slightly concerning obsessions

when it was time for your mandatory leave—at least two days off base every week per captain's orders—you made your way to simon's car. he opened the passenger door for you, like he always did, and you slid in, your movements languid.

“tired?” simon asked, one hand on the wheel and the other putting in reverse. “you’ve been off today.”

you let out a noncommittal hum, shifting your body slightly so you were facing him while he drove. “had a nightmare and it was more intense than usual.” you reply, honest and blunt like you always are, and continue before he can say anything. “i didn’t wake you up because you looked very peaceful, si.”

“should’ve woken me up anyway, luv.” he sighed and his eyes were on the road though his focus was on you as it always was.

you smiled softly and reached out to trace a scar on his arm. “it was nice to watch you. calming. it didn’t take me very long to fall back to sleep.”

even behind the surgical mask he was wearing, you could see simon blush at the statement. cute. this huge, terrifying man blushing by a simple statement. he cleared his throat and glanced at you before looking at the road again. “that’s good. still should’ve woken me, though.”

it was about an hour later, after you had both showered and changed into comfier clothes—simon’s face bare now—that you were in the kitchen preparing dinner together. a practiced routine by now. it was awfully domestic and very comforting.

simon was busying himself with stirring the pot of soup, spaced out as he looked at the bubbling liquid. a gasp had him turning towards you, only to see you bent over the counter and clutching your side. “what happened?” he asked, his hands instinctively reaching for you. his face turned pale when he saw blood staining your pyjama top, the white fabric turning a deep red.

you took a couple deep breaths, trying to steady yourself. “the stitches- i think i ripped them.” your voice was barely above a whisper, steady as always but there was a hint of fear only simon could hear clearly. you didn’t see him turn the stove off and wash his hands before he was kneeling in next to you, gently shifting your position so that you were leaning on the counter and facing him.

simon looked up at you, eyes adoring and panicked at the same time, as his hands reached for the hem of your top. “can i?” he asked, his touch so reverent as if he was touching something holy. once you nodded, he gently lifted your top and motioned for you to hold it for him. “shit.” a quiet mutter left his mouth as his fingers caressed the rim of the wound, turning red like the patch on your top.

the scent of blood overpowered the now forgotten soup and it made you dizzy. you used to handle blood so well, not even flinch at the sight of it, but now the smell of it had you trembling. you were no longer the predator you used to be, at least not on the same level. instead of the hunting instinct taking over, you wanted to recoil. to run and hide. your mind wandered to a place you had been desperately trying to escape, even after you were rescued. the blades, the hands, the pain.

simon could tell you were spiralling. your eyes had glossed over and your expression was blank. like a deer caught in headlights. god, he hated seeing you like this. so he did the first thing he thought of, nudging the wound just slightly to bring you back to him.

you inhaled sharply and looked down at simon, at his finger in the laceration. his touch was even more gentle than his eyes, barely there. nothing like the forced touches of those soldiers. the hands that groped and tortured you. it didn’t hurt the same way. it burned, but it was soothing. it put your mind in place. “more, si. please.” you whispered, your hand weakly wrapping around his wrist.

swee-”

you cut him off, voice shaky and desperate. “please. i don’t want to remember where it’s from. wan’ it to be from you. it’ll hurt either way. just- just let me have this.”

he made eye contact with your teary eyes and slowly exhaled. leaning in, he rested his forehead on your hand and closed his eyes as he carefully pressed his finger deeper in the wound. barely a centimetre in. to any other person, your request would seem ridiculous, insane even. but simon understood. at least this way, you’d think of this moment with him and not that cold, dirty basement.

“i’m taking ya to get stitched up again after this.” he murmured, another centimetre of his finger entering the long gash on your abdomen.

“i know.” you muttered, taking slow and deep breaths as the burn took over. you couldn’t really feel pain anymore. the only thing in your mind was simon. simon, who shut down anyone that dared to talk badly about you when you first joined the team. who always let you take the bed on duo missions. who never stole credit for your achievements during said missions. who reassured you every single day and night during your captivity. who had been holding your hand every night since the rescue op. who had made your home his and every room had a hint of him now.

“swee’heart. tha’s enough, hm?” simon tapped your thigh with one hand, the other pressing a wet rag on your abdomen. you hadn’t even noticed when he removed his finger.

with a nod, you took hold of the rag and followed him to the living room, watching him put your shoes on for you and then his own. your mind was fuzzy and the pain was starting to kick in, but all of your focus was on him. the way he intertwined your fingers and only let go when he opened the passenger door for you.

you were in and out of the hospital in no time. that’s what it felt like, anyway.

simon decided that getting a treat was necessary. was it a little childish? sure. but god knew you needed the distraction. it wasn’t enough to wash away all the pain in your body and soul, just good enough to get your mind off of it for a little while.

a/n: i really liked this idea and im not sure if i did justice to it. love whatever these two have going on though. next part will be self-indulgent (the whole series is but oh well)

important! please have any age indicator if you want to be on the tag list. i do not feel comfortable tagging someone who isn’t an adult.

"need ya close," he whispered against the crown of your ear. he placed a small kiss behind your ear, lips trailing down to your shoulder.

he left out a soft sigh and nuzzled into your neck. his thumb caressed your tummy softly, while he pressed more kisses on your skin. he wrapped his leg over your hips and pulled you even closer, almost trying to meld you into him.

you felt his muscles relax as he found comfort in you. it didn't take long for his breathing to start slowing down, as he fell asleep against your shoulder.