Spades' Writing And Rambles

You meet Simon through an old friend of yours,, who happens to be his neighbor when your friend decides to have a party. Simon is in a skull-imprinted balaclava sipping a beer in a far corner of the room in blue jeans, combat boots, and a shirt that stretches across his upper chest and shoulders so nicely. Feeling relaxed thanks to the alcohol, you go over and introduce yourself. You let him know you realize he probably wants to be alone and you respect that. You even offer to help him leave and make an excuse for him.

He pulls up his mask revealing nice pale pink lips that sip his beer before replying with a small smile. “Nah vanks, luv. Told ‘em I’d be ‘ere.”

You smile and nod, “Yeah, they can be quite coercive when they wanna be and then make you feel guilty as fuck if you leave or don’t show, but they’re a great friend otherwise.”

He shrugs. “Nah worse van Johnny,” he replies and nods over to Johnny, another new acquaintance you’ve made. He’s rather loud and a bit brash but rather funny and charming.

”Mind if I join you?” You request permission.

He pulls a chair up almost against his seat and motions for you to sit. You sit down and lean back. Simon manspreads in the wooden chair and you sip your beer trying not to giggle. He glances at you. You shake your head.

Standing up, you ask, “Beer?” He nods. You hold your empty hand out. It takes him a moment before he hands you his beer. “Be right back,” you comment.

What you don’t know is that Raphaela has been eye the two of you comes over to talk to Simon.

“How’s it going?” She inquires.

He grunts and crosses his arms.

“Don’t be like that. That’s my little sibling you’re talking to. You hurt her, I will kill you,” she warns, an ex-navy veteran herself. It makes him smile and nods.

He holds up three fingers like a Boy Scout. “Promise.”

She smirks and rolls her eyes.

She grows serious and quietly mentions. “They don’t have many people. The ones they do, they will do anything for. Be careful with them. She’s family.”

He reaches out and pats Raphaela’s arm. “I understand, Sergean’.” Raphaela nods.

“What are you two gossiping about?” You ask, approaching the two and breaking the serious moment.

“Yeah,” he informs. You take both beers and hitch them against the edge of the back of the chair, smack them good, popping the tops off, and catching them. Holding out Simon’s beer to him.

“My one and only party trick. Congrats, you’ve witnessed it.”

“Man, you can do so much more than that,” encourages Raphaela. You roll your eyes and sit down with a gulp of your beer.

“This person can draw like you wouldn’t believe,” she compliments. You roll your eyes, feeling your cheeks heat up. Raphaela then does the one thing you didn’t think she would do. Simon and you follow her hand. You immediately look down, your face heating up so much. Your heart is pounding and begin to feel a bit dizzy. She points to the colored drawing of her spouse and her that you drew for their first anniversary. “Entirely self-taught,” she adds.

“I hate you,” you murmur. Your body heats up and can feel pinpricks of sweat forming in your hair. You chug the beer, stand up, exchanging a look with her before thrusting the glass into her chest. You glance at Simon. “Excuse me, Simon. Bathroom calls.”

You go to the bathroom in Raphaela’s bedroom. In the bathroom, you slide down the door and lock it, sitting on the tile floor, trying to stop an anxiety attack. You breathe slow and deep. You realize this may have been a bad idea and blindly reach up, unlocking the door. Tears flow down your cheeks. God, you’re at a party with your family and their friends, and you’re stuck in the fucking bathroom having an anxiety attack because your big sister was trying to be a wingman and showing you off .

You have no idea how long it’s been, only been stuck in this feeling of embarrassment, humiliation, and feeling like you’re a burden to your found family. You moved to the large bathtub behind the shower curtain wanting to hide. You run your hand down your face wiping some of the tears off then wipe your hand on your own blue jeans.

Suddenly, a knock is heard on the door. You freeze and try to sink a little more, only your eyes and the top of your head above as you wait and listen. Simon calls your name. “Ralph asked me to come check on you,” his accent rolled off his tongue so easily and nicely. It calmed you a little. Your panicked mind trying to decide if you should respond or be silent but remained indecisive.

“Well,” he huffed. “She said to ‘get ‘em out of my bathroom and put some water in ‘em’,” he quotes, trying to mimic her American accent. You giggle at his poor attempt. “Mind if I come in?”

You bite your lip, nodding before remembering to speak. “Yeah,” you reply, your voice breaking. You sniffle and dip further in the tub. The bathroom door slowly opens. “Yer dressed, luv?”

You snort, wiping your nose. “There’s guests here. ‘Course I am,” you can hear how shaky your voice is and hate it.

His steps are so quiet as he approaches the tub. You can see his form through the curtain, watching him. He stops and asks. “Ya gonna come ou’?”

“No,” you state simply.

“Why no’?” He sits on the toilet, body angled towards the tub.

You open your mouth but close it, unsure how to explain. “Look gross,” you quietly reply. He tilts his head. “You do know I’m military, righ’?”

“Most of Raph’s friends are, so I assumed.”

“I’m active,” he informed.

“Oh.” You shift in the tub and slowly pull the curtain back. Your red-rimmed eyes peer over the tub at him. “She didn’t tell me.” He frowned and nodded.

“So, you’re on leave?” You inquire. He nods again.

“How long?” You follow up.

“Three mo’ weeks t’Johnny ‘n I ‘ead on back.”

“Oh, ok.” You accept.

His eyes scan over you, able to see more thanks to his height despite sitting. You look inside the tub then back at him. “Wanna join me?” You quirk a brow at him.

You can see he furrowed his brow despite the mask. He holds out a sweaty bottle of water. “Would ya drink vis fer me firs’?”

Slowly, your hand comes out of the tub and takes it from him. Shifting, you lean back, eyes remaining on Simon, and open the water. Once the cool liquid hits your tongue, you realize how thirsty you are. You drink half of it, lick your lips, and take a breath before returning it to your lips to drink. Your eyes never leave him.

When Simon sees you shift, he can see how damp the collar of your shirt is from wiping off your face. It breaks his heart to see your ruddy, flushed complexion from being so easily upset.

You finish the bottle, put the cap on, lick your lips, and hand the empty bottle back to him. He throws it out next to him and takes another bottle from his back pocket. You smile as he hands it to you when he stands up. You take it and hold it. You shift up, pushing your knees against your chest giving room for Simon.

“Ya, sure?” He questions. You shrug. “Don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

He remains silent and steps in, slowly sitting down and adjusting to give himself room. You huff a laugh and turn sideways, sticking your legs over the tub's edge. Simon does the same. He takes out a pack of cigarettes and offers you one. You stare at it before pulling one out. You dig in your pocket and light it. They’re smooth and nice Turkish ones. You nearly moan at the first exhale. Simon lit one up too, he looked at you surprised by the sound.

“I haven’t smoked in years and you got the good ones.”

You could see the wide smile and it reached his eyes. “Don’ vink I’ve eveh been complimen’ed on me fag choice.”

He raised it to his lips, inhaling. “I admit I prefer a well-rolled cigar with a good shot of rum or whiskey if I’m gonna indulge but that shit is expensive.”

He scoffs. “Vat’s an indulgence.”

“Hey, I work a shit job for shit pay, and even with government assistance, I’m happy when ends meet. Anything extra makes sure I have gas, food, and my meds.” You inhaled deeply then started coughing. You groan. “Fuck.” You put the cigarette to your lips, holding it as you open the water bottle. Simon takes the cigarette from you, holding it as you take a gulp of water before capping it back. “Like I said, I don't smoke much.”

He holds it out to you and you take it, your fingers brushing. “Thanks.” He nods and takes another inhale of his.

“Figure Raph would be loadin’ ya up wiv ter green,” he comments.

“I only do it when I stay the night. Don’t wanna drive intoxicated or anything. Also, my meds only work so well. Gotta love fucked up genetics.” You inhale again and slowly exhale trying to be silly with it. It makes you smile. You miss Simon smiling as he watches you before he inhales his cigarette again.

You two remain silent and finish your cigarettes. Tears burn your eyes and you look away as they slowly fall again down your cheek. You wipe your face on your arm. “I should head home,” you say as you begin to shift to get up.

Simon pulls you back down and against his side. He wraps his arm around your small shoulders. “I told Raph I would take care of ya. Yer not ok t’go anywheh, let alone drive.”

You sigh heavily and go slack in his arm. Your face falls against his chest as tears fall. He shifts in the tub, taking up the space as he pulls you into his lap. He presses you against his chest, arms wrapped tightly against you as you silently cry. He coos at you, petting your hair, and slowly pulls your ponytail out to card his fingers through. He slowly works knots that have formed in the strands as he comforts you. “I got ya, luvie. We got all nigh’,” he murmurs. You nuzzle against his chest as tears flow. At some point in the night, you fall asleep on him.

When Raphaela and her spouse come to quietly check on you two. She’s at first a little worried that you two got busy, but when she finds Simon and you cuddling in her tub, she takes a quick picture before he realizes it to send to you later.

You haven’t had anyone hold you without expectation or need in so long. You haven’t been taken care of by someone else in years. What you don’t know is Simon is going to change that.

At some point, your cell came out of your back pocket and Simon put his contact info in it without you knowing.