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They were on mission, technically, but it had been a few days since they’d seen any action and from the info Price and Gaz had sent back from the field, it would be a few more.

Simon and Johnny had been alone in the small foreign barracks, and it was easy enough for them. No one on earth had said what both of them had been thinking. That it was just a little more than comradery, a little more than close friendship. Not even they had mentioned it as they crawled into the same bed. Not platonic, but not taking it too far. Leaving it questionably justifiable.

That particular night, however, they slept apart. Johnny knew why, but Simon would never have said it. His dreams often woke him on nights when the day before was particularly hard to wade through. Simon hated the quiet, and sitting on his hands, and he’d gotten lost in his mind again. So Johnny made sure he ate and gave him his space.

He walked through the base in darkness, making sure everything was locked up. Checking in again with Price. He eventually went and lay in his bed but he didn’t feel like sleep would find him any time soon. Something about that day with Ghost felt different. Not that it was unusual behavior in the Lieutenant, but that it felt different for Soap.

He’d always hated the way the man suffered, cringing at the dark stories of his past and marveling at the selflessness and kindness and forgiveness the man displayed in spite of it. He supposed these darker days were fair and called for in between the high energy, hyper-focused days they spent in the field.

But that day…meeting his eyes and hearing the lower, more tired register of his voice, Johnny realized how much the man meant to him. Really. Not just a crush or a respected superior. Johnny would have died for him long before feeling like this. This was a desperation to live, and for Simon to live, to exist in the world at the same time and in comfort and safety.

It made him think about quieter days off duty, and how relieved he was to have those days alone, and then suddenly, he didn’t want to have them alone at all.

He’d been in and out of sleep for a while when a noise caught his ear and he sat up, slowly to keep from making any noise. He could hear heavy feet and cabinets opening and closing. He wasn’t worried about intruders, he knew immediately that it was Ghost. He knew his footsteps.

Soap went and stood at his door, cracking it open. It was, however, strange that he was being so loud. Simon would never make that much noise knowing that Soap was in bed. He was notoriously careful to not disturb the others. Worried, Soap left his room and padded nearly silently down the hall.

Whatever Simon was doing, he hadn’t turned on any lights. As Soap neared, he could hear him speaking, every so often like he was having a conversation with someone. Sleepwalking. He’d mentioned it before, in passing, like a warning, and Soap hadn’t thought much of it. But he was thinking of it then and his heart clenched. He didn’t want Simon to suffer, and if nothing else it was completely humiliating to lose control of your body, even in sleep.

He neared the kitchen and Simon never looked in his direction. Never knew he was there. Soap stayed near the entrance to the hall, crossing his arms and leaning on the door frame. He knew he shouldn’t try to wake him. Not unless he was in danger. But Soap didn’t want to leave him alone, either.

“I told them I’d be back next Friday.” Simon took completely random items from the kitchen cabinet and carried them to a nearby table. “They never listen.”

He was quiet for a moment longer, stilling as though he were listening to the other person’s answer. Soap watched him, admiring how relaxed he looked.

“We should just drive together, yeah?”

Another pause. Still, he hadn’t acknowledged Soap’s existence.

“I can’t do everything for you, Tommy.” Simon’s voice was warm, almost affectionate. Soap was lost in that sound so it shocked him when Simon turned and faced him head on as though he’d known he was there the entire time. “You coming?”

Soap stayed completely still, knowing that even if Simon were in and out of consciousness it wouldn’t be good to scare or confuse him.

But Simon kept staring. “Come on, Tom, the food’s getting cold.” Soap still didn’t move and Simon shifted his weight on his feet, getting frustrated. “Today?”

Slowly, testing, Soap lowered his hands to his sides and straightened. He took one step forward and that seemed to satisfy Simon as he turned back toward the table and pulled out two chairs. Soap stopped again to see if Simon would move on with the dream, but he looked over his shoulder again to see if Soap was coming or not.

So, he went. Probably because he wasn’t sure what else to do, but a small part of him wanted to be whatever presence Simon was seeking.

“I haven’t seen them since I went to Mexico, Tommy.” Simon sighed. Soap just watched him, taking his seat and waiting for another cue. “I have so much to tell them.”

It was quiet for a moment, like Simon was listening again. Eventually he looked up, and Soap swore he looked directly into his eyes.

Soap stared back, searching their unusually unguarded depths. Simon wasn’t like this during the day. So open.

“Yes, but I can’t ask him to go with me.” He furrowed his brow slightly, quiet for another moment. “Because he’d say no, I think.”

“Who is it?” Soap heard himself ask and immediately bit his tongue so hard it hurt.

He could be there for Simon in that moment but he wasn’t going to take advantage of his state. But he watched, in darkness lit only by a few far off safety lights, a small smile across Simon’s face.

“He’s just a Sergeant.” He sat back, like he was proud of himself. “A scot, though, but I think I can overlook it.”

Soap felt butterflies roll in his stomach, mixed with emotion. His voice was quiet when he replied, unsure if Simon could hear him at all. “He’d go with you.”

Simon just nodded slowly, looking off into the distance. “He’d like you, Tommy. You’d get along.”

“I think you’re right.” Soap whispered. Simon was still looking into the distance but Soap was only looking at him.

He didn’t know what Simon thought he was talking with his brother about, but he was so casual, a simple conversation with someone he loved and trusted. Something he didn’t get to do often. But maybe, maybe Soap could give him a taste of that in his waking hours again. Maybe he wouldn’t have to go looking for it like this, in the middle of the night.

Simon stood and Soap blinked out of his own thoughts, watching him pick up what he’d carried to the table and haphazardly replacing them. Soap slowly stood to face him.

Simon just nodded and walked toward the hall Soap had come from. Soap followed him. A few steps down the hall, Simon turned and looked at him again.

“Maybe you should drive, then. I need to sleep.”

“Sure, Simon.” Soap answered, walking to catch up with him.

Simon’s room was the other direction. As they neared his, he reached for Simon’s arm and gently guided him inside.

Nothing else was said, Simon was still asleep, but he followed, and he climbed into bed behind whatever safe presence he’d felt in the middle of his vision.

Johnny wrapped him in his arms and held him there, still and warm, as he relaxed back into regular sleep. He clenched his eyes shut and willed himself to take every ounce of loneliness and deep, hollow sadness from the man he bent his body around.

Simon woke with his head on Johnny’s arm, the other draped over his waist. He hadn’t remembered seeking Johnny out the night before, but it didn’t surprise him. He’d gone to bed full of darkness and Johnny seemed to be the only presence on earth that could ease that. He should have followed him to bed in the first place.

He lay there a long time before the sun reached a decent height and Johnny stirred. Simon rolled over to face him. Blue eyes cracked, just barely. He laid a hand along Soap’s jaw and placed a single kiss at the corner of his mouth.

“Breakfast.” He stated. Soap’s eyes were wider but he didn’t fight him as he stood.