

“Hard pass.” 

That makes Simon laugh and shake his head. You reach over and run your fingers through his hair. It was longer than the last time you saw him, he was growing it out again. You catch a few knots, and carefully detangle them. Simon hums softly at the feeling. He didn’t let people touch him like you did, he’s not sure anyone ever could. No matter how much he wanted-

“Speaking of, he’s waiting for us.” 

Fucking hell. Of course he was. 

“Yeah? You and him still live together?” 

“Mhm.” 

“Good. You shouldn’t be alone.” 

His grip on the wheel tightens. He doesn’t know what he expected, honestly. Gary came after him, but he was still just as much your friend, just as much your brother as Simon was. Of course he would come to Nana’s funeral. Of course he would be waiting for you to get back. The biggest surprise should be that he didn’t come all the way out with you. 

You and Gary had moved in together while he and Simon were entertaining a relationship. It didn’t last, though they were pretty strong for about a year and a half. But Gary was retired, and Simon wasn’t. Distance mixed with Simon’s general paranoia and anxiety over getting close to people pulled them apart. They were still friends, thankfully, as things ended amicably, but sometimes it was hard to see him. 

Sometimes Simon is reminded of what he lost, of the things he never had. It adds to his fear of opening up to the man on his mind right now. He hadn’t said goodbye to him before leaving. Hadn’t even really told him he was going anywhere. Simon had left that to Price, and now he was regretting it. 

“Hey, you okay?” Your worried voice filters into his ears, washing away his nerves. If you were worried, that meant he had an expression on his face to cause you to do so. 

“Yeah. Just thinking.” 

“Okay.” You didn’t pry further, your ability to know when to pick and when to leave it alone was a godsend sometimes. Simon hadn’t told you that he had his eye on someone, and he wasn’t planning on doing so at just past 4 in the morning driving too fast down the highway. 

He’d save telling you about Johnny until you were home.

Chapter Text

“I can’t believe she actually went to get you,” Gary laughs when he sees Simon. 

“She stole your old uniform.”

“Wondered where that went.” 

Simon huffs out a chuckle. You stumble into the door to your apartment behind him, hair windblown and eyes tired. Gary just shakes his head at you, laughing again. 

“You know you could have gotten all of us in an insane amount of trouble?” He asks you. 

“Simon lectured me quite a bit on the way here.” 

“Must have been a long drive.” 

“Fifteen hours.” Simon grumbles, shuffling through your apartment to his room to unload his things. As expected, on the bed is a nice black suit. He moves it into the closet so that he can throw his bag onto the bed without crinkling the fabric. Knowing you, you’d had it ironed and ready for him days ago. 

He hears Gary giving you the same lecture he’d given in the car, insisting that you no longer do something that stupid ever again. It was one thing to show up near base, it was another to sneak onto base. You don’t argue, just as you hadn’t with Simon, knowing full well the weight of what you’d done just to get to him. 

“You’re not invincible,” Gary is saying. “Simon can’t protect you if something goes wrong while you’re pulling a stunt like that, and I can’t either.”

Simon doesn’t hear you respond, he can only imagine you just nod to confirm your understanding of what you’re being told. Simon had told you the very same thing multiple times on the fifteen hour drive home; he’s sure you’re tired of hearing it by now. But it’s for your own good, lest you try another stupid move like this in the future. When he returns to the main room, the reality of the situation hits him. 

The last time the three of you were together like this was over two years ago. It had been your birthday, you’d found out where Simon was stationed at the time and asked if you and Gary could come for a weekend. Thankfully the area had been safe, but even then Simon had been on the whole time, never removing his mask-both literally and metaphorically. But now here? In the apartment you shared with Gary? The apartment you purposefully made sure would have a room for him for times like this? He could be off. He’d let you take his mask off him in the car, and he wouldn’t be putting it back on for a while. At least, not the balaclava or hard skull he brought with him just in case. 

As always, you sense the change in his mood, and walk towards him with a big, tired smile. You wrap your arms around his middle, hugging him close. He huffs out a chuckle, and curls his arms around you. 

“Welcome home, Si.” You mumble. 

“Yeah. I’m home.”

-

It’s no surprise to anyone that the first thing you wanted to do after giving Simon a few hours to decompress and get comfortable in the apartment is go out drinking. You had a long two weeks ahead of you, between the funeral and everything that was likely to happen after, so it was a simple choice. Takeout at the apartment, then walk to the corner dive bar where you could get smashed on cheap beer. 

It wasn’t the best place in town, but the bartenders knew you, Gary, and Simon. They knew what you liked, knew how long you’d stay, and knew to keep an eye out for you getting too close to strangers. You weren’t exactly promiscuous, but when you were drunk you got… friendly. And that has led to more than one bar fight as Gary and Simon separate you from whatever paramour you’d chosen to entertain-or be entertained by. 

You sit at the bar together, in the middle of the two men; Gary to your right, Simon to your left. 

You listen as Gary tells Simon what he’s missed since you all last spoke, nodding along and adding your own little notes and comments here and there. But for the most part you were quiet. Simon’s hand presses into your thigh, his fingers curling around the fat and muscle of your leg firm, but gently. Concerned by your quiet. You smile, leaning into him a little bit. Gary continues talking, undeterred and unaffected by the little show of affection between you and Simon. Until, that is, Gary slips up. 

“Yeah, my partner and I had to drag her off the pier-” 

“Partner?” Simon didn’t mean for it to sound so…accusatory. But this was his first time hearing that Gary has moved on, found a new lover. It makes his chest ache a little, reminds him again of the loss he felt when he ended things with the other man. 

“Oh-uh-” Gary chuckles, looking away. “Yeah. Partner.” 

“First I’m hearing it,” You hum, eyeing Gary with a small frown. You hadn’t been told either.  

“It’s new. We just sort of came to it recently.” Gary says. The way he averts his gaze betrays his guilt.

“I see. Congratulations.” Simon says, feeling grossly hollow. Your hand finds his on your thigh, thumb rubbing soft, comforting circles into his calloused skin. The two of you would discuss this later. 

“What about you? Anyone new? Special? ” Gary tries to deflect, turning the question on Simon now. 

Simon sighs, then clears his throat. He digs his phone from his pocket and pulls up a picture. He’d been forced to take it, grabbed by his sergeant and pressed into his side a little too comfortably. 

“We’re not anythin’,” He rumbles. “But I like him.” 

“Cute!” You snatch his phone, looking closely at the picture. “What’s his name?” 

“John. Johnny. ” 

“Johnny…oh! I walked past him in the hall! Very nice ass. If you don’t hit it, can I?” You grin at him, teasing. Simon huffs and pulls his phone back from you, tucking it safely again into his pants. 

“Maybe,” He chuckles. “If you’re lucky.” 

“What’s he good for?” Gary asks, genuinely curious.

“Sniping, demolitions. Shite jokes.” 

“That’s rich coming from you.” 

Simon blows out another laugh, shaking his head. He reaches up and runs his fingers through his hair, feeling strange. Both full and hollow at the same time. Your hand is a light weight between his shoulder blades, pulling his attention back to you, back to reality. 

“He’s cute.” You say again, this time much more genuine. “Even though he has a dumb mohawk.” 

“It’s fucking ridiculous. He looks like he’s still in primary school.”

“What a loser.”

“Scottish.”

“Oh, Simon, no.”

Gary is losing his mind laughing, doubled over and red faced. You and Simon made quite the pair, you brought out both the best and the worst in each other. Partners for life.

“Catholic.” Simon adds, grinning.

“Hey!” Gary gasps, feigning offense. “We’re not all that bad!” 

The air around the three of you lightens, jokes and little quips are bounced between you as things return to normal. Simon’s hand on your thigh is no longer bruising, though you’re sure you’ll find an imprint of his fingers when you go to shower tonight. It didn’t bother you. After all, Simon’s nearly killed you before during one of his episodes. A little bruise from stress is nothing to you. It’ll heal quickly, fade in just a few days. You probably won’t even tell him he did it, if you did he’d stress about it. And you couldn’t handle much more stress right now. 

-

“So here’s the big question,” You say between mouthfuls of breakfast potatoes. “Do we go to the full service, viewing, all that, or do we just show up at the end then do the will reading?” 

“She was cremated wasn’t she? Are they even having a viewing?” Gary asks, frowning. 

“It’s more like a family gathering. There is a service, you know Nan was well loved by a lot of people. But as for a viewing, I think at most mom is going to have her urn out for people to see.” 

“That feels…”

“Look, I don’t really know how these things work, I’ve never had to plan one and I don’t intend to, ” At that last little remark, your eyes cut to Simon, leaned back in his chair drinking his cup of steaming tea. 

“Back to the question, though. How much do we actually want to be around the family?” You ask again, looking between the two men who were the closest things you had to real family now that Nana was dead. 

“I say we just do the service and the will reading.” Gary says. “Simon?” 

“Mm…” Your closest friend closes his eyes and thinks for a moment before sighing. “No. We do the whole thing.” 

“Ugh, why though?” You groan, leaning forward into the wobbly restaurant table and pouting at him.

“Respect for the dead.” 

His logic is perfectly sound. No matter how much you wanted to avoid the hellscape that was your family, Nana deserved better. She deserved to have you swallow your pride and old fears so that you could show all those assholes just how well you were doing despite all their attempts to drag you down over the years. 

“Alright then. If we’re gonna do this, let’s do it.” You sit back up straight and grab your cup of coffee, holding it out towards the center of the table. Simon hums and leans forward, tapping his cup to yours. Gary does the same. 

“For our best girl,” Simon says. 

“For Nan.” You nod, agreeing. “I hope you two are ready for a fight.” 

“Always,” Gary says. 

“Leave the gloves on, Roach,” Simon says. “They’re civilians.” 

“Yes sir, Lieutenant.” 

“But only for the first punch.” 

The table erupts in laughter at Simon’s deadpan, other customers at the restaurant looking at the lot of you like you all had three heads. Simon pulls his cup to his lips, smirking as he sips on his tea. 

Chapter Text

You brush your hands down your pants, dusting off whatever invisible dust and lint you saw on your clothes. Your fidgeting betrays your nervousness where your face remains calm, passive. Simon offers you his hand, which you happily take. Your fingers entwine together, the heat from his palm keeping you grounded as the three of you walk into the building.

You have to give your parents some credit, they did a good job. Nana was a great woman, loved by so many, and not a single moment of it was left out. There were pictures of her as a war medic, all black and white, pictures of her with all the animals she’s taken in over her life, and even an old picture of her sitting on the porch of her home while you and Simon sat nearby. There were mountains of flowers sent by old friends and people who couldn’t make it to the service, and the room was packed with people young and old. It warmed your heart and broke it at the same time. 

“Easy,” Simon murmurs in your ear. “You’re gonna break my hand.” 

You hadn’t realized how tightly you were holding him. You mumble a soft apology and drop him. He rubs his sore hand, bumping your shoulder with a crinkle of his eyes, smiling under the privacy mask he wore. Gary’s arm slides around you, hand resting in the middle of your back as your mother flits across the room to greet you. You’re stiff when she hugs you, obviously uncomfortable with the action.

“I’m so glad you came!” Your mother says, big tears welled in her eyes. You force a tight smile on your face. 

“Why wouldn’t I?” You ask, tilting your head to the side.

“Well, I just know how busy you are all the time. And you live so far away now,” Your mother’s petulance was loud and clear in her tone and the way she looked at you. 

“I’m not that far, you know. I just moved closer to the beach, Betty, ” You sneer, enjoying how she twitches at the use of her name. Your mother huffs, straightening her spine to somehow glare down at you despite being a good inch or so shorter thanks to your heels. You hate how it works, the weight of her stare making your hands shake. 

“Betty,” Simon rumbles next to you, his hand finding your shoulder, holding you to your spot. Your mother’s eyes snap to your companion, widening a little as she finally realizes that you hadn’t come alone. 

“Simon! And Gary! You both came!” The switch in her mood was jarring, her tone brightening almost instantly. 

“Hi Bet,” Gary smiles at her, the hand he holds on your back curling into your jacket tightly. Neither of your boys liked a single person in your family, knowing the full extent of what they’d done to you in the past. 

“Oh, Mother would be so happy to know you two came. I know how she just adored you,” Your mother says, reaching out to grab Simon’s hand. His eyes narrow, but he doesn’t stop her, knowing better than to cause a scene right now. 

“She was a great woman.” Simon says. “I owe a lot to her.” 

You try not to laugh at how Simon wipes his hand on his pants the second your mother lets him go to turn her attention to Gary. Simon looks at you through the corner of his eye, subtly jerking his head to the side. You nod. 

“Let’s go walk around and say Hi to everyone,” You say, interrupting whatever shit your mother was spewing at your other companion. Gary’s hand on your back loosens, then drops to his side. 

“Sure,” Gary nods, then smiles politely at your mother before following as you and Simon make a quick exit from the interaction. 

It’s much of the same as you move from family member to family member. All smiles and big tears. Hugs that are too tight, and words sour, mildly threatening. The whole experience makes you want to throw up. Your family wasn’t all bad, in fact there was a good chunk of them that were halfway decent. But they didn’t make up for the way you were treated as a child, most of them just looked the other way. You didn’t hate them all, you just wanted to be away from them. Separate. Safe.  

Your father doesn’t even acknowledge you until you drag yourself over to him. The conversation is short, hello, nice to see you, how have you been, see you later, then you move on. He’s always been like that. When he wasn’t pushing you around, he was ignoring you. Abandoning you. You had lost count of how many times as a child he and your mother left you alone when you were far too young to fend for yourself. 

It had been Nana who really loved you. Who picked you up and kept you safe and sane your whole life. She’d taught you kindness, taught you what love looked like. She taught you how to cook and clean, and how to pick your battles. She took the deep pain and anger you held in you and gave it a purpose, an outlet. You were one of her strays, always coming back to be fed and sheltered.

Nana taught you how to collect your own strays. She taught you how to find a family when you had none, how to make your own without selling your body to the highest bidder. She taught you how to hold a knife and shoot a gun, but also how to reach out your hand and coax the light out of the darkness. 

Nana was the reason you had Simon, and for that you’d forever be grateful. 

The service was nice. Nana’s preacher from her local church cries a little as he speaks about her. You and her had always joked that the old man fancied her. Your mother speaks as well, but you’re mostly surprised to hear your name get called to the stage as well. No one had told you, and a wave of nerves and embarrassment washes through you when you stand and make your way to the podium. 

You look around the room, at the sea of people who knew and loved your grandmother, and even though you aren’t prepared, you know just what to say to them all. 

“My Nan was my favorite person in the whole world. She was my everything, my best friend and closest confidant. I know she was that person for a lot of you here, as well. She was the mother of all strays. But she was also a wildfire. Bright and always burning. Fires are dangerous, but they also bring new life, new opportunity, new experiences. I want to personally thank everyone who loved her, everyone who holds her in their hearts and memories, and selfishly ask that none of you ever forget her, so that her legacy, her words, her everything can live on.”

-

The room you were all meeting in felt tiny, dark despite the daylight streaming through the windows. You felt suffocated. 

Nana’s lawyer sits at the head of the table, you and all the others invited spread out throughout the room. You, Simon, and Gary stood closest to the door, ready to bolt the moment it was all over. Ready to head back to the hotel you were staying at for the night and spend the rest of the day in recovery. 

The lawyer was a tired looking man in his mid 50’s, his graying hair smoothed neatly against his skull. He clears his throat to quiet the chattering in the room so that he can begin speaking. 

“Thank you all for coming today. As you all should know, Lucielle left strict instructions for how this next few moments is to be handled. I will start by announcing the person she has put officially in charge of handling the execution of the will, then read out each and every article exactly as she’s written it, are we understood?” You think you like this guy. He was soft spoken but serious, his tone relaying just how important it was that this went smoothly. Once he is satisfied by the soft murmuring and nods from everyone in the room, he slides a thick packet from an envelope and begins. 

“Now, is there a Mister Simon Riley in attendance?” 

Simon stands straighter, raising his hand slightly to catch the lawyer’s attention.

“Excellent. Mister Riley, you are the executor.” 

“I’m sorry, what?! ” Your mother shrieks, standing from her seat in shock. Simon blinks, staring at the lawyer like he wasn’t sure if he was joking or not. 

“Ahem, allow me to read this all for you,” 

Due to his excellent organization and ability to think clearly in every situation

Simon Riley is to be the executor of my will. 

I entrust him with everything written here, and know he will do everything

in his power to take care of things quickly and efficiently.

Simon just blinks slowly, taking in the words as the lawyer continues.

Should Mister Riley not be present at the reading of this document 

due to his work or premature death, 

then everything stated below becomes null and void

and all my affects are to be sold and the money 

donated to the charity listed.

Your body vibrates with silent laughter as you watch the way your family’s faces morph from mourning to angry. Nana had chosen someone not blood related to take care of everything. She’d chosen one of her strays. You can see how that fact burns every other person in the room.

“It also states that should Mister Riley not accept the responsibility, I am to treat it as if he was not present,” The lawyer finishes, looking straight at Simon, waiting for his answer. 

“I’ll take care of it.” Simon says, his voice quiet. 

“Perfect. Let’s continue then, shall we?”

“Wait! This has to be a mistake!” Your mother wails, slamming her hands on the table. “I’m her daughter! Shouldn’t I-”

“There is no mistake, ma’am.” 

“Why would she choose Simon of all people?! She barely knows the man!” 

“Simon has been part of this family for nearly ten years , Betty,” You calmly remind her. Your words only serve to make her more upset as she huffs, opening her mouth to continue her rant. 

“He’s not related to any of us! I am her child! Her oldest child! Should I or my siblings not be the people chosen to oversee the will?”

“Ma’am, your mother was very clear in her instructions.” The lawyer says, his left eye twitching a little in annoyance. 

“This is-”

“Betty, just let the man finish!” Your aunt hisses, anger and embarrassment flush on her face. The lawyer clears his throat again, nodding in silent thanks when your mother huffs and drops back into her seat. 

“Now then, she kept it all short and sweet and simple,” The lawyer begins to read everything off bit by bit. It’s all pretty standard, money given to this person, heirlooms to that person. It’s not until he reaches the very end that everything really explodes. 

To my only granddaughter, I leave my home and everything else in it

as well as access to a bank account holding the amount

made from the sales of all my stocks as well as

the remainder of the money in all my other accounts. 

I ask that she use this money to further herself in all she does

and take excellent care of herself.

“Oh wow,” You murmur to yourself. “Do we know how much it all is?”

“The house itself hasn’t been appraised, but the account balance amounts to $1, 637, 382.85.” 

“Oh sweet Jesus fuck. ” 

The room erupts in shouts of shock and accusation. Simon and Gary put themselves between you and everyone else as all kinds of insults are thrown about. 

“There is no way she would do such a thing!”

“This is forged!” 

“I refuse to believe this is correct!” 

The lawyer assures everyone that everything is correct and written exactly as it was when your Nana wrote it five years ago.  

“If you have an issue with it, you can submit a complaint to the courts and contest the will. But I can assure you that will be a waste of time. Lucielle was of sound mind and body and had more than three witnesses to her state of mind when this was written and submitted.” 

“This is why she didn’t want anyone to see it beforehand,” Gary says. “She knew this would happen.” 

“You were right when you called her a bloody wildfire,” Simon says to you. You blow out a nervous laugh, glad to have the human shield the boys create around you, especially with the way your father glares at you silently. 

“At least she put you in charge,” You whisper. “They’re all far more scared of you than they are of me and Gary.”

“As they fucking should be.”

Chapter Text

The bar they find themselves in is busy, the air stuffy with the heat of the bodies of the patrons. It’s almost a miracle they find themselves three seats at the bartop all next to each other. 

“Steamin’ Jesus,” Soap sighs, leaning heavily on the polished wood, sticky with whatever alcohol had been spilled there. “We picked a popular place.” 

“That means it’s good, yeah?” Gaz hums, smiling handsomely at the pretty bartender as she sweeps by to get their order. 

“Let’s not stay too long. That was a long bloody flight,” John grumbles, tired. 

“Yeah, let’s just have a couple then head to the hotel,” Gaz agrees. 

“Awh, come on! We’re on vacation!” Soap says, grinning ear to ear. How the hell he was so energetic was beyond John. Maybe he was just getting too old for all this. The bartender comes back around with two beers and a nice scotch for the three of them, batting her eyelashes at Gaz when he thanks her softly. They sit and drink, talking plans for their little trip. They would be in this town for a couple days before heading further south to the beach, where they’d spend the rest of their vacation relaxing by the ocean. 

Without Ghost, the 141 couldn’t do much. The Lieutenant was too vital for them to go without while on missions, so John had figured why not all of them take a little break. It was much deserved and more than a little overdue. Something catches Gaz’s eye over his shoulder and his eyebrows scrunch together a little as he tries to figure something out.  

“Whatcha lookin’ at?” Soap asks, twisting in his seat to see for himself. John sighs, and turns his own head to look as well, just as nosy- curious -as the sergeant. At a nearby tall table sat two men. One faced them, the other had his back to them. John’s eyebrows shoot up when he realizes who he’s looking at. Gary Sanderson.

John hasn’t seen or heard from the retired sergeant in a few years now, as he’d retired and moved on to civilian life after an injury. John always figured he’d find his way back somehow, work for a PMC or some other form of Security. They didn’t call him Roach for nothing. 

Roach is talking with the other man at the table, laughing about something. He looks tired, a little stressed, but otherwise good. Healthy. John wonders if the other man is Roach’s partner, knowing his old friend’s type, though something is eerily familiar about the shoulders that face the group. The man had yet to turn his head enough for anyone to get a good look at him, but there was something about the tightness of his posture. Then John spots the ink. 

The other man makes a gesture with his hand, his sleeve of tattoos flashing across John’s vision. Familiar, too familiar. 

Was that…?  

“Holy fuck, I think that’s Lt.” Soap whispers, staring at the same tattooed arm John was. 

“How can you tell?” Gaz asks, unsure. 

“He’s the only one I know with ink like that.” 

“Lots of people have tattoos, Soap.” 

John tunes out the bickering of his sergeants, peeling his gaze away from the two men. John recalls that Ghost and Roach were friends, good ones, so if it was the Lieutenant, it was best to leave it be. It’s most likely that whatever Ghost came out here to do, he’s just taking some extra time to catch up with the other man. 

None of them notice when Roach’s eyes find them, his face tightening a little at the unexpected sight, and they all miss when Ghost turns and blows out a string of curses. 

What the fuck were they doing here?!  

-

Your eyes find him the second you step out of the bathroom; it’s almost as if the crowd parts for you at just that moment. He sits at the bar, but you can tell he’s tall, taller than you. He’s filled out nicely, muscled arms wrapped in a tight white t-shirt, a leather jacket tossed on the back of his seat. He’s with two other men, one of which is vaguely familiar though you can’t place him immediately. He chuckles at something someone says, reaching up to rub at his jaw, fingers catching the beard he has there. 

Your eyes flit to the table where Gary and Simon sit, then back to the man at the bar. Blue eyes zero in on you, his head having turned just in time to catch you staring. His eyebrows raise, irises flicking across your body as he takes you in, a small smirk pulling at his lips. 

Fuck it.  

You smile at him, walking straight over. He turns a bit to meet you, putting his back to the men he was conversing with.

“Hi,” You hum. 

“Hello there,” His accent washes over you, warm and friendly and very British. Not like Simon, whose Manchester accent is slightly harsher than this man’s. 

You don’t introduce yourself at first, and neither does he. But he matches the energy you give off, letting you flirt and flirting right back. Behind him, one of the men groans, and you catch how both of them abandon their friend at the bar in search of something else to do. Something silver catches the light when he shifts, a metal chain around his neck. Your fingers itch with the desire to investigate, and you’re a little too drunk to care if it’s rude. You reach up, brushing your fingertips across the soft skin of his neck, holding back a smirk when he shivers a little, and hook the chain around your finger, pulling it towards you. It slides from under his shirt and you catch what it is the moment the smooth metal hits your palm. 

Dog tags. He’s a soldier.  

“Well, well,” You hum, holding the familiar necklace in your hand. “What have we here?” 

“By all means, take a look,” He says, watching your every little movement with careful eyes. You move a little closer, looking at the engravings. 

Price, Jonathan

You hum softly, running your thumb across the metal, warmed by his body.

“What’s your rank?” You ask, still holding his tags gently in your hand. 

“Captain.” 

“Oh?” Your eyes find his, tongue flicking out to wet your lips. You don’t miss how his pupils dilate as he watches the small movement. 

“What do you do for the military, Captain? ” You know better than to ask this question, but you’re curious to know if he’ll actually answer. 

“I lead a small task force.” He says, simple and vague. 

“Save the world often?” 

“Every day.” 

You laugh, enjoying how willing he is to lean into your teasing and dish it right back to you. Your smart watch flashes with a text from Gary, telling you to hurry up , but when you glance at the table, you find both men already gone. You frown a little. 

“Everything alright, love?” Fuck, you like how that sounds.

“Mm. My brothers are the most impatient men on the planet,” You sigh. “They’re waiting for me.” 

“Guess you best go on then.” 

“I suppose,” You look at him with a smile, then press his tags to your lips, staining them with your lipstick. “See me again.” 

“If I’m lucky.” 

You giggle, releasing the tags and sliding away from the bar. You feel his heavy gaze on you the entire way to the door. The cool air that hits your face is much needed after being in such a stuffy bar for the past few hours. There is a smattering of people on the little gated sidewalk patio, but you find Simon and Gary immediately. 

“Alright, which one of you assholes has my purse?” You ask, walking up to them. Simon holds his arm out, handing you your bag. It’s then that you realize Gary has a cigarette between his lips. Your cigarettes. “Be so fucking for real right now.” 

“I left mine at the hotel,” Gary says with a shrug. “I’ll buy you more.” 

“You better!” You sigh, leaning your back on the metal fencing. 

“You got out here fast,” Gary says. 

"Is that not what you wanted?"

"Honestly expected to have to go back in for you. You seemed to be having quite a good time." 

"Oh please. We had a very long day, I'm not really in the mood to fuck a stranger." 

"Not a stranger." Simon hisses, his sour mood plain as day. "My bloody Captain. " 

"He was your Captain?" Your eyebrows shoot up, surprised. Simon nods stiffly. You catch how his eyes cut to the side, watching someone. You casually glance over with a hum like you're thinking about something, finding the person Simon is looking at. 

The familiar one.

Johnny.  

"Oooooh," You look back at him with a grin, but your face falls at the sight of his. He's not happy, not amused in the slightest. You clear your throat and nudge his shoulder, trying to smile at him again. 

You wordlessly hoist yourself up and over the fence, stumbling a little. Simon follows after you, throwing his leg up and over with much more ease. 

"You two are animals! " Gary fusses. "There is a gate! Plus-" He pulls something from his pocket. "-I have the keys!" 

Simon darts to the side the same moment Gary does, racing to catch him before he gets too far. You huff out a laugh, walking much more leisurely towards them when they collide. Simon pulls the keys from Gary's hand, eyes sharp. You pause your walk right in front of Johnny, giving him a quick closer look, before continuing on your way when Simon snaps at you to hurry. 

He's seriously unhappy. Stressed.  

You jog a little to catch up, wrapping your arm snugly around his and leaning on him. He relaxes a little under your touch, but his movements are stiff. 

" Very cute," You say softly. "Plus, he was totally checking you out." 

Simon doesn't respond, he just pulls you along a little faster towards the car. 

-

"Does Lt. have a girl?" 

"Not that I'm aware. Why?" 

"That pretty one you were talkin' to? She left with 'im and the other guy." 

"So it was Ghost." 

"They left together? All three of them?" 

"Yeah." 

"Hmm…" 

John leans back in his seat, taking the final sip of his scotch. That girl had been something. Quick witted and too pretty to be entertaining herself with him of all people. But to leave with Ghost? Now that was curious. 

Chapter Text

Simon paces the length of the hotel room, stress rolling off him in waves. He’s been like this ever since getting back from the bar, ever since he realized his whole team was coincidentally in this town at the same time he was. 

“Si, it’s not a big deal,” You try for the hundredth time. 

“It is a big fucking deal!” He snaps. You sigh, rubbing your forehead as you lean back in your seat on the edge of one of the double beds. 

“Simon-” 

“They aren’t supposed to be here!” The floodgates have finally opened. “No one is supposed to be here! No one is supposed to see you! ” 

“Simon, hey,” You stand and approach him while Gary stays where he is, leaned against the far wall. Away from Simon and his meltdown. You step in his path, forcing him to stop in front of you, and gently reach up to rest your hands on his shoulders. 

“I’ve kept you quiet, kept you hidden for ten years. I can’t- they can’t-” 

“Shh, hey, it’s okay,” You soothe him softly. “I know, I know this must be terrifying for you, but you had to know that something like this would happen at some point.” 

“That’s why I stay away!” 

Ouch. The reminder of his constant distance hurts. 

“I know,” You say. “You’re trying to protect me and Gary, but they’re your team. Your friends. I’m sure-”

“That doesn’t matter! The people you trust can always betray you. Don’t forget, I knew the man that put the scars on my ribs. Trusted him. Was buried with him.” Simon’s breathing gets harder as he starts to fall into his trauma, panic lacing his features. 

“Shit, shit, no, Simon, hey. Stay here with me, I’m right here,” You reach for his face, but the moment your fingers graze his skin he lurches, shoving you hard away from him, sending you stumbling to the floor. 

“Fuck-” Gary moves, but you put your hand out to stop him. Moving too much too quickly could set Simon off even further. 

“I’m okay,” You pant. You slowly get back to your feet, flinching at the pain that rockets through your ankle. Simon was going to feel miserable about that, you just knew it. 

He’s moved far to the other side of the room, curled in a ball shoved in the corner with his head in his hands. You slowly walk over to him and lower yourself onto your knees in front of him. He was having an episode, the sight of his team showing up unannounced sending him spiraling far into the past. You swallow hard and reach for him again. This time when you touch him, he lets you. 

“Simon,” You say softly, pulling his hands away so he can see you. “Where are you?”

His gaze is far away, so much more than a thousand yards. His gaze was years ago, ten and beyond. His gaze was set in betrayal and torture and death and the thing he feared most. Loss. It wasn’t unknown that Simon kept you a secret from everyone, but you never truly realized just how much of that is due to the trauma he holds. Your heart aches for him. 

“Wherever you are, I need you to come back, okay? I need my Simon. I can’t do this without him.” 

It’s just a flash, the smallest change. 

“There you are.” 

It’s a slow process, it always is, but you manage to pull him from himself just enough to get him to change his clothes and lay in the bed. He needed space right now, time to sort himself out. Maybe even time to cry. His past, the hells he went through before the two of you met, you knew how bad it was, how deeply it scarred him. It surprises you that he’d told you about it at all, you suppose that’s just a statement to how much he trusts you. But it hurts you just as much every time he gets this way, every time he loses himself. You’re terrified that one day you wont get him back. 

You and Gary stand together on the tiny patio of the hotel room quietly, contemplating the moments before. You know Gary has seen Simon’s episodes, know that he never quite learned how to pull him out of them like you could. You wish you knew what to tell him to do, how to speak or how to touch Simon when he gets like that, but you don’t. It’s all instinct, something embedded deep in your mind and body that you just do.  

Nana called you and Simon soulmates. You’d never given it much thought, since neither of you ever once considered each other in a romantic way. Simon always saw you as the kid who took him home from the cemetery, and you knew before he even told you that he preferred men. But sometimes you do wonder if there is something to that, to the idea of being tied to someone spiritually without a romantic or sexual aspect. 

“How’s your foot?” Gary murmurs, pulling you from your thoughts. 

“I’ll live,” You’ve never told Gary the extent to how bad Simon can get when he gets lost. How angry and violent he gets. You know he’s never seen it that bad, and you pray he never does. The memory makes the old scar on the soft spot between your shoulder and your collar tingle. 

“That’s good. I didn’t expect him to get so freaked out about this. I shouldn’t have said anything at the bar.” 

“What do you mean?”

“ I saw them first. I used to work with John, with the Captain. I recognized him. I told Simon they were there. If I hadn’t, he might have never noticed them.” 

“You can’t blame yourself for that. He probably would have seen them anyway, you know nothing gets past him.” 

“I know. But I can’t help feeling like I made it worse somehow.”

“Gary,” You sigh, turning to look at him. “It’s not your fault. Stop blaming yourself.” 

He sighs heavily, rubbing his hand down his face. It wasn’t his fault. You hadn’t realized something like this could set him off either. If you’d known them, recognized them, you probably would have said something too. 

You reach out and pat him on the shoulder before turning to head back into the hotel room. Simon is still laying on the bed, curled tight under the sheets; His deep, rhythmic breathing tells you he’s passed out. You walk over to the side of the bed and gently run your fingers through his hair, smiling a little at how the sensation makes his eyebrows scrunch together. You oh so gently pat his head and make your way towards the bathroom to shower. 

By the time you’re cleaned and changed, Gary has also returned to the room, waiting patiently for his turn. You smile at him as you pass each other, noting that he looks far less worried than he had before. You hope he’s not just hiding it. 

The room only had two beds, but that was never a problem. You tuck yourself under the sheets next to Simon, putting your arms around him as best you could, protecting him in your own little way. His body recognizes yours instantly, muscles loosening as you wrap around him, and soon you find yourself buried under him, his face buried in your neck, his soft eyelashes tickling your skin. His arms are tight around your middle, clinging to you as he sleeps. 

In another life, maybe you two were some great love. But that didn’t matter here and now. What mattered was that he was your friend, your brother. The person you loved and trusted more than anyone else in the world now that Nana was gone. He kept you safe, and right now he felt that safety was lost. 

“I’m right here, Si,” You whisper to him, hoping you reach his dreams. “I’m safe.” 

-

He inspects your ankle for you first thing in the morning, vaguely remembering pushing you over. As he does, he mumbles apologies, both to you and Gary, for losing himself like that. You assure him that it’s fine, that you’re okay and you understand, but it doesn’t seem to soothe him much. He hated hurting you, hated hurting anyone when he’s having an episode. It was one of the reasons he ended his romantic relationship with Gary. He was terrified of hurting him like he’s hurt you.

“Have any of them called or texted you?” You ask. Simon shakes his head. His phone was blissfully bare of notifications from his team. 

“That’s a good thing,” Gary says. “It means that they’re leaving you alone. Shit, they might have not even seen you.” 

“They did. Johnny looked right at us.” Simon says, frowning. 

“But they haven’t  reached out to you. I think G’s right, I think they’re giving you space,” You say, wincing when Simon rolls your ankle just the wrong way.

“It’s basic respect. I’ll put money on the idea that this is all a freaky coincidence, and they didn’t know you were here, too.” Gary adds. 

“Still, they shouldn’t-”

“Look,” You interrupt Simon’s stressed words, pulling your sore foot from his expert hands. “Let’s just go on like normal. It’s seriously unlikely we see them again, so let’s go get brunch like we planned, and head to Nana’s house so we can start going through all the stuff she left behind. Keep with the schedule, everything will be fine.” 

Simon sighs, but nods in agreement. He stands and dusts lint from his pants before offering you his hand to help you up off the bed as well. It hurts a little to move, but you’d be fine. The three of you gather your things and check out of the hotel, driving to the restaurant you’d picked for brunch.

It’s nice, sunny and warm, so you sit outside at one of the cute little patio tables. The waitress informs you that mimosas are endless with the purchase of a meal for the next few hours, and you are more than happy to order them for the three of you. You keep your hand on Simon, touching him in one way or another, keeping him grounded. You can see in his eyes that he’s still not quite here at the moment, still just a little bit lost, but you learned a long time ago that this helped him. It served as a reminder that he wasn’t there anymore, it was his guide back to normalcy when he needed that extra boost. You just couldn’t always do it when he was in too deep, something that you forgot sometimes that has led to more than just twisted ankles in the past.

“So here’s what I think we do,” You say through bites of your food. “We go through everything, separate the stuff that needs handed out to the family, and split the rest off to either be sold, donated, or kept in the house. I don’t think I want to get rid of the house, but I’m not so sure I want to move in either. But with the money she left, I should be able to keep the house maintained for a while, while I figure out what to do.” 

“Sounds like a fair plan. She collected all kinds of things, I’m sure you could get good money for a lot of it,” Gary says with a nod. 

“I think so, too. And we can give most of it away to some different charities in her name, keeping just a little bit of it safely in the bank for emergencies.” 

“Family’s not gonna like it,” Simon says.

“Fuck what the family thinks. Nana left it all to me, and this is what I want to do.” 

“Then let’s do it.” 

“Alright then!” You grin and flop back in your seat, taking a long drink of your mimosa. You start to respond to something Gary says, the subject changing, when a familiar face catches your eye.

He’s looking back at you, equally as surprised to see you here of all places. It seems you caught his eye right as he was drinking his coffee, the mug still held halfway to his lips when your gazes meet. You shift a bit in your seat, smiling at him before looking away, not wanting Simon to get curious and see them. You don’t think he’d have as big a reaction as last night, having all morning to come to terms with them being here, but you’re pretty positive he still wouldn’t be happy to see them.

Chapter Text

“Am I the only one who thinks this is sketchy as hell?” 

“We’re just going to an estate sale! Nothing weird about that at all, Gaz.” 

“An estate sale run by the girl who flirted with the Captain and might also be Ghost’s girlfriend.” 

“We don’t know for sure she’s Lt.’s girl!” 

“Isn’t that what we’re trying to figure out?” 

“You two hush. We’re here.” 

John pulls the car into the long gravel driveway, a sign for the sale at question displayed bright and proud right out front. As they pull in, they see a few other cars parked neatly on the lawn, a few fold-out tables set out with a collection of things, and other curious townspeople nosing around it all . The front door to the house is wide open, and John spots you coming in and out, monitoring everything. 

There is no sign of the Jeep Ghost took when he left base.

“Let’s just have a quick look around, if Ghost doesn’t show up, we move on from this,” John says, stepping out of the car. Soap and Gaz follow after him, the three of them trying to look as casual as possible as they split up to poke around the property. 

The inside of the house is neatly organized, and smells like fresh air and cleaning chemicals. John catches your form as you flit from room to room, talking to people and moving things around. The upstairs and the door to what he assumes to be the basement are roped off; either everything from those spaces is already out, or you haven’t gotten around to cleaning and organizing those spaces just yet. 

He finds himself in the front room, brightly lit and warmed by the sunlight streaming through the large windows, open to allow a soft breeze. In this room, you have boxes opened and available to be rifled through, as well as a few items strewn out on a beautifully crafted coffee table. John idly wonders how much of the furniture is for sale, thinking he might like to have that table in his flat back home. 

“Hi!” You sound breathless as you sweep into the room. “Feel free to take a look at everything! My grandmother collected all kinds of- oh… ” 

You freeze when John turns to face you, a polite smile on his face. You blink a few times, then let a small laugh bubble out of you, surprised and maybe a bit nervous to see him again so soon. 

“The lads and I were driving by, just exploring town. Saw the sign, thought we’d stop.” It was only half a lie. Soap had overheard you say something about an estate sale the other day at the restaurant, and had made it his mission to find out where it was going to be held, insisting they look into it and try to figure out what Ghost was doing in this town. 

“Oh, well, welcome,” You smile at him, seemingly soothed by his words. You walk a little further into the room, gesturing to the space. “Everything in here is for sale.” 

“Everything, hm? Even the table?” He nods towards the item of his momentary desires. You hum, nodding. 

“Even the table. Handmade, and lovingly maintained. One of my grandmother’s friends made it for her as a gift about…oh…twenty or thirty years ago or so.” 

“It’s beautiful,” John’s not so sure he’s just talking about the table. He likes how your face lights up when you talk about the woman who once owned this house. 

“I suggest taking it then,” You say, lips curling into something of a mischievous smile. “I’ve had a few people looking at it. I can send it anywhere…if you’re not local.” 

You were a cunning little thing. John had never mentioned where he was from, or if he lived in town. Nor had he said anything about being here on vacation. You were trying to figure him out, fishing for bits of information without sounding like you’re being nosy. 

“I’m not local,” He admits, taking a small step towards you. If you are Ghost’s girl, he should probably be stepping away, putting distance between himself and you. But you take your own step, the two of you moving in something akin to a dance around each other. 

“Well I am more than happy to have it packed up and delivered wherever you need, Mister Price. ” He shouldn’t like how that makes his spine tingle. 

“Just John is fine, love,” He says. 

“John, then.” 

“And you?” 

Your name is like a worm in his brain, echoing around his skull when you say it. He repeats it back to you, just as you had his, and you smile. John decides that he prefers it when you look at him like that. Bright eyed and rosy cheeked. Blushing.  

“So,” He sighs, trying to shake his mind free of anything impure. “Tell me what this is all for.” 

“My grandmother passed recently. She left me the house, and though I would love to keep everything in it, I’m afraid I simply just can’t. So I’m selling what I think I can, donating a bunch of stuff, all that.” You say, a flicker of sadness passing over your eyes for the smallest moment. You’re good at hiding how you feel, if how quickly you recover is any indication. 

“I’m sorry for your loss. There’s a lot of stuff here, your grandmother a big collector?”

“Ah, yes and no. Most of what’s here are gifts or things left behind by people we couldn’t find while sorting it all,” John wonders who we is as you continue. “She mostly collected people in a way. Strays. People with nowhere to go. She was the type of woman to help who she could whenever she could. She saved lives, and made all kinds of friends.” 

“She sounds like a saint.” 

“She kind of was. But she could also be mean as all hell when she needed to,” You laugh a little at some memory that flits through your mind. “And petty. ” 

“You two must have been close,” He says, and he knows he’s definitely standing too close to you now. He could reach out and touch you, if he so desired. 

“We were. She took good care of me growing up,” You hum, looking up at him with big, soft eyes. Your tongue does that thing where it sticks out just the littlest bit to slide across your lips before hiding again between your teeth. It’s such a small, innocent action, yet it lights John on fire.  

He should feel bad for wishing you weren’t Ghost’s girl, that his Lieutenant was either single or seeing someone else, simply because John wanted you right now. He wanted to keep your attention, your focus. He wanted to make you smile more, laugh more. He wanted to touch. You had him under a spell and he thought that was just fine. 

The tension between you two snaps when Soap comes barreling into the room. 

“Captain! You’re not gonna believe-oh! Hello, lass.” Soap straightens up the moment he sees you. You turn, smiling politely at the newcomer. 

“Hi, there,” You say.

“John MacTavish. He’s one of my sergeants,” John says. You stick your hand out to Soap, offering it in a polite shake as you tell him your own name. 

“So, Sergeant MacTavish, what did you find?” You ask. 

“Ah, an old kilt.” 

“Oh yeah? Ah, I vaguely remember a Scottish man staying here for a few days when I was little. Couldn’t tell you his name, though.” You admit a little sheepishly. “Otherwise I’d have sent that thing back home.” 

“Sean Ross.” Soap says. You tilt your head to the side, eyebrows scrunching a little. “It’s written on the inside. Can hardly read it, but I just barely made it out.” 

“You have better eyes than I do, then.” You say, smiling. 

“He’s my uncle.” 

“No.”

“Yes. Married my dad’s sister.” 

“How do you know?” 

“It’s got a little flower stitched on the inside of it. My aunt does that so she knows what belongs to who when they all get jumbled together.”

A laugh bubbles out of you, light, airy, amused. You look back over your shoulder at John, finding him with his eyebrows raised and arms crossed, equally as curious about this beautiful moment of serendipity.

“Oh my God, that means it’s yours. ” You say, turning back to Soap. “Take it, please.” 

“Wha-oh, lass, I’ll pay for it-”

“Nuh uh, you will not. I’d be a monster if I asked that of you. It’s your family’s, so just take it. Get it back home.” You wave your hands at him, almost as if you were shooing him away, or perhaps the idea that he needed to buy something that was already his.

“Soap, if you’re gonna get this thing you better get it, I just barely saved it from some grumpy old guy trying to buy it,” Gaz appears in the threshold, holding the kilt in question in his hands. Soap turns and takes it, grinning when he tells his friend about the conversation you just had. 

“Kyle Garrick, my other sergeant,” John murmurs softly to you as you watch the two men.

“Is your team just you and your sergeants?” You ask quietly, turning fully back to him, your attention completely returned to him and him alone. 

“I’ve a Lieutenant too. He’s not here.” 

“Oh?” 

“He’s the reason we’re all here, actually. Well, somewhat. He had to take leave to handle some personal business, so the rest of us figured we’d have a little vacation of our own.” 

“Ahh, so that’s what brings you to town?” 

“That’s right. This is our last day here, though. Tomorrow we’re headed south, towards the beach.” 

“The beach, hm? Well, here’s a little secret for you,” You lean forward, just the slightest bit. “I actually live near the beach.” 

“Do you now?” 

“I do. I’m just here to handle all my grandmother’s final affairs. I’ll be headed home in a few days myself. Maybe we’ll see each other again.” 

“I hope so.” 

“Are you two done?” Gaz calls, pulling the two of you out of your little moment. He looks perturbed at the sight of John openly flirting with you. You laugh a little, cheeks turning that soft pink again, this time in embarrassment. 

“I’ll leave you boys to it,” You say, starting to move towards the door. “Oh, and John, please take the table. I’d hate for it to go to someone who’s not going to take care of it.”

You leave the room after flashing him another pretty smile, vanishing down the hall and leaving him painfully breathless. He doesn’t remember the last time a woman so easily ripped the air from his lungs like you had. 

-

You think you managed to pull it off. Now all you needed was for them to leave before Simon and Gary got back from the post office. You’d sent them to mail out the last of what needed to be sent to family and Nana’s old friends just barely an hour before the three men showed up. 

You’d been startled at the sight of John, for a moment genuinely thinking that they might actually be following Simon around. It had scared you a little bit, but he’d soothed your nerves when he told you it was just an accident. You should probably know better than to believe him so easily, but his warm, deep voice sunk into your very bones and opened you right up to whatever he had to say. But you still played it as smart as you could, pretending not to know who they were, never once mentioning Simon, and you think you fooled them into believing you were totally clueless. 

It was genuinely amazing to find out that Sergeant MacTavish- Johnny -was related to one of Nana’s old strays. A true minor miracle, as he’d been able to recognize what belonged to his family. Simon had been right about him. He was smarter than he looks. 

All you’d wanted the whole time, though, was to keep talking to John. He was taller than you’d originally thought and smelled amazing. Like good cigars and something sweet and musky. He spoke softly, but with a kind of authority that came with constantly being in charge. You think you could listen to him talk all day, and then some. And he was attentive. Paying close and careful attention to everything you said, absorbing it and making the smallest words meaningful. Men didn’t listen to you like that-save for Simon, but even then there were times you were sure he’d tuned you out. 

You vaguely recall the birth year on John’s dog tags; he’s older than you. Older than Simon, though not by that much. There was something about that, mixed with the way he speaks and listens that has you wanting to keep him around. He gives you butterflies. 

Butterflies!  

But as much as you wanted him to stay, to keep his focus on you, give you what you so desperately need, you also want him-and the others-to leave. Simon had finally calmed down about them being in town, finally agreed that it was just a fucked up coincidence and that nothing was amiss. But that still didn’t mean he was happy about it. He wanted to avoid them, keep them away from you and Gary. Finding them here of all places would not go over well.

Chapter Text

He’s letting you touch him.

Ghost didn’t let anyone touch him. 

Johnny should probably walk away, should definitely not watch the two of you have what is clearly a private conversation, but he can’t. His eyes are glued to the scene in front of him. 

Ghost and the other man-Gary Roach Sanderson, Price had said, recognizing him-had arrived a few minutes ago. Everything was fine, Price had found you again about the table he wanted, Johnny following after him since Gaz abandoned them both to hang out with a group of old ladies who were completely enamored with him. Then Ghost walked into the room. Looking for you. He called your name before freezing mid-step, eyes flicking between Johnny, Price, and you. 

You’d smiled at him and asked if he finished running the errand you’d apparently sent him on. He nods stiffly, then turns and walks right back out of the room without another word. You’d moved on like it was nothing, pulling Price back into the original conversation, letting him buy the table and telling you where to send it. Then you politely excused yourself, and left the room as well. 

Johnny found the two of you a few minutes later, hiding on the back porch. Your hands are on Ghost’s chest, and while Johnny can’t hear what you’re saying, he can see just how soft you’re looking at him, he can see how Ghost lets you put your hands on him without flinching or moving away. 

Jealousy creeps up his spine, worming its way into his brain. Just who the hell were you to him? Were you really his secret girlfriend? You had to be, to be able to touch him like that so easily. Ghost didn’t have any living family, he’d told Johnny that a long time ago. 

Ghost’s head turns, dark eyes landing on Johnny not-so-subtly watching the two of you. He jerks away from you, turning and stomping off into the backyard, leaving you shouting after him, voice muffled by the glass door.

“Simon!”  

You called him by his name. His name.  

Johnny decides to find Gaz, and doesn’t leave his side, even when those old ladies start flirting with him too. It was better than stewing over what he just saw, what he just heard. 

-

“Simon, come back!” You chase after him, but he makes quick strides to try to get away from the house, away from you. You’d been trying to calm him down about his team being here when apparently he spotted Johnny through the door watching the two of you talk and bolted. 

“Simon!” You yell his name again, nearly slamming into him when he suddenly stops and wheels back around at you. 

“Stop! Stop saying my name, stop touching me!” He snaps.

“Wha-” You reel back, shocked at the harshness of his tone. You and Simon had argued plenty in your ten years of friendship, but he’d never sounded like this before. Never told you not to touch him. He knows that touch is important to you, knows it’s how you speak when you don’t know what else to say. 

“He saw,” Simon continues. “Johnny fucking saw !” 

“Why does that matter?!” You ask.

“Because now they know you’re something to me!”

“That doesn’t answer my question!”

“If they know, then others find out! Then you get taken! Hurt! Because of me!” 

“Simon, that’s not going to happen!”

“It already has!” 

He’s talking about his family, about their deaths at the hands of his enemies. You know it hurts him to remember, hurts to even consider. Yet he yells it at you anyway, hurting you just the same. 

“Simon, please-”

“Don’t fucking touch me anymore.” 

“Wh…at..?” 

“Just-keep it to yourself. Before they get the wrong fucking idea.” 

He leaves you standing there, shocked and hurt by his words. Your hands shake at your sides, seeking the comfort of someone else’s warmth, of Simon. Of the person who hurt you but might just be the only one who can put you back together after that. 

-

Simon doesn’t acknowledge any of them as he comes back through the house and walks straight upstairs. Something in the way he walks, the tightness of his shoulders, has John curious and concerned. So he goes the direction Simon came.

And finds you. 

You’re sitting on the steps to the back porch, elbows on your knees, hands clasped together and pressed into your lips. Your eyebrows are furrowed, deep in thought. But there is something else in your posture. Stiff, unhappy. 

You and Ghost must have argued.  

John considers walking away. It’s not his business, after all. But against his better judgment, he walks forward, and takes a seat next to you. 

“You alright, love?” He asks. 

“Hm..?” You look at him, having not realized he’d joined you. “Oh, yeah. I’m fine.” 

“Don’t look fine. Have a spat with your boyfriend?” An almost bitter laugh escapes you at his words, something akin to realization flashing over your face. 

“Ah, no. No I don’t have a boyfriend. Haven’t for…quite some time.” 

“No? The big fella in the mask is…?” 

“Just a friend. An old friend. He’s…mad at me right now.” 

“Sorry to hear that, love.” 

So you weren’t Ghost’s girl, but an old friend? You’re so young, just how old is this friendship? 

“It’s alright. We’ll work it out. We always do.” You don’t sound so sure about that. John gently reaches up and sets his hand on your back, right between your shoulder blades. You twitch a little, but lean into his touch, the small action seeming to help soothe you. It also opens you up a little. 

“It’s just-it’s not that I don’t get it. He’s stressed out, he has a lot going on. But he’s never made it my fault before, you know? He’s usually more clear-headed, even on his bad days. But it’s like…like he can’t think straight. And I don’t know what to do. I always know what to do! I always have known what to do! I just…” You heave a heavy sigh, slumping your shoulders as you let your face fall into your hands. “I don’t know, I guess I’m just…just tired.” 

John hums, rubbing your back a little as you speak. You seem to be having a hell of a hard time with Ghost right now, all on top of dealing with the passing of a beloved family member. It’s not surprising you’re so tired, so lost. 

“I’m sure it’s nothing you did, sweetheart,” John says softly. “He might just need some time to figure himself out.” 

“Maybe…” You mumble. “God, I’m sorry, you don’t need to listen to me whine.” 

“It’s no trouble. It’s my job to look out for people.”

“Well you’re doing fantastic.” You say, forcing a laugh. John doesn’t like it, he prefers when you’re actually happy. 

“Thank you,” He says, smiling kindly at you. “You’re doing a damn good job too. Keeping everything together as best you can. If there’s anything I can do, just say so.” 

“Just having someone to talk to has helped a lot,” You say, returning his smile. “So thank you, John.” 

It was a bad idea, and he should keep his mouth closed. 

“If you want to talk about it some more, how about I take you to dinner tonight?”

Chapter Text

You should have said yes. Should have accepted John’s offer for dinner. Maybe then you’d be having a good time at a good restaurant with a nice older man who seems to somewhat like you. Not this.  

You, Simon, and Gary all sit in Nana’s old TV room, bare save for the few pieces of furniture you decided to keep and a pile of boxes filled to the brim with unsold items. Boxes of takeout sit on the little table between the three of you, and no one speaks. Simon doesn’t sit near you. 

You should have asked John for his number. You could be texting him right now, asking him to come save you from the painful silence stretching onward between you and your friends. Gary sniffs, then clears his throat; the sound is jarring. 

“So…” He says quietly. “We’re headed back home in a couple days, yeah?” 

“Mhm.” You nod. The room falls silent again, even more miserably. Usually, you and Simon would be talking, leaning on each other. Gary would tell a joke that Simon would ultimately steal to use on the field and you’d all be laughing. 

But Simon wasn’t talking, he wasn’t leaned into you. Gary wasn’t joking. You felt sick. 

It felt like dinner with your parents after one of their fights. You could imagine your mother’s cold looks, your father’s insufferable indifference. It made your hands shake. After fights like that is when your father usually got physical with you. He never could with your mother, she knew too many people. But you had been a child. And you looked just like her. 

Nana couldn’t save you anymore.

You shove your food away, leaving it on the table and standing suddenly. You couldn’t take this, you just couldn’t. You needed a shower, needed to lay down. It’s been a hard past few days for everyone. 

You don’t say anything as you walk out of the room, jogging up the stairs to where your things waited. You dig out some pajamas and your toiletries and hide in the bathroom for too long, just standing under the water. Existing despite your great desire not to right now. 

When you finally emerge from the shower, the lights downstairs are turned off and the door to the room Gary is staying in is shut tight. You enter the master bedroom, Nana’s bedroom, and pause at the sight of the figure sitting on the bed, waiting for you. 

“You should get some sleep,” You mumble. “Tomorrow’s another long day.” 

Simon doesn’t say anything, he just stands up and slowly approaches you. His hands reach out, cautious, careful, and find their way to your shoulders. His thumbs rub softly into your skin, his familiar warmth seeping into your bones. An apology, the only one he knew how to make. 

Tears well in your eyes and he groans, dropping his head and pulling you roughly forward, crushing you against his chest as he hugs you. 

“ ‘m sorry, love,” He murmurs in your ear. “ ‘m sorry…” 

Your arms are wrapped around his middle, fingers digging hard into his shirt while you bury your face in his chest. Simon was safety. Warmth. Protection . He rubs your back, keeping himself curled around you as long as you need, his nose in your hair. 

“You’re my best girl, you know that?” He says softly. “Always have been.” 

“You’re mean.” You mumble into his shirt.

“I know, love. Mean and cowardly.” 

“I love you, Si.” 

“I love you too, sweet girl. You’re my family, the only one I’ve got. I’m going to keep you safe, take care of you always.” 

“Even when I touch you in front of your friends?” 

“ Christ, I never should have said that to you. I know you need it, know that’s how you talk. I’m an ass. Mean and cowardly and an ass. I just-I didn’t…” Simon sighs, hugging you tighter. “I’m sorry.” 

It’s not okay, but it’s a start.

The whole next day is spent in and out of donation stores, storage units, and the post office, but by the time the sun goes down again, Nana’s house is mostly empty and locked tight. 

Simon drives, since it’s technically a military jeep. Gary is passed out sprawled across the backseat and you sit curled in the passenger spot. You probably could have gone home in the morning, but none of you wanted to spend the night in an empty house, void of the memories it once held. Simon tried to comfort you as you finally sobbed about it, reminding you that everything that held real meaning had just been stored away, and that the house could now be refilled with new life, new memory. It didn’t help much, but you appreciated it nonetheless. You sniffle softly, staring out the window.

“What now?” Simon asks.

“I dunno. We’re done, I guess.” You murmur.

“I’ll…be headed back, then.” His words have you sitting up straighter, turning in your seat to stare at him in shock. 

“Wh-but you still have a week!” 

“I know, but I ‘ave work to do.” 

“Your whole team is on vacation, Si!” 

“I still…just listen, love, alright? There are things I left unfinished, important things. Mission reports, paperwork, all kinds of business I can’t tell you about. I had hoped that Price would have taken over all of it, but if he’s here, that means it’s all still waiting for me. I’m sorry, love.” 

“Simon, please. Just-just take a day! One day on the beach to just relax, to spend time with me and Gary. Please, please just stay. ” You know how you sound, you know how you look, begging him not to leave, not to abandon you again. But Simon holds firm, as he always has. 

“I can’t. Once we get back I’m going to repack. Head out in the morning.”

Your hands shake in your lap as you curl back into yourself, turning away and staring back out the window.

The remainder of the drive is quiet save for the music playing low on the radio. You doze on and off throughout the two hours south to the city you lived in, and you wished time could just move slower. You wanted to spend more time with both of your boys. You wanted to ask if Simon saw how weird Gary has been, if he’s really being avoidant, or if you’re just being oversensitive. Simon had fresher eyes than you did, so maybe…maybe he could tell you if he thought something was wrong. If something has changed.  

You wanted to lay on the beach in your favorite spot laughing while they argue over where to put the umbrella. You want Simon to throw you over his shoulder and chuck you screaming into the cold ocean. You want to watch Gary fight the seagulls over your lunch. You want to stumble onto John and the others and see just what Simon is like when he’s with them versus you.  

You want normality. You want comfort. You want to stay together. Like it used to be, before Simon joined the 141. Before he started coming home less and less. Before Gary stopped telling you things. 

Simon’s hand on you alerts you to the fact that he’s parked in your apartment building’s garage, and it was time to go inside. You glance at your watch, grimacing at the time. It was just barely 10pm, yet you were so tired. 

He’s standing outside the passenger door, waiting to see if you need help getting out of the Jeep, his hands slightly outstretched to catch you if you stumble. Gary already has his things and is headed towards the elevator. You take Simon’s hand, letting him support you as you fumble your way out of the vehicle. He chuckles a little, smiling, and keeps his hand between your shoulder blades as he leads you to where Gary waits. 

-

“You can’t do this.” 

“I am doing it.”

“She’s going to lose it, I mean completely lose it. You told her you’d wait until morning!” 

“I don’t have time, I have to go.” 

“Christ!” 

Gary turns away, rubbing his hand down his face. Of course he had to be the one catching Simon try to sneak out the front door. You were passed out, had been for a few hours now, none the wiser to what was going on just a few rooms away. 

“Simon, you know this is going to hurt her. A lot. She’s been through enough, don’t you think? Just wait a few fucking hours before you go running off and abandoning her again.” 

“I’m not abandoning her.” Simon’s voice is cold. Colder than Gary had ever heard it before. Gary opens his mouth to speak but is interrupted by a paper being shoved hard into his chest, Simon-no- Ghost’s eyes glaring into him as he speaks again before Gary has the chance. 

“You are.”

Chapter Text

Honestly, what did you expect? You’ve known Simon for ten years, you knew he did stuff like this. That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt like nothing else when you walked into the kitchen to find just Gary sitting there, gloomily drinking his coffee alone. You don’t even have to ask, the very air in the apartment is different when your closest friend wasn’t there. 

He left a note, at the very least, apologizing and promising to call as soon as he was back on base. He had to be close by now, or at least halfway. Simon drove fast, and if he left in the dead of night, probably had very little traffic to deal with. 

You don’t cry. Instead you heave a sigh and drop the note in the trash before making yourself and Gary some breakfast, and moving on as normally as you can. It would be fine, you’ll yell at him for it over the phone later. It’s all you could do; Simon made sure of that.

You and Gary walk to the beach, it’s close enough to your apartment, though you know you’ll be Ubering back later when you’re inevitably too tired to make the trek back. 

You sit in your favorite spot, Gary sets up the umbrella wherever he wants it, and you read a book. It’s quiet today, it being a workday for most people. Only tourists and retirees were out around you, but they didn’t bother you any. You were used to it after living here for the past several years. You and Gary talk about your plans for Nana’s house, whether you’ll move in, sell it, or find some third option. At some point, you walk towards the water, wading into it until it hits your hips, waves splashing against your overheated skin. Shaky hands run through the water, catching stray algae and seaweed, as you contemplate things.

Simon left without a word, a very him thing to do, and Gary had been off for a while now. Had you missed something? Something in their breakup, or their relationship as a whole? Or was it something you had done? Had you become overly reliant? Dependent on them? Was that what was pushing them from you? 

Maybe you were too clingy, too needy. Too desperate to not be alone. You thought Simon understood that, understood why you were like that, why you needed him. But maybe that had changed, maybe the distance from you had opened his eyes to something you didn’t see and he was trying to…to do something. Help you see it too, maybe. You should talk to him about it, get some answers from him. Simon didn’t really lie to you unless it was something he thought inconsequential, like leaving hours earlier than promised. 

The Gary situation was more complicated. You two didn’t know each other like you and Simon did. He was still new, despite being around the past four years. Still learning. But that also meant you were still getting used to him. You were roommates, friends, very nearly family. But you only just learned that he had a partner, and he still hasn’t told you a name or where they met. You don’t even know how long they’d been seeing each other. Gary was never one to keep secrets, he was open, friendly. He had his demons, as all soldiers did, but you never felt that he was anything but true and honest. 

It all left you feeling a bit sick.

You had to be misreading everything, misunderstanding. You had to be seeing things that weren’t there. You were good at that after everything that happened to you as a child. After the abuse and gaslighting you suffered through, that Nana tried to save you from as often as she could. You were oversensitive to change, that’s what your therapist said. You latched onto the small things, read too deeply into them and caused yourself more stress than necessary. That’s what was happening, surely. You were still upset over Nana, still processing that she was gone, that massive change made you start to notice all those little things that likely meant nothing. 

The air smells like salt and sea when you take in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. You would be alright, you knew you would. 

-

It’s late, the sun long vanished from the skyline. Your skin tingles a little, having accidentally gotten a slight sunburn from being on the beach just a little too long. The apartment is quiet, Gary left to pick up some takeout for the two of you a while ago. Too long, you think. But then again, the place you ordered from is popular as hell, so a long wait isn’t that surprising. You decide to do some tidying, cleaning up the apartment just to keep your hands and mind busy. 

That’s how you find the letter. 

It’s a job acceptance letter from a government sanctioned PMC. For Gary. You shouldn’t read it, you really really shouldn’t. But you do, too nosy to leave it alone. 

Dear Sergeant Sanderson,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into our program. We look forward to working with a man of your caliber.

Attached to the letter is a list of things the company needs from him; each and every one has a check next to it. His tasks completed. On the back was a scribbled address and phone number in handwriting you didn’t recognize.

You can’t breathe, you want to throw up. Gary was leaving. He was leaving and he didn’t fucking tell you.  

Why? Why would he hide something like this? The letter was dated nearly two months ago. He’s known he was taking this job for two months, known he was going to be moving halfway across the country for two months. And he didn’t tell you. 

You'd been right fuck you'd been right! 

You can't breathe, can't think. The walls feel like they're closing in on you, the silence suddenly too loud. 

Simon had left you behind, and now Gary was too.

You need to get out out out out!  

-

"I'm back!" Gary yells as he walks through the door. You don't answer, don't come skipping to the door to help him with the food. The apartment is eerily quiet. 

Not good.  

His military training kicks in, the food is left by the door and his concealed pistol pulled from its holster. He sweeps through the apartment, finding every room empty, no sign of any kind of struggle. Your shoes were still by the door. 

He walks back into the living room, the room you'd been in when he left, idling on your phone. It looks like you'd started cleaning, blankets were folded, pillows were fluffed, his acceptance letter sitting on the coffee table-

Oh fuck.  

His acceptance letter is sitting on the coffee table.

It's significantly more crumpled than last he saw it, like it had been gripped too tightly. Your phone is sitting on the table next to it, left behind, a text from Simon sitting unread. 

"No no fuck! " You weren't supposed to find out like this. He was going to tell you slowly, ease you into the idea. But you finding the letter with no explanation was like an IED left unnoticed on the road. Ready to send you flying at a moment's notice. 

His argument with Simon meant nothing now, all his words had been empty. Pointless. 

He needed to find you. Now. Before you got hurt, or worse. 

-

"Where are you going?" 

"Out."

"Can I come?" 

Cold laughter.

"Of course not! You're perfectly fine to be by yourself. Just go to bed, mommy will be back before you know it."

You'd heard that before.

"Where are you going?"

"Anywhere you aren't."

You never understood why your father stayed when he clearly hated you and your mother so much. What was the point of being miserable? 

"Daddy, I'm scared." 

A disinterested stare. 

"Stop being a child, just go to bed."

You were barely seven. 

The house empty, no one to make breakfast or wake you up for school. You'll miss another day, another lesson. You can't reach the phone on the wall, and the chairs are too heavy. 

Left behind again. Abandoned again. 

"Please don't go."

"I'm not goin' anywhere, kid."

What a lie.

"Stay with me?"

"Always."

More lies.

"I'll see you this weekend!"

"I can't wait, sweetie."

She died two days later. Gary wasn't home, out with old friends. He told you not to come, that you’d be bored. Gary was never boring, he always had a good story. 

What was it about you…that drove people away like this? Why did your mother and father treat you like a stain? Why did Simon keep running away? Why did Gary lie to you? 

Why does everyone leave you alone ?

The warm weight of a jacket over your shoulders barely registers in your mind. The world was just too much right now, everything was wrong. Upside down and sideways. A hesitant hand finds your shoulder, a soft voice in your ear. Deep, comforting. 

“Hey now, I’ve got you, sweetheart.”

Chapter Text

Despite all the years he’s seen it, lived with it, he’s very rarely seen it in a civilian. That’s not to say it doesn’t happen, anyone can get PTSD from any number of bad experiences, but it still surprises him when it shows up in people like you. Good people. People who should have never had any bad experiences. 

Yet there you are.

It’s the fact that you don’t respond when he calls your name that hints to him that something is wrong. Then he realizes just how still you are. Like a statue. When he gets closer he realizes that you’re in the water, all the way up to your waist. It’s cold out now that the sun has dropped, the water must be even colder. You’re shaking hard . 

John thanks the heavens that he’d decided on a walk despite the hour. 

He stands at the edge of the tide, calling your name again. Your head tilts a little, some part of you hearing him, but still you don’t move. So John goes in for you. He tugs his boots and socks off, and wades into the water, cursing at the way it freezes his toes. 

You’re shaking almost violently, the temperature of the wind and water affecting your body. John pulls his jacket off, knowing it probably won't be enough, but maybe it could get your attention. He puts it over your shoulders, and that’s when he sees the stare.  

How many soldiers had he seen like that? Looking so far into the past that they lost their sense of the present. You were deep in it, whatever had triggered this weighing heavy on your trembling shoulders. 

His jacket is too big for you, the bottom of it soaking in the salty waters the moment he lowers it onto your shoulders. But that’s of little consequence to him, what mattered was getting you out of the water, and warming you back up before you caught your death.

A little sound reaches his ears, a whimper. A sob. You were crying. Sympathy floods through him, his heart aching for you. He wonders what happened, what’s caused this.

“Hey now, I’ve got you, sweetheart,” He murmurs, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. You move easily, your body leaning into his on instinct, seeking his warmth. He leads you back onto dry sand, catching you when you stumble. 

You’re shaking too hard to move much more on your own, so he shoves his feet back into his boots and scoops you into his arms. He takes off in a jog back the direction he came, back to the little house he and the lads had rented for the week. You were like a leaf in the wind in his arms, shaking so bad he’s starting to worry he may need to take you to the hospital for hypothermia.

“Don’t you worry, love. I’ve got you,” He says again when another whimper leaves your lips. You’ve curled into him now, crying soft tears into his shirt. The house is just a little ways down the beach, and he sighs in relief when he finds the lights still on, Gaz and Soap visible on the back porch, drinking and laughing. 

That all stops when John comes rushing up the steps with you in his arms. 

“Steamin’ Jesus, what the hell?” Soap gasps, putting his beer down and walking towards John. “What happened?”

“Not sure. She’s havin’ an episode of some kind. Found her in the bloody water,” John pants. 

“Fuck, I’ll start a bath,” Gaz dashes inside. 

“Is that- fuck, that’s Ghost’s girl!” Soap says, recognizing you. 

“She’s not his girl. ” John huffs, shouldering his way inside the house and heading the direction Gaz did. Soap is quick on his heels. 

“Don’t run the water too hot! You could make it worse!” Soap fusses as they barrel into the bathroom. Gaz nods, huffing that he knows that already. 

“Coming through!” John warns before carefully dumping you into the lukewarm water. You gasp at the sudden flood of water over you, thrashing around before you seem to finally snap out of it. 

You pant heavily, eyes darting around as you try to figure out what’s going on, panic clear in your face. John kneels next to you, Gaz having backed up near the door where Soap stood watching. 

“Hey, hey, easy. Breathe, love. You’re alright,” He keeps his voice low and even, careful not to touch you just yet. “You’re safe.” 

Your wide eyes find him, scanning his face as your breath starts to slowly even out. 

“J-John?” You ask through chattering teeth. 

“Yeah, love, it’s just me.” He sighs, relieved. You’re coming back to yourself, finding your way back from your memories. 

“Wh-where…?” 

“Safe, I promise.”

You sniffle, then nod. You turn back forward and look at your hands, shaking hard in the bathwater. You blink several times, searching for the memory of how you even got here. John can tell by the way your eyebrows scrunch that you don’t find it. 

“Found you on the beach,” He says. “Halfway in the bloody ocean.” 

“Christ…” You hiss, rubbing your forehead. “I-I don’t…” 

“It’s alright, love, take your time. Why don’t you take some time and warm up more, yeah? The boys and I will give you some privacy, and you can borrow one of my shirts while we take care of your clothes. Sound good?”

“Y-yeah..” 

“Atta girl.” John places his hand on your head and smiles warmly. He gives you a few little pats before standing and shooing the others from the room, quietly closing the door behind them. It’s a few moments later that they hear the water drain and the shower start. 

“She wasn’t even wearing shoes,” Soap murmurs. 

“No she wasn’t.” John sighs.

-

John’s clothes are huge on you, his shirt hangs down to your mid thigh. You end up borrowing a pair of Kyle’s boxers as well, much to your embarrassment. They had dumped you in the bath completely clothed, so everything you had was soaked. Thankfully, the house they rented had a washing and drying unit, so you’d have your own clothes back soon enough. 

For now, you sit curled on the little couch, wrapped in a blanket with a steaming mug of tea warming your insides. You were still shaking a little, still horribly cold. You were probably going to get sick after your little trip. 

John sits next to you, keeping an eye on you as you drink your tea quietly. You have no idea what to say to him after everything that happened. No idea how to explain what happened to you. You don’t remember most of it, any memory of walking to the beach completely gone from your mind. The last thing you remember is Gary’s letter. His lie. 

Talk about a serious meltdown. 

How embarrassing.  

You sniffle, curling tighter into yourself. This wasn’t how you wanted to meet John again, wasn’t how you wanted anyone to see you. Only Simon has ever seen you get this bad before, and he’s the only one you never cared if he saw. 

“Feeling better?” John asks gently, cautious. 

“A bit,” You hum. 

“Glad to hear it. Gave me a bit of a scare, you know.” 

“Ah…sorry about that…” 

“Don’t apologize, love. Not your fault.” 

“So, uh,” Johnny speaks up, smiling at you with worried eyes. “You live nearby?”

“That depends, where the hell am I?” You ask. John chuckles a bit, telling you the address of the house you were in. You hum, thinking for a moment before nodding. “Somewhat nearby.” 

“Somewhat?” 

“I don’t think I could walk there, but I’m not far.” 

Johnny makes a soft ah sound, nodding his head in understanding. John’s hand rests on your shoulder, smiling. 

“We can take you home once your clothes are all dry. For now, just relax okay?” He says. 

“Oh-you don’t have to. I-I’ll call Gary and-” Wait, where was your phone? “Shit…” 

“Don’t worry about it right now.” John says, a little firmer this time. He didn’t want you leaving until he knew you’d be alright. 

“A-alright. Sorry for ruining your night.”

“Ahh, night was over anyway,” Kyle says, waving off your worry with a grin. “ But , if you wanna make up for it, why don’t you let us pick your brain a bit?” 

“Oh, sure I guess.” You tilt your head to the side, a little confused about what they might want to ask about other than your little Moment. 

“How long have you known Ghost?” He’s straight to the point. 

“Simon?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Ten years.” 

All three of them look at you in surprise, eyebrows all high on their foreheads. John leans back a little, his eyes solely on you. 

“Are you two…” Johnny pauses. “A thing? ” 

There’s something in his voice, mixed with his curiosity. Jealousy.  

“Definitely not. He’s more like my brother than anything else.” You assure him, catching how he physically relaxes, shoulders dropping a little in relief. “Why do you ask?” 

“Ah-well-you know-” Johnny fumbles, looking away from you before clearing his throat and looking back. “He just never says much about himself, so I was jus’ wondering.” 

“Ah huh…” A grin pulls at your lips. 

“How’d you two meet?” John saves Johnny from any further embarrassment. 

“He was a stray.” 

“A stray?” Kyle asks, tilting his head to the side. 

“Nana-my grandmother-she was the type of person to offer her home to people in times of need, like stray animals. Simon was one of those people.” You explain, heart warming and aching at the memory of your grandmother. 

“I’d love to hear that story,” John says, still watching you. 

“It’s not that exciting.” 

“Tell us anyway!” Johnny says, leaning forward a little. “Come on, Lt. doesn’t tell us anything about himself!” 

“Uh, he does that for a reason, Sergeant MacTavish.” You say slowly, unsure. 

“I know, but come on! Just the highlights, please. ” Johnny gives you the most dangerous puppy eyes you’ve ever seen. Damn he was good.  

You look over at John, still unsure. Simon had said that he’d worked with John for a while, that he liked and trusted him. If anyone would be able to soothe you about telling Simon’s secrets, it would be him. He smiles at you. 

“You don’t have to,” He says. “But Soap’s probably going to bother you about it for the rest of your life.” 

“Well…if you swear not to tell Simon, I’ll tell you.” 

“On my life , lass, I won’t say a word.” Johnny says, grinning ear to ear. Kyle and John both nod in agreement to your conditions, and you sigh. 

“Can I have more tea?” You ask John softly. 

“ ‘Course, love.” He says, standing and taking your empty mug. While he makes you a fresh cup, you snuggle further into the blanket, closing your eyes for a moment and thinking hard. You remembered meeting Simon easily, the memory still fresh despite its age.

When John returns, he sits a little closer to you, and all three of them give you their full attention, ready to hear your tale.

Chapter Text

It was raining. Pouring, really. Leave it to the Heavens to ruin a perfectly good shopping day. At least Nana was taking it in stride, as she usually did. She was sitting in the reclining chair, stitching back together a torn blanket she found in the closet of the house you were staying in. 

“I thought it was supposed to be sunny,” You huff, staring blankly out the window. Nana laughs and shakes her head. 

“There’s nothing wrong with a little rain, honey.” She says.

“Yeah sure, on a normal day. But we had plans! We can’t go out in this!” 

“Now, now. Sometimes things change, plans go awry. That’s just how the world is, sweetie. I know you don’t like it, but maybe it’s a sign.” 

“A sign for what?” 

“Who knows! There’s only one way to find out, and that’s to accept the cards you’ve been dealt and do what you can with them.” 

“That doesn’t make sense.” 

“One day it will.” 

You sigh again, looking out at the rainy Manchester streets. Nana had insisted that you come here instead of London, saying it would be a bigger adventure. You didn’t necessarily disagree, but right now you were aching for something, anything other than sitting in this rental home. You were supposed to be shopping, but Nana couldn’t go out in weather like this. She got sick too easily, it wouldn’t be good for her. 

“Why don’t you take the umbrella and go on a little walk?” Nana says, smiling warmly at you. You turn to her, frowning. 

“In the rain?” 

“Mhm.” 

“But-” 

“Find adventure in everything. Take a walk, explore! Search for somewhere we can go to together once the rain lets up.” 

“I could just use my phone for that.”

“That’s not as fun. Besides, I can’t focus with you sitting all depressed like that. Go on, shoo.” She waves you away, amusement glittering in her eyes. You heave out another sigh, knowing better than to argue with her, and drag yourself away from the window. You change from comfy clothes to a more public appropriate outfit and wrap yourself in a jacket. Nana wishes you luck, waving at you from her spot with a warm smile, and you head out into the rain.

You walk for a while, moping up and down the streets, looking for something interesting to do. You end up, surprisingly, in a graveyard of all places. Nana used to take you to places like this all the time when you were smaller, letting you wander the rows and reading all the headstones. You used to make up stories about the dead, who they were and what happened to them. It was calm, a quiet place, empty safe for you.

And him.  

You don’t see him at first, his dark clothes making him nothing but a blur against the heavy rains. But when you do, you can’t not see him. He’s kneeling in front of a grave, no umbrella, no jacket, nothing to protect him from the weather. He just sits there, completely still, shoulders slumped, head down. 

Everything in you screams to leave him alone, that someone mourning that deeply shouldn’t be bothered by some teenager. But your feet move against your mind, pulling you right to him. You stand behind him, unsure if you should say something or walk away again. Then he sniffles. It’s soft, almost inaudible, but it reaches you, reaches your heart. You only have one umbrella…but he needs it more than you do. 

You hold it over him, letting the cold rain soak you instead of him, shielding him from the downpour as best you can. He doesn’t react at first, then his head rises and turns, dark, haunted eyes finding you behind him. You don’t smile, you don’t do anything but look back. It’s silent between you as he tries to figure out what’s happening, and you try to stay firm in your spot. He was going to get sick if you didn’t help him. It’s you who speaks first. 

“I don’t think they want you to join them this soon.” 

He stares at you, jaw tight. Now that your mouth has opened, you can’t shut it. 

“I mean, you’ll totally die if you get any wetter. You know, colds used to kill people. The flu still does, every day. And that’s not even considering pneumonia.” 

He huffs, looking away from you. But you see it. You made him smile, just the littlest bit. 

“If anyone is going to get pneumonia, it’ll be you. Tiny fuckin’...” His first words to you. You squawk at him, a laugh bubbling out of your chest. 

“Oh please, I’m not that sma- holy shit. ” You stare at him as he stands, and you finally realize just how big he is. He sits at least 6’4” and is wider than the side of a building. All muscle. He takes the umbrella and tugs it closer to him, pulling you along with it as you can’t bring yourself to let go. 

“I don’t get sick.” He rumbles down at you, amused. 

“Bullshit.” 

He huffs again and you realize that it’s a laugh. He’s laughing at you. With you. You grin up at him, wide and friendly. He was older than you, too, though by how much you couldn’t quite tell. Five or six years? Maybe more? 

The two of you just stand together under the umbrella, looking at each other. You had no idea what to do now. Keep talking? Politely excuse yourself and go about your day? You didn’t really want to leave him, though. He’s got a faraway look in his eyes, almost like he’s not really looking at you , but at something else. Your hand on the umbrella shakes. He looks like you do sometimes. Lost. 

“Do you want to come home with me?” It falls out of you before you can stop it. His eyebrows shoot up, something akin to a smirk forming on his face. 

“I’m a bit old for you, love,” He says, teasing. 

“That’s not-I didn’t-” Your face must be redder than a tomato, cheeks burning with embarrassment. “I meant-you’re all wet, and it’s cold, and the house I’m staying in isn’t too terribly far. My Nana and I can-I mean-just come!” 

He chuckles at your frustration with yourself, at your inability to really get out what you were trying to say. But surprisingly, he nods. 

“Fine.”

He holds the umbrella while you make the trek back. You have to almost jog to keep up with his long strides. He moves with purpose, set on his path. People fumble to get out of the way. He knows these streets well, you barely have to give real directions, and soon enough you’re stumbling through the door, soaked and freezing. 

Nana was cooking. Whatever it was smelled heavenly, and you could tell that you weren’t the only one longing for that meal. Your stranger took deep, long breaths, taking in every bit of that little heaven. 

“Well, that was quite the long walk you took, I was starting to worry-oh!” Nana comes around the corner, smiling. She pauses at the sight of the giant man at your side, but she barely even blinks before she’s talking again. 

“You two must be awfully cold, come on, come in. Take your shoes off. I’ll find some towels and start the shower. Young man, I’m not sure we have clothes that will fit, but I’m sure I can figure something out for you. Come on, don’t dawdle!”

You giggle at his shock, kicking your shoes off. You give him a little nudge, and soon he’s very quickly following after you. You lead him further into the house, stumbling when Nana shoves every towel she could get her hands on in your arms, telling you to make sure that your new friend gets as dry as possible while she tries to find something for him to wear. 

You end up changing in your room, leaving your wet clothes by the washing and drying unit for later, and find him still standing in the middle of the living room, holding the towels you passed him. It makes you laugh. He looks like a wet cat. 

The first time you touch him is when you grab him by the wrist and drag him into the bathroom, sitting him on the tile and drying him off yourself. He grunts and grumbles, but he lets you take care of him. 

(“I don’t believe it. Not Lt. He doesn’t even let medics touch him half the time.” Johnny says. “Back then, he was easier to manage,” You reply with a shrug.)

You end up using the blow dryer on him, letting the warm air whisk away the water in his hair and on his skin. He has to walk around in just his boxers, as clothes for him are impossible to find in either of your or Nana’s bags. But he’s wrapped in a nice big blanket, to at least save some modicum of his modesty. Not that he really seems to care, more than content walking around as he was. 

Both you and his clothes are put in the wash, and you help Nana finish dinner while the man pokes around the little house. He mumbles about knowing who used to live here, that he didn’t realize they’d turned it into a vacation rental. 

“Been gone a while, I guess…” He says. 

“Gone where?” You ask, walking up to him with a plate of hot food in your hands. He takes the plate, but doesn’t answer. The metal of his necklace catches your eye. Dog tags. 

“Are you a soldier?” You try this question instead. He doesn’t answer this one either, just turning to eat the food he’s been gifted. You sigh, and drop into the chair next to him at the table. Resting your elbows on the table, you hold your chin in your hand and just look at him for a good while. 

He seems to prefer the quiet, not engaging in much of any conversation, but for some reason you can’t bring yourself to think him standoffish. He was just…quiet. Deep in constant thought. You actually found it comfortable, the longer you sat with him. He wasn’t yelling, or talking over you or Nana. He wasn’t cold. 

“What’s your name, anyway?” You ask. To no one’s surprise, he doesn’t answer, not right away. He takes a moment to consider the question and whether or not he wants to respond. 

“...Simon.” 

“Simon, what?” 

“...Riley…” 

“Simon Riley?” You say his name in full, smiling a little. He answered your question. You tell him your name in return. “It’s nice to meet you.” 

“Sure.” It makes you laugh a little, the expression he makes. Like he’s happy, but trying hard to hide it. 

He lingers through the rest of the evening, even after his clothes are clean and dry and returned to him. He helps clean up after dinner, washing dishes and wiping the table. When Nana asks him to stay for the night, as the rain never does let up, he hesitates, but agrees to set up on the sofa. He’s gone long before you wake up in the morning, but Nana tells you that she has a feeling you’d be seeing him again. 

“Just a hunch,” She says with that look that says she knows far more than she’s letting on. You think maybe she talked to him, got him to talk back.

You don’t think much of it. Nana collected stray people all the time, sometimes they came back, sometimes they didn’t. Besides, you were here on vacation, you didn’t live here. You honestly doubted he’d show back up. 

But he does. 

It’s months later, you’re back in your hometown, walking down the sidewalk with no destination in mind. He’s a figure far ahead of you, looking idly in the window of a little store. He’s got a mask on, a black balaclava with a skull detail on it. But you recognize the way he holds himself, the tightness in his shoulders. Most of all, you recognize the eyes. Dark, haunted, far away. 

You walk right up to him, unafraid despite how others seem to be wary, actively avoiding getting near. You stop at his side, tilting your body just enough to get a better look at what little bit of his face that shows through the mask. 

“Simon?” 

His eyes find yours, and he blinks. A bit surprised. Then he huffs, that little laugh he does. 

“Hey,” He says. You smile at him. 

“Wanna have dinner with me and Nana?” 

“Sure, love.” 

He never really leaves again after that, even when he inevitably returns to active duty, he finds his way back to the house. Back to you.

He becomes family, ingrained deep in your blood and bones. Nana calls you soulmates, but you have a feeling, even at eighteen years old, that you’re not his type. Especially with how his eyes linger on men longer than yours do sometimes.

(You catch how Johnny smiles a little at that, shifting in his seat. You think you may be right in assuming that he does, in fact, share in Simon’s affections.)

Chapter Text

Your skin is soft under his hands, and John has to remind himself to be mindful of exploration. You were asleep, and by no means consenting to him touching you any more than this. 

At some point in the evening, you'd curled into his side and passed out, exhausted from your stressful day. John had put an arm around you, his fingers running along your arm. You still trembled a little, but for the most part you were fine. They meant to take you home, but neither he nor the lads had it in them to wake you up right now. 

So he holds you against him, let's you rest while he considers what to do now. He had no idea if you had a roommate of some kind, or if anyone was looking for you. Surely Ghost was, right? John should call him, let him know where you are, since you'd apparently left your shoes and your phone behind. He answers on the second ring. 

"Price," Ghost says, already knowing who it was.

"Evening. Wanted to let you know I found your girl."

"...what d'you mean?" 

"Your little friend. The girl. I've got her." Price frowns, Ghost sounds genuinely confused. 

"Where…did you find her?"

"On the beach, standing in the water freezing her toes off." John says slowly, realization hitting him. "You're not here anymore are you?"

"No, sir. I finished what I needed to do ahead of schedule and came back early. She was in the water? In the middle of the night?"

"That's where I found her."

"Responsive?"

"Not until I got her into a warm bathtub."

"Fuck…fuck! Where the hell was Roach…shit…alright. I'll be there soon."

"She's safe where she is, I'll take her home in the morning-" 

"I need to be there." Ghost leaves no room for argument, hanging up the phone before John can say anything more. 

John sighs, letting his phone fall onto the couch cushions next to him. There was no stopping Ghost once he set his mind on something. He just hoped you didn't get too upset with him for making that call. 

You curl closer to him, the softest sigh falling from your pretty lips. The sight of you snuggled into him like this makes his heart race in his chest. You really were something…John truly didn't remember the last time anyone, especially someone so much younger than him, made him feel like this. Like a teenager fumbling over the girl. 

He wouldn't call it love at first sight, no he wasn't sure he loved you. But he did like you. He wanted to know you. Wanted to listen to your stories, hear what happened to you that gave you that stare that he'd seen on so many war-torn soldiers.

You're shaking harder, and something tells John it's not from the cold. Not with how your eyebrows furrow and your breath picks up. You were having a nightmare. 

You move even closer, burying yourself into him with a sad whimper. John doesn't even think, he pulls you into his lap, throwing your legs over his and holding you close. He gently massages your thigh with one hand, keeping you pressed into him with the other. You whimper again, tears forming behind closed eyelids. 

"Shh, baby, I've got you," John murmurs softly, pressing his lips into the top of your head.

"S-Si…" You sniffle sadly.

"He's on his way, love," He says, hating how his heart twists at you calling for another man, despite knowing that you and Ghost were nothing more than family. Jealousy was a fickle thing, and John knew he could be a jealous man. 

“Don’t…don’t go…” Your soft plea knocks the wind from his lungs. 

“I’ll be here…for as long as I can.” It’s a promise you likely don’t even truly hear, but he likes to believe they’re a balm to your pain nonetheless. You soften again in his arms, your trembling easing again. You still have tears sitting on your eyelashes, but John carefully swipes them away before standing, holding you close to his chest. 

He carries you towards the bedroom he had been using in the rental house and lays you in the bed, tucking the sheets around you firmly. You sprawl out almost instantly, taking up most of the mattress. 

Cute..  

-

“What the hell happened?!”

“Wh-what do you mean?” 

“Why the hell did I just get a call from Price saying he found my girl in the middle of the fucking ocean?!”

“Shit-I swear I-” 

“What! Happened!” 

“She found the letter! I wasn’t there to explain, I was getting dinner for us. By the time I got back, she was gone. I’ve been running around the city looking for her.” 

“I told you to tell her.”

“I was going to!”

“When, exactly?”

“I…”

A heavy, frustrated sigh.

“And you said I was the bad communicator.”

“At least I wasn’t going to leave her without a word at all. How many times have you done that, huh?”

“She understands.”

“She just says that! You don’t have to see her the morning after, you aren’t the one keeping her busy so she doesn’t dwell on it!”

“I’m also not the one who sent her spiraling into a meltdown so bad she nearly drowned herself.”

“Don’t put that on me.”

“It is on you, Gary.”

“She was already delicate from you leaving, it’s not just on me!”

Another sigh, Gary can imagine the headshake that follows. 

“I will be there in a few hours. She’s with Price, so at least I know she’s in good fucking hands.”

“She’s in good hands with me, too.”

“I’m doubting that right now, Sanderson.”

“That’s cold, Simon.”

“Wherever you are, go home. I’ll go straight to her and bring her back myself.”

“You’re good at coddling her for someone who constantly leaves her behind.”

“It’s not coddling. It’s knowing what she needs when she needs it.”

Chapter Text

The pillow smells clean, but there is something else…a hint of the person who’s been sleeping on it. It’s subtle, but when you bury your face deeper, you catch the soft, deep smell of smoke. Cigars. You roll your body so that you can be more comfortable. Or, well, you would. If there wasn’t a huge weight pressing down on you. 

You groan, squirming in the arms circling you, trying to escape the stifling heat given off from the other body nuzzled against you. When they don’t relent, you shove away, curling your feet behind you and using them to push hard against a firm stomach. 

Simon curses, rudely awoken by your thrashing, and releases you, sending you fumbling out of the unfamiliar bed. 

“Oww…” You whine, sitting up and rubbing your shoulder. Damn these beach houses and their hardwood floors. 

“Jesus fuck, ” Simon grumbles, sitting up, glaring down at you. “The hell was that for?” 

“You wouldn’t let go,” You pout, crawling back up onto the mattress to flop into that sweet smelling pillow again. 

“So you kick me?” 

“It worked didn’t it?” 

Simon huffs, one of his hands finding your head, ruffling your hair. You sigh softly at the feeling, nuzzling into the pillow. He huffs out another chuckle, very amused by your sleepy antics. He rakes his fingers through your hair, tugging out knots despite your mumbled complaints that it hurts, you asshole. All he does is hum in response; you get the feeling he’s waiting for something. 

Then, like a truck, it hits you. 

“What the fuck?!” 

“There it is.” 

-

Simon took a last minute, extremely late flight to get to you after John called him. He couldn’t leave you alone while you were struggling, guilt eating at him for leaving you at all before Gary could confess to his plans to move. The first thing he’d done upon arriving at the rental house was find you and lay in the bed so that he could keep you close. He suffers through plenty of teasing for it, but as long as he knows you’re okay, he’ll survive. 

You take a shower to give Simon time with his team, knowing he likely wants to make extra sure they know to keep quiet about you. You can imagine he’s probably threatening them while poor Johnny drools over him. It’s obvious now, seeing the two of them together, how much they like each other. 

Stares linger, gazes soften. Even Simon’s voice changes a little bit, the way it used to when he and Gary were together. It’s sweet, you think, it makes you root for them. 

Your clothes from last night had been washed and returned to you, though your lack of shoes was a little jarring. You’d never done that before, never run out of your home in such a haze you forgot your shoes. It makes your cheeks burn in embarrassment, though none of them say a word about it. They all had bad days, they all had PTSD attacks sometimes. 

John made you breakfast, some eggs, potatoes, and toast with a warm mug of tea. He sits on your other side, as Simon claims his usual spot to your left, and you idly listen as they all speak around you. 

“I’ll take her back home,” Simon says.

“Good. Anything else we can do?” John asks. 

“No, you’ve done enough.” 

“Glad to help.”

“She do that often?” Kyle pipes up. Simon levels him with a look of warning through his balaclava. 

“Not anymore.” He rumbles. Johnny lets out a soft oof , looking away when Simon’s glare finds him across the table. 

“How…come you left so early?” Johnny changes the subject.

“I finished my duties here quicker than expected. Had work left to do back on base.” Simon says, his voice softening that little bit again. You don’t think anyone else notices the change. 

“I wrapped that all up for you before we left,” John says with a sigh. 

“Found that out once I got there.” A grumble, grumpy and annoyed. It would have been nice to know that, you’re sure he’s thinking. 

“You should stay the rest of the time!” Johnny says, smiling. Simon takes a breath, starting to speak when you interrupt him,

“I think he should, too,” You say, leaning into him a little. “It will be good for him to take some time off.” 

“I tell him that often, ” John chuckles, his eyes warm on your form. You smile at him, those damned butterflies taking flight in your chest. 

You’d been in his bed last night, tucked safely away under his sheets, laying on his pillow. It made you wonder what his actual home smelled like. More like him, you think. A thicker cigar smell, sweet and spicy all at once. He hadn’t slept with you, instead respectfully sleeping on the couch, but you honestly wish he had. 

Simon would have had a cow, but at least you would have found out what it feels like to be wrapped in his arms, curled into his firm chest. Would he make you feel as safe as Simon does? Would he give off that same air of protection that your oldest friend does?

The very thought has your face burning, your eyes focusing hard on your half-eaten breakfast. 

Simon wouldn’t allow it. He’s told you time and time again that he didn’t want you with someone in the military. He didn’t want you to deal with the extra stress of wondering where your lover was and if they were alive on top of having those same worries about him. Plus, John was his Captain, so any chance with him is likely to be squashed the moment Simon gets the slightest wind of it. 

You had to admit it though, you liked him. He was friendly, warm and inviting. He made you laugh, and his touch set your skin on fire in the best possible way. He smelled amazing, and he looked at you like you were the only person in the room. In all honestly, it was probably because he was just being nice, and you were just desperate for the attention. 

But you liked to imagine that maybe, just maybe, he liked you, too. Especially as, when you and Simon leave, John takes your hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. 

“We’ll be here all week, love. You need anything, come right back.” He murmurs before pressing his lips to your knuckles in the softest, quickest of kisses. You feel the weight of his lips the whole way back to your apartment. 

-

Your neighbors are going to complain, hell they might even call the cops with how these two yell at each other. 

Gary and Simon had never had a blowout fight like this, but it all reminded you of the arguments your parents had, the ones that usually led your father to put bruises on your body. You know neither of these men would hurt you, but your bones remembered the feeling, your skin having long memorized the soreness from all those years ago.

“When I told you to tell her, I meant as soon as fucking possible , Gary!” Simon yells. 

“What did you think I was going to do?!” Gary snaps back. “Tell her the night before I leave? No, that’s more a you thing!” 

“Guys, please. It’s not worth it.” You stand between them, the only thing keeping fists from flying. 

“It is worth it. You never should have been put in a position where you end up like that.” Simon says. 

“It’s not all Gary’s fault. I was the nosy one who went through his mail while I was cleaning. I sort of did it to myself.” You say, your more rational mind keeping you steady. 

“He should have told you, you shouldn’t have had to find out on your own in the first place.”

“You’re right, but arguing like this isn’t going to fix anything. Please, I can’t deal with the yelling right now, so can we please just…just talk? Like normal people?” You plead with both of them. 

Simon sighs, clearly not wanting to back down just yet. But he bends to your request, your plea, as does Gary. Both men grumble, looking away from each other. You send both of them to different rooms to calm down while you change out of your clothes from last night, wanting to put a little more separation from your meltdown. 

The three of you reconvene after a while, sitting at the kitchen table with some beers and the takeout from last night reheated and ready to eat. You wanted this to feel like a real discussion, instead of a fight waiting to start again. It works for the most part, the three of you managing to have casual conversation before the heavy stuff drops. 

You find out that Gary was only weeks from moving to his new base, that his partner was the one who turned him on to the PMC he joined, being a member of it himself. Gary admits that he’s missed the work, missed the action. His excuse for not telling you was that he’d been waiting for the right time, which never really came. Simon holds your hand through the whole thing, soothing your shakes when they start up. Both of them apologize, Simon for leaving too soon, and Gary for not talking to you when he should have. But it does little to make you feel better. 

Simon acting out was normal, you knew why he did what he did. But Gary? Gary had never done anything like this before, you just didn’t understand. It didn’t sit right with you, not at all.

“Gary,” You say softly. “Are you tired of me?” 

It’s a childish question, but you have to know. 

“What? No! No no, honey, not at all,” He leans towards you, placing a hand on your shoulder. “You’re just as important to me today as you were four years ago. I know this was a dick move, that I really fucked up, but it’s not because of you.” 

You frown at him, not believing a single word he says. How could you right now? 

“Alright,” You sigh, looking away from him. Gary smiles at you, relieved. 

“Then it’s all settled, yeah? We’re good?” 

“Yeah, sure.” 

Simon squeezes your hand, hearing your lie far clearer than the other man does. You excuse yourself from the table, telling them that you want to take a nap. You had a long night, your head was throbbing and your heart ached. 

Simon tells you he’s going to leave, head back to the house where the rest of his team was, and to call him when you wake up.

Chapter Text

“So,” Johnny starts, grinning a little too widely, “How’d you meet her?” 

Simon raises an eyebrow, frowning deeply under his mask. He knew they’d be curious, that they’d have questions and concerns, he expected that. But Johnny looks like the cat who ate the bloody canary, looking at him like that. 

“Happenstance,” Is his response. Johnny hums, nodding his head. 

“How long ago?” 

“A while.”

“I told you he wouldn’t tell us anything,” Gaz says from across the back porch.

“Oh come on Lt.! Some girl magically shows up that not only knows you, calls you by name, and touches you all over without a single care in the world, but who also apparently you sleep with like a teddy bear!” Johnny is standing close, too close yet not close enough. Simon can’t decide if he wants to shove him away or bury himself in him. 

“There’s nothing to know.” He says, looking out at the beach, away from Johnny’s inquiring eyes. 

“I’ve some questions about her, too,” Price says. Simon’s eyebrow twitches, his gaze finding his Captain instantly. 

“No.” He saw how Price looked at you this morning, like you were a meal he wanted to devour. It took everything he had not to rip you from the house, away from the other man. Would Price take care of you? Yes, most likely. Was Simon going to risk that? Fuck no.  

Price’s eyebrows raise at Simon’s harsh tone, arms crossing almost defensively.

“I’m only curious as to your relationship to her,” Price says slowly, carefully. “If something happens to you, is she who I deliver your affects to?” 

“She’s…yes. You would give my things to her.” Simon gives, just a little, but he sees how that tiny sliver has all three of them grasping for more. 

“So she’s family?” 

“A girlfriend?” 

“Wife?” 

“Family,” Simon sighs. “Closest thing I have.” 

“So she’s not your girl?” Johnny asks, his arm pressing into Simon’s. 

“She’s my girl, but not like that.” 

“So what is she like?” 

“Already said family. ” 

“Ah huh, and how’d you meet again?” Johnny wasn’t slick, not by a long shot, but Simon knew him well enough to know he wasn’t going to give up on this. It was best he just bite the damn bullet and get this over with. 

“ Christ, fine,” He huffs. “If it’ll make you shut the hell up, I’ll tell you.”

-

It was a rainy day. Fitting, Simon thought, considering what he was doing today. Visiting his family. Their graves. He’d been sent home by his superior at the time, the man demanding he take a break and save himself some mental fatigue. 

Simon thought it was bullshit, but orders were orders. 

He left his umbrella at the hotel, caring little for the shit weather. He didn’t get sick easily, a little water wasn’t going to kill him. He wasn’t going to be long anyway. He’d just say hello, then go straight back to the hotel he had no more plans of leaving after this. 

That’s what he was planning on, anyway. The reality of the situation is, he arrived at the graveyard and lost track of all time, just talking to the dead. He has no idea how long he was there before you arrived at his back. All he knows is one minute he’s being rained on, the next he’s not. 

He turns his head to find you looking very much like a cat who’d been dumped in the bathtub, holding your umbrella over his body. He just looks at you for a while, and you look back, getting wetter by the second. But when you speak, you knock all the air from his lungs. 

“I don’t think they want you to join them this soon.” 

He’s completely taken aback, shocked, angry, and warm all at the same time. You’d spoken with an emotion he could never place, like you knew so much more than you should. You were so young (then again, so was he). But his gaze makes you nervous, and you continue to babble about illnesses and his impending death should he stay out in the rain. It makes him laugh. You make him laugh. He doesn’t remember the last time someone made him laugh. 

(Tommy. It was Tommy. He told a shit army joke about goldfish, his wife groaned while Simon laughed like an idiot.)

“If anyone is getting pneumonia, it’s you, tiny fuckin thing,” He can’t help the words that fall from him as he stands, grabbing the umbrella as he does. Your eyes follow him, mouth gaping at just how tall he was. Your expression makes him laugh again. It’s cute, he thinks. If only you were his type, maybe he’d entertain something. 

You invite him home with you, flushing the brightest red he’s ever seen when he teases you. He should have probably said no, should have given you back your umbrella and sent you on your way. But he doesn’t. He goes. 

The house you’re staying in is on the same street one of his friends from primary school used to live. It’s right next door, actually. Something about that is funny, though Simon isn’t sure why. 

It smells like heaven. Chicken and roasted potatoes. 

(His mother was teaching Tommy’s wife to make something like that before-)

Your grandmother rounds the corner, pausing for barely a breath before she’s ushering you and him inside. She smiles at Simon like she’s known him forever, like he was a friend visiting after a long time away. It feeds that warmth you give him, stokes it into a low fire that he wants to keep forever. He’s been cold ever since-

“Here, take these.” You shove towels in his arms. “I’ll be right back.” 

He’s left standing there, flabbergasted. You really just brought him into your house-rented or not-threw towels at him and vanished while your grandmother went back to cooking your meal. He’s frozen to his spot, unsure of what to do. Does he use the towels to clean the water that was dragged in? What exactly was he meant to-

You’re giggling at him. He hadn’t even heard you return to the room. He looks at you, hair still wet but your clothes had been changed, and finds you smiling at him endearingly. He felt a little bit like a child when you looked at him like that, but not in a bad way. You sigh softly before walking up to him and taking his hand. Your fingers are warm (It’s the only time you’ve ever been warmer than him). 

He lets you lead him into the small bathroom, huffing a little when you put your hands on his shoulders and push him onto the ground. He could have easily resisted, could have just stood there while you struggled, but his knees buckle almost instantly when you press down. He sits cross legged on the tile and just sits there while you drop one of the towels over his head and start rubbing it into his hair. 

It feels amazing.

He should probably be embarrassed at how much he likes being taken care of like this. Your touch is gentle as you rub the towel over him, standing over him like a mother would. He wonders if you know how good you are, treating him like this. You use the hair dryer on him, too, keeping it on a low setting. You run your hands through his hair as you dry it for him, wiping droplets of water from his skin occasionally. 

He wonders, despite your age, if maybe you have children already. Teenage parents weren’t uncommon, he wouldn’t judge. 

When he’s dry enough for you, he’s pulled back into the front room where your grandmother sadly reports that she couldn’t find anything suitable for him to wear while she dries his clothes. He tries to say that it’s fine, that he doesn’t mind being wet, but she gives him the same argument you had. 

“You could get sick, dear. I found a nice big blanket we could wrap you in for modesty’s sake, but I’m afraid I just can’t let you walk around like that.” Simon sees where you get it. You end up helping him out of his sweater, the wet fabric sticking to him in a frustrating way. 

He’s not embarrassed to walk around like this. He’s a soldier, plenty of people had seen him in far less than his underwear. He does, however, feel your embarrassment at being in the same vicinity as him while he’s like this. It makes him laugh. He likes how easily you can do that to him. For your sake, he pokes around the house on his own, thinking to himself. 

“Gone where?” You ask suddenly. It makes him jump a little, though he’s not sure you notice. Had you read his mind? Or had he accidentally said something out loud? 

He doesn’t answer your question, or your next one regarding his status as a soldier. Not because he doesn’t trust you, but because frighteningly, he does. He’s not sure what to do, what to say. So he just keeps his mouth shut. 

Conversation happens around him, you and your grandmother chat about what you want to do the rest of your vacation. He wants to ask why you picked here of all places to visit, but he finds himself unable to really contribute at all to any of the talks. Neither you nor your grandmother make him feel bad for it, or unwanted in any way. He feels…part of the group, despite his silence. Accepted despite being a stranger. 

“What’s your name, anyway?” You ask him, watching his face with tired eyes. (You’re always tired, he learns later). 

“...Simon.” His name feels unfamiliar on his lips. He’d started going by Ghost recently. 

“Simon, what?” You tilt your head a little. He struggles especially hard with this, but he forces it out.

“...Riley…” He sees how your grandmother’s face changes, just a little. He thinks maybe she knows about his family. It wouldn’t surprise him, their murder was quite the news story. 

You tell him your name, and he swears to himself to memorize it, to never forget the girl who showed him so much kindness when he didn’t realize he needed it. You smile when he repeats it back to you. 

He stays through the night, even when his clothes are cleaned, dried, and returned to him. He helps your grandmother clean up dinner and watches TV with the two of you. You don’t sit nearly as close to him as you do now, giving him space.

(“Hard to believe, considering you literally slept in the same bed,” Gaz teases him. “That’s a different story,” Is all Simon says back.) 

He’s offered the room you’re staying in, but he refuses. He should really go back to the hotel, should leave before he starts to get attached. But your grandmother hands him a pillow, and tells him he can stay on the couch if he wants. 

He does. 

When the early morning sun hits the windows, he’s up and carefully tidying the space he borrowed. He folds the blanket and leaves it and the pillow on the couch. He’s tying his boots in the front foyer when your grandmother approaches him. 

He thanks her for her hospitality, wishes her the best during the rest of their stay, and tries to make a quick exit. But she stops him with words alone, just like you could. 

“You’re welcome to come back if you need to,” She says softly. 

“Thank you, ma’am.” He responds, unable to look at her. She reaches for him, gently laying her hand on his upper arm.

“And if you’re ever on our side of the pond, come have dinner.” She says. 

“...Sure.”

“You’re always welcome in our home, Simon. We don’t mind strays.” 

He all but runs from her after that, unsure of how to respond. But he doesn’t think it hurts her feelings, not with how she waves at him as he speed walks down the sidewalk. He feels a little bad for not saying goodbye to you, but he’s sure you’ll survive.

-

“That’s it.” 

“That’s it?” 

“That’s it.” 

“What about after that? You obviously met again, otherwise she wouldn’t be around.” 

Simon sighs hard through his nose, his jaw clenched tight at Johnny’s nosiness. He wonders if he kissed him, if he’d shut up faster. 

“Happened to be in town on military business. Ran into her while I was waiting to hear from my informant. After that, she just stuck around.” He says. 

The truth of the matter was that he was the one who stuck around, that he was the one who kept coming back to you. But he’s not sure telling Johnny that would be a good idea, not when he initially thought you and he were lovers. He didn’t want him to misunderstand. 

“Found family’s the best kind,” Price hums. “You two are lucky to have each other.” 

Simon just nods, looking back at the beach once again. Price moves to stand closer to his other side, and something about that small motion has his nerves on edge. 

“You’ll need to update some things when we get back,” Price starts. “Otherwise no one is going to know what to do in case something happens.” 

“...I will.” Simon didn’t want to, he wanted to keep your name off everything he could. But technically, Price was right.

“Good.” His Captain nods, pleased by his response. 

“Is she single?” It’s Gaz who asks. 

“Not to you, she’s not.” Simon says. 

“What’s that mean?” 

“It means don’t even think about it. ” He says it to Gaz, but his eyes are on Price, catching the little smirk the other man tries to hide.

Chapter Text

You seriously had it made right now. 

Sunny day, perfect tide, few tourists, and a group of handsome men surrounding you? One of which has set up a portable grill and started cooking for you? Talk about a perfect day. 

It hadn't started that way, with more passive aggressive arguments between Simon and Gary and a killer headache. But you'd packed for the beach, and they followed like always. Simon carried the chairs and bag filled with towels and spare clothes, Gary had the umbrella and cooler of drinks, and you…you didn't have to carry anything but yourself. You'd gone to your favorite spot and found it claimed. By the 141.

But thankfully, John is a merciful man, and was happy to let you all set up with them.

The beach house they were staying in came with a portable grill that they'd drug out and carried all the way, and it was already filled with different delicious smelling meats and vegetables. John manned it, deliciously shirtless, and smiled at you every time he caught you staring from over your book. 

You couldn't help it. It should be illegal to be that hot. His skin was suntanned from all the time spent under the sun, he was perfectly muscled with that little bit of protective fat around his soft stomach, and dark, coarse chest hair that was well maintained and trailed all the way down his stomach, vanishing under the waistline of his swim shorts. 

He was littered with scars, bullet wounds and blade slashes. He looked a bit like Simon in that way, but with his own charm. You were surprised to find out he didn't have tattoos, even Kyle had a few on his arms and back. But John was completely bare of any ink. 

He flashes you another smile when he spots you eyeing him again. You flush and look back at your book.

You're hot, but taking your shirt off and laying in your bikini top was a total no-go right now. John and the others may have some pride in their scars, but you weren't sure you wanted to explain yours. So you sat under the umbrella in your bikini bottoms, t-shirt and sunhat, politely refusing every request to go into the ocean. 

"Hungry?" John's voice is like velvet in your ear. You peek up at him from the pages of your book with a sweet smile. 

"Getting there," You hum. "Smells amazing, Captain."

"I told you to just call me John, love," He says that, but you caught how the word makes his pupils dilate, pleased with the sound of it coming from your lips. 

"I know," You say, then turn back to your book without further explanation. He chuckles, the sound low in his chest, and you grin like a cat behind your book. 

You had been subtly flirting with him since you all came together, and he'd been flirting back. Or at the very least, entertaining you. 

You seriously doubted you were his type. 

He seemed the kind of man who liked powerful women. Women who could stand toe to toe with him, who could fight with him on the field and hold her ground in everything. Women who were closer to his age. 

You were nothing close to that. You were damaged, needy and constantly seeking affection and attention. You drank too much, ate too little, and relied on a man more fucked up than you were to keep you sane. You were tough, sure, but barfights were different than gunfights. All you really had was that you were smart, quick, and quiet. That was how you got into a military base unseen after all. 

You weren't powerful, you weren't even strong. John wouldn't like you for real, there was simply no way. And you didn't blame him one bit. 

Most days you didn't like you. 

-

The water feels nice on your overheated skin. You’d managed to sneak out here while the boys were all busy, either managing the food or running around in the sand. Johnny even found a shovel and has been digging himself a hole while Simon oversees. 

You keep your shirt in your hands, held up to your chest to keep it from getting too wet. The tide washes around your hips, cooling you down after suffering in the heat for so long. It was probably silly, but the ocean always made you feel calm, sometimes even more so than when Simon was around. There was just something about the salty breeze, and steady waters that made you feel quiet. 

Usually, you’d be much farther out, monitored by Simon, naturally, just letting the waves bat you around and diving for seashells. But you had new eyes on you now, new eyes who’d never seen the ugly scar on your chest, sitting in the soft spot between your shoulder and your collarbone. A knife had been there once, shoved into you and twisted. You’d healed well, considering how deep and large the gash was, but the scar was still…unsightly. You thought so, anyway. 

Simon hated it too, since he was the one that caused it. 

It was the one thing that really kept you from physical intimacy with other men. The very idea that you may have to explain that your best friend tried to kill you in a PTSD induced haze made you nauseous. You’d never tell Simon that, he felt guilty about it enough as it was, you’re sure that if you told him that it was keeping you from seeking out a partner, he’d really hate himself.

Simon was protective of you, but he knew you wanted to find someone special. He’d never purposefully kill your chances with someone, unless they didn’t meet his standards, of course. You knew he didn’t want you with men in the military, but you’re almost positive that’s the kind of man you want. 

Your mind wanders to the group behind you, farther up in dry sands. To John, his crisp blue eyes and aura of authority. You were so taken by him, by his smile and his voice. You wanted to know more about him, where he was from, the things he liked, you wanted it all. You wanted his attention, his affection, his time. 

Always so needy.

Your mother’s voice creeps into your mind, making you frown at the waves. You were needy, but she and your father were the reason for that. They never gave you the time of day unless they wanted something from you, even when you were a child. Your father either hit or isolated you, your mother treated you like an accessory. 

Nana was the first person to really show you love and affection, and now that she’s gone all you have is Simon. You struggled with relationships, with making friends. You always got too attached too quickly, and took them leaving you too hard. Add that to your fear of change and constant need for things to remain as they are, and you were a nightmare to be with. 

John didn’t need to be weighed down by someone like you, he was probably only just entertaining you for now. But as soon as he leaves, you’ll be a memory, nothing more. He’ll find a woman who suits his tastes much better. As he should, you think. A man like him deserves someone who will make him happy, who will be there for him whenever he comes home from war and take care of him. Someone who won’t constantly need him to take care of her.  

A pair of arms wrap around your middle and lifts you off your feet. You screech and wriggle, turning your head to see Simon looking at you, unamused. 

“Been callin’ your name.” He says quietly. “Food’s ready.” 

“Oh,” You breathe. He lowers you back down and waits for you to pull your shirt back over your head before leading you back up to where the others waited. You drop into your chair with a sigh, grabbing your hat off the towel under it and dusting the sand from it as best you can before plopping it back onto your head. 

“What’dyou want?” Simon asks, gesturing towards the grill. 

“Anything’s fine. I’m starving. ” You say with a sigh. Simon huffs, shaking his head at you before grabbing a plate and loading it with a little bit of everything. He hands it to you along with a beer, then goes back to get himself something to eat. 

The group sits together, eating and chatting. The food is so good, it’s not fair. How can a man cook this well? John was either taught really well, or was naturally skilled. Either way, you felt especially blessed with every bite. 

“What do you think?” John asks, standing over you. He has to bend a bit to keep from knocking his head into the umbrella. The image makes you smile. 

“Delicious,” You hum. “Thank you for cooking for us today.” 

“Ah, I’m more than happy to, love. Glad you liked it.” He says, giving you a smile of his own. You like how it makes the corners of his eyes crinkle a little bit. 

“I loved it,” You correct him with a bat of your eyelashes. His lips twitch at the little movement, a low hum rumbling in his chest. 

“Then I’ll have to do it for you again soon,” He says, voice low, just for you to hear. The way he speaks those words has the air rushing from your lungs and your thighs pressing tight together. He knew what he was doing, there was no doubt about that. You can feel the weight of Simon’s eyes as he watches the interaction, but you ignore him, as does John. The two of you just focus on each other.

“I look forward to it, Captain. ”

Chapter Text

John didn’t consider himself an especially good man, not by a long shot. But the way he’s been thinking about you all day should be downright illegal.  

You’re so fucking pretty in your little swimsuit bottoms and tight t-shirt, and every time he catches your eyes on him has his mind swimming with things he’d like to do to you. He shouldn’t think about you like this, not after taking care of you and receiving the very clear threat from Simon to stay away. But God, the things you do to him without even realizing it. 

When you slipped away to stand in the ocean by yourself, all he could think of was that he was glad he had to watch the food. Otherwise he’s sure he would have followed you, put his hands on you, ran his fingertips across your soft skin.

He knows you’re soft from the last time the two of you met. His arms remember your weight from when he held you in his lap. But he wants to feel it again, feel it more. He wants to touch your stomach, press his fingers into every rib. He wants to hold his palm in the middle of your chest and feel you breathe under him.

Whatever spell you had on him was strong, and John was more than happy to bask in it. 

It’s been a long time since John felt like this about another person, especially a woman. He liked the way you lit him up from the inside out, how you made him feel like he was constantly fumbling over himself, desperate to keep your eyes on him. It made him feel human, it reminded him that he was, in fact, a man , and not a machine made just for war and violence. He liked that he could be soft, that you required it, lest he hurt you. He couldn’t hold you too tightly, couldn’t squeeze. You were delicate, a piece of perfect art.

He wanted to know your trauma, the thing that kept that shirt on your body despite how hot you so clearly were. He wanted to know what you’d been hiding from them, from him, under the fabric. You’d taken it off when you went into the ocean, when you were far away. Simon clearly knows what it is, being the one to fetch you before anyone else had the chance to move. He wanted to know what gave you nightmares, what had you begging people not to leave. He wanted to hold your fears and bury them for you.

Then you called him Captain. Twice.

Thank God for public indecency laws. If they didn’t exist, John would have taken you right there in the sand, regardless of who saw. The word had little meaning to him, it was just his rank, a heavy weight on his shoulders. But when you said it, it transformed into something else entirely. He couldn’t explain it, but he thinks he might like to be called Captain by you more often.

You stayed mostly under the umbrella for the rest of the day, reading or playing on your phone. John stayed close to you, catching you in more than one small conversation. Innocent conversation. Simon kept an eye on you, watching, guarding, as Johnny dug his ridiculous hole and chattered on. Roach and Gaz had found themselves some waveboards and were challenging each other to who can ride the waves the longest. That left you completely alone in the sand, so of course John stayed by you. It was only natural that he looked after his friends. 

Your occasional touches were just a wonderful little bonus. 

You talked with your hands, and every now and then those devious fingers would find his arm or his thigh. They were barely there a few seconds, but every little touch left their mark. He scooted a little closer to you every time, whether he meant to or not. His body simply moved towards you on its own, sucked in by your charm, and he did nothing to stop it. 

The cold shower he took once he and the lads returned to the beach house did little to calm his blood. All he could think about as he scrubbed sand from his skin was you. The image of you in those tight bottoms, your ass just there for anyone to see, it drove him mad. If he had less self control, he would have dragged you somewhere quiet, laid his claim. 

He can imagine how your ass would feel in his hands, soft under his calloused fingers. You’d whine, he’s sure of it. A sweet, soft noise that would just push him on further. You’d cling to him with those pretty little hands, your nails digging into him as he marks your body as his. 

God , how your lips would feel against his, how they’d feel wrapped around his fingers, his cock. His fingers dug into your hair, nails scratching your scalp, he’d tug on the strands, and you’d make more pretty sounds for him. His hand was a poor substitute to how he’s certain your mouth would feel. Soft and warm. He’d fuck your mouth carefully, mindful of your delicacy. He’d only give you what you could take, but even then it would be perfect. You would be perfect. Fuck, you are perfect. 

Your pussy would squeeze him when he pushed inside you. It would hurt a little, he was by no means a small man, but you’d take it all, every inch. He’d hold you carefully, and fuck you deeply. He’d kiss you to keep you quiet, swallow every moan he’d pull from you. You’d wrap those perfect legs around him, cling to his neck with those lovely little hands, and give him every part of you. He’d fuck you over and over and over, never satisfied, never satiated.

He watches a bit grimly as his cum washes down the drain, hand still wrapped around himself. 

Simon was going to kill him . 

-

He was insane, that was it. That had to be it. He’s finally cracked after years at war, witnessing and causing nothing but death and violence. There was no way a sane man would look at you like this. 

You were wearing jeans that danced on the precipice of being too tight, the material hugging your body perfectly, and a nice, modest black turtleneck. It got colder than one would expect when the sun went down. You looked lovely, just lovely. And all he could think about was ripping it all from you in the restaurant bathroom and bending you over the sink. 

Completely mad.  

You sat between Simon and Roach, guarded by your friends, and thank God for that. John felt like an animal, like a demon looking at you like nothing more than a body to fuck. The only thing that soothed him was that he knew he wanted more from you than just that. If only his body and his filthy brain could get the memo.

He was too old to be acting like this. He was an adult, and had been for some time now, his teenage debauchery long behind him. But you pulled that back out of him, sent him spiraling back into the years when he was still learning his body, and had him thinking about how he desperately wanted to learn yours. 

Soap was to blame for this, he’d been the one to invite you all over, asking if you wanted to continue hanging out together. You’d agreed with a big smile, interrupting Simon before he even had the chance to say no. So after they each cleaned up and changed, they went to the restaurant of your choosing and waited. 

John had not been prepared for you to arrive looking so fucking cute. Innocent and modest and dangerous. He very nearly had to step outside when he saw you walking towards them, hips swaying back and forth, smiling while Simon and Roach walk behind you. 

You drank whatever you were given, be it beer or hard liquor, and took Scotch like a bloody champion. He should be concerned with how much alcohol you can put away, but he finds himself fascinated by the way your lipstick stains every glass, marking it as yours even when you drink Simon's alcohol for him. 

You're a scavenge eater, picking food from other plates as you please, smiling all pretty when you get caught. He noticed it at the beach too, how you push yourself into people's space, swiping food even when your own plate is full. He realizes, watching you giggle after being swatted away by Gaz, that you don't care about the food. 

You want the attention. You want people to look at you, talk to you, play your little games. 

He could give you all the attention you wanted.  

He'd smother you with it, texts and calls, gifts, touches, whatever you wanted, whatever you needed, he'd give it to you if it meant you drowned him just the same. 

You smile at him, eyes glittering as you pluck a chip from his plate and stick it in your mouth and John thinks he needs another shower. 

-

"He's in love with you."

"No he's not."

"He so is. Did you see how he looked at you at dinner? Pure infatuation."

"You're seeing things."

You laugh, patting Simon on the back. 

"All I'm seeing, my friend, is a man who'd kill for a date with you, and I swear, if you don’t go for it, you’ll regret it forever."

“I can live with that.”

“Simon Riley!”

Chapter Text

Simon wanted to kill you, that much was painfully obvious with how he glares daggers at you the whole drive. You’d waited to tell him exactly what was happening until you were already behind the wheel, insisting you drive instead of him. The reason for that was clear, if he’d driven, he’d have turned around and gone straight back to the apartment. But you weren’t letting him back out of this, not while you still had the chance to see him have a nice evening with the person he likes.

Simon and Johnny were going on a date tonight. You and Kyle set it all up, you’d be dropping Simon off at a nice restaurant farther in town where Johnny would be waiting for him, abandoned there by chance by Kyle. Both of you knew that neither man would do anything about their feelings without a push, so you decided to give a good shove.

You pull up to the curb and put the car in park, turning to face your friend with an encouraging smile. He just glowers at you from behind his balaclava.

“It’s going to be a great time.”

“This is a mistake.”

“It’s not a mistake, Si. You like him, he totally likes you. Everything is going to be fine!”

“He’s my sergeant. If this goes badly-”

“It’s not going to go badly! Just trust me, okay? Now get in there, he’s waiting!”

Simon blows out a string of curses and climbs out of the car, slamming the door behind him. You roll the window down, leaning across the seat with a big grin.

“I’ll be at the beach house with Kyle and John! We’re rooting for you!”

He flips you the bird and stalks into the restaurant. You giggle, watching through the window as he maneuvers through the crowd to find Johnny, who gives him a surprised look, then grins wider than any man should be able to. Satisfied with what you’ve seen, you roll the passenger window back up, and put the car back into drive.

You had plans to wait up for them with the guys back at the house while Gary was out with his own partner, who he still hasn’t introduced you to. You think he might be waiting until Simon leaves. It doesn’t sit right with you, but there’s only so much you can do about it. For now, you decide to focus on which movie you want to watch with Kyle and John.

-

“Kyle’s not back?”
“ ‘fraid not. He texted, said he was having a few at a bar along the way. He didn’t tell you?”

“He most certainly did not.”

“Hmm…” John rests his hands on his hips. He was the only person in the house when you arrived, which made you both nervous and excited all at once. It was the first time the two of you had been alone.

“I guess…it’s just us for a while, then.” You smile politely at him.

“Guess so.” He hums, smiling back at you. “Oh well. You were promised a movie, yeah? Nothin’ stopping us from watching it without ‘im.”

“That’s true.”

John chuckles at you a bit and gestures for you to come further in and make yourself comfortable. You plop onto the couch, pulling your feet up and curling nice and comfortable into the cushions. John sits on the other side of the couch with a sigh, leaving space between you. Respectable, but you sort of wished he’d sat closer.

You get back up to grab a blanket while the two of you discuss options; John fetches some popcorn and beer as well, sitting it on the little coffee table, then flicks off the lights. You settle on an action movie, an older one you’d seen before with Simon, and the two of you sit back onto the couch, that space still between you.

It had been a while since you saw this movie, at least six or so years, but it was good. Neither of you say much as the scenes flash across the TV screen, an off comment about the graphics here and there. There is a tension in the air, radiating off him like heat from the sun. You wanted to ask if he was alright, but your mouth refused, tongue freezing before you can form the words.

The movie lulls, as many do, in a moment between the lead and his love interest. The two characters argue over whether what they’re doing is right. The woman is pacing back and forth, throwing her hands around as she yells. The man watches, and you see how his expression changes from angry to something else. Wanting. You know what’s coming next, yet you’re completely taken by the movements. The man steps forward and grabs her by the waist, pulling her into his chest. His words to her are inconsequential, all you focus on is the passion when he kisses her.

It was all fake, you were smart enough to know that, but still it struck you as amazing. You’d never been kissed like that, with that much pure passionate force. You’d never had a man lay you out on his bed and smother you with himself, never had a man really fuck you. It was always a means to an end, a way for your partner to find pleasure while you were left mostly unsatisfied.

But the scene playing on the screen, censored of course for more family friendly viewing, was it. That was what you wanted. You wanted a man to just scoop you up and carry you away, to promise himself to you while ravaging your body. You wanted to be claimed, kept.

Your eyes flick to John and find his gaze already on you, watching you from the corner of his eye. Something about that look makes those stupid butterflies flitter in your stomach, your face flushing red in the dim light.

John could do something like that.

He had authority and power, strength and determination. A man like him could have whatever, whoever he wanted. He could grab the girl by her waist and demand her affection. The very thought of him doing such a thing to you had your thighs clenching together, your body searching for some kind of release to the arousal building in you.

“You alright, love?” His voice makes you shiver. He turns his head to look at you fully, eyes not so subtly looking you up and down as you sit curled on the other side of the couch. You swallow hard, nodding at his question.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine,” You breathe, silently cursing yourself for fumbling over your words. John hums, the sound deep in his chest, sending more waves of arousal to flood your senses.

This was ridiculous, you couldn’t be thinking about John like this. He wasn’t meant for you. He was meant for a strong woman, independent and brave. Not some girl who can’t even sleep properly. But oh how you wanted him because he was strong. Dependable. Devilishly handsome, and so so close-

When had he gotten so close? Better yet, when had you gotten so close?

The two of you had moved at some point, that space between you practically gone now. He throws his arm across the back of the couch, leaning back. He tilts his head to the side, a silent invitation?

You swallow and scoot even closer, pressing into his side to rest your head on his shoulder. His arm drops, curling around your waist and keeping you secure. You lick your lips a bit nervously and glance up at him. His focus had returned to the movie, but you didn’t mind. You liked getting to just look at him up close like this.

He has freckles.

His eyes find yours again, a small smirk forming on his lips as he catches you staring.

“What is it?” He asks softly, almost a whisper, as if he worried speaking too loudly would startle you.

“Just…thinking…” You murmur.

“About what, love?” He’s looking down at you, eyes soft. His expression makes you feel warm, your insides twisting in the best way.

“How bad I want to kiss you.”

Honesty is the best policy.

“That so?” His eyebrows raise, but you don’t feel embarrassed, not at all. If anything, his gaze makes you feel bold. You slide a hand from your blanket cocoon and finds its way to his thigh, your touch daring.

He doesn’t push you away. He just looks at you, and smiles.

-

He owed you. He owed you massively. Your little plan, however stupid and reckless, was going well.

Johnny was leaned into him, laughing at something he’d said. His warmth spreads through Simon like a virus he never wanted to get rid of, the smell of him invading Simon’s nose, short circuiting his brain.

The stupid Uber driver had dropped them off three houses down, but they didn't mind the walk. It gave Simon more time to work out how he wanted this to end. Should he tell Johnny how he felt? Should he wait to see if Johnny says it first? Or should he just leave it all as nothing more than a night as friends?

Johnny garbles something, his thick accent mixing with the Scottish slang has Simon huffing and rolling his eyes.

"You're impossible, Johnny," He says.

"Impossibly cute."

"Yeah, sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night."

Johnny's laughing again, leaning further into Simon's shoulder. The other man can't see it, but Simon's grinning.

The lights in the house were off. Had you gone home after all?

They step up the porch and Johnny opens the door with a loud

"Helloooo!"

A series of sounds reaches Simon's ears. A gasp, a grunt, and the sound of someone falling onto the floor before the pattering of feet. You round the corner, breathless.

"You're early!" You pant softly.

"Aye, Ghost didnae wanna be out late." Johnny says, oblivious to your current state.

"Oh really?" Your eyes find Simon, his, the wall.

"Aye. Oh-what're you watchin'?" Johnny vanishes around the corner, greeting whoever you were with while you and Simon just stare at each other from along the hall. Eventually, Simon breaks with a sigh, moving to kick his shoes off when he realizes something.

Gaz's boots are gone. He's not here.

Simon's head snaps up to yours right as Price's voice sounds behind you.

"You two coming?"

Chapter Text

Fucking Christ.

He’d been so close. So close to knowing what your lips taste like, to knowing how you felt writhing underneath him. The way you’d looked at him, the way your hand had laid so boldly on his thigh, teasing him, was completely intoxicating. He wasn’t going to rest again until he got what he wanted. 

“I want to kiss you,” You’d said in that sweet voice, looking up at him with those eyes that drove him insane. He wanted to kiss you too. He was going to kiss you. 

He’d taken that devilish hand of yours and brought it to his lips, pressing them into your palm, watching the way you shiver, pupils blowing wider than ever. Your lips had parted, just the smallest bit, inviting him further. The world moved in slow motion as you and he moved closer, closing that small distance until you were barely a hair’s width apart.

Then the bloody door opened.  

You’d shoved away from him in a panic, throwing yourself onto the floor in the process, then ran to greet Soap and Simon as they returned from their night out earlier than expected. John had tried to seem casual when he invited you and Simon to stay longer, finish the movie, but his Lieutenant had refused, all but dragging you out the front door. 

So he sat there, your blanket thrown over his lap to hide the erection in his pants as he and Soap watched the TV together. Once the credits rolled, he excused himself to shower, hoping to rid himself of the ache in his groin. If he’d only had a little more time , he’d have had you. 

He’d have kissed you, pushed you down onto that couch, and fucked you. He would have tasted your pussy, made you cum on his tongue at least twice. Or maybe he would have pulled you into his lap and had you cockwarm him, sliding you onto his cock and just holding you there until the movie ended. You’d squirm and whine, begging for movement, for friction, but he’d make you wait, make you show him how patient you can be. If you did well-which you would, he just knew it-he’d hold you by the hips and slide you along his cock, bouncing you in his lap and making you scream. 

He’d take you to bed and fuck you again on the mattress, ass in the air while he pumps into you from behind, fingers playing with your clit while you moan and sob for more. You were so beautiful, he could only imagine how much prettier you are when you cum. 

It’s that vision alone that has him cumming into his hand, the thick, white fluid washing down the drain as he pants softly. The ache, the desperate need to have you, doesn’t leave him as he washes himself clean of his debauchery.  If anything, he wants you more now. 

And he was going to have you, one way or another.

-

You keep your face buried in your pillow as you curl your fingers inside yourself, hiding your moans from your roommates. All you’ve been able to think about since Simon threw you into the car and drove back to the apartment was John. How he’d kissed your hand, how he looked ready to do more, had the boys not returned. 

It was probably just the heat of the moment, but fuck were you lost in it still. You’d told him that you wanted to kiss him, touched him so daringly, and ended up cockblocked by a pair of idiots who still hadn’t confessed to each other. 

Your fingers weren’t enough, not knowing how big John’s are. They’d fill you so good, stretching out your pussy perfectly. You had no idea how big he was, but you doubted he was very small. He’d need to stretch you out, get you all ready for his cock before he gave it to you. 

How would he fuck you, you wonder. Would he carry you to bed first, or would he have thrown your legs around his waist and taken you there on the couch? You like both options, you think. The idea that you could be caught fucking on the couch was exciting, your pussy clenching around your fingers at the thought. He’d have a public claim then, since everyone would have seen. Simon wouldn’t be able to deny you the object of your affections, not after that. 

But if he took you to bed, he could spread you out, hold you closer, fuck you slower, deeper. He could shove your face into the pillows, as you are now, to keep you quiet when the boys come home. He’d pump his cum into you without worry of anyone seeing the mess you’d make together. 

Your body clenches, every muscle contracting as you cum on your fingers with a whine. 

You lay in your bed like that for a while, panting softly, before you finally pull your fingers from your core and you stand on wobbly knees. You grab your shorts from where you tossed them onto the floor and tug them on. The lights in the apartment are off, both Simon and Gary hidden away in their rooms, giving you the perfect opportunity to tiptoe to the bathroom to clean yourself up.

That moment between you and John was never going to happen again. It had been nothing, just your mind mistaking signals for something else. He’d smiled to be polite, kissed your hand because he knew he was going to reject you. That was all. You weren’t his type. 

When you exit the bathroom, a tall figure looms outside his door, waiting for you. You’re used to Simon acting like that, but it still startles you a bit, making you jump. 

“Fuck, Si,” You gasp, pressing a hand to your chest. “Scare me why don’t you?” 

“Did you fuck my Captain?” Classic Simon, straight to the point. 

“No, Simon.” Much to your chagrin. 

“We’ve talked about this.” 

“I know. No military-”

“No military. Especially Price.”

“Why especially ? What makes him different from other men in the military?” You cross your arms over your chest, frowning. 

“He’s my Captain. A good man, yes, but not good for you.” 

“Why not? He’s strong, dependable, handsome-”

“He’s a workaholic who will barely give you the time of day.” 

“So he’s another version of you?” 

Simon says your name, exasperation mixed with warning. He takes the few steps to close the distance between you, putting his hands on your shoulders and looking you in the eye. 

“I trust that man with my life, not with yours. He might take care of you monetarily, he might come home to you, but you’ll never get what you need out of him. You won’t get the attention, the affection, the care you need. I mean it, stay away from him.”

“Simon…” You sigh. “Look, you don’t need to worry about that, okay? I know I’m not the type of woman he wants anyway, not in the long run. I doubt he and I will ever even touch each other after tonight.” 

Simon frowns at you, eyebrows furrowing tightly. Then he, too, sighs, his hands dropping from your shoulders only for him to pull you into a hug. You nuzzle into him with a small smile, relieved that he’s not angry with you. You don’t see the way he glares at the wall, the tightness in his jaw when he presses a kiss to the top of your head before asking if you want to sleep in his bed tonight. 

You’re long asleep when he sends the text, knowing its recipient was likely still awake to see it. 

If you hurt her, I’ll kill you.

In his bed, mind still filled with dreams of you, John chuckles as he looks at his phone. Getting to you might be harder than he thinks, but he wasn’t the kind of man to bow out of a challenge at the smallest inconvenience. You were destined to be his, and he’d have you whether Simon liked it or not.

Chapter Text

You’re not left alone with John again for the rest of their visit. Apparently your near miss makes it into Gary’s ears as well, and he and Simon are vigilant in staying at your side. Gary gives you a similar lecture that Simon did, insisting that yes , John was a good man, but that he wasn’t meant for you. You want to tell them both that you already know that, but neither of them give you any room to argue about it. 

John is as kind as ever, all warm smiles and helping hands. You spend most of the time sitting on the porch of the rented beach house being well fed and constantly entertained. You’ll miss the lot of them, you think. Johnny is funny, and you greatly enjoy talking with Kyle about the way the Scottish man and Simon constantly eyeball each other, yet somehow neither of them notice. You insist that Kyle keep trying to get them to admit their feelings, which he promises full-heartedly. You try not to think about how Gary leaves barely two weeks after the rest of them do, leaving you completely alone for the first time in so long. 

You’ve made a list, a routine to start to keep you busy. You’ve decided that you’re going to be partially living in Nana’s old house, using it during hurricane season to get away from the ocean instead of evacuating or holing up in your apartment, as you’ve done the past several years. You’ve been looking at new furniture to buy to fill the house, as well as toying with the idea of getting a job again. 

Simon had been taking care of you, claiming that he had little use for the money the military gave him. But without another person with you to spend time with, you had a feeling you’d get bored-and sad-a little too quickly. Maybe you could work at the dive bar you frequented, you made a note to yourself to ask the bartenders there if they needed more hands. You just had to keep busy while everyone was gone so that you didn’t go insane.

You’ve been avoiding thinking about what to do when your nightmares start up. 

You and Gary go with the 141 to the airport to say your goodbyes. You hug Simon first and last, holding onto him the tightest. Johnny and Kyle hug you, too, but John is stopped short, instead offering you a handshake and a smile. 

And his phone number.

He hands it to you while Simon isn’t looking, telling you to call him whenever you needed something, promising to come running.

“You’re a friend,” He says with a certain twinkle in his eye, “I take care of my friends.” 

You make sure to shove the paper with his number on it deep in your pocket before Simon sees it then, giving your oldest, dearest friend one last long hug, you wave them off. You manage not to cry until they’re completely out of sight, letting Gary hold you around the shoulders and lead you from the airport. 

-

Gary leaves a few weeks later, but he doesn’t let you see him off. Instead he leaves the night before his flight, after having a final dinner with you. He stays with his partner, and you can only assume based on the text you wake up to, left with him too. 

It’s not so bad at first, the quiet. There are no extra footsteps in the hall, no extra dirty dishes or anyone else smoking on the patio. You start to think that maybe you’ll be okay. 

You go back and forth from your apartment to Nana’s old house, putting in new furniture and fixing things that are broken or damaged from age. You replace carpets, floorboards, and update some of the kitchen equipment. Renovations keep you busy, just like you wanted, but they don’t take as long as you expect. 

Much to your dismay, the corner bar doesn’t need any help, which kills your plans of finding an easy job pretty quickly. That’s not to say you give up, but your search becomes a bit more difficult. You spend every day looking for something that matches what you want, but so far, no one has called you back. 

Simon is as non-responsive as he ever is while on duty, usually only texting you back once or twice a day, and you don’t hear from Gary at all. You’d been somewhat prepared for that, knowing he was probably going to be busy with training and getting himself back into shape. Every now and then you start to brave a text to John, but chicken out at the last minute, deleting the words before you can send them. 

You were just so enamored with him, even still. But he only saw you as a friend, at best, and while he said you could call him anytime, you seriously doubted he really wanted to be bothered by your childish neediness. He was a busy man, as Simon had been so keen to remind you, he didn’t have time to put up with you. 

No one has time for you.

What a familiar thought, the words creeping into your mind in a mixture of voices. It’s one that’s hard to shake, twisting your guts and making your head hurt. It follows you everywhere, every second, every breath. It invades the quiet your boys left, and has your ears ringing. 

Your therapist is out of town, so you leave a message with her receptionist to call you as soon as she’s able. You’re regretfully informed that it likely won’t be until the end of next month. 

Your hands start shaking.

-

It’s dark. It’s always dark here. Mom never liked the idea of leaving lights on when no one was home. 

Even when you were home. 

You weren’t a “someone” to her, though. You never really were. Just a trap, something to hold your father in a failing marriage that still hasn’t ended, even long after you grew and moved away. It had something to do with money, or so you’d heard. 

You wander through dark hallways on tiny legs, searching, always searching. 

“Mom?”

Silence.

“Dad?” 

Nothing. 

The walls vibrate, or was it you that was shaking? Your face is wet. Tears. 

You cried a lot as a child. You never liked being alone, it scared you. You always worried that you’d be alone forever, never again having someone near you to hold you, wipe your tears, stop the shaking. 

A figure looming at the end of the hall. He faces away from you. 

“Simon!”

No matter how fast you run, you don’t reach him. You scream his name but he never turns, never looks at you. Your hand reaches for him, nearly at his back, but he’s gone the moment your fingers graze his form. 

“Not now, mommy is busy,” Her voice makes you sick.

“Go away, pest.” A threat, a promise. Bruises on your arms and back. 

He threw you down the stairs. Child Services did nothing, no matter how hard you cried. 

“It was an accident!” Mom had sobbed. “He didn’t see her!”

Nana started taking you on weekends after that. It was all she could do for you at the time. 

Dark hallways, always too long. You never reach the end, never reach that door that’s so close yet so far away. Simon went out that door. You needed to catch up before he left you behind for good. 

Your shoulder hurts. It’s bleeding. Too much, too much! 

Simon’s looking at you, but it’s not you he sees. He’s mumbling something in Spanish, his accent butchering any attempt to understand. He’s not looking at you. 

The knife twists, you scream, Simon looks at you. 

He’s gone for a long time.

-

“You holding up okay?” 

No.

“Yeah, I’m good.” 

“You sure?” 

Come home.

“Totally.” 

Gary was always quicker to believe you than Simon. You can hear the relief when he sighs. 

“Good. I’ve been worried.” 

“I’m fine, G.” 

You haven’t slept in over a week.

Chapter Text

It’s easier not to sleep than to wake up on the floor of your bedroom drenched in sweat and crying alone. You drown yourself in coffee, constantly caffeinated. When you do sleep, it’s never for very long.

Gary’s catching onto you, you can hear it in his voice. He’s not so keen to believe your little lies about your mental state anymore. He calls often, sounding more worried every time you pick up the phone. Simon, on the other hand, has gone completely dark. Likely working, out on some dangerous mission he can’t tell you about. 

Your shoulder has been hurting recently, though you’re not sure why. Have you laid on it wrong, perhaps? Or are old memories starting to affect you physically? You didn’t want to think about it. 

You still haven’t reached out to John, though you desperately want to more and more every day. But if Simon is gone, John likely is as well. Plus, with how cruddy you’ve been feeling, you’re not sure it’s a good idea to talk to him right now. You might end up doing something stupid, like beg him to come see you like a child. 

He’s not meant for you.

Simon’s words ring in your ears every time you start to think too much about John. You thought that your infatuation with him would fade after a while, especially considering nothing ever came of it, but the longer you go without him, the more you ache for him. He gave you so much attention, so much of his time and focus. You wanted that back, wanted him back. 

You wished you’d gotten to hug him when he left. 

You still haven’t found a job either, which left you with far too much time to yourself. You’ve reorganized the entire apartment six times and the living room at Nana’s old house four. You considered visiting your parents, but that never ends well, so you continue to stay away. They still lived in that house, still used those stairs. 

Maybe you should get a dog. Or a cat. Or both. 

You probably should have done that years ago, but you always had someone. You always had Nana, or Simon, or Gary. You never needed the extra companion. Now you did, though. Now, more than ever. 

-

Filthy rotten bastards, every one of them.  

Ghost trudges through the thick forest, blood weeping from the wound in his leg. Separated from the rest of his squad, the enemy had taken the chance to attack him, trying to kill him before he could regroup with the others. 

He had to make it out of here, no, he would make it out of here. He needed to get back to you, and soon. Roach had called him the night before he left, worried. You’d sounded off, distant. Wrong. You were struggling with being alone, he’d wager everything he had that you weren’t sleeping well, at the very least.  

His radio crackles, then, a voice. 

“Ghost, this is Soap, how copy?”

“Johnny,” Relief floods him. He hadn’t heard any friendly voices in at least two hours now. Right now, Johnny sounded like an angel. “I took a hit to the leg, but I’m good.” 

“Thought we lost ya, Lt.”

“I’m not goin’ out that easily.” 

Johnny chuckles, tired but equally as relieved.

“We’re waitin’ for you at evac, Lt. Don’t keep me waiting.”

“I won’t, Johnny.” 

It was a promise of so many things. To see him at evac, to return to base with him. To be with him. He had validated fears of why he didn’t want to be in a relationship with the other man, but he ached for him, especially right now. He trudges forward with extra incentive to make it out alive. You and Johnny, Johnny and you. His girl and his… him.  

His leg’s gone numb, the wound must be deeper than he realized. Not good. If he doesn’t get out of here soon, he’d end up infected or worse. And contrary to popular belief, he didn’t want to die from his injuries. 

“Talk to me, Johnny,” Ghost says into his comms. 

“I’m here, Lt.”

“Good lad.”

“How’s the leg?”

“Sore.” 

“We’ll get it taken care of soon as we get home.”

Ghost just grunts in response, pulling another chuckle from the sergeant. Johnny starts to say something else, but Ghost doesn’t hear it. 

“Shit-” He hisses, ducking painfully behind a tree. 

“Lt.? What’s goin’ on?”

“Got some unwanted visitors in my way. Gonna have to go through ‘em.” 

“Shit, be caref-”

Someone yells in the distance. Ghost has been spotted. 

Not good.  

“Johnny, I don’t make it back, you make sure-”

“You’re gonna make it back, Lt.”

“If I don’t.” He repeats, firmer this time. “You make sure someone takes care of my girl, you hear me?” 

“...I hear you Lt.”

Ghost shuts off his comms and raises his rifle. 

-

Simon sent you a letter. Or someone wants you to think Simon sent you a letter. You know his handwriting well, and this wasn’t it. Simon had deceivingly nice handwriting, smooth and even. Whoever wrote this was too stiff and shaky. 

This wasn’t from Simon. And if the handwriting hadn’t tipped you off, the picture would have.

Chapter Text

To be fair, you did try to call him. It’s not your fault he didn’t answer. 

It’s not your fault he didn’t call back.

(He did.)

Or text you.

(Six times.)

You needed answers, you needed action. And you needed it immediately. So of course you drove fifteen hours without a single stop save to get gas. Of course you slid back through base security. And of course you sat in John’s office and waited for over four hours for him to arrive. 

It made perfect sense considering what was going on. 

You don’t touch anything on his desk, you’re too smart for that even in your sleep-deprived state, but you do sit in his chair. You lean back and throw your feet up, careful not to land on any of the documents he has neatly piled on the top of his desk. You sit there, arms crossed, and just stare at the door until he appears. 

When he does finally show up, he’s clearly surprised to see you, almost as surprised as he was to find his locked office unlocked. He freezes upon walking through the door, his eyes landing on your form instantly. You hadn’t exactly tried to hide. 

“Captain.” You don’t sound like yourself, even you know that.

“Hello, darling,” He says slowly, eyebrows furrowed as he tries to work out how exactly you got here. 

“Question.”

“Of-of course, love. What is it?” You’ve taken him by surprise, his mind still hasn’t quite caught up with the situation. 

You drop your feet from his desk and pull the envelope from the inside of your jacket pocket (Simon’s jacket. You haven’t taken it off since you-) and drop it on the desk, leaning forward to rest on your elbows. 

“What the fuck is this?” You hiss. John closes the distance between him and the desk, taking the envelope and pulling out the contents. The minute he sees the picture, he starts cursing. 

“Where did you-” 

“It was mailed to me. Directly.”

“Shit-”

“Is it not policy to inform family when soldiers go missing?” He flinches at your question, guilt flashing across his eyes. 

So he did know.

“It is, but we aren’t sure he’s actually-”

“Do you know where he is?”

“No-”

“Then I do believe that’s classified as missing .” You were right, and he knew it. He sighs, and reads the letter that came with the image with a grimace. 

“Do you even have two million dollars?” He asks, frowning. 

“Yes. And someone knows that.”  

Silence falls between the two of you as he reads the words you had long memorized over and over. Someone had Simon, and they were trying to get you to pay for his release. You had no idea how long he’d been gone, nor why no one had tried to tell you. They were supposed to tell you!  

That’s not even to mention the fact that despite everything Simon had done to keep you safe and hidden from his enemies, they still found you. They were demanding money from you.

Everything was wrong, upside down and sideways all at once. You’d looked at that picture so many times during the drive, read and reread that letter, searching for some kind of clue, a missing link. Something to tell you where he was, and what to do. You were scared, you were already have a hard enough time coping with being without your friends, and now this? 

“Hey-hey, love, hey,” John’s rushing around the desk to you, grabbing the chair and turning it, turning you, towards him as he kneels down. His hands come to your face, wiping the wetness from your cheeks. He shushes you gently, large, warm hands caressing your face so softly. Your lower lip wobbles, a sob escaping you. 

“What do I do?” You sob, falling forward into his chest. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you close to him, letting you cry into his neck. 

“We’ve been looking for him, love,” He murmurs softly. “We’ll find him, I promise.”

He holds you in his arms, eventually standing with you in them, keeping him close. He doesn’t ask how you got here, doesn’t ask what you did in order to get in. He just lets you cry, comforting you as best he can. 

You never want him to let go.

-

The first thing you notice is that you’re not in your bed. It’s too small, not made to share, like yours was. The second is that it doesn’t smell right. It doesn’t smell like you, or Simon, or even Gary. 

It smells like cigars, like something sweet and spicy all at once. It’s a warm smell, and one you recognize, but can’t place right away. You bury your nose further into the pillow, inhaling deeply. Something about this spell excites you, your thighs pressing together without any rhyme or reason. 

The room is dark when you blink your eyes open, vision bleary from sleep and dried tears. You slept, but you didn’t feel rested. You rub your face, yawning as you try to remember where you were and how you got here.

Base. You’re on Simon’s base. You came here to find out what happened to Simon.  

The room you’re in is tidy, neatly organized, but unfamiliar. You roll out of the bed and start poking around, searching for a clue. You find your answer quickly, on the little coat rack that sat by the door. On it was your jacket (Simon’s jacket) and another. The tag on the inside reads Price.  

You were in John’s room. You’d been laid in his bed after passing out from exhaustion in his office. He’d taken care of you. You’re standing in the middle of the room when the door opens, the light from the hallway falling across the floor. 

“Hey now,” John’s voice is warm. “How are you feeling?” 

“Tired,” You croak. John chuckles, walking into the room. He closes the door behind him, then flicks on the overhead light, chuckling again when you flinch and squeeze your eyes shut. 

“I can imagine. You were in bad shape.” He says, approaching you slowly. His face is still kind, still handsome, but his eyes are strained. 

“ ‘aven’t slept,” You mumble, looking away from his hard gaze. John hums deep in his chest, his hand coming up to brush some hair from your face. 

“How’d you get here, love?” He asks softly. 

“Drove.” 

“I meant how did you get in? ” 

“I just walked in,” You say with a shrug. Technically, you’d done a little more than just walking , but John didn’t need to know that. He sighs at your answer, shaking his head a little. 

“Sweetheart, breaking into a military base is illegal,” He says, frowning at you. 

“Only if I get caught.” 

“You are caught. I’ve caught you.” 

“Technically-”

John says your name in warning, his tone making you flinch away from him. He sounded like your father. He sighs again, reaching out to hold your face in his large, warm hands. 

“Darling, you’re incredibly lucky I’m so fond of you,” He murmurs, his thumbs gently grazing across your cheekbones. You smile at him and finally, he smiles back. “Do you feel up to talking about…what’s happening?” 

“No. But I need to know. I can’t-”

“Shh, shh, I know.” He takes a step closer, his hands still on your face, caressing you so so carefully. “I’ll tell you what we know, and what we’re doing, alright? I won’t leave you in the dark any longer. You’re directly involved now, and I need to make sure you’re safe.” 

“Okay,” You breathe, staring up into his deep blues. You think you’d do anything he asked you to right now so long as he kept looking at you like that, kept talking to you in that sweet, warm voice. 

“That’s my girl,” He says, smiling warmly at you. Your legs are like jelly, your body putty in his hands. You’d been so out of it when you arrived, angry and afraid, that you didn’t get to really enjoy the fact that you were in his presence again. But after sleeping a bit and crying your eyes out like a baby, it’s all you could focus on. 

His hands, his eyes, his voice. The way he looked down at you, not in pity, but something else, something you can’t place. You wish for him to lean just the littlest bit, to press his forehead to yours, rub his beard against the softness of your face. Kiss you. Hold you. 

But he doesn’t. He’s a busy man, and he’s got a job to do right now. 

He takes you back to his office, sitting you down in one of the chairs across from his, and begins explaining. Simon had been separated from the others, and no one had thought twice about it. It was a normal thing for him, apparently. But while he was headed to evac, he got ambushed, and went silent. 

He insists that Simon isn’t dead, that he’s too stubborn. It makes you laugh despite your teary eyes. Then he tells you something else, something that gives you hope and crushes you at the same time.

“I’m not convinced that’s him in the picture.”  

When you ask for clarification, he presses the photo on the desk and gestures for you to look closer. The person in the photo (Simon. It’s Simon…) is built different. He’s thinner. You mumble that all kinds of things can happen when a man is being tortured. 

“True, but men don’t usually change entire shoe sizes.” He says, pointing at the figure’s feet. You can’t tell the difference. They look like Simon’s feet to you. But John insists that they’re smaller. Which, according to him, makes the man smaller. It felt like wishful thinking, like John was searching for things that weren’t there just to make you feel better. But he was firm in his convictions, and that made him somewhat believable. 

He informs you that they’re actively searching for him, that he’s sure they’ll find him soon. That was the reason he hadn’t reached out to you about his status as missing. A weak excuse, you thought, but you’d accept it for now. You insist on being allowed to stay on base. You wanted to be here when Simon got home. You wanted to make sure he got home. John, surprisingly, doesn’t argue, and offers to let you sleep in Simon’s quarters. 

“Will you get in trouble for letting me stay?” You ask a bit sheepishly. 

“Not at all, love. You got a ransom note concerning our supposed missing Lieutenant. It’s best you stay here with me- us . With us. For your own safety, of course.” He says with a comforting smile. You sight out a soft breath, and nod at his words. 

“Alright,” You say. “Good, then.” 

“Soap and Gaz are on the field looking for him, so I’ll be the one here with you while we wait. I’m in charge of overseeing everything right now.” He says. 

“Why aren’t you there, too?” 

“Got hurt,” He pats his side, just over his ribs. “Medical doesn’t want me out there right now.” 

“Oh-I’m so sorry-”

“None of that, love. I’m alright, just sore as hell. But orders are orders, eh?” He chuckles, laughing at his own apparent joke. You smile a little nervously, but don’t argue further. John knew himself best, and so did his doctor. If he said he was okay, then you had to believe he was okay. 

“But,” He continues, “That means I can keep an eye on everything while still being available to you while you’re here. As best I can, anyway.” 

“I won’t be in the way. I’ll probably barely leave the room,” You assure him. He frowns at that, though, not seeming to happy about your words.

“Sweetheart, you’re welcome to be in the public areas. Mess hall, common rooms, all that. And my office, when you need. Don’t hole yourself up, it’s not healthy.” 

You knew that, your therapist told you that a long time ago. But what else were you supposed to do when you were just a pest getting in the way? 

“I’ll be alright, John.”

He just sighs and shakes his head. 

“I’m here to take care of you, sweet girl. So don’t you hesitate to come to me whenever you need me to, you understand?” 

“Yes.” 

“Yes, what?” 

You pause, tilting your head to the side, then, realization. 

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl.”

Chapter Text

“It’s a bad idea, John.”

“Someone has to look after her.”

“Then put her in a safehouse, have her guarded. Letting her stay on base after forcing her way in sets a bad precedent.”

“Kate, I need you to trust me.”

A long sigh.

“Fine. I’ll keep the heat off you, but don’t let this happen again.”

“I won’t. Once we find Ghost, she’ll be sent back home where she belongs.”

“Then I suggest we find him quickly.”

“Workin’ on it.”

Kate says little more before the call ends, leaving John in the silence of his office. He’d sent you back to Ghost’s room about an hour ago, shaking his head when you informed him that you knew the way already. You’d been here before, apparently, and he’d been none the wiser. 

Sneaky little thing.  

What caused that, he wonders. What happened in your life to make you so good at creeping around, moving silently and unseen. Had you been mistreated as a child? Did you grow up in bad areas around bad people? He wanted to know all of it. All of you. 

Your presence is cause for another pressing issue, however. The growing hardness in his pants at the very thought of you. It had started when you looked at him with that doe-eyed gaze in his room while he held your face, and raged ever present the entirety of your conversation. He’d thought he got himself handled, that he could be professional around you. But you’d gone and crushed that idea in your hands and threw the pieces out the nearest window. 

“Yes, sir,” Fuck that had sounded good. He’d pulled it out of you on accident, not meaning to make you say such a thing. But you’d been so willing to offer those words to him, God he needed you. 

But you weren’t in a good state of mind, and he wasn’t the type of man to take advantage of a woman in need. He wanted you for a long time, not just a good time. So he’d be patient, he’d return Ghost to you, and let himself become a type of hero to you, a reliable person you can look up to. Then he’d make his move on you. He already knew that you fancied him, you’d admitted it yourself when you practically begged him to kiss you that night so long ago now. 

He feels bad for palming himself through his pants at the memory of your gaze, eyes filled with tears. You were desperate for comfort, and he was desperate to give it to you.

-

Simon’s quarters are just so him. Clean to the point of being nearly bare; a pair of boots lined neatly by the door, and not a single sock or pair of underwear on the floor. His clothes hamper was about half-filled. Knowing him, he was planning on doing his laundry when he returned. You wonder if John will let you do it for him. It’s something to do while you were here, something to focus on, even for just a bit. 

But for now, you’re exhausted, so you curl in his bed, and try to sleep. You toss around in his bed, unable to find any comfort in the stiff mattress and flat pillow. How the hell did Simon sleep like this? Well, you supposed, knowing him, he probably didn’t sleep much. Less than you, some days. 

You ached for his company, wished for his voice, his assurance that he was alright, that he wasn’t going to leave you for the depths of the afterlife. But he wasn’t here. He was missing, potentially kidnapped, and all you could do was sit here and wait. 

You don’t remember falling asleep, but you do remember the dream. 

-

You’ve been having this one a lot recently. Simon would shrivel up and die if he knew. 

Your shoulder burns, your throat is hoarse from screaming. Simon holds you down with all his weight, bruising your skin. He growls at you in spanish, his voice vicious, mean and spiteful. His eyes are so far away. He’s not looking at you. 

You scream, tears pouring from your eyes as blood pools under you. No one was here to save you. 

“Simon! Simon please!” You beg as the knife twists in your shoulder. He doesn’t stop, he shoves harder, burying the blade ever deeper into your body. Your hands hold his wrist, adrenaline the only thing giving you any strength. 

He’s not looking at you. He doesn’t see you.

Was this how it happened?

The knife tears out of you, then digs right back in, even harder. You think he breaks something in your chest at the pure force he uses. You choke, blood filling your throat. 

You’re dying. He’s killing you.

-

You vomit in the small bathroom; it’s mostly bile, you haven’t eaten much. Your shoulder hurts, as does your chest. You cough, choking on your own spit as you try to get the last of it out of you. 

You never told Simon that you dreamt about that sometimes, about the day he almost killed you. You didn’t want him to feel guilty after you’d already forgiven him. It hadn’t been his fault, he’d been lost, and you hadn’t learned how to approach him in that state just yet. One bad move, too quick, and he snapped. He was always terrified of doing it again, of actually killing you one day. But after a long time of trying, you managed to figure out how to soothe him, how to get him to let you touch him, hold him, talk to him, without his mind confusing your actions. 

A knock on the door shakes you from your idle thoughts as you sit, still curled in front of the toilet. You wonder if you screamed. You stand on shaky legs, flushing the toilet and washing your hands, before opening the door just a crack. 

“You alright?” It’s John. 

“Y-yeah…” You don’t sound alright. Your voice is hoarse after your adventure in the bathroom. The way John looks at you tells you he knows better. 

“Why don’t you come with me?” He says, offering his hand to you. 

“Where?” 

“My office. The sun’s up, love. It’s time to work.” 

You sniffle and nod, resting your trembling hand in his steady one. His fingers curl around yours, holding you still with a warm smile. He tugs you from the room gently, and leads you through the halls. A few people look at you, confused gazes following you and John, but no one stops him, no one questions your presence. 

He pulls you into his office and sits you in the same chair you sat in just yesterday, patting you gently on the head before moving to sit in his own spot. He flips through papers, on his desk quietly. 

“So, um…” You start, fidgeting with your nails. John glances up at you. 

“You don’t have to do anything, love,” He says. “Just sit.” 

“Why?” 

“So I know where you are.” 

Oh…he was just keeping watch on you. You’re sure you shrink when you realize what he’s doing, curling into the chair with a soft sigh. John’s eyes are soft as he watches you for a moment longer before turning back to his work. 

“I ‘eard you throwing up.” He says, eyes focused on his papers. 

“I had a bad dream.” You shrug.

“That happen often?” 

“...sometimes.” 

He’s looking at you again, a frown on his handsome face. He sits up, then leans back, gesturing for you to come closer. You unfurl yourself, and stand, waddling around his desk to stand by him. It should be embarrassing how easily you follow his little orders, but if anything, it sets those butterflies of yours alight, fluttering in your stomach and making you feel giddy and sick all at once. 

“What do you dream about?” He asks softly. You grimace, looking away from his soft eyes. 

“Lots of things,” You mumble. 

“Tell me.”

“I’d rather not.”

John sighs, carefully reaching for your hand. He holds it in his, running his thumb over your knuckles. 

“Holdin’ onto it will only make it worse,” He says. “Let me help. Can’t stand to see you like this, sweet girl.”

You look at your joined hands. He’s so warm compared to you, your fingers like ice. You feel like you’re melting a little in his hands, falling into the ocean that fills his eyes. 

But your nightmares weren’t something to be spoken about lightly, not to you. Your therapist knew about them, and Simon knew about them. Gary knew you had them, but you never really told him the details. Telling John scared you. 

All you’d be doing is reminding him that you’re weak. A little pest who lived in an abusive, hateful household for your whole life, and Simon once tried to murder you thinking you were someone else. You’d be admitting to being unable to take care of yourself, unable to cope with the past no matter how hard you tried. 

“I don’t want to,” You whisper. John squeezes your hand gently, then brings it to his lips, pressing them into your knuckles, just like he had that night that felt like a lifetime ago.

“Alright, sweetheart. I won’t push.” He says, finally releasing your hand. He motions for you to return to your seat. “If you change your mind, I’ll be here. Any time, love.”

Chapter Text

“I’ve some new information for you lads,” Price’s voice sounds surprisingly light given the dark circumstances. Hopefully he had good news.

“Go for it, Cap.” Gaz says. 

“I think I know why we can’t find him.”

“Why?!” Johnny knows how he sounds. Desperate, maybe a little broken. He’d been the last person to speak to Ghost-to Simon -before he went dark, and that fact sat heavily in his chest. 

“He doesn’t have his mask.”

“How do you-”

“I had myself a surprise visitor. She came with a picture of a man that was dressed as Ghost, but I can tell you for certain, it’s not him. But unless these bastards took the time to make a faithful recreation of his mask, he doesn’t have it. They took it off him.”

“He could be hiding in plain sight. We’ve only ever seen him one time, he wouldn’t be easy to recognize right away,” Gaz says, the wheels in his brain already turning. 

They’d been combing the forest for days searching for him, but was it possible that he had made it into a nearby town and was hiding there? He’d said he was injured, he could have found a hospital or local doctor to take care of him. The skull mask was how people recognized him on the field, if he didn’t have it then…

“He could be safe,” Johnny breathes, throat tightening with the threat of tears. 

“I’d wager he is. Biding his time, waiting to be found or come home himself.” Price says. Johnny can imagine the smile likely on his face as he speaks. He makes another soft noise, something that sound almost like an oh , then his voice becomes muffled. 

“Give me one second, darlin’. I’ll help you.”  

“Who you talkin’ to, Cap?” Gaz asks, teasingly. 

“My visitor. Come here, love, say hello.” There’s the sound of shuffling as the phone is passed to whoever the other person in the room is. 

“Um-”

“What the fuck are you doing there?!” Johnny recognizes your voice so quickly it’s almost funny. 

“Ah, John said it would be better if I stayed so…” You sound tired. Johnny wonders if you’ve slept at all. 

“Fuck me, you’re… shit. Lass, I swear, we’re gonna find him.” 

“I…know…” Your voice is thick. Johnny wants to say more, to apologize for losing Ghost in the first place, but the phone is taken from you, your voice once again replaced by Price’s. 

“We’ll leave you lads to it. Expand the search to local areas, he’s smart, I doubt he’s far.” Price says, giving his order before ending the call to help you with whatever it was you’d come to him for. 

Johnny had to find Ghost, you were waiting for him. And he had no plans of looking after you without Ghost to tell him how.

-

John’s hand on your back is warm, comforting and protective all at once. He leads you carefully to the laundry room, Simon’s clothes hamper tight in your fists. You wanted to have them cleaned for when he came back. Cleaned and folded and put away, just how he liked. You were never necessarily good at it, but it would be one less thing for him to worry about. 

A few young privates had stopped you from entering the laundry on your own, neither knowing nor trusting you. Fair of them, you supposed, so you’d gone and gotten John to escort you. It was a silly, menial thing for him, but he’d been more than happy to agree to it, claiming that it would give him a little break from his tasks. The group of young men is still in the room when you arrive, and all of them nearly jump out of their skins at the sight of John. 

“Sir!”

“Captain!” 

They stand extraordinarily straight, saluting their commanding officer respectfully. John waves them off, smiling at him, keeping his face friendly and calm. 

“Lads,” He says, his hand still firm on your back. “You have room for this young lady?” 

“S-sir?” One of the privates, a tall, lanky boy maybe 21 years old looks between you and John, confused. 

“She needs the machines,” John nods towards the clothes you still hold in front of you. 

“But sir, she’s a civilian, she shouldn’t have-”

“This young woman is an important guest, and should be treated with all due respect.” John’s voice hardens, as does his eyes. Your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him taking full charge of the situation, using his authority. 

The private shrinks in on himself, looking down at his feet. 

“O-of course sir, I apologize.” 

“Good. Now, one of you help her with the machines. They’re finicky.”

“Ye-yes sir!” 

John nods at them, then looks back down at you, that smile gracing his features again. He gives  you a little pat on the back, soothing and encouraging you. 

“Anyone else gives you trouble, sweetheart, let me know.” He says softly. 

“Okay. Thank you, John.” 

“Anytime, love.”

He leaves you there with a wink and a ruffling of your hair. Your heart is pounding in your chest, eyes watching his form walk with such purpose back up the hall. You try not to stare at his ass, but you fail at that pretty quickly. It’s not your fault his pants were just a little tight in that area. 

The tall private takes a few steps forward, catching your attention again. He gives you a small, apologetic smile, and offers to take the hamper from you. Your grip on it tightens instead. No one can touch his things. Not right now. 

“L-like the Captain said, these machines are a little touchy, so let me show you how they work,” The young man says, trying his damndest to remain polite. You nod and step forward towards the line of washers and dryers. All of them pipe in to help you, telling you which buttons to press, which machines eat the most socks, and how to clean the lint traps. It’s all things you could have figured out yourself, but John had told them to help, and they were determined to have you give him a good report on their behavior. 

You stay in the laundry room the whole time, not wanting to even risk the chance of someone messing with Simon’s things. It takes about three hours in total, since the dryers take forever to fully dry anything. John reappears as you’re stuffing the now clean clothes back into the hamper to drag back to Simon’s room so that you can put it all away. He offers to carry it for you, and you let him. He’s the only person you trust in this place right now. He walks you all the way back, pausing just outside the door.

“Come in,” You say softly. “There’s no big secrets hiding in here.” 

“Just didn’t want to overstep,” He chuckles, taking that final step in the threshold. The door falls shut behind him. You take the hamper from him and dump all the clothes out on the bed so that you can sort and fold it all. John pokes around the room a bit, keeping you in his periphery. 

“Like I said,” You hum. “No big secrets.” 

“He’s always been a clean man, for as long as I’ve known ‘im.” 

“I think it helps him stay calm. He’s never liked clutter.” 

John chuckles again, stepping to your side. He grabs one of Simon’s shirts that you’ve already folded-admittedly poorly-and undoes your work with a quick snap of the fabric. Then he nudges you to watch him re-fold it. It’s so much neater, cleaner than you’d done it. 

“I don’t think I can do that,” You groan. “I’ve never had the patience for this stuff. I just hang all my clothes.” 

“I’ll teach you, love,” He says, letting out a full chested laugh. Your face lights up red at the wide smile he gives you. You suck in a breath and nod, scooting a little closer to him so you can observe his smooth movements. 

He shows you a couple times, talking you through the process slowly to make sure you understand. Then he has you try it. You’re still not very good, but you focus hard on the task, wanting to do well. You didn’t want Simon to have to fix your poor handiwork.

“Like this, baby,” John’s voice is right in your ear, spoken low like he was telling you a secret in a crowded room. He stands behind you so he can reach around and maneuver your arms as he pleased, his chest pressed firmly to your back. With his help, you do much better this time, earning soft praise from the man standing so so close to you. His hands leave your arms and rest on your waist. 

“That’s my girl,” He murmurs in your ear. “You’re doin’ great, baby.” 

You can’t breathe. He’s so close and he keeps calling you that. You wonder if he can hear how hard your heart is beating, if he can feel your pulse jumping through your skin.

“Don’t stop,” He says, his voice taking that authoritative tone despite its softness. “You need to finish what you started.”

You think maybe he’s trying to kill you.

Chapter Text

Your reactions were so perfect, it was impossible not to tease you. Even though he knew he probably shouldn’t while you were still clearly not sleeping, or getting any kind of rest. But he likes how your face turns that pretty shade of pink when he stands just close enough, how your lips part and your breath hitches when he touches you, even the littlest bit. 

He might have gone a little too far while you were folding the laundry, but who could blame him? You were just so cute, so determined to do well at something he was teaching you, it was everything he could do to keep himself from going further. The only thing that really stopped him was the fact that you’d been in Simon’s room. Things could only go badly if he allowed himself to desecrate his Lieutenant’s quarters in such a way. 

But it was all he could think about now. You fit so well against him, your body molding to his perfectly when he pressed against you. He’d felt how you subconsciously leaned into him, your slight tremble when he held your waist. It made him wonder if you’d felt how hard he was standing like that, his cock rubbing into your ass. If you’d been in his room, he would have bent you over right there, all your hard work be damned. He’d personally re-wash and fold it all while you slept after he fucked you on top of it. 

But before that, he had to make sure you slept in general. You looked terrible, your condition seemed to have worsened since arriving, and John was genuinely concerned for your health. It overtook his need to have your body more often than not. He had to take care of you, had to feed you, comfort you, get you feeling better. He wasn’t going to let his girl crumble, not if he knew he could fix her. 

He left you to finish your folding and tidying of Simon’s clothes before he could make a mistake, fucking himself into his hand once he was alone in his own quarters. He had to get it out of his system before he could start figuring out how to best help you. 

First order of business was getting you eating. You’d refused one too many meals already and you’ve only been here a couple days. Once you start taking in more food, your body will naturally start to recover, and you might start sleeping a little more again. The biggest obstacle there was your pesky nightmares. You won’t tell John about them, just that they happen. There had to be something he could do to help with them, though. If you won’t talk, he’d have to find another way. Simon must know how to handle them… and so might Roach.  

Roach was a good man, John was sure he’d have an answer to this conundrum. He knew you pretty well, lived with you for a while as well. If anyone could give John the information he needed while Simon was MIA, it would be him.

-

“Honestly, I’ve never been good at it,” Roach sighs. “Especially when they get bad. Only Simon has really cracked that code.”

“You know what he does, exactly? I need to get her back in order.” John says. 

“Ah…well…” Roach is hesitating. He knows something, that much is certain. 

“Roach, I need to know.” 

“He sleeps with her.”

“Sleeps?” 

“As in, they share a bed. I think it also helps that he knows what her bad dreams are all about.”

“It can’t be that simple.” 

“That’s all I know, Captain, sorry.”

“That’s alright. Thank you, Roach.” John sighs hard. Sharing a bed with you wasn’t exactly ideal, not with his waning control over his desire for you. 

Unless…

Maybe…it could be possible that a distraction could help you. But was John such a deprived  man that he would try to convince you to let him touch you just to get you to sleep? No, he was just thinking with his dick. He had to clear his head of those ideas if he was going to do anything for you. You didn’t need him lusting after you while you were too mentally weak to properly consent to anything. 

A soft tapping at his office door jolts him from his thoughts, his gaze lifting from his desk to where a familiar figure stood, uncertain. 

“Come on in, love,” He smiles at you, waving you into the room. You shuffle over the threshold, letting his door shut behind you. John leans back in his chair and gestures for you to sit across him. “What can I do for you?” 

“I was wondering…if you could hang out with me for a bit.” You mumble, cheeks turning that pretty pink color. John chuckles at your innocent little request, smiling at you. 

“Of course, sweetheart. It’s pretty late, so I should be stopping for now anyway. How about you and me get some dinner?” A perfect excuse to get you to eat. You’d walked right into his plans, you lovely little thing. 

“Sure,” You shrug. “I don’t…this is all I have to wear, though.” 

John glances at your outfit, a pair of jeans and a long sleeved t-shirt with Simon’s too-large jacket hanging over your form. 

“You look just fine, sweetheart. So long as you don’t mind me looking like this. ” He gestures towards himself, in his own simple military issued shirt and cargo pants. His words make you smile a little, that gesture warming his chest. 

“Okay,” You breathe, looking at him with that doe-eyed expression that makes his guts twist and his heart beat faster. 

“Alright then, let’s go.” 

-

He takes you for pizza at a little local place near base. You get a salad, and John insists you share a pizza. You have to admit, it’s really good. But your stomach churns still, all your stress and worry keeping you from really enjoying it. 

He talks to you about the mission, tells you that Johnny and Kyle had split up the squad and were searching towns in the area Simon vanished. He holds to his claim that the man in the picture wasn’t your brother, wasn’t Simon, and continues to assure you. You want to believe him, want to find the same errors that he does, but you just can’t. John says it’s because of your fear, that you’re blinded to the little things due to the familiarity of the stolen mask. He thinks you’re seeing Simon because your mind recognizes the skull as something uniquely him.  

He holds your hand across the table, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles soothingly. You’re not sure you’d be able to handle any of this without him, without his patience and firm belief. He was strong for you, so you didn’t have to be. He was brave so you could be afraid. You fell for him harder with every smile, every soft touch. 

If only he felt the same way.

You thought that maybe there was something between you when he held you in Simon’s room, but he’d been so quick to exit, to pretend nothing had occurred. That he hadn’t put his hands on your waist, hadn’t pulled you into his chest, hadn’t made your knees weak and your panties wet. It’s becoming clearer to you that the night in the beach house had been a fluke. 

You should be glad that he’s still so friendly with you, that he’s willing to put up with you in this time of stress and fear. But you wanted him to touch you like he had in the room again. You wanted his hands on your body, his lips near your ear, close enough to lean down and kiss your neck. You wanted him to know how down bad you were, and you wanted him to be just as desperate. 

It was a selfish thing to want, you knew that. But why couldn’t you be selfish right now? Your best friend was missing, potentially kidnapped. You were stuck just waiting for the good, or very bad, news, so what was so wrong with wanting the man of your dreams to sweep you off your feet and carry you to bed? 

To be fair to yourself, you didn’t just want to have sex with him. John made you feel vulnerable in a way no one has since you first met Simon. You wanted to tell him about your nightmares, show him your scar and make him promise not to be angry with Simon about it. You want to lay on his chest and listen to his heartbeat while you whisper to him your fears of being alone, and how you were desperate for a guardian, a protector. A father.  

You idly wondered if maybe, if you didn’t have any kind of romantic or physical relationship with John, if he’d fill that role for you nonetheless. He was certainly qualified. He had authority, sureness in himself, and was willing to hide you behind him while the bad guys were trying to hurt you. He wanted to take care of you, he told you so himself, and you wanted his attention. 

But all of that relied on your ability to be brave, to face those traumas all over again. Sure, you had a therapist who you’ve been working with for years now, but she was different. She had a professional separation between your life and hers, John doesn’t. He’s a friend, someone you want more with. Opening yourself to him, showing him your broken parts, it was absolutely terrifying. 

“Thinkin’ awful hard there, sweetheart,” If only he knew what those little petnames did to you.  

“I have a lot to think about,” You hum. John chuckles, squeezing the hand he still holds in his. 

“Anything you want to share?” He asks. 

“...Yes. But also no.” 

“Ah, that’s quite the conundrum.” 

“It is.” 

“Talk it out with me. Might help.” 

He was right. It probably would help, but you were a little scared to say something on accident. 

“I just…I have a hard time…being open with people. Simon was the first person outside of my grandmother that really…that really understood. But I want to be. My therapist encourages it all the time, but it’s hard. There’s…there’s just a lot.” You say, sighing softly. John starts the soft rubbing of his thumb over your knuckles again, completely focused on you. 

“It can be hard to be vulnerable, no matter what kind of life you’ve lived.” He says softly, encouragingly. “I won’t judge you, no matter what, baby.” 

Baby. Fuck that was nice.  

“I…grew up in a bad home, you know? Simon is the only person that I really feel is family anymore. My grandmother has passed, and Gary…well…like I said, it’s hard. But Simon’s never around anymore, I mean, right now he’s God knows where suffering through God knows what-”

“Hey, hey, stay with me, baby. You’re going to make yourself panic going down that line of thought.” John squeezes your hand, smiling when you take a breath. 

“I want to be open with you. ” Finally, some truth. 

“Then do it. I’m here, baby, right here.”

“That’s the problem, John. You won’t be here forever. I’m used to people leaving me behind, and I’m scared that you’ll be one of them.” 

“I won’t. My sweet girl, I can’t promise forever, not in my line of work, but I’ll be here as long as I can, come Hell or high water.”

You’ve always been promised forever, only for those people to leave. Even Simon has done it. But no one has promised as long as possible. It’s a more realistic promise, and felt more honest, more heartfelt than forever. But your anxieties can’t let you have any kind of happiness right now. 

“You won’t be saying that when you find out how fucked I am,” You say it as a joke, even forcing a chuckle from your lips. 

“Darling, I live every day dealing in war and violence. If anyone knows fucked, it’s me. I can promise you that there is nothing you can say that will scare me off that easily.” He smiles at you, that wide smile that makes his eyes crinkle and your heart stutter in your chest. 

“I can’t even sleep by myself.”

“I can buy you as many teddy bears as you need.” 

“That’s not what I meant.”

“You meant you need a person. Someone to look after you for when those dreams of yours get to be too much.”

You get the feeling he’s talked to Gary or Simon about this. 

“Yeah. Like a child.”

“Like someone who has trauma. You’re not a child for needing help, love. For needing care.”

“I need a little more than care , John.” 

“You need love.” 

“You make it sound like something romantic.”

“It is, but it’s not at the same time. It means you need work. Patience. I can assure you, sweetheart, I am a very patient man.”

Chapter Text

You’ve been standing out here too long, Simon’s too flat pillow clutched tightly against your chest. John had said to come to him whenever, that you could be vulnerable with him, and you really wanted to believe him. But now that you’re here, hands shaky and body overly exhausted freshly awoken from another bad dream, you were starting to doubt your decision. 

John didn’t really want you to bother him late at night, no matter how patient he promised to be. He didn’t actually expect you to show up at his door needing comfort. He was too busy for that, he needed his rest more so than you did. Otherwise, how was he going to help the boys find Simon? 

You should walk back to Simon’s room, should bury yourself in the familiarity of his scent and hope that works this time. You definitely shouldn’t-

“You look lost, love.” 

John’s voice makes you jump out of your skin, your head snapping around to find him leaning on the wall, arms crossed, face amused. How long had he been standing there? 

“I…uh…” You blink at him several times, trying to process his presence in the hall. So he hadn’t even been in his room in the first place. You would have just embarrassed yourself by knocking on his door. 

“It’s late. What’re you doing up?” You could ask him the same question. You must hesitate a little too long; John sighs and pushes off the wall, closing the distance between the two of you in a scant few steps. He brushes some hair from your face with gentle fingers, a small smile pulling at his lips. 

“Bad dreams?” He murmurs softly. You nod shyly, looking away from him. “Come on in, love.” 

He nudges you towards his door, reaching around you to open it for you. He lets you into the room, the heavy scent of cigars filling your nose and making your heart pound; It smelled so much like John. He gestures for you to sit on the edge of his bed, grabbing the chair from his small personal desk and sitting himself in front of you. 

“How can I help, baby?” He asks, reaching for your hands, holding them carefully in his own. 

“I don’t really know,” You admit, tired eyes focused on how his thumbs rub so softly across your knuckles. 

“What would you like me to do?” 

You swallow hard, face flushing when an image of him holding you in his bed flashes across your mind. You couldn’t ask that of him, absolutely not. The very idea of his rejection mortifies you. 

“I…don’t know.” You mumble again. John sighs softly, squeezing your hands slightly. 

“Why don’t we try something?” 

“Try what?” 

“Bed’s small, but I think we can both squeeze. Why don’t we see if you sleep better with another person?” 

Your eyes find his, wide and surprised at his suggestion. There was no way this was happening, you had to be dreaming. You must still be in Simon’s bed, finally not having a terrible nightmare of your abuse and trauma.

“Okay,” You breathe, mouth moving before your brain could catch up. John smiles at you, letting go of your hands and standing from his chair. 

He tells you to get comfortable, while he places the chair back in front of the small, tidy desk, and he moves to turn out lights. You plop Simon’s pillow down and curl under John’s sheets, pulling the blankets up to your chin. You squeeze your eyes shut as the room is blanketed in darkness, holding your breath as you wait for the extra body to join you. 

John doesn’t say anything as he pulls the blankets back just enough for him to slide onto the bed, the warmth of his body immediately soaking into your chilled skin, making you sigh softly. He chuckles a bit at that, turning onto his side so that you had a little more room on the small mattress. 

“You alright?” He murmurs softly. 

“Uh huh,” Your heart was jumping out of your chest, butterflies soaring in your stomach. 

“You’re shaking.”

“Happens when I’m stressed out.” 

“C’mere,” A hand finds your stomach, making you squeak a little in surprise. John chuckles again, his hand sliding further to find your hip to pull you onto your side facing him. You let him move your body, soon finding your nose pressed into his chest, his arm draped lightly around your middle. Your body relaxes a bit in his hold, earning a soft, pleased hum from your bedmate.

“There you go, baby,” He says softly, pulling you just the littlest bit closer. “Relax. I’ll look after you while you sleep.” 

-

Empty.  

The hospital in this town hasn’t had any patients with gunshot wounds in over two months. Too long ago for Ghost to have been here. The local doctor, too, hasn’t seen anyone with the kinds of injuries Ghost has. Johnny wouldn’t lose hope, he couldn’t lose hope. Ghost had to be out here somewhere, had to be alive and safe. He was too stubborn to die, and there was no way he’d leave you that easily. Ghost cared about you too much, that much was very clear. 

It honestly made Johnny a little jealous, despite knowing that you and he had absolutely zero romantic attraction to one another. He just wished that Ghost would fight and survive for him just as much as he does for you.  

Maybe if he’d told Ghost how he felt, things would be different. If he’d just let the other man reject him, then maybe this wouldn’t be so hard. Sure it would have been heartbreaking, borderline devastating, but he would have survived. He would have recovered, and moved on. But right now, with his heart still yearning, still aching, the what if’s hurt even more. 

-

You were so soft, fitting so perfectly in his arms like this. You had curled into him, a hand resting on his chest, head tucked neatly under his chin. He was surprised that you’d agreed to lay with him, he’d thought his offer would spook you. But it hadn’t. You’d laid in his bed, let him pull you close, and fell asleep there. 

You were in one of Simon’s shirts and little else. He could feel how it rode up on your form, exposing your soft legs and bottom to him, if he were to look that is. He kept his hands respectful, away from your sensitive skin. He didn’t want to wake you, not when you actually seemed to be resting.  

You smelled like the Lieutenant, after sleeping in his bed and wearing his clothes, only irking John a little bit. He’d rather you smelled like him. He should start smoking around you, smothering you in the stench of his cigars, letting his essence seep into your skin and hair. 

Then again, if that happened, he might lose all sense. He’d never take his hands off you, never let you leave his bed. 

You shift against him in your sleep, a soft noise slipping from your lips. That little movement has you pressing closer, your body rubbing against his. Blood rushes straight to his cock, muddying his thoughts. Even unconscious, you managed to seduce him, keeping him wrapped tightly around your pretty little finger. 

He tightens his arm around you, burying his nose in your hair. There, he could smell just you. Your shampoo. You whine a little when he squeezes you too tightly, but your eyes don’t open, you don’t wake. He likes that little sound, soft and sweet, it makes his spine tingle and his cock harden even more. 

Fuck this had been a bad idea. He should have known this would happen, that he’d be affected by you like this. He should pull back, sneak out of the bed and sleep somewhere else. He’d be less likely to lose himself if he left you here. You were sleeping soundly from the looks of it, surely you’d be fine. 

But if you weren’t…if you had a nightmare and he wasn’t here when you woke up, you’d never trust him again. Never let him get close. He had to power through, calm himself, clear his mind, and try to get some sleep as well. 

“Mmn…John…” Your voice is thick with sleep, nowhere near awake as you mumble.

You were dreaming about him.  

“I’m here, baby,” He whispers, hoping his voice reaches your dreams. He hoped it was a good dream, that he was treating you well in it. You sigh softly, nuzzling closer to him, lips pressing into his collar. You mumble something that sounds like it might be his name again, and he feels his self control start to crumble even more. 

If you kept pressing into him like that, he might not make it through the night. 

-

“Nothing here, either,” Gaz sighs through the comm. “We’ve all but torn this town apart.”

“Damn it all,” Johnny sighs hard. Things just keep getting worse, keep getting harder. Why, just why did Ghost have to be so fucking good at hiding?!

“Some good news…maybe. A local gave me some info, apparently there’s a town that isn’t on the maps we have, too small for it apparently. It’s a bit out of the way, but it might be worth checking out.”

“Give me the coordinates. Now. ” 

The hidden town was a few hours walk, completely doable. But it was late, everyone was exhausted, and Gaz wanted to regroup before anyone went out there. 

“We should rest and call the Captain in the morning. He can get satellite footage of the area for us, give us a better idea of what we’re walking into.” His logic is sound, but God, Johnny just wanted to go. He was desperate to find Ghost. 

Otherwise, he may never get the chance to relieve himself of this ache in his chest. 

-

“Hooooot,” You whine, sitting up. The movement jolts John back awake, much to his chagrin. He’d just started to doze off. 

“Lay back down, love,” He mumbles, reaching for you. When his hand finds your form in the dark, you whine again, but let him pull you back into his arms. You wiggle around, searching for comfort while still trying to stay close to him. 

“So hot…” You mumble.

“I’m sorry about that, baby,” He presses his lips into your hair. You huff, then pull back and sit up again. John’s heart stops .

You grab the shirt you’re wearing and pull it over your head, leaving you in nothing but a sports bra and your underwear. You toss it off to the side and collapse onto the pillows, curling into him with a pleased sigh. How you could be hot when your whole body seemed to be so cold was beyond John, as was your decision to strip your clothing. Then again, he’s not so sure you’re actually awake right now. 

He can feel your softness even more now, the slight squish of your body, of your breasts pressing against him. Any more attempt to sleep on his end went flying out the window as his cock becomes almost painfully hard. You devious little thing, how could you do this to him without even knowing it? 

He doesn’t know where to put his arm, anywhere it lays, it touches your skin and sets his heart pounding harder than he ever knew it could off the battlefield. But you were wrapped around him, there was nothing else for him to do but wrap himself around you in return. 

He finally rests his arm around your middle again, letting his fingers trail along your spine, relishing in the feel of your skin under his hand. You shiver a bit at the touch, then let out a happy sounding sigh. He swears he hears you murmur his name again as you nuzzle your nose into him, taking a deep breath. 

“You’re so beautiful,” He murmurs to himself. “I’ve never wanted a woman like I want you.”

You don’t respond, as John expected you wouldn’t, but that was perfectly fine. He’d tell you again when you were awake, when he could see that pretty blush on your face. It was becoming more and more clear that he was completely infatuated with you, with your charm, your secrets, your very presence. He wanted to drown himself in you. 

He’d had plenty of lovers in his life, but none had ever had him so feverish for their affection. Not even the one he thought he would marry affected him the way you did. Every little thing he learned about you made him want to know more. He wanted to know your fear, your pain, and give you his love in return. He wanted to patch those wounds in your heart and spend the rest of his life keeping them from reopening.

Simon wouldn’t like it, he was protective of you in a way only family could be. But John would fight for the right to love you, he’d prove to his Lieutenant that he could take care of you just as well as he could. He’d spoil you rotten, visit you every chance he could and call you even more. He’d give you children, if you wanted, or have himself fixed so to speak if you didn’t. He’d shower you with love and smother you in so much of his attention that you got sick of him. He hadn’t promised you forever, even he knew he couldn’t do that, but he’d spend whatever time he had loving you. 

Because he did think that maybe, just maybe, he did love you. Actually love you. 

He’d thought it was too soon to think that way, to even consider that idea. He was sure he only liked you, lusted after you, but the more time he spends near you, the more his heart yearns for more, his body seeking yours. Perhaps it’s his age, his experience. Something in him just knows that you’re what he wants, what he needs to complete himself. 

You’re shaking again. He almost doesn’t notice, deep in his thoughts, but a whimper pulls him from his mind. You’ve curled tight into him, body trembling in his arms, breath coming a little too fast. 

“Hurts…” You sniffle. 

John doesn’t waste time letting you suffer in your mind, he sits up a little, holding himself on his elbow, and shakes your shoulder lightly, calling your name. 

“Wake up, baby,” He says, just loud enough. You whimper, breathing even harder now. 

“Si…it hurts…”  

He gives you a slightly firmer shake, telling you again to wake up. You let out a sad noise, a cry, a sob, he didn’t care, it was all the same right now. He wasn’t going to leave you to fight your dreams, he would rouse you, pull you from them and soothe you back to restfulness. It takes longer than he’d like, but John was a patient man, patient and determined.

Your body jerks, a sharp breath is pulled through your lips, then a gasp. 

“There you are,” He says softly, rubbing the shoulder he’d been shaking, gripping maybe a little too hard.

“J-John?” You pant, one of your hands finding his face, running over his bearded jaw. 

“Yeah, baby, I’m here. You’re alright, I’ve got you.” 

“Jesus,” Your hand falls to his shoulder, your body relaxing again. “I thought…for a second…that you were Simon.” 

“Sorry to disappoint you, love.” He chuckles, rubbing your arm still. 

“I’m not disappointed, just a little disoriented.” 

“Mind if I turn the lamp on?” 

“Yeah, sure.” 

“I should warn you, love, you took your shirt off at some point.”

“Fuck me, I’m so sorry.”  

John laughs at the mortification in your tired voice. He sits all the way up, tugging the sheets up to your nose before turning and feeling for the little side lamp he rarely used unless he was doing some late night reading. He flicks it on, then turns back to you. It takes everything he has not to laugh again at just how cute you looked, exhausted eyes peeking up at him from under the blanket. 

“You alright, baby?” He asks, smiling at you. 

“No.” He’s surprised by your honesty, but it also makes his heart ache for you. 

“Talk to me, beauty, tell me what you need.” 

You sniffle, eyes welling with tears, breaking his heart even more. He shushes you softly, pulling the sheet from your face so he can caress it in his hand, wiping away tears before they can stain your cheeks. He leans down and presses his forehead to yours. 

“Just breathe, baby. Take your time, I’m here.” 

Another sniffle, then you turn and lurch towards him, burying your face in his neck as you wrap around him. He holds you close, lets you cry into his shirt. He mumbles soft, soothing words, rubbing your back and playing with your hair. Your movements have pulled the blankets down to your waist, but you don’t seem to care at the moment, just seeking his hold, his comfort, which he is more than happy to provide. 

“I’m sorry,” You sniffle. “I just-I need-” 

“Shh, baby, it’s alright. I’ve got you.” He squeezes you a little tighter, holding you firm to his body, soothing your trembles, comforting your sobs. He holds you like that for an unknown amount of time-seconds or minutes, it doesn’t matter-before you take a shaky breath and pull away, laying on your back and wiping your eyes.

That’s when he sees it. 

There, on your chest, right between your shoulder and collar, a nasty, old looking scar. It’s faded, he’d wager it’s nearly ten years old, but prevalent. It’s a shape he recognizes all too well. He reaches out without thinking, brushing his fingers over it, making you jump, as if just now realizing just how exposed you are. Your hand grabs his wrist, holding it surprisingly tightly, nails biting into his skin. 

“Don’t.” Your voice shakes. John looks at you, his eyebrows tight together, fingers still resting ever so lightly on that scar. He murmurs your name softly, his eyes trying to look into yours, but your gaze is focused elsewhere, away from his face. 

“Who did this to you?” He asks softly. “Who stabbed you?”

-

They don’t stay in town, instead making camp in the forest. There was a high chance that there was still enemies around, it was safer to be out here where they could hide better. They had a fire, but after everyone ate and warmed their hands and toes, they settled on a guard schedule, and everyone made their own bed in the dirt. 

They’d call Price in the morning, update them on their lack of an update, and tell him about the unmarked town. They’d have him find it on a satellite, give them more information before they head that way. That was the smart move, the safe one. But unlike Gaz, Johnny couldn’t sleep. He just stares up at the sky, watching the stars through the treetops. 

Where are you, Ghost?  

Are you in that town?

Are you…alive?

Johnny shakes his head, sucking in a breath and turning onto his side to stare into the darkness. Ghost was alive. He had to be. They weren’t wasting their time searching for him, they weren’t going to return without him. Johnny wasn’t going to help you plan a funeral.

No, he was going to find Ghost. He was going to bring him home safe and sound and alive. He was going to tell him how he felt, no matter how badly it would hurt if- when -Ghost turns him away, then he was never going to leave his side again, heartbreak be damned. 

Johnny can’t sit still. He was used to being restless, but this wasn’t just the excess of energy he grew up with, he was stressed. Nervous. Anxious. He couldn’t wait, he needed to move, needed to go. 

No one sees him.

Chapter Text

The very idea that someone could have hurt you that badly leaves a bitter taste on his tongue. You were so soft, so good , how could anyone put a knife into your chest and leave a scar like that on your body? It made him angry for you, pained for you. He was going to kill whoever did that to you. 

“Just-just leave it alone,” You say, trying to move his hand off you. But John stays firm, touch gentle, but hand unmoving. 

“Is this what you dream about?” He asks softly, keeping his voice even. 

“John please. ” 

“Who did it?”  

“It was a long time ago.”

“You don’t have to protect them, baby.” 

“It was an accident.”

“I’ve seen plenty of accidental injuries, love. This looks intentional.”

“John-” 

His hand moves from your scar to slide up your neck and press his fingers into your lips, silencing you. He didn’t want your excuses, he wanted the truth. 

“What happened?” It’s a whisper, a soft plea from him to you. He finds your eyes finally, holding your gaze. You frown around his fingers, whining unhappily at his insistence. He slowly removes his hand, resting it gently on the other side of you, his body leaning over yours. 

“It was an accident,” You repeat softly. “He didn’t see me.” 

It’s something in your eyes, in the softness of your voice, that tips him off. He was someone John already knew, someone you trusted. 

“Fucking hell. Simon. ” 

You flinch at the way John hisses out his name, anger twisting in his gut. What the fuck had happened that the man who protected you so vehemently would hurt you like that? What did you mean by he didn’t see you?  

“It was an accident.” 

“That’s the third time you’ve said that, love, but you’re not giving me any reason to believe it.” He frowns at you, at how your eyes flick away from his, anxiety filling your expression. 

“I don’t…it wasn’t his fault.” 

“Baby,” John sighs, caressing your face again. “Just tell me what happened.” 

Your eyes find his again, staring deep into him, searching for something, a reason to deny him. But John looks at you with nothing but sympathy, with softness. You were adamant, determined to protect Simon from John’s anger. If you were being true, if it was an accident, John would understand, or he’d try to. But the longer you kept quiet, the more he believed the Lieutenant had tried to kill you on purpose. He’s sure you can see it in his gaze, as eventually you sigh, and push yourself up, forcing him to lean back from you. You sit up, pressing your back into the headboard and pulling your knees to your chest. John situates himself next to you, hesitantly putting an arm around you, pulling you close. 

-

Simon was pacing the room. He did that when he got stressed about something, when he was triggered by something. Your relationship was still new, barely a year old, if even that long, and you hadn’t quite figured him out yet. 

“You okay?” You ask, watching him from the couch. Simon doesn’t respond, he doesn’t even react to your question. You’re not sure he heard you. You call his name. Still nothing. 

You chew on the inside of your cheek, unsure of what to do. Nana wasn’t here, having gone off to have lunch with some of her friends from church. She’d left you and Simon completely alone, not at all worried about what would happen. After all, the two of you were soulmates according to her, even this early in your knowing of each other. She’d had you two pegged from the very first day you met. 

Even after this, she’d never fear leaving you with Simon, not for a single second. 

You stand and walk over to him, reaching to touch him. You’d seen him like this before, and last time this had worked, your hand on his shoulder shaking him from whatever memory he had been in. But this one was different. He was in deep, deeper than you’d ever seen him before this. You’d see him like this again, but by then you know better. 

Your fingers barely graze his shirt, his head snapping towards you at the slight touch. His eyes are distant, lost. He doesn’t see you.

His hand flies out, grabbing you by the throat, the pure weight of him advancing on you suddenly knocking you back, sending you tumbling to the ground. Simon follows, straddling your hips, holding you to the wooden floor by the throat. He says something in Spanish, but you don’t quite understand. His accent makes it hard, as does the growl that accompanies his words. He’s not looking at you, not talking to you, that much is clear. You need to break him out of it, need to bring him back to you. 

“Si…mon…” You pant, trying to breathe despite the hand wrapped around your neck. Your hands wrap around his wrist, trying to pry him off of you. Your struggle only seems to make it worse, sending him deeper into himself, deeper into his memory.

You don’t remember when the knife appeared, your memory hazy, only remembering the pain that came with it sinking into your shoulder. He’d missed his mark due to your wiggling, but he didn’t seem to notice. He breaks your ribs, the hand that was once on your throat pressing into them with his full weight as the knife digs ever deeper into your shoulder. 

If you couldn’t breathe before, you really can’t breathe now. You claw at him, leaving a scar of your own on his face. You beg him to get off, to wake up, to stop hurting you. But he doesn’t hear you. He doesn’t see you. He’s not looking at you.  

The knife twists and you scream. That’s what shakes him, what brings him back. 

He rips himself off you, cursing loudly. You hear the knife fall onto the floor, the heavy thud ringing in your ears as you sob, pain radiating all across you. Simon’s hand presses into your shoulder, trying to help you, trying to stop the bleeding. You scream again. All you can focus on is the pain. Your face is wet, but they aren’t your tears. They fall on you from above, from desperate dark eyes begging you for forgiveness. 

He drives you to the hospital, holding you in his lap the whole way. He never lets you go; the doctors have to pry you from his hands. 

The wood is still stained.

-

“He left for a long time after that,” You mumble. “Thought he was never coming back.”

“But he did.” 

“Yeah. He did. He showed up late one night. Nana called me in the morning, telling me she found him on the couch when she woke up.” 

“What’d you do?” 

“I drove right over. By then I’d healed, all that was left was the scar on my shoulder. He tried to run before I showed up, but I lived much closer back then. I caught him pushing his way out the door. Made him back right up and sit on the stairs so I could talk to him.” 

“I can imagine he didn’t take that well.”

“He pouted, argued the whole way, but he didn’t try to push past me. I think he was scared to hurt me again.” 

John hums softly, encouraging you to continue. 

“It wasn’t his fault, and I know, now as I did then, that he blames himself. We had a really really long conversation on those stairs. I’ll keep the details to myself, but I made sure he knew I forgave him.” 

“You’ve a big heart, love.” 

“Simon’s lived a really long, really hard life. He told me about it that day, about the things he got lost in sometimes. I don’t know what you know, and I won’t ask, but I’d be a pretty big tool if I didn’t try to understand.” 

John smiles at you. You adored Simon, knew his deepest traumas and maintained that adoration, that love for him. You trusted him despite his clear and obvious ability to hurt you, to kill you, and you refused to be afraid of him. 

“You have nightmares about it, though, don’t you? Before I woke you, you were saying that it hurt. ” John doesn’t want to pry too much, but he needed to know. 

“I do,” You sigh. “But Simon doesn’t know. I think he’d shrivel up and die if he found out.” 

“He’d certainly be more ashamed of himself.” 

“That’s putting it lightly, John.” A chuckle bubbles out of you; John’s smile grows. He squeezes you a bit, hugging you closer. Your body starts to relax, curling into him instead of yourself. 

“You’re mad,” You mumble. 

“I’m bloody pissed, love. He hurt my girl. Accident or not, you let him off too easy.” 

“When did I become your girl?” 

“You’ve always been my girl.” 

He can’t hold back the grin at how red your face turns at his words. He loved making you blush like that, loved how it made his own heart stutter in his chest. Your reactions were simply perfect. 

“Wh-what does that mean?” You look up at him, one of your hands hesitantly pressing into his chest, as if you were trying to feel his heartbeat. 

“It means I-”

He cellphone rings, loud and shrill on the bedside table. John blows out a curse at being interrupted, very nearly ignoring the call, but if someone was ringing him this late, it had to be important. He mumbles a soft apology, pulling away from you to grab his phone, frowning at the caller ID.

“Gaz.” He says upon answering. 

“Sir, we’ve got a problem.”

“What’s happening?”

“Soap’s gone.”

“...what?” 

“We found out about an unmarked town we think that might be where Ghost is hiding. We were going to call you at sun-up, get more information, satellite imaging or something. But I just woke up for watch duty and the asshole is gone. All his stuff too. I think we went without us.”

“That bloody idiot.” 

“Do we go after him?”

“Damn right you do. Give me the coordinates, I’ll see what I can find for you right now.” He rolls out of the bed, leaving you staring at him, wide eyed and confused. But he can’t stop to calm you or explain anything, not when one of his men has just potentially made one of the stupidest decisions of his career. 

You call his name, but he keeps walking, slamming his bedroom door open and marching down the hall. He doesn’t hear you scramble after him, but you appear at his side once he reaches the central command center, Simon’s shirt hanging loose on your form. He shouldn’t let you in here, everything was confidential, even to you, but no one else in the room moves fast enough for him. 

“John,” You pant next to him. “What can I do?”

Chapter Text

The phone in his vest hasn’t stopped buzzing for the last hour or so. He wondered how long it would take before someone would realize he had gone without them, and he was sure to hear about it later. Price was going to kill him, assuming Gaz doesn’t do it first. 

But Johnny has never been a patient man, and this was something he simply couldn’t wait to do. He was well armed and on high alert, if he found enemies, he’d handle them in the only way they deserve right now. He was close to his destination, if the rising sun was any indication. He’d be in that little unmarked town soon. He’d find Ghost soon. 

The phone stops buzzing for a few seconds only to start back up again. It was starting to get annoying, distracting him, so with a huff, he pulls it out and answers. 

“About fucking time, MacTavish.” Oh yeah, Price was definitely going to kill him. 

“Sir,” Is all he says back. 

“What the bloody hell are you thinking going off on your own like that? Do you even know where you’re going? Where you are?” 

“I’ve got the coordinates. I’m close.” 

“Christ. You’re in for it when you get back, do you hear me?”

“Yes sir.”

“You don’t find Lieutenant Riley, you’re in for even more.”

“Yes sir.”

“Listen close. I’ve got images of the town. It’s bigger than expected, but looks near abandoned. I wouldn’t be surprised to find out it’s only there to hide and house enemy forces.”

“I’m prepared for contact, sir.”

“I’m sure you are MacTavish, but you shouldn’t have gone alone. I don’t think even Ghost could clear a town of that size.”

In the background, a soft, familiar voice argues. John hushes you, ordering you to keep your eyes on the screen . 

“Stop where you are. Wait for the others.”

“Sir, I’m almost there.”

“That’s an order , Sergeant.”

Johnny clenches his jaw so tightly it hurts. Price was right, he should stay put, have a modicum of patience. But his body was vibrating with the need to keep moving, to keep searching. 

“I can’t, sir.”

“MacTavish.” It’s a clear and present warning. Disobeying this order could spell the end of his career as he knows it. “Stay. Where. You. Are. Do not go any further, do not go into that town without backup. You can’t do anything for Ghost if you’re dead.”

Damn it. Damn it all. Price was right. Of course he was right, that shouldn’t be a surprise, but it was frustrating nonetheless. Your voice filters into his ears again, but he can’t understand what you’re saying. Whatever it is makes Price hum. 

“Bunker down and wait.” He repeats firmly. “And answer your bloody phone.”

“Yes…sir.” 

-

They’re taking too long. It took Johnny less than four hours to make it this far, yet the squad was taking much longer. They must be moving slower, more carefully than he had. He tried to stay calm about it, tried not to let his mind run off into darker thoughts, but it was hard. 

The longer they took, the more likely it was that Ghost could be found by the enemy. Tortured and killed before they even had the chance to save him. Johnny couldn’t let that happen, he just couldn’t. 

But he’d told Price he would stop, wait for Gaz and the others, and if he didn’t he’d be in serious trouble. Or rather, more serious trouble. All he could do was pace, and hope they showed up soon.

He’s mumbling curses to himself, so lost in his mind that he doesn’t hear the twig snap, doesn’t catch the shadow to his left before it’s too late. All he feels is the muzzle of a rifle to the back of his head. 

“What do we have here?” The man’s accent is thick. “Are you lost, Солдат?” 

Shit. Shit shit shit. 

“Sneaky bastard,” Johnny hisses. The soldier laughs. 

“Am I sneaky, or are you just stupid?” 

He had to play this safe, moving too quickly could have the man pulling the trigger and blowing his brains out. But this was also his chance. He may know about Ghost, may have information he needs. Johnny wasn’t going to be letting this man go any time soon. 

“What the hell are you doing out here?” Johnny asks. 

“I am the one asking questions,” The gun is pushed harder into the back of his head. Johnny grits his teeth, just barely able to keep himself calm. “Who are you, soldier? What are you doing out here where you clearly don’t belong?”

Johnny doesn’t answer. The soldier growls, rapidly losing his patience. He repeats his questions. 

“Who are you and what are you doing out here?”  

A mistake, the smallest one, but enough for Johnny. The muzzle of the gun leaves Johnny’s skull, not very far, but just far enough for him to duck and whip around, grabbing the gun and shoving upwards right as the other man pulls the trigger, sending bullets flying into the air. 

Johnny throws a fist, relishing in the sickening crunch that follows his knuckles hitting a nose. The soldier yells out, pained and angry, swinging his arms around and just barely missing hitting Johnny with the side of his rifle. He needed to rid the other man of his weapon, and quickly. He lunges forward, once again grabbing at the rifle, but the other man jerks backwards. Blood pours from the enemy soldier’s nose, an angry snarl on his face. 

Russian is spat at him, but Johnny doesn’t care to try to understand. He just grabs for the rifle again, this time actually getting his hands around it. He shoves back, forcing the man to stumble, his grip loosening just enough for Johnny to rip the rifle from his hands and hit him with it. 

Johnny levels the gun at the enemy, eyes hard. 

“Now then. I’ve some questions for you. ” 

The soldier spits at him. He has a sidearm, but he seems to know better than to reach for it at this moment. Johnny was on a hair trigger, and he would shoot the bastard if he so much as breathed the wrong way.

The sound of a gun cocking behind him makes Johnny’s spine straighten. The bastard wasn’t alone. Damnit he should have known! 

Where the fuck was Gaz?!  

The enemy soldier starts to laugh, saying something in Russian that Johnny again doesn’t understand. His mind was running too quickly, he had to get himself out of this, and fast. Had to find a way to disarm and take out both men without getting himself shot or worse. But he can’t think fast enough. 

His whole body seizes when the gun goes off.

Chapter Text

“Sir, we’ve got a body.”  

-

He has you sat in a chair, kneeling in front of you, hands wrapped safely in his. You were exhausted after looking at all those screens, reading numbers and words you didn’t really understand while he frantically worked around you. He snapped at you a few times, but now that it was quiet, he was praising you, whispering soft apologies for his attitude. He presses his lips to your hands, peppering you with his affection, his appreciation for all your hard work. 

“It’s all gonna be alright, love,” He murmurs softly; you merely sniffle in response.

John sighs, letting go of your hands and standing. He stretches, the sounds of his bones popping echo in your ears. Then he stoops back down, and scoops you into his arms, chuckling at how you gasp and squeak at the unexpected movement. 

“Come on, baby, you need to get some sleep. Today’s been hard.” He carries you out of the room, walking with purpose, as he always does.

He takes you back to his quarters, laying you onto the bed you left so many hours ago. You relax into the mattress, eyes heavy, but your hands catch his shirt, keeping him from going far. He smiles down at you, prying you off him gently. 

“John,” You whisper softly. “Are they going to be okay?” 

“Of course they are, baby,” He says, gently brushing his fingers across your face. 

“But Johnny-”

“Is one of the toughest men you’ll ever know. He’s gonna make it out of there just fine, him and Simon. They’ll be home soon, love, I promise you that. Now get some sleep, alright? I’m going to sit right here and do some more work, so you won’t be alone.”

-

Kyle stares at the corpse, face grim. This wasn’t what they were expecting to find when they showed up, and he curses his decision to move with more caution. If only they’d been faster…

If only he’d been faster. Then maybe Soap would still be here.

-

At least you were sleeping, John considered that a small win considering how shitty the day was. MacTavish was a smart man, so much smarter than anyone outside the 141 gave him credit for, but God was he an idiot. How could he not see how dangerous his decision had been? Going off on his own, ignoring everyone who tried to get ahold of him, and arguing against orders. 

Look where that got him. 

He didn’t have the heart to tell you, not after all the work you’d done for him, helping him and the others keep Gaz on track, all while not understanding a single thing that was going on. He didn’t know how to give you that update. He’s pretty certain it would devastate you, and you were finally starting to get better. He couldn’t do that to you, not right now. 

Not while they still didn’t have enough information about what the hell happened between telling Johnny to sit still, and the squad arriving at his location. 

He rakes his hand through his hair with a hard sigh, glaring down at the papers he was working on. He needed his own distraction from all this damned Hell, so he was working on work that should be mindless, easy. But he couldn’t focus, not with everything happening right now. 

And definitely not with those soft noises you keep making. 

You were well and truly asleep, but every time you shifted, rolling around on his mattress as you tried to get comfortable, you made noise. Little sighs, whines, hums, it was maddening. He needed to get out of the room, but he’d promised you he’d be here when you woke up. But you were making it hard, making him hard. 

“Christ, I need to get it together,” He grumbles to himself. Now was not the time to be thinking about waking you up and fucking you hard into the mattress. 

It would be a hell of a good distraction, though, your pussy squeezing all thoughts from his mind as he stuffed you full with his cock, his cum. 

“Fuckin’ hell…”  

“Mmn…John?” 

Shit.  

“Sorry baby, did I wake you?” He turns to look at you, finding your sleepy gaze on him. You were still laid on his bed, hair strewn across his pillows. You looked like a fucking angel like that. 

“No,” You hum. “Jus’ woke up.” 

“Mm.” He smiles at you, cock still throbbing. He hopes you can’t see it, that you don’t notice how hard he was, how he strained against the fabric of his pants just at the sight of you looking at him like that. 

“Are you okay?” You ask softly, rolling onto your side to face him. 

“I’m alright, sweet girl. Just busy.” 

“It’s late. You should sleep too…so you’re ready if something else happens.” 

“I will, here soon. Promise.” 

“I can go back to Simon’s room if-”

“No.”  

You blink at his tone. He hadn’t meant to sound so authoritative, so demanding, but he didn’t want you anywhere else but here, in his bed, looking at him so sweetly. 

“No,” He tries again, clearing his throat. “You’re fine, baby. I don’t mind scooting you over when I’m ready.”

You look at him quietly for a long time, a frown pressing into your face. You shift, then stick your hand out towards him, making a grabby-hand gesture. 

“C’mere.” You say. John raises his eyebrows with an amused grin. 

“What’s this, now?” He asks.

“Come here.” You repeat, gesturing again for him. He chuckles, standing and taking the few short steps to reach you, sliding his hand into yours. You tug him closer, making him laugh again as he lets you pull him onto the mattress. Your point has been made, loud and clear. 

“Alright, alright,” He chuckles, wrapping his arms around you, getting comfortable on the small bed next to you. He rests on his back, pulling you tight to his side; you snuggle into him, looking rather pleased with yourself. 

“Sleep, John.” You insist, laying your head on his chest, planting the palm of your hand on his torso. He just huffs out another short laugh and squeezes you a bit, making you squeak when he holds a little too tight. You sigh softly when he starts running his hand up and down your back, gently massaging you through the baggy shirt still covering your torso. Your eyes flutter closed again, nuzzling ever closer. 

You really had him in the palm of your hand, and he was certain you didn’t even know it.

The whole point of lying like this, for him to avoid pressing his hard cock against your soft body, is ruined by one small, deviously innocent movement from you. Your leg slides up, hooking over his, you knee resting right under his bulge. He swallows hard, trying to ignore how you brush against him when you wiggle again, situating your leg more comfortably over his body. There was no way in Hell you didn’t feel it, no way you were that oblivious. 

“Comfy?” He teases, silently cursing how breathless he sounds. 

“Mhm. You can’t go anywhere now.” 

“Little minx.” 

“Your heart is beating really fast.”

“That’ll happen when you're trapped under a beautiful woman.” He grins when your cheeks turn bright red, your face burying into his chest as you try to hide it from him. 

“You like to tease me, don’t you?” You mumble, pouting. 

“I do.” 

“Mean.” Your knee presses gently into him again and between that and your voice, all his control snaps. 

It’s easy to get you under him, just one quick movement. He pulls himself from your grasp and turns, grabbing those wicked legs of yours and spreading them so he can situate himself where he belongs, trapping you between his hands, palms pressed into the pillow on either side of your head. You look at him with wide eyes, mouth parted in a soft gasp at his actions. 

“I’m mean, am I?” He murmurs, staring down at you. “Well then, let me make it up to you.” 

“Wh-what do you mean?” You breathe, hands finding his shoulders, holding him gently. He leans down, his lips just a breath away from yours. All it would take is one little tilt of your chin, and they’d touch. 

“You’re such a smart girl, surely you know what a man wants when he puts a woman in this position.” He’s teasing you, grinning when he sees how wide your eyes grow, pupils dilating at his insinuation. “That is, if you want it.” 

“...yes…” You tilt your chin, but he pulls back, unsatisfied by how quiet your voice was. 

“Louder, baby. Or I’ll leave right now.”

“Yes.”  

“That’s my good girl.”

Chapter Text

John tasted like smoke and scotch with the tiniest hint of his mint toothpaste; his beard tickles your face as his lips devour yours, tongue buried within the warm cavern of your mouth. He controls your body with ease, hands holding and squeezing along your sides, slowly rolling his hips into yours. He fills your ears with low groans, murmured praises, and heavy breaths. You bury your hands in his hair, nails scratching his scalp as you try to keep up with the ravenousness in which he kisses you. 

He kisses you like he’s a man dying in the desert and your lips are his oasis, it’s all he can do to keep himself from drowning in you. His lips trail from yours to press across your jaw, teeth nipping at your earlobe, pulling a soft moan from you. 

“Fuckin’ hell,” He groans in your ear. “Love how you sound, baby.” 

His mouth finds your pulsepoint, leaving another kiss before his teeth sink into you, leaving a mark. His tongue slides over the indents his teeth leave, soothing the ache. 

“John,” You whine his name, shifting under him. “Please…”  

“Please what, baby?” He murmurs, hands sliding under your shirt, relishing in the softness of your skin on his rough hands. Your panties were soaked, your body aching for release. The scratch of his calloused palms has you arching into him, moaning so softly. The abrupt removal of his hands from you makes you whine, looking up at him with big eyes as he sits up, staring right back down at you. 

You reach for him, hooking your fingers into his pants and tugging. You wanted him back, wanted the pressure of his cock against your clothed cunt. He chuckles, low and devious; the sound makes you shiver with anticipation. His hand rests on your pelvic bone, sliding upwards and under your shirt again, eyes never leaving your face, watching you arch and keen at his touch. You’d wanted this for so long now, wanted his hands on you, his lips, his cock. You wanted everything all at once but you also wanted it to last.

“Take the shirt off. Let me see you.”

You pause a bit at that, the memory of the last time he saw you exposed flitting into your mind. He hadn’t been disgusted by your scar, but you knew it was still ugly. Your hesitation makes him frown, the hand not touching your skin grabbing the fabric of the shirt. 

“Off.” His tone flips something in your brain, and you find yourself scrambling to follow his demand, his order. You tear Simon’s shirt from your body, tossing it to the side and falling back into the pillows. John’s eyes are blown wide, nothing but darkness hiding his irises as he stares down at you in just your sports bra and underwear. His hands are on you again, roaming over your stomach and ribs before sneaking under the fabric of your bra, pulling it up as his hands knead at your breasts. 

He groans out a low curse, dipping his head to slide his tongue over your chest, lips sealing over a hardening nipple. You arch your back, moaning at the feeling of him licking and sucking your tit, his hand massaging the other to keep from neglecting a single part of you. His groin presses into you again, hard, hidden cock rubbing against your throbbing core. 

He pulls off you with a wet pop, leaning back just far enough to grab the bra bunched up on your chest and pull it over your head for you, relieving you of the minor discomfort. Throwing it off to the side he takes another moment to just look at you, flushed and panting under his body. 

“You’re so beautiful,” He murmurs, leaning down to press a soft, deep kiss to your lips. “So fucking beautiful.” 

You grab at his shirt, tugging on it with a whine. It wasn’t fair that you were the only one without clothes here. He groans, all but tearing his shirt to get it off his chest at your quiet complaint. As much as he loved that little noise, he wanted nothing more than to give you everything you wanted. Your hands are on his chest the moment it’s bared to you, fingers finding every divot, every muscle and scar, touching him with such reverie, need heavy in your gaze. Your palms press on his shoulders, pushing him up, away from you. 

It takes a moment, but he recognizes what you’re doing pretty quickly. He leans back, letting you swap your positions. John settles against the headboard, hand finding your hips the moment your leg swings around and you settle into his lap. He gives you a little squeeze, parting his lips for you when you dive to kiss him, tongues meeting in the middle. One hand slides up your body, fingers digging into your hair, holding you firmly against his lips. Your nails rake down his chest, pants and soft moans spilling from you with every kiss, every press of your chest against his, every slight tug of your hair. 

You pull back just enough to press your kisses across his bearded jaw and down his throat, sliding your body down his as your lips explore his body. You hear the soft thud of the back of his head meeting the headboard with a low groan when you kiss down his chest, hands touching whatever parts of him you can. He’s so warm under you, his heart beats hard in his ribcage.

“Gonna be the death of me,” He groans. Your eyes flick up to find his closed, relishing in the moment. You move further down him, watching his face as you grip the waistline of his pants and tug down. His eyes don’t open, but his lips quirk upwards into a smirk at your boldness. The way he sucks in a hard breath when your fingers find his cock has more arousal pooling between your legs. You wanted him to fuck you, but there was something else you wanted first. 

You wanted to taste him, feel him between your lips and swallow his cum. 

You free him from his boxer briefs, taking a moment to gaze at him, mouth watering. You knew he’d be big, considering his size and stature, but fuck. Who gave him the right to have such a nice dick? He’s long and thick, his tip weeping with precum, the liquid sliding down the sides of him. 

“Like what you- oh fuck! ” You don’t give him the chance to tease; your tongue swipes across his tip, lapping up his precum. One hand finds your shoulder, the other digging again into your hair, holding tightly to your strands. Your lips seal over him with a soft hum, pulling a moan from his lips, his hips rocking upwards to slide more of himself into your mouth. 

“Shit- fuck- that’s it baby, just like that- fuck -” He moans as you swallow him down, hand sliding down to cup his balls in your palm, giving him a light squeeze. You massage his tender testicals gently, careful not to hold him too tightly, as you bob your head up and down, taking in more and more of him every time. You gag a little when his tip touches the back of your throat, the constriction around his cock making him moan again. His fingers tug on your hair to get your attention. You flick your gaze up to him, humming around his cock. 

“Look at you,” He pants, cheeks red, irises nowhere to be seen. “Sucking my cock like that, fuck you’re beautiful. Could keep you like this forever.” 

His praise makes you moan around him, pulling another low curse from his lips at the vibration. He’s too big for you to take completely without gagging too hard, but you hollow your cheeks and swallow as much of him as you can take, curling your free hand around the base of him. He lets out another long string of curses as you return to your task, this time with even more vigor than before. You didn’t just want him to cum, you needed him to. You needed to taste him on your tongue, swallow him down and beg for more. 

You’re not sure when you became so depraved, but you blamed John for it.

His grip on your hair tightens, and a single grunt is your warning before he pushes you downward, his hips rocking up to bury his cock down your throat. You gag around him again, trying your best to just breathe as he takes control, fucking into your mouth. His movements are sloppy, chasing the release you dragged him to. 

“ ‘m gonna cum down your throat, baby. You did so good- fuck -you deserve it. My good girl- shit -” He pushes you down on him hard, letting out a low groan as his cum shoots into your mouth. He holds your head there, letting you swallow his seed. His fingers massage your scalp, more praise spilling from his lips. Once his grip loosens, you pull off him, sucking in a breath as you do. 

“Fuck me, baby, look at you…” A hand caresses your jaw, his thumb running over your lower lip. “My pretty girl, come here,” 

He pulls you back up him, capturing you in a kiss. You’re sure he can taste himself on your tongue, but he pays it no mind, sliding his tongue into you like it belonged there. He wraps his arms around you, holding you close to him, smothering you in his kiss. One arm wraps around his neck, your other hand sliding down his chest, letting his heartbeat ground you. His hands slide down your back, fingers digging into your ass, kneading your skin.

He grinds your body into his, smirking against your lips at your moan. You’re beyond desperate for him now, you’re almost sure if you don’t have him inside you soon you might actually perish right here. He was still hard, his cock rubbing against your still clothed core. 

“John,” You moan into him.

“What do you need, baby?” 

“You.” 

“I’m right here,” He enunciates his words by rubbing you against his cock again, chuckling when you whine. 

“Please, John, please fuck me.” You plead with him, pressing yourself into him even more. He groans at your words, giving your ass a squeeze before shoving forward. You gasp at the loss of solid bed under you, only to find yourself under him again. He moved with such fluidity, such ease, his experience with intimacy showing loud and clear.

His fingers find your underwear, tearing them down your legs without a single word. Your body trembles with need, hands grabbing at him anywhere you could. He kicks his pants off the rest of the way, but he doesn’t slide his cock into you, he doesn’t even get close. He situates himself farther down the bed, peppering kisses into your waist and thighs. 

“Let me return the favor first, princess. I need to make sure this pretty pussy is ready for me,” He says, teeth sinking into the meat of your thigh, pressing an open-mouthed kiss on that spot.

Your hips jerk upwards into his face, shuddering with a moan when his mouth finds your core, tongue sliding across your slit, collecting your arousal, before the muscle buries itself into you. 

You don’t remember the last time a man ate you out, but no other prior experience matters now, all you can focus on is John, how he feels, the lewd sounds he makes as he devours you. It’s a miracle you don’t come undone the moment the pad of his thumb presses into your clit, the extra stimulation nearly making you scream. All you can do is moan and babble his name as he plays you with expert fingers. 

He growls praise at you, at your taste, your reactions, his words mixing with his tongue and fingers to drag you, moaning and screaming, to the edge of pleasure. He pulls his mouth from your core, earning him a disappointed sob, but he’s not gone long. His mouth trades places with his hand, lips wrapping around your clit and sucking on it while his fingers run along your folds before he presses two into you. 

“Oh shit shit shit! ” You arch at the slight burn, his fingers stretching you open slowly. He hums at your words, the vibration around your clit pulling more moans from you. He pumps his fingers into you slowly, curling them into that perfect spot every time. 

“That’s it, baby, that’s it,” He mumbles against you, tongue flicking teasingly across your clit, making you jump a little. “Gonna cum for me, princess? Cum on my fingers like a good girl?” 

“Yes yes fuck yes!” You cry, earning yourself a hard thrust of his fingers and another mumbled good girl from your paramour. 

“Can’t wait to feel you clench like this around my cock, baby. Fuck cum for me, come on, you can do it, that’s it baby, that’s it.” 

The cord inside you snaps with a cry, your orgasm flooding your body. John praises you the whole way through it, his fingers continuing to pump inside you, lips continuing to tease your clit, until you’re begging him to stop, too overstimulated. 

He kisses up your body, keeping his fingers buried in your pussy all the way until he reaches your lips, sliding them from you and swallowing the soft moan that follows. He sits up, staring down at you as he sucks his fingers into his mouth, licking you off him like you’re his favorite treat. His cock stands hard between his legs, but he swats you away when you reach for it again, chuckling when you pout. 

“You can play with me all you want another time, baby,” He says, leaning down to kiss you again. “Right now I just want to fuck you.” 

You moan at his words, wrapping yourself around him, holding him close to you. He tastes like you, and something about that makes you shiver. His hands grip your thighs, pulling your hips upwards so your ankles hook around his waist. He doesn’t stop kissing you as he lines himself up, his tongue meeting yours when you gasp at the feeling of him pressing into you. 

He moves slowly, carefully, not wanting to rush and accidentally hurt you, but he doesn’t stop until he’s seated as deep as he can get, his balls resting against your ass. He leans up, nudging himself ever slightly further into you, smirking at how you whimper. He doesn’t move right away, instead he just looks at you, warms his cock in your pussy, taking in the sight, burning it into his memory. You reach for him, nails scratching lightly down his chest. 

“John, please,” You pant. “Please fuck me.” 

He doesn’t have to be asked twice. He grips your hips tightly and pulls himself almost completely out of you before thrusting hard back forward. You can feel him shake, holding onto what little control he has left as he fucks into you, eyes screwing shut, eyebrows knit tightly. He’s more vocal than you’d imagined, but you loved it. Loved the sounds of his low moans mixing with yours and the sound of your bodies coming together. You hold onto the sheets at your side for dear life, head thrown back into the pillows.

“You’ve no idea,” He groans, “How long I’ve been waiting to feel this pussy around my cock, baby.” 

“Fuck! John!” You cry, his cock slamming into that perfect spot inside you. 

“Ever since I laid eyes on you in that little bar. Fuck I wanted to drag you into the bathroom. Bend you over the sink, and just fucking ruin you.” 

Your eyes roll into the back of your head, pressure building in your abdomen as your orgasm builds again. Your fingers hurt with how tightly you hold the sheets, but it just adds to your pleasure. 

“You’re so fucking perfect, baby. Made just for my cock, weren’t you? Just for me. ” His thrusts get harder, more erratic. That little bit of control slipping from him. “Never gonna let you go again, fuck , now I’ve had you, you’re mine now. You hear me, baby? Mine. ” 

His possessive declaration is what sends you over the edge again, your orgasm hitting you much harder. Your whole body tightens then shudders, moans and sobs of his name spilling from your lips while he continues to fuck you through it. 

“That’s my good girl, look at you, so fucking pretty coming on my cock like that- fuck -” He shoved himself hard into you, holding himself there as his cum spills into you, filling you with him. He pants hard, thrusting shallowly a few more times, smirking a little at the little whines you make, then he carefully slides from you. 

His hands run over your body, checking in on you, making sure you’re alright. He peppers your face with kisses, lauding you with even more praise. 

“Did so well, baby. I’m so proud of you.” He wraps his arms around you lifting you up off the pillows. He carries you carefully into the small bathroom, settling you on the toilet before turning to fiddle with the ridiculously tiny shower. You supposed that was the drawback to having his own personal shower space instead of having to use the communal ones like Simon and the others did. 

Once it’s ready, he helps you under the water, squeezing himself in with you. He hugs you close to him, kissing your wet hair, gently massaging your skin, fingers working in tandem with the warmth seeping into your muscles. You figure the two of you will take proper showers later, but this one does its job well enough at washing away the sweat and bodily fluids that covered you. You mumble to him that you don’t want to stay in the shower too long, your knees too wobbly to stand on your own, so once you’re rinsed, John shuts off the water and helps you dry off.

You giggle like a schoolgirl when he sweeps you back into his arms and marches you right back to bed, dropping you onto the mattress and collapsing on top of you with a grunt. You laugh and wiggle, pushing him off you so you can breathe. John huffs, kissing your neck, then rolls off you, just barely managing not to fall off the tiny mattress. You roll onto your side and scoot into him, nuzzling into his chest while he curls around you, wrapping the sheets around your bodies. 

It’s the best sleep you’ve had in a long long time.

Chapter Text

You truly were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. 

He sits, perched on the edge of the bed, and just watches you sleep, your form, bare and completely exposed to him and him only . He woke up before you, showered and dressed, but it's here that he's paused. You looked so peaceful, so soft and serene; the dark bags under your eyes seemed to be fading, just the littlest bit. 

He thinks he could look at you like this forever, the very thought of having to leave you here making his chest tighten. He wanted to lay with you, hold you firmly in his arms and just stay like that. But he couldn’t, at least not right now. What he could do, was make sure you woke up comfortably, and had everything you needed.

Pressing a kiss to your forehead, he drags himself away from you and sneaks out the door. 

-

John’s not there when you wake up, but he didn’t leave you with nothing. On the desk is the small duffel bag you brought with you, as well as a note from the man himself. In the note, John apologizes for leaving you alone, telling you that he had a lot to do today, and for you to spend the day resting, adding at the end that he was going to make time to see you as soon as he was able. 

It both is and isn’t what you expected from him. He’d made sure you had what you would need when you woke up, your own clothes and whatnot, but a part of you is disappointed that he didn’t stay. You had to remind yourself that he was a busy man on a good day, and that right now he was doing everything he could to help the guys find Simon to bring him home. 

You wanted to talk to him. You wanted to ask what happened now, how your relationship changed after last night. Were you going to be something? Were you nothing? You had a plethora of questions that you had every right to ask. You weren’t going to force anything on John, if he didn’t want anything, you’d accept it. It would hurt, but you were a big girl, you could handle it. 

Showered and dressed, you gather the items you’d lost to the floor last night, as well as the borrowed pillow, and take it all back to Simon’s room. 

You should wash the shirt. It doesn’t appear to have any evidence of last night, but it was for the best, you thought. And the pillowcase. Hell, you should get Simon a completely new pillow altogether. It was seriously flat and not at all comfortable, and you’d be able to make a pretty clean excuse about why his old one is in the trashcan. You’d have to go into town, but the change of scenery might do you some good. 

-

Whoever came through here did a shit job of hiding their trail. Broken branches, displaced foliage, footprints, all leading them through the trees. Kyle could only hope they weren’t walking straight into a trap. Soap was supposed to wait, to meet them. But when they arrived at his coordinates, all they found was a corpse, Soap’s rifle, and this trail. 

“Soap, this is Gaz, how copy?” He’d been trying to call out to him for hours, and has yet to get a response. He’s even tried Ghost, but even he knew that was a dead end right now. He was going to kill both of them. Dead or alive, once he found them, he was going to kill them. 

“Sir!” Kyle’s head snaps to the left, eyes landing on the corporal waving for him. “Found something!”

He shoves his way towards the other soldier, heart pounding hard in his chest. The corporal points down what appears to be a shallow hill; Kyle has to use his sniper’s scope to see exactly what he was being shown, but once he spotted it, everything stopped. He’d know that stupid fucking mohawk anywhere.

“Shit, shit, we need to get down there and follow them.”

-

“Hey!”

“Keep moving.”

“Slow-slow down, wouldja?!” 

“I said keep moving! ” 

“I am moving! Where the hell are we going?” 

He blows out an agitated sigh, whipping around to level the other man with a harsh glare. They didn’t have time for this. They were being pursued.

-

You’re holding hands. You’re holding hands. You hadn’t even asked to do it! John had just reached over and entwined your fingers through his and kept you there. 

He had his eyes on his phone, flipping through images and texts as he kept his eyes on the mission while accompanying you to Target. You’d told him he didn’t have to come, that you were perfectly capable of going alone, but he’d insisted. He wanted to spend time with you, even just a little bit.

You take your time walking through the aisles, looking at everything and just letting yourself exist with John. Every now and then, he squeezes your hand, pulling your attention to him, every time finding his eyes on you, a smile on his face. It felt like there was something he wanted to say, but never did. 

You’re deciding between two new pillows for Simon when your thoughts slip from your lips. 

“What are we, now?”

“What do you mean, love?” He asks looking up from his phone with furrowed eyebrows. 

“I mean…what are we?” 

“We’re us, love.” 

“That’s not-that’s not what I was asking.” You toss one of the pillows into the cart and look at John with a small frown. 

“You mean, are we in a relationship?” Your stomach twists at how he says that, almost like he’s disappointed that you’d consider asking him such a question. 

“I…y-yeah…” 

John hums, sliding his phone into his pocket before moving to pull you into his arms, resting his chin on the top of your head. He gives you a good squeeze, hands gently massaging your back. 

“Do you want to be?” He murmurs softly. You nod, face nuzzled into his chest. 

“I know it’s silly-” 

“What’s silly, baby?” 

“Wanting to be in a relationship with you. You’re such a busy man, and Simon will definitely kill both of us but I…really like you. A lot. And I want-” 

He’s kissing you. 

-

They’re just a few meters ahead, but moving fast. Soap is shoving his way through the trees, the cause for the easy to follow trail. Ghost would kill him for something like that, if he were here. But he’s in a hurry, trying to keep up with the man in front of him. Kyle’s not even sure Soap realizes just how much of a mess he was making. 

They were yelling at each other at one point, but now they’ve gone silent; the squad hadn’t been close enough to hear properly what was being said. The man in front slows, nearly making Soap run into him with how sudden his movements change, then he jerks to the right and vanishes into the bushes. Kyle hears the frustrated Scottish cursing as Soap scrambles to follow. 

“Keep low and quiet,” Kyle murmurs into the comms. “We’re almost on them.” 

He takes the lead, following the two into the bushes, but pauses when he finds nothing. The trail was completely gone just like that. It was like the two men had been ghosts, phantoms that had never been there at all. He takes a few steps forward, eyes scanning the area for any sign of the men they’d been following for over an hour now, when his toe bumps something solid. Glancing down, he finds a boot.

The body it’s attached to looks-and smells -like it had been dead and hidden away days ago, the corpse stripped of its uniform, left in nothing but his boots. He starts to kneel to get a closer look when he suddenly gets the feeling that he’s being watched, a cold chill rushing over his body. Then, a sound. 

Click.  

“Don’t. Move.”

Chapter Text

“You’re dead, you hear me? DEAD!”

The man laughs.

-

This was neither the time nor place, but John had zero regrets. If the two of you got in trouble, he’d handle it, but right now it didn’t matter. All he cared about was how fucking good you felt squeezing his cock like that. 

He holds your hips tightly, controlling your movements while you ride him, your moans filling the car better than any music he’d ever heard. It had been spur of the moment, the original plan being getting you back to base first. But you’d given him that look, let out a soft sigh and leaned back in your seat. He’d put his hand on your thigh, meaning to keep it there. 

But you were too tempting, and soon his hand had slipped under your pants, fingers toying with your pussy as he drove. You’d writhed and whined, moaning his name until he couldn’t take it anymore and he just pulled the car over and dragged you over the center console. 

“Swear,” He groans. “I’m going to get addicted to you if I’m not careful.” 

“M-maybe I want you to,” You moan, one hand on his shoulder, the other pressed into the ceiling of the car to keep yourself steady. John blows out a curse and pulls your chest closer, pressing you into his face. He mouths at your tits, sucking pretty little hickies on your soft, sensitive mounds.

“Minx.”  

You giggle, the sound breaking into a moan when he shoves you down particularly hard on his cock, his tip kissing your cervix and making your spine tingle. John’s phone buzzes in the backseat where he’d thrown it, and his fingers find your clit, rubbing tight circles. He needed you to cum, and quickly. If his phone was ringing, that meant something had happened and the two of you needed to get back ASAP.

“Come on, princess, I can feel how close you are,” He murmurs into your tits, tongue swiping over a hardened nipple. “Need you to cum for me like a good girl, think you can do that for me?” 

You moan and nod, riding his cock like it was your only purpose in life. It doesn’t take long, John plays your body beautifully, dragging you over the edge of pleasure with a cry of his name. He lets you ride out your orgasm, groaning praise in your ear.

“That’s my girl,” He kisses you hard. “Now come on, we need to get going.” 

“But you didn’t-” 

“I know you’ll make it up to me later, princess.”

-

His knuckles were split and covered in blood but fuck did he not care. The bastard deserved what he got and Kyle was happy to give it to him. 

His hands shake a little as he holds the phone to his ear. 

"Yes, sir," He rasps. "It's been handled." 

"Good man. Get back safe."  

"Will do, Captain." 

-

You haven't seen or heard from him since getting back to base. The moment you stepped through the doors, he was being whisked away by a group of other soldiers, filling his ears with updates on the mission. He barely got to say goodbye to you. 

You've filled the time by re-cleaning Simon's quarters, washing his sheets and making his bed for him, the new pillow fluffed and ready for him to lay on for if- when -he got back. You'd bought him a new blanket too, the one he had thrown on his bed was threadbare at best, and definitely did nothing to keep him warm. 

Honestly, you wished Simon treated himself better. 

There wasn't a single speck of dust by the time you were done. No dirty clothes, no water droplets on the sink of his tiny bathroom. Simon was already a clean man, but now the place looked brand new. 

You decide that when he gets home, you're taking him to the Target in town and buying him some little bits of decor. This room needed a little extra life to it. He'd argue, you know he would, but even John had bits of himself in his room. Pictures and trinkets. If this was where Simon was going to spend his life, he needed to make it more him , and you were more than willing to help him do that. 

John doesn't show up in the mess hall for dinner, and you don't see him afterwards either. Whatever is happening, it's taking all his time and attention. 

He spent this afternoon with you, you tell yourself when you start to get restless. He's not changing his mind.  

He'd promised to have a more in-depth conversation, but he had agreed that you and him were something now. Not just friends, not just fucking, but something. Whether that meant you were in a relationship, whether you could confidently call him your partner, was yet to be decided on. 

But that didn't make the sudden lack of him any easier. Your abandonment issues kicking in the longer you went without him. You're honestly a little embarrassed at yourself for how quickly you got attached to him. All it took was a few deep conversations and a good fuck and suddenly he was everything to you. 

He didn't stand on the same level as Simon, but you were pretty certain he was close. 

But tonight you sleep in Simon's bed, curled under his sheets, head buried in the new pillow. Or you try to, anyway. John had chased away your nightmares before, but now he was too busy saving Simon to save you. 

-

This one is new. You'd contemplate it later. 

You're standing on the beach, sand between your toes, salt air blowing through your hair. And in the distance is Simon. 

And John. 

They're calling to you, but you can't move. John is smiling, his hand outstretched and waiting. Simon is giving you that look of faux impatience. 

They're waiting for you. But you can't move. 

The air is cold, it feels like there are hands squeezing your throat, cutting off your air, holding you to your spot. You try to scream, but nothing comes out. 

A sound rings out, one you've only heard a handful of times in real life. A gunshot. 

Simon's not there anymore. 

This time you do scream. Then your back is on that wood floor, blood pooling under you, staining your skin, your clothes. But it's not Simon killing you this time. He can't if he's already dead. 

Who is it? Who is it? 

"Please!" Your voice doesn't sound like you. "Please don't go!" 

The hallways of your childhood home are always dark. John is walking away from you. Leaving you. 

"Did you expect him to stay?" Your mother croons in your ear. "You're worthless to a man like that." 

"He's not meant for you," Simon says. 

He promised he promised he promised he-

The gun goes off again, and this time it's you who falls. 

-

He's in his office. You don't know why you didn't check here first. 

He's sat at his desk, head resting in his arms, snoring softly. It looks like he passed out while working, there's even a pen still in his hand. 

You wonder if it's a good idea to wake him. Waking Simon up never went well, he always startled, sometimes throwing himself off the bed. But you need help, you need John. Need to know he's alive, that he's still here. That he still wants you. 

Your touch on his shoulder is hesitant, shaking him a little as you softly call his name. It takes a few tries, but eventually he sucks in a breath and groans, slowly lifting his head. 

"You shouldn't sleep here," You murmur to him. He just hums.

"Didn't mean to." His voice is thick with sleep, exhaustion clear on his face. "What'd you need, baby?" 

"Just…wondering where you were," It's a shit lie and you know it. 

"Mm. Bad dreams?" 

"...yeah…" 

John sighs and leans back, gesturing for you to come closer. When you do, he grabs your waist and pulls you down into his lap, wrapping his arms around your middle and pressing a soft kiss to the side of your head. 

"I've got you, love. Sorry I wasn't there." He says softly, massaging you gently with his hands. 

" 's okay," You say. John hums again, and the two of you just sit like that for a while, letting the room fall into a surprisingly pleasant silence. His heart beats steadily in your ear, a sweet lullaby to your exhausted brain. 

You don’t remember falling asleep, but when you wake up in the morning, you’re in John’s bed with him.

Chapter Text

The tarmac was bustling with people and vehicles all moving around at insane speeds. John had asked you to meet him out here but never said why. You felt like you were in the way of the soldiers rushing around you; this area of base wasn’t meant for a civilian like you. In all the hustle and bustle you nearly miss your name being called, but you eventually spot John waving at you. 

“There you are, sweetheart,” He says, smiling at you as you approach. “Thought you got lost.” 

“I almost did. What am I doing out here?” You ask, pressing close to him to avoid being run over by a group of scrambling medics. 

“The lads are coming back.” 

“What?! Is-” You don’t get the chance to finish as the deafening sound of helicopter blades fills your ears and forces you to cover them. John seems completely unaffected, used to this kind of thing already, but he keeps a hand on your waist, holding you to your spot. The large aircraft lands somehow both quickly yet too slow for your frayed nerves. The ramp shudders, then lowers.

“Gaz!” John lets you go and steps forward to meet the sergeant who comes stomping forward. They shake hands and some words are shared between them. Your eyes focus on the ramp, on the soldiers rushing on and off. You had yet to see Johnny or Simon. 

Your heart pounds in your chest. John hadn’t said anything to you about whether or not Simon had ever been found, and right now you didn’t see him. He wasn’t walking down the ramp, wasn’t storming around the tarmac or fussing at you for being here when you shouldn’t be. He wasn’t anywhere. And neither was Johnny. 

Was this why John had kept quiet? Because both men were gone and not coming back? Was he going to have Kyle talk you through what happened? Tell you what to do now? Your hands were shaking, harder and harder with each passing second, tears welling in your eyes. 

Simon was gone. This is it, you’ve lost him. He wasn’t coming back and there was nothing more you could do. His room would be emptied, another soldier put in it. You’d take his things home and put it all in boxes to hide away. His funeral would be small, just you, Gary, and what was left of the 141. You wonder if they found his tags, so that you could wear them, keep him by your heart. 

You wanted to scream and cry and throw up. It wasn’t fair! While you had been here being taken care of by John, finding some happiness, Simon was rotting in some forest somewhere. Had they at least found his body? Would there be anything to bury in the first place? 

No, not bury, Simon told you a long time ago to never put him back in the ground. You were supposed to cremate him and leave his ashes with the rest of the Riley family in that little graveyard in Manchester. But if his body never comes back, how are you supposed to do that? How are you supposed to do what he asked of you all those years ago? He couldn’t stay lost forever, he just couldn’t! He had to come home! 

You had to tell him about you and John, argue with him about it. You had to tell him to be nice while he glared daggers. You had to tease him about his crush on Johnny (Johnny oh God where was Johnny?!). He had to hug you, sleep in your bed with you and tell you everything was okay. He had to protect you! Take care of you! How could he do that if-

“Breathe, love. I’m right here.”

Chapter Text

“Don’t. Move.” The voice was so familiar Kyle nearly collapsed in relief. 

“Ghost,” He breathes, turning despite his Lieutenant’s order. He finds himself nose to nose with a stolen rifle, the man holding it levels him with a hard glare. It takes him a moment, but recognition flashes through Ghost’s eyes, and the gun lowers. 

“Garrick.” He says, blinking slowly. 

“Been lookin’ for you, sir,” Kyle grins at him. He can’t help it. 

“Looks like you found me.” 

Kyle laughs, shaking his head. A twig snapping alerts him to Soap shoving his way through the bushes, leaves in his stupid hair tells Kyle that Ghost may have shoved the man into the brush to hide him. 

“Took you bloody long enough!” Soap huffs. “D’you have any idea-” 

“You shut the fuck up. You’re fucking dead, you hear me? DEAD!” Kyle launches himself at Soap, tackling him to the ground and pinning him easily. “I oughta beat the fuck out of you! Do you have any idea how fucking worried I’ve been you Scottish arsehole! ” 

Soap has the audacity to laugh. Kyle punches him hard in the face. Ghost snatches Kyle by the back of the vest and jerks him up and off Soap. 

“Get it together sergeant-” Ghost grunts when Kyle whips around and punches him too, definitely breaking his lieutenant’s nose, knuckles splitting a bit at the force. 

“Both of you are assholes! Do you have any idea how worried that girl has been?! No! I’m the one who’s had the bloody Captain in my ear about it! I hope she drowns you in the fucking ocean, Christ! ” Kyle huffs, breathing hard. Ghost just looks at him, blood soaking into the borrowed mask that covers the lower parts of his face.

“Feel better?” The lieutenant asks, calm as ever. 

“...yes.” Kyle mumbles. 

“Good. Call Price and set up an evac point.” 

“Yes, sir.”

-

Gaz had warned him that you were waiting. That you were on base, and would likely be on the tarmac with Price when they landed. But he hadn’t been ready to actually see you. He’d frozen at the top of the ramp at the sight of you, shifting your weight from foot to foot, eyes searching the crowd, looking for him. Johnny stayed back with him, a comforting hand on his shoulder. 

But the longer he stood there, hiding from you, the more he saw you start to panic. He could see you shaking, see the tears in your eyes and how your breathing picked up. Price talked to Gaz, focused more on the sergeant than you at that moment. Simon wanted to run off the heli and wrap you in his arms, tell you he was okay, but he couldn’t move. 

“She’s waitin’, Lt.” Johnny says softly, the hand on his shoulder slipping off only to curl around his own, giving him a slight squeeze. “Been waitin’ for a while.” 

“I know.” Simon mumbles back, glancing at the man next to him, who smiles. 

“Then let’s go.” 

Simon looks back at you, his heart breaking at the sight of tears slipping from your eyelashes. You were breathing too hard now, nearly hyperventilating. Johnny gives him a shove, and once his feet move, they don’t stop. He shoulders past everyone in his way, ignoring all calls for him by other soldiers. He had to reach you. 

He can tell you don’t see him, your eyes are too distant, lost in your own mind. You don’t seem to register his hands cupping your face either, thumbs wiping away your tears. It’s his voice that brings you back, as it always has.

“Breathe, love. I’m right here.” He says softly. You blink a few times, gaze finally finding him in front of you, then you let out a sob. It’s both horribly sad, and incredibly relieved. 

He pulls you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug. You cling to him, sobbing into his shoulder and just babbling his name over and over. He rubs your back and runs his fingers through your hair, soothing you. His poor girl, he can only imagine the hell you’ve been living while he’s been gone. 

Johnny had told him what happened to bring you here, and he had never been gladder to kill someone. He’d cleared that whole town of those bastards, leaving not a single person alive. He’d have to move you from the apartment, put you somewhere new, somewhere safer. But that could wait until you were settled with his return. Right now he needed you to know he was okay, that he was safe and alive and had come home to you. 

“I’m here,” He says softly. “I’m alright.”

“Simon!” You sob, over and over it’s all you can say. 

-

You cleaned his quarters. 

No, strike that, you deep cleaned his quarters. His laundry was done, bed made, and he’s almost 100% sure that’s a brand new pillow and blanket. Your bag of clothes was sitting on the floor by the end of his bed, and the shirt you’d obviously been using to sleep in was laying over it. He supposed it was better that you’d kept yourself busy rather than wallowing in your stress and fear, but he seriously wonders how many times you cleaned and re-cleaned this room.

You’re hanging on his arm, but your weight is nothing to him, if anything it’s a sweet reminder that he was back where he belonged. You’d fussed over his nose, but it was a clean break and he’d set it on the heli. He didn’t tell you that it was Gaz who’d done it, it had been deserved, both him and Johnny both deserved their hits from the other man, so there was no need to have you get upset with him about it. 

“Been busy, I see,” He says, nodding to the overly clean room.

“I needed something to do,” You shrug. There’s something different about you, but he can’t quite place what. You walk with a slight wobble, and you keep chewing on your lip, a sure sign that something was on your mind. Had you gotten hurt? If someone on base had been bad to you, Price surely would have handled it, you should have been well taken care of here. 

Asking you probably wouldn’t do much. If you weren’t of the mind to tell him anything, you wouldn’t. He’d just have to nose around on his own time once you’d been sent back home. A call to Gary was probably in order as well, Simon doubted you hadn’t told him that he’d been missing. 

Actually, the more he looked at the room, the more it didn’t look like you’d actually been sleeping in it. The bed was made too nicely, your bag looked like it had been tossed there in a hurry, and the room smelled too much like cleaning chemicals. If you’d been sleeping in this room, it would smell more like you. It was possible that you’d been using an empty room, but why then would your things be in here? 

You walk with a slight wobble.  

-

You were sleeping soundly in his bed right now, but he’d need to get back quickly. If you woke up from a nightmare without him, you were likely to have a panic attack, and he couldn’t let that happen. But he had questions, and he was going to get them one way or another. 

Price had told him that you had some trouble at first, but he’d handled it, and that you’d seemed to be fine for the most part during your stay. When Simon questioned him about where you’d been sleeping, he’d said that you’d been put up in Simon’s quarters. 

But you were walking wrong, and you fidgeted when he looked at you too long. Something had happened, someone had touched you, and he was going to find out who. 

“You. Private.” He snaps upon seeing a young man in the kitchen. The boy jumps out of his skin, scrambling to stand at attention. 

“S-Sir!” 

“The civilian woman who’s been here, where’s she been staying?” 

“Y-your quarters, sir. Order of the Captain.” 

“Who has she been spending time with?” 

“Um…sh-she’s kept mostly to herself, sir.” 

Simon hums, and turns away, stomping back down the hall. So far that’s the only answer he’s gotten. You’ve been in his quarters, you’ve kept to yourself. Either everyone was lying, or you’d been sneaking around. 

You were good at that. Always had been, thanks to the abuse you suffered as a child. You’d told him about it years ago, how you’d creep around the house after your parents fought to keep from catching your father’s attention. If you wanted to move around unseen, you could. He wouldn't put it past you either. You knew how he felt about you getting involved with men in the military.  If you'd engaged in the act with someone on base, you'd try to hide it. But you were clearly guilty about it, if that's what happened, and it was his duty as your family to make sure you were safe. 

Chapter Text

Warm.  

You shift on the bed, wakefulness coming slowly to you. You can't move too much, Simon is holding you too tightly. 

Simon? Simon!  

He came home yesterday with a broken nose and a poorly treated gunshot wound in the leg. But he was back. He was alive! He'd returned to you, just like he was supposed to. He'd tucked you in his arms and let you sleep there, and he was still in bed with you. 

You know it's him from instinct alone, your mind and body recognizing your soulmate without needing to see or hear him. It was in the way you laid curled against him, his arms curled around you protectively. It was how he breathed, always with a slight wheeze from when his lungs were punctured by his ribs and never quite healed right. And most of all it was how he smelled. Like mint and honey, bourbon and spice. Warmth and safety. 

You elbow him in the stomach.

"You're squishing me," You yawn. Simon grumbles. 

"Suck it up." He holds you tighter, squeezing you until you wheeze and start wiggling against his hold. He huffs out a laugh, pressing a kiss to the side of your head before letting go. 

You sit up and look down at him. His nose and the underneath of his eyes are bruised and swollen from the break, but he gives you a sideways smirk and reaches up to ruffle your hair. 

"Sleep okay?" He asks as if he didn't already know. 

"Mhm." You smile warmly at him. He hums and nods, pleased by your answer. 

"Good.” 

You roll out of the bed, stretching as you do, the shirt you’d been wearing sliding up your legs the slightest bit. You don’t think anything about it until Simon speaks up. 

“That a bruise?” 

Oh shit. Shit shit shit.  

You glance down at your thigh, pulling your shirt up the tiniest bit to look at what he was, a frown pulling at your lips. John had left more than just sneaky little hickies on your body. He’d left a bruise from how hard he held your legs. Thankfully, it didn’t look too much like a hand, but Simon was a smart man, he’d figure it out. 

“Oh, uh, yeah I guess so. I ran into the corner of the table at breakfast the other day, I didn’t even realize I bruised,” You say, hoping you sound nonchalant. 

“Yeah?” He asks. 

“Yeah.” Turned away from him, you don’t see the way his eyes darken at your little lie.

To be fair, you weren’t planning on keeping your something with John a secret, but Simon had literally just gotten back from being lost who knows where dealing with who knows what. He didn’t need the extra stress of fighting with you over your choice of lover while he was gone. 

You decide to change clothes in the bathroom to avoid him spotting any other marks left behind by John and asking more questions, and by the time you’re done, he’s changed and made the bed already. The two of you go to breakfast together, meeting the rest of the 141 already at the table. Johnny has a busted nose too, but his wasn’t broken, and Kyle had split knuckles, but other than that, it seemed they came out of everything mostly clean. 

You sit next to Simon, right across from John. His boot nudges your foot, and you have to fight the grin that wants to spread across your face at the action. His eyes have a glint in them, flicking towards the door then back to you. A request, an invitation. You two would be having a conversation after breakfast.

-

His lips are hot on yours, kisses messy and hard. He’d missed you last night, his body and heart aching for your presence. What you were doing now was risky, he’d given Simon a cheap errand to run so that he could have you to himself for a few minutes, and he planned to take advantage of every second he got.

He has you shoved up on the wall, hands buried in your hair, body pressed into yours. He swallowed all your little sounds, hiding his own groans in your lips at the feeling of your hands under the waistband of his pants, palming his cock with quick, desperate movements. Both of you knew this had to be fast.  

He grunts when you take a firmer hold of his cock, pumping him as best you can through the restraints of his pants. 

“Gonna make a mess of my pants, love,” He groans, rocking his hips into your hand. You hum, teeth sinking into his lower lip.

“He’ll be back any second,” You mumble. “We need to hurry.” 

“I know, baby, I know. Gonna cum in your hands now, then I’ll make a nice big mess of you later.” 

Honestly, you think you could orgasm with his words alone. He wasn’t even touching you and you were already so close. 

“Come on, then, Captain. Cum in my hands.” 

“Fucking hell. Say that again.”  

“Cum for me, Captain, please. ” That does it. With a string of low curses, he fills your hands with his hot cum, dirtying your hands with his very being. He kisses you hard, lips near bruising yours. The two of you remain like that for a moment, panting, sharing a few softer kisses and brushing noses.

“We need to clean you up,” John murmurs, nuzzling his face into yours. You giggle when his beard tickles your cheeks. 

“Yeah, we do.” You agree, carefully removing your hands from his pants. Your fingers drip with his cum, but once he’s zipped and buttoned, he takes your hand and leads you from your little corner and towards his office. 

Neither of you see the red-faced soldier who scrambles to hide from you as you walk past. All Johnny can think is, 

“Ghost is going to lose his fucking mind.”

Chapter Text

Johnny holds his face very carefully in his hands, inspecting the bruising on his face. He’d been quiet since finding him in the common room while looking for where you’d run off to. Too quiet. 

“What is it, Johnny?” Simon asks, keeping his voice low and even. 

“Huh? Oh-nothin’. Just thinkin’ ‘bout something.” Johnny says, avoiding his gaze. 

“Must be serious if you can’t look at me.” Simon pulls his face away, tucking his nose back under his mask, hiding himself again. Johnny chuckles nervously, scratching the back of his head. He never had been good at keeping secrets. 

“Ah-it’s just-I’m not sure if I should say anything.” He looks away again, shuffling his feet. 

“About what?” 

“Ah- shit- ”

“About what , Johnny?” 

The sergeant swallows, and prays to God that you forgive him for this.

-

You hear him before you see him, his heavy footsteps thundering down the hall, your name on his lips. You poke your head out of his room, eyebrows scrunched together in confusion; you don’t get to say anything, he grabs you by the collar and backs you up into the room, slamming the door behind him. 

“What the fuck ?!” 

“Uh-”

“What. The. Fuck?!”  

“Simon I don’t-”

“Price?!”

Oh. Oh no.  

“Wait, hold on-”

“We had an understanding. An agreement. No military! No Price! You were to stay away from him!” 

“I know, look Simon just-” “I told you he wasn’t meant for you, that you would only get hurt! I’m trying to protect you, and you go and fuck around anyway when I’m not looking!” 

“I didn’t plan on anything happening! It just happened! I was going to tell you-”

“When? Before, or after he got you pregnant?”

“Simon, please, don’t be dramatic! You know fully well that I’m on birth control.” 

“That doesn’t matter! That’s what he wants! ” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Price wants family. Wife and kids, the whole deal. I know you might want that too one day, but he wants it now. He’s fucking talked about it, and I won’t let him push that on you when you’re not ready.”

“He’s not-”

“He will.”

-

He doesn’t knock, doesn’t offer any warning. He simply throws the door open and shuts it hard behind him, clicking the lock before storming to the desk where John sat, already waiting for him. He’d gotten the warning text just moments ago that Simon was on a warpath and coming for him. 

“Lieutenant,” He says, gesturing towards the chair. Simon doesn’t sit.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Simon hisses, anger thick in his voice. 

“I don’t follow.” 

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. My girl.” 

“Ah, right.” John leans back in his chair, gesturing again towards the one Simon refused. “Sit, let’s talk.”

“This isn’t a discussion, Price.”

“You’re right, it’s not.” John sighs and stands, shoulders square and eyes narrowed. He expected something like this. “She’s an adult, old enough to make her own choices.” 

“Men like you will only take advantage.” 

“Men like me?”

“You know exactly what I mean. She’s not for you.” 

“I’ll bite. Who, then, is she for?” 

“Civilians. Men who won’t knock her up and die six days later. Men who don’t have the kind of blood on them that we do.” 

“I feel I should remind you that she’s just as likely to find a civilian man to get her pregnant and leave her just as easily.” 

“You-” 

“Simon, let me be frank. Your actions and thoughts are noble and understandable. You want to keep her safe, ensure she’s loved and cared for when you’re not around. But what you’re missing is the fact that she was always going to find a man in the military. She was always going to find you in another man.” 

“And you think that’s you? ”

“I have every intention of taking care of her, in every aspect.” 

“You think you can?”

“I know I can.”

Simon scowls under his mask, anger clear in his eyes. John’s surety was likely being taken as arrogance, but he didn’t care. This argument was always going to happen, and John would set everything aside to have it out with him for however long was necessary. 

-

Johnny wasn’t looking you in the eye. Whenever he did, his face flushed a bright red, and he was quick to look away. He saw you and John together, Simon had said so. He was the reason Simon knew, and you had no intention of letting him off easy for spilling your secret without coming to you or John about it. It was just plain rude of him. 

You’d snatched him right out of the hallway and trapped him in Simon’s room with you, and now you stood in front of the door, arms crossed, lips turned downward, while he sat fidgeting on the edge of Simon’s bed. He knew perfectly well what you’d captured him for, he had it written all over his face.

“So-” 

“Exactly how much did you see?” 

“What do you-”

“How much did you see?”

“...just the end.” 

“Jesus…” You sigh, rubbing your forehead. You were just as embarrassed as you were frustrated. You suppose it’s a good thing it had just been John with hands down his pants and not you, too. If you’d been seen while being pleasured like that, you probably would have died on the spot. 

“I’m sorry.” He blurts out, standing suddenly. “I was just shocked and I ran into Ghost so soon after it happened I didn’t even process it and it just fell outta me.” 

“Do you realize that Simon might actually kill John?” 

“He wouldn’t kill the Cap-erm-Price.” Your eyebrow raises at his avoidance of the word Captain before realizing that he likely heard you make John cum by using that word. If you weren’t so upset, you’d feel bad for him. 

“Look, Johnny, I get it, I do. You saw something you weren’t meant to see and you spilled your guts to the first person who asked, but you need to realize something. Simon is extremely against me having anything to do with men in the military, and he and I have already had discussions about John and me. He’s not just angry right now, he’s pissed. And he will absolutely hurt John if he thinks it’s necessary.” 

Johnny sighs and looks away from you. He knew Simon well, he knew you were right. When Simon set his mind to something, it was hard to shake him out of it. 

Wait…shake him out of it…

“Johnny, can I ask you a question?” 

“Sure, lass, anything.” 

“How do you feel about Simon?”

Chapter Text

He stands there with his eyes squeezed shut for a solid 45 or so seconds before it sets in that the bullet hadn't hit him. Johnny lets out the air he was holding in his lungs, gasping as he opens his eyes and looks around wildly. The Russian soldier lays on the ground, blood seeping into the dirt. He whirls his head around to find the man who pulled the trigger, finding him standing perfectly calmly, rifle hanging from loose fingers, dark eyes staring at him. 

"What the fuck?" Johnny manages. The man chuckles, the sound more like a huff, then he reaches for the black mask covering his nose, slowly pulling it down. 

"You alright, Johnny?" Ghost asks. 

There is no thought, no hesitation in what Johnny does next.

They're softer than he'd imagined, and felt better than any daydream he could have conjured in his mind. He's sure Ghost is going to beat him into the ground for this, but Johnny didn't care. All that mattered right now was that he was here, he was alive, and his lips fit perfectly against Johnny's. 

Ghost doesn't shove away, he just stands there and lets it happen, posture stiff and a bit unsure. When Johnny pulls back, he almost laughs at how utterly flustered his Lieutenant looks. 

"You ever go missin' on us again, I'll shoot first." Johnny says, still holding Ghost's face between shaky hands. 

"...yeah." 

Several shouts in Russian reach their ears and shakes them from their moment. Ghost pulls the mask back over his nose and jerks his head. 

"Let's go, Johnny." 

"Right behind you, sir." 

They still haven't talked about it.

-

"That dick. " 

"Thought he woulda said somethin' to you already."

"He's been too preoccupied with sabotaging my love life." 

"Are you and Price really…?"

"I don't know anymore! Who knows what Simon has done by now!" 

"....I'm real sorry, lass…."

Johnny may be your current worst enemy, but fuck did you feel bad for him. Simon was emotionally constipated at best, you could imagine the look that had been on his face when Johnny kissed him. You sigh, reaching over to pat the man on the arm. 

"He likes you," You say.

"As a friend, yeah." 

"No, Johnny, he likes you. " 

There is a long moment of silence where he processes your words, the tips of his ears turning pink. 

"Naw, he doesn't." 

"Yeah, he does."

"Prove it." 

Gladly. A grin spreads over your face as you dig out your phone and start swiping through texts between you and Simon. He deserved this for the hell he was raising right now. Finding what you want, you hand the phone to Johnny and just watch.  

He reads the messages slowly once…twice… four times, his face getting redder with each re-read. Johnny was seeing Simon in a new way right now, seeing his little thoughts and quips that he kept to himself while with the team. He was seeing how Simon liked Johnny's butt, and his admittance that he smiled more when Johnny was around. He was reading Simon lament about how he couldn't tell if Johnny was actually a flirt or if he just bloody talked like that to everyone. But the one message that would probably get you yelled at for showing Johnny was the one about Simon's family. 

I want him to meet them. 

You wanna take Johnny to the cemetery to introduce him to your mom? 

And Tommy. 

Johnny flops sideways on the bed, shoving his pace in the pillow and just screams .

  "If you want to make any of what is happening better for me, you'll talk to Simon."

Chapter Text

His office door is open, just a little bit, when you arrive. Johnny had promised you at least five minutes, so you’d have to make this fast. Simon would know where you went the moment he finds his room empty. You nudge the door open and poke your head in the room, eyes landing on John, sitting at his desk looking unbothered. You slide through the door and shut it quietly behind you, clicking the lock as you do. That won’t stop Simon, but it would give you a few extra seconds. 

John looks up at the sound, smiling warmly at you the moment his eyes find yours. He leans back in his chair and pats his lap, an invitation to sit, which you are happy to accept. His arms curl around you when you sit down, a kiss pressed to your head. 

“John,” You start, but he shushes you. 

“It’s alright, baby.”

“You don’t know what I was going to say,” You pout at him, making him chuckle. 

“I can guess. But trust me, sweetheart, it’s alright.” He says, squeezing you a little closer. You nuzzle into his chest, inhaling his familiar scent. 

“We never really talked about what we are. ” You whisper. 

“No? I thought that was decided when I bounced you on my cock in the car. You’re mine, baby, now and always. My girl.” He murmurs in your ear, fingers trailing along your arm slowly. You could feel him slowly hardening under you, his beard scratching your face as he presses kisses into you. 

“Even though Simon-” 

“I’m not afraid of him. He can throw his little fit all he wants, I’m not letting you go.” He kisses your lips softly, parting them with his tongue. You twist in his lap, pressing your chest into his, knees on either side of his thighs. John rests his hands on your hips, gently rocking you back and forth, grinding you on his cock. The kiss deepens, becomes needier, more desperate. Your hands dig into his hair, moans spilling from you heedless of who might hear. 

John’s hands dig into your flesh, lifting you off his lap so that he can drop you onto his desk, standing to loom over you. You grab at his belt, unbuckling it and tugging at his pants. He chuckles against your lips, lowering his hands to help you free his cock, groaning when your hands wrap around it. 

“That’s my baby,” He hums. “Don’t you worry about anything any more. ‘M gonna keep you for a good long time.” 

“John,” You whine. “Please.” 

He chuckles, pulling your pants down your legs, tossing them to the floor along with your panties. He never needed to be asked more than once to stuff your pussy with his cock. You suck in a breath, hissing at the slight pain of being stretched out without any other preparation. But he doesn't stop, nor do you ask him to. His beginning thrusts are slow, making sure you were adjusting properly to his size, before he starts really fucking. 

You drop back onto the desk, back arched high as he grips your hips and pounds into you, grunting praise at you. He filled you so perfectly, his cock hitting you just right every time to have you near sobbing with pleasure. He fucked you with no hesitation, no reservations, no fear of being interrupted. The moment was yours and yours alone, and he wasn't going to let anything keep him from making you cum, from filling your pretty pussy with his seed. You were his , and no amount of threats would make him believe any differently. 

-

"I know what you're doing." 

"Aye?" 

"You feel guilty so you're trying to keep me from looking for her." 

Damn him. 

"Ghost, don't you think you should just let-" 

"No." 

"But-" 

"You don't understand, Johnny. Its my job to protect her, and I have no plans of skirting that responsibility in the slightest." 

"I do understand. I have sisters, nieces, I get it. But she's an adult, yeah? Doesn't she get a say in how she lives her life?" 

"We had an agreement." 

"I know. But things change, hearts call to one another, and people fall." 

"She wasn't supposed to fall for him." 

"But she did." 

Ghost is quiet for a long while after that, processing Johnny's words slowly before blowing out a slow, annoyed sigh. 

"She's not the only one who fell for someone they shouldn't," Johnny whispers. Ghost squints, spine straightening. 

"Johnny-" 

"Look, I know that you share my feelings, and that you probably are going to turn me down anyway, but I-" 

"Don't." Ghost grabs Johnny by the shoulders, holding him far too tightly. "Don't finish that fucking sentence." 

"Ghost-" 

"I'm not good for you, Johnny." 

"I don't care. I want to spend every day with you, I want to know you, really know you. When I kissed you I meant it, and I mean it now when I say I want to do it again." 

Ghost's grip on his shoulders is far beyond bruising, his hands shaking as he holds Johnny for dear life. 

"No, no, you don't. This is-you're confused-" 

"I'm not, Simon." Johnny reaches for him, fingers brushing across his face. "I'm not." 

"I'm no good for you, Johnny. I'm not someone who can give you what you need."

"All I need is you." 

"Johnny-"

"Oh shut up you fuckin-" Johnny pulls him in, kissing him through the fabric of the mask. It doesn't feel the same as when he kissed him in those woods, but neither can deny the electricity that flashes through them. 

The kiss is short, barely a few seconds, but the impression remains. Johnny's heart sits on his sleeve and he just hopes Simon accepts it. The other man is silent, staring at Johnny with an unreadable gaze. 

Then he pulls his mask off, and tastes his sergeant again. 

Chapter Text

This action was nothing new to Simon, but it felt so different now. Usually it was you running your hands over his scars with that frown on your face every time you found a new one. But your softer hands were nothing compared to Johnny's. He had hands that had been calloused by years of war and hard work, and they scratched Simon's skin in the best way. 

"Where'd this one come from, Lt.?" Johnny asks softly, running his middle finger around a old, torn bullet wound. 

"Iraq, 'bout eight years ago." Simon murmurs, watching the man laying next to him with careful eyes. He was avoiding the scars on his ribs, which both relieved and stressed Simon all at once. Part of him just wanted to get it over with, to tell Johnny about Roba, about Mexico. But that meant telling him about his family, about his torture at the hands of a man he once trusted. He's not sure he's ready for that. 

"This one?" Calloused fingers find a small scar on his collarbone. Simon chuckles. 

"Retribution." 

"From who?" 

Simon smirks, whispering your name into the dim shadows of the room. Johnny howls with laughter. 

"Bullshite! She stabbed you?!" He laughs. 

"I deserved it."

"What the bloody hell did you do to her?"

"Stabbed her. " 

There's a moment of silence where Johnny tries to figure out what to say next, but the silence stretches too long. 

"I got lost in a memory, an' she got too close. Didn't know how to apologize for somethin' like that."

"So you let her hit back."

"Took some convincing." 

Johnny snorts, the image of a younger you holding one of Simon's tactical knives with an unsure look on your face while he tried to convince you to really just go for it was hilarious. He's honestly shocked you did it at all. 

"So you two match now, aye?" 

"Mm." Simon sighs. "Hers is bigger." 

"Think the Captain knows?"

"He's fucked her. He knows." 

"Just 'cause they've been together doesn't mean she's told 'im what it was from."

"He's nosy and she's a shit liar."

"Fair." 

Johnny sighs and settles next to him as best he can in the tiny bed, humming softly when Simon wraps his arms around him, legs tangling together. Simon’s heart beats steadily under Johnny’s ear, his lungs give the slightest wheeze when he breathes, and his body is warm against the other man's. 

"Should probably get up 'n get dressed," Johnny sighs. "Don't want the lass walkin' in on us." 

"Nothin' she hasn't seen before." Simon says with a lazy shrug. 

"Do I wanna know?" 

"She lives with my former partner. She's walked in on us plenty of times." 

"Oof. Poor lass."

"I've had to drag her out of bar bathrooms mid-fuck with some random fucker more times than I can count."

"Filthy." 

"You don't have to go." 

"I won't. So long as you don't want me to, Ghost."

"...Simon is fine…"

Johnny smiles.

-

"Disgusting."

"Fuck off."

"I mean seriously, gross. "

"Its my quarters. Can have whoever I want in them." 

"I don't think that's legally true." 

"Fuck off."

"Fine, fine, I'm going to nap in John's room, then." 

Simon narrows his eyes, but keeps quiet as you turn back out the door, noting that cheeky little grin you try and fail to hide. You and Johnny set him up, he knows that perfectly well. But he'll let it slide this time . Johnny feels good next to him, and Simon doesn't want to give that up right now. Admitting that he knew the whole time that Johnny was trying to keep him distracted so that you could sneak off to Price would only ruin the moment. 

"Oi!" He yells just before the door shuts, making Johnny grumble sleepily next to him. 

"Hm?" You hum lightly. 

"Don't get pregnant yet." 

"Not planning to."

"He has to ask me to marry you."

"I'll tell him that." 

"He hurts you-" 

"I expect nothing less. Can I go now?" 

"...yeah." 

You smile, warmth spreading in your chest at him giving his official permission. 

"Hey Si?"

"What?"

"I love you."

"I love you too."

Chapter Text

"Ow, fuck!"

"Easy, baby."

"I am being easy! "

"No need to shout, princess."

"I'm not shouting!" 

John just looks at you from over the box in his hands, eyebrow raised. You pout back at him, rubbing the hand you'd just smashed into the side of the table. 

"Where do you want this?" He asks, lightly bouncing the box that was most definitely way too heavy for a normal person to swing around like he does. His casual strength is a serious turn on. 

"Just put it wherever, I'll figure out where it all goes later." You sigh, flopping down into one of the kitchen chairs. You were exhausted, totally and completely. Moving all the way out here took it all out of you, and John only arrived to help just this morning. Simon was due in a few hours with Johnny in tow. 

You should have waited for them, but you'd been impatient, wanting to get out of your apartment as soon as possible. Gary's partner was moving in when they got home from wherever the hell in the world they'd been sent, and you'd decided to move out. Gary had insisted that it wasn't necessary, but you figured you have a nice house sitting unused, and with you and John getting more serious it was probably best to have some space.

"Give me that hand," John kneels in front of you, the box having been dumped on the floor by the wall. He takes your sore left hand in his, massaging it gently with his rough fingers, pressing a kiss into it, making you giggle. 

"You look like you're gonna propose," You tease, looking down at him. 

"Mm. Maybe I am." He murmurs, looking back up at you, blue eyes gleaming mischievously. You laugh and shake your head. 

"Gotta ask Si first."

"I know, princess." 

"He'll probably say no."

"Most likely. But to be fair, he said I had to ask , not listen. " 

You bust out laughing, head falling back. John was such a little shit sometimes, you loved it. Loved him. You wouldn't mind marrying him, plus the ring looked really nice on your finger-

"John."

"Yes, baby?" 

"Are you…"

"Yes, baby."  

"Oh fuck." 

"Do you want me to say it properly? Will you-"

You launch forward, tackling him backwards on the ground, smashing your lips into his. John wraps his arms around you instantly, pulling you closer to kiss you deeper. 

"Take me upstairs right now. " You demand between kisses. John doesn't question it, he pushes up, throwing you over his shoulder and carries you like a sexy sack of potatoes right up the stairs and into your bedroom. He dumps you on the bed and is on top of you in the same breath, lips against yours, tongue between your teeth. Your arms wrap around his shoulders, a soft moan falling from you when he presses his hard bulge against your core. 

"Should I take this as a yes, baby?" He murmurs, kisses trailing along your jaw and down your neck. You hum, nodding. John bites down on your collarbone. "Words, princess, I need words."

"Yes!" You moan. "Yes, please, I'll marry you, John!" 

"That's my good girl." He growls, pulling your shirt over your head and tossing it onto the floor. His head dips down to press a kiss between your breasts, rough hands sliding over your smooth skin. 

John didn't just fuck you, he worshiped you. He touched, soft and slow at first, running his hands over your body, kissing every inch of you he can. You thought this little routine would fade after a while together, but if anything it's gotten more regular. Even quickies leave you feeling like a goddess in your own skin, worshiped by the horniest, hottest man in the world. 

Your sports bra and shorts join your shirt on the floor, John's tongue making delicious circles around a hardened nipple while one of his hands runs slowly along your soaked slit. Hands in his hair, all you can do is moan softly, back arching every time he teases your clit. His name falls from your lips when one finger presses into you, pumping in and out of your core, curling against that soft spot inside you that has you seeing stars. John played your body like a musician playing his favorite instrument, always finding the right places to pinch, pull, twist, press, to have you singing his songs. 

One finger becomes three, his deep chuckle in your ear when you hiss at the stretch, gripping him tighter, nails digging into him. 

"Such pretty sounds my little wife makes," He groans, kissing your jaw. "Fuck, I like that. Pretty wife. " 

You liked it too. 

"Mm, fuck, husband, I'm gonna come," You moan. John shudders above you, teeth finding your neck. 

"Say that again, little wife."

"I'm gonna cum, husband. " 

He thrusts his fingers into you harder, sending you screaming over the edge, tears filling your eyes at the intensity of your orgasm. John pulls his hand from you with little ceremony, ripping his shirt over his head, making quick work of his pants while you recover under him. You'd gotten him worked up with that one word, more so than when you called him Captain in bed. His cock stands at firm attention, hard and leaking, waiting to be stuffed in your pussy. 

You reach for him, only to be batted away. 

"No, baby, I want to cum in your little perfect pussy right now. " He falls over you, bruising your thighs when he hikes them up, pressing your knees into your chest. His cock slides into you like it's always belonged there, your moans filling the room with desperate lewdness. 

"Fuck, John," You groan. "Fuck me." 

"That's the plan, princess. Fuck you, marry you, fill you and this little house with my kids." He grunts, squeezing your knees lightly as he starts thrusting. 

His first few movements are slower, always mindful of you and your limits, before he picks up the pace, pulling all the way out before slamming back in. His eyes never leave your face, watching how it contorts in pleasure at the feeling of his cock hammering into you. You claw at his shoulders and chest, leaving little red lines where your nails scratch his skin. They're nothing compared to his war scars, but fuck if it doesn't turn you on even more to see that little bit of you on him. 

You dissolve into a puddle of pleasure, moans spilling from your and his lips, muttered praise reaching your ears as often as your brain can process. His dick throbs and you know he’s close, know he's holding back to make sure you come again before spilling himself inside you. But you're a bit of a brat, so you grab hold of his shoulders good and firm and moan nice and loud,

"Come inside me, husband. Give me all those babies you want." 

That does it. John cums inside you with a grunt, filling you with so much cum you feel it leak out of you. But he doesn't stop moving, no John is a man on a mission and he will see it through to the end. 

"Devious little minx," He growls in your ear. "Makin' me cum inside you like that, its almost like you want me to fuck babies into you." 

"Maybe I do," You pant, clinging to him for dear life as he hits that spot inside you over and over. 

"Fucking hell. You're gonna be the death of me, princess." 

"Good," You tease, pulling him down to kiss you. "I'd rather you die because of me than in war." 

"Oh trust me, baby, I'm not goin' anywhere. Not while I've got a little wife waiting to be fucked and loved every day." 

You try to bite out another tease, but his fingers press into your clit, and you're done for. Your orgasm hits with a loud moan and sob of his name, pleads for him not to stop, to keep fucking you as your pleasure overtakes every other thought in your mind. John, as always, is more than happy to comply, fucking into you until you can't take it anymore, until he's coming inside you again as well, painting your insides with him. 

You wrap your arms lazily around him when he collapses on top of you, panting into your throat. His weight is a welcome comfort, you hadn't actually seen him in a few weeks before this, and this was the first time you'd been able to be together without the stress of moving, even for just a few minutes. 

"Simon's gonna kill me," He murmurs, pressing a kiss into your neck. 

"For what?" You hum, running your fingers through his hair. 

"Askin' you to marry me." 

You snort and laugh, shoving at him to get off you. He pulls himself from you with a groan, flopping onto his back and pulling you into his arms, settling you perfectly against his chest. 

"So he gave his permission? For real?" You ask softly, tracing your finger along his chest. 

"Took some work." 

"Thats not surprising." 

"Need to take the ring off before he gets here." 

"Why? I like it," You make a point of holding your hand up to really look at it glittering in the soft light of the room.

"I was s'pposed to wait till him and Johnny got here. Had it all planned, but you went and looked all pretty and I couldn't stop myself." 

You laugh again, curling into him and peppering his chest with kisses while he rubs your back and plays with your hair. 

"He's gonna know."

"Yeah, probably." 

"...do it anyway?"

"Of course, baby. I'll propose to you every day." 

"Not every day …but at least get us a free dessert or two at some local restaurants." 

Now it's John's turn to laugh and kiss the top of your head.

"If that's what my little wife wants, it's what she'll get." 

"Fuck me that's hot."

"Yes you are."

You huff and roll your eyes, snuggling closer and letting the room fill with comfortable silence. You liked that you could just be with John. Existing in the same space without needing to really interact and entertain each other. It was like being with Simon, except John likes to put his cock in you and make you beg for more. 

"Hey John?"

"Hm?"

"I love you."

"I love you too, baby. More than anything."