#ghost cod fic

You missed him. Unbearably so. Missed the dreamless sleep you were sure to have when he warded off phantom memories that haunted you in slumber. Missed the sense of security you felt, safety guaranteed so long as you were beneath his wing, tucked to his side like a little bird.

Your pouting lip trembled as a familiar sting settled in the corners of your eyes. Liquid salt gathered in fat droplets before cascading over your lashes. Your shoulders shook with your cries, pathetic little sniffles escaping your nose as you tried to swallow your misery.

Your balled fists rubbed at the wetness blurring your vision, your eyes focusing hazily on the emptiness of the bed you sat atop of. 

Two pillows sat neatly below the headboard. His pillow was notably larger. Firm enough to support his neck while elevating his head till it was level with the bulk of his shoulders. 

You looked around the room, truly reassuring yourself of your solace, and gingerly grasped the corner of it. 

He won’t find out… you thought meekly to yourself. Your mind raced with an idiotic idea. 

Lifting it to your face you inhaled deeply, greedily drawing in lungfuls of his scent. You moaned into the stiff fabric of the pillowcase, muffling the sob that bubbled out of your throat. The scent was fading. He hadn’t slept in this bed in weeks. Didn’t smell nearly as strong as when he’d left. Your scent was more prominent than his with how many times you’d stolen it to sniff.

Your tears flowed freely as you climbed on top of the bed. Catharsis weighed your limbs down as you straddled the pillow between your thighs.

I’ll wash it before he comes back… he’ll never know…

You just wanted to feel closer to him. Trick your heart into believing he was there even for a moment. Imagined he was there with you, his warmth beneath you, hands calloused and solid on your hips as he helped you grind on him. 

Breathy mewls fell from your lips like prayers. 

“I-it feels good…” you gasped into the room. Eyes squeezed shut, you could see him this way, envision him below you. Your thighs spread impossibly wider, he was a massive man after all. 

Quickly, you shucked off your shirt, cuddling down onto the pillow, your breasts bare to the surface. You rut down harder, particularly driven by the memory of him, by the enormity of his body. You thought of nights spent with each other, pressed so tightly together you couldn’t fit a sheet of paper between you if you tried. 

Closing your eyes helped tremendously, thinking about his eyebrows knitted together in concentration.  His eyes, hard and indecipherable as they always were. Even his scent seemed to sharpen in your mind's eye. Easier to recall the smokey notes of his essence. The bitterness of Earl Grey tea leaves that clung to his clothing. His natural scent accompanied by notes of something peppery, an earthy smell you couldn’t quite put your finger on. 

You hummed in satisfaction, nostrils flaring desperately trying to latch onto his intoxicating aroma. Pleasure began to unfurl at the base of your spine, heat settling between your vertebrae as you rolled your hips into the cushion. 

“You feel so good… make me feel so good,” you babbled. In hindsight, you should’ve paid mind to the slow grating of wood you’d heard faintly. You’d pinned the creak of the door on the ancient building, sure that it was merely settling its bones into the foundation and not the lieutenant opening the door. 

Shock raced down your spine like flint to tinder, terror seizing your heart as the all too familiar scuff of boots sounded on the floor. 

Your head whipped around, eyes wide as saucers, as Ghost closed the distance between you, black duffel bag casually slung over his shoulder.

White hot shame burned in the pit of your stomach as his eyes raked over you. Nearly naked and atop his pillow. 

You were frozen, hips stuttering to a pitiful stop as your mouth hung open, gaping at him unbelievably. The bubbling pleasure you struggled to contain drained itself slowly from your body, leaving you cold and stiff with fear. 

“Enjoying yourself?” 

“This isn’t-“

“It’s exactly what it looks like…” he sounded… amused. Not nearly as angry as you’d thought he’d be. “Don’t stop on my account…” he teased, the wooden chair by his desk screeching as he pulled it out and sat on it. 

Your lip wobbled tellingly, Squeaky, mournful sobs hiccupped from deep within your chest, your diaphragm heaving with the effort to breathe. 

You scrambled off the bed, your knee painfully taking the brunt of your fall in your haste to get to him. You paid no mind to the red-hot pain that flared up your leg in favor of crawling to the man before you. Chants of 'Ghost! Ghost! Ghost!' that made your brain fuzzy with joy at seeing the Lieutenant. He merely gazed at you, mirth in his eyes as he eyed the pillow you clutched to your chest. 

“Havin’ fun without me?” he chided you, no real fire behind his words, but your ears flattened all the same.

“No! I- I just missed you, please don’t be mad at me,” You begged. Sobs shaking your form as you squirmed in place. 

Your hands flexed, desperately clutching at the memory foam. The need to touch him, to feel the warmth of his palms as they roved over your body, became overwhelming.

He seemed to know exactly what you were thinking as his enormous hand reached out to cup your cheek. You sighed a shaky breath of relief, nuzzling into the comforting heat of his palm. He smelled fresh. His body devoid of any sweat or grime. He must’ve showered in the communal bathroom before he’d come to his room. 

“Arms up,” he ordered suddenly. Your body complied before your mind was able to catch up with his words. It came as no surprise to you, the insistent tugging on your heart to heed his every word settled as a warm reminder of your devotion. Your body knew who it belonged to. 

Goose flesh rose up your arms as the familiar sensation of his calluses scratched against your body, under your breasts, and between your thighs, they searched. Shivered as a single digit trailed up your slit, your bunny cunt briefly cupped in the palm of his hand. 

It was a brief search of your waist that had his fingers stiffening, a bulge in your left pocket waving red flags in his mind. Lighthearted espresso irises that hardened in a millisecond, shoulders imperceptibly drawn taut as he held both of your hands immobile in one of his. 

What could you possibly have stuck in there?

You could only watch helplessly as he pulled out the offending object with deft fingers.

The lieutenant cocked a questioning eyebrow in your direction, his face smoothing out from the stormy expression evident even through his mask.A half-eaten carrot lay innocuously in the palm of his hand. 

 Oh yeah… you thought sheepishly. Your afternoon snack had long been forgotten as you prioritized your wallowing. 

He simply set it on the nightstand with a disbelieving shake of his head as your cheeks flamed with embarrassment. 

You could only offer him a bashful smile and a self-deprecating laugh in apology. The fearsome look in his eye was one you did not want to become reacquainted with. He ruffled your hair in acknowledgment, your long bunny ears perking back up at his forgiveness. 

He sat back on the chair, a king upon his throne as his thick thighs spread enticingly, caging you in between them. You wanted to stay here forever, kneeling before him worshiping him for as long as he’d let you.  

You’d missed the smell of his skin, unique and intoxicating. Singular only to him. The on-base soap couldn’t wash away the fine notes of his scent. Salt and musk that deeply satiated your bunny nose. It took all your restraint not to snuffle into his lap and search for the intoxicating scent yourself.

“You’re home” you whispered unbelievingly, wide eyes overflowing with tears that refused to stop spilling down your cheeks. Your paws flexed, grasping at nothing. 

“M-Missed you,” you cried to him, showing him the rosy pink of your paw pads and sighing happily when he held your offered palm. His thumb massaging into the softness of your beans. 

“Yeah?” The Roughened skin of his other hand teased your nipple, his knuckle slowly brushing against it before pinching, eliciting a gasp from you. “Show me how much you missed me.” Your back arched, chest chasing the intoxicating touch of his fingertips.  

His words trailed down your spine like viscous honey, slowly dripping down the notches of your bones. Your hips jerked clumsily, paws pushing the pillow down between your thighs, revealing more of your breasts to the lieutenant.

Arousal bloomed to life, warming you from the inside out, as Ghost’s fingers pinched your nipple harder this time. A reminder not to keep him waiting. You mewled at your lieutenant, pushing your breast into his hand as your thighs clenched around the memory foam. 

You looked up at him with stars in your eyes, your moon back in your orbit, the center of your world returning to take his rightful place as the sole bearer of your affections. 

Your breath hitched longingly, hips dragging your cunt across the pillow in slow purposeful thrusts that sent your tummy twisting into knots. 

Lips parted to pant into the open air, you reveled in Ghost’s gaze. Tenebrous pools that made your heart thud against your chest, half-lidded and burning with a hidden desire you cooed at him in return. Soft vocalizations that had his own lips tugging up, noticeable through the balaclava. 

Emboldened you settled your chin against his knee, and when he didn’t throw you off, rested your cheek against him. His thigh tensed beneath you, but when you went to pull away his hand grabbed both your ears holding you to him. The bulge in his cargos making your mouth water. If only…

The unmistakable rasp of his belt coming loose made your eyes widen, the sound of his zipper coming undone made your cheeks grow hot.

Captivated eyes went comically wide as the lieutenant palmed at himself through his boxers. Your thighs tensed below you, thrusts stuttering with the beautiful sight before you. 

Your gluttonous gaze jumped from his member to his own eyes, silently wondering if this was truly alright. Beautiful dark eyes that never left yours except to roam over your taut body. Unconsciously you arched your back for him, cotton tail raised for his viewing pleasure as you presented yourself before him. 

You rutted harder into his pillow, a whine slipping out of your throat at the sight of his cock, now bare and standing at attention. Just for you, because of you. 

You’d never seen it before, never seen so much of his skin on display at once. He held it at the base, heavy and red at the tip. You wanted to feel the weight of it against your tongue, let it become intimately familiar with the curvature of his veins, with the taste of his precum.

Wanted him to finally use you the way you were meant to. 

~

If Ghost wasn’t so achingly hard he’d think your dazed look was endearing. He’d find your pink little tongue unconsciously poking out from your mouth cute if he didn’t want it gliding up the underside of his cock. The gleam from your lower lip that shone teasing the drool that was no doubt pooling underneath your tongue just for him.

You made for quite the sight, tits bouncing freely as you humped his pillow, crying about how good he was making you feel. Even when he wasn’t with you, you thought about him, ached for him. Such a loyal little bunny, greedy for his touch despite his absence. 

He thought about it. Of tugging those sweet little bunny ears back and choking you on his length. Thought about giving you a real reason to cry about.

But he was too enraptured with your show, too captivated by your bunny cunt grinding on his pillow to disrupt you just yet. While he certainly wasn’t going to punish you, he couldn’t exactly reward such depraved behavior, could he?

“Gaggin’ for it, aren’t you bun?” meanly he gripped onto your ears, your pained whimper making his cock jump in interest. He wasn’t usually too rough, he enjoyed being soft with you, all too happy to coddle you like you deserved. 

But this op was grueling. Unvetted intel that sent everything awry from the get-go had him strung out, ready to crawl out of his skin. So on edge, his teeth itched with unfettered bloodlust. Just your luck you’d find him, a wolf pacing at the bars of his enclosure. 

He was hoping to find you asleep, was ready to crawl into bed with you, and sleep away the last of this vile acrid energy that weighed heavy on his spirit. Only to find you defiling yourself to the thought of him. And how could he not let you finish what you’d started? 

With a firm hand, he held you to his lap, guiding his leaking member to your mouth. You stayed perfectly still, always such a good girl for him as he coated your lips with his precum. Gently running the tip along your velvet mouth, your pink little tongue darted out to lick over his gloss. 

Obscene was what you were, and he had half a mind to let you suck on just the tip, with how fucked out you looked from just a taste. But he retreated just as quickly, giving your leg a tap with the edge of his boot. 

“You’ll come on this pillow or not at all,” he threatened, your thrusting picking back up at the realization of his words. 

“Yes, Sir.” you moaned breathily, pupils blown so wide he was sure they’d form into little hearts if they could. What a sight for sore eyes, to be looked at with such adoration, with something more than just lust. 

“Go on… finish your little show,” he prodded as he stroked his impressive length languidly. 

~

The dark glint in his eyes drew you in like a moth to a flame. Enraptured by the hunger lingering just behind his coffee irises. Such a rare sight seen only in the late nights shared between the both of you tangled in sheets.

You could only nod, words escaping you as he worked himself in his hand. 

You could help… 

Wanted to service him till he emptied himself down your throat. Wanted so desperately to get drunk off his taste alone. 

Your bunny teeth sunk into your bottom lip, chasing the phantom remnants of his essence. Centering yourself again before doing something stupid. You knew better than to push for more. The last thing you wanted was to scare him off. You’d swallow glass before making him regret trusting you with this.

Although it was getting harder and harder to stay grounded, the mess between your panties made you slick and sticky in a disgustingly satisfying manner. You were almost sure he could hear the sound of your cunt squishing against the fabric of your panties, making an absolute mess of his pillow. 

Hot-blooded and needy you wished he’d sleep on it, pictured his nose right up against the wet spot and inhaling your mixed scents. 

You keened high in your throat, overwhelmed by the building friction against your clit. His grip on your ears brought you back to the present, painfully pushing you closer and closer to your edge. Selfishly you wanted more. 

Wish he’d palm at your breast just one more time. Wished it was his leg you were humping instead of just his pillow. You’d even settle for his boot. 

You hummed indulgently at the thought, a stupid little smile gracing your face that had the Lieutenant tilting his head at you. 

“M’close,” you whined, rubbing your cunt harder on the memory foam, heat building rapidly between your thighs. “Want to cum for you, Sir…” 

Ghost’s own pace quickened, his breaths labored and eyes half-lidded as he took you in. Making a frenzy of yourself as you chased your orgasm. His hand squeezed your ear painfully tight before releasing you. 

A swift slap to your breast had you gasping, jaw open in shock as your pussy throbbed at the feeling. Pain ebbing away to a sting. 

Close. So close. You mewled as such, the enormity of his hand wrapped around your jaw, his thumb probing past the wet seal of your lips to settle against your tongue. 

“Suck.” He ordered. You hummed as his thumb ran along the inside of your cheek, feeling along your tongue and gliding over your teeth possessively. 

“Cum for me bunny.” He growled, delighting himself in the way your eyes rolled back. Watched as you writhed on his pillow, Euphoria rippling through you like a drop of rain disturbing the water’s surface. 

Pleasure unfurled from your core, unbridled and so abrupt only Ghost’s hand in your mouth was holding you together. Sobbing around the digit in your mouth, you squeezed your eyes shut. Colorful little shapes, geometric and hypnotic, swirled in the darkness behind your lids. 

Tears clung to your lashes as you panted into the charged air between you. You warmed yourself in the lieutenant's heated gaze, preening under his watchful eye. Ghost looked like he’d devour you if he could, grunting as he choked his cock in his hand. 

“Felt so good…” you whimpered as he withdrew his hand, longing for the heat of his palms to return to your body. 

~

His own release was steadily building. Heat coiling deep in his gut, hurtling him quickly towards orgasm. It felt foreign, to bare himself in such a way to you, but not unwelcome. His little bunny, so fucked out and cum dumb, he’d give you a little show of his own. You’d earned it after coquetting yourself like that, tempting him into playing with you. 

“So good f’me, bunny… think you deserve my cum?” He goaded you, his hips giving aborted little thrusts into his hand. You were mesmerized, transfixed by his pretty length, his barrel chest expanding with quick little inhales. 

“Please, Sir. I want it… want your cum.” you begged without shame. Your tongue wet your lips in anticipation, heart fluttering at the sound of his voice as he called out for you to open your mouth.

The sight of your reverent eyes had him shooting rope after rope onto your pretty face. Your clever little tongue darted out to cradle the underside of his tip, letting him spill into your mouth with a pleased hum. Satisfaction swelled in his chest as he coated your throat, thick and warm like honeyed whiskey.

His breath hitched as you caressed his cockhead, earning every last drop of his ejaculate. Coaxed throaty moans out of him at the overstimulation.

“Fuck, bunny…” he swore through gritted teeth, guttural, and punched out from deep within his diaphragm. His pulse thudded wildly in his ears as he took you in. He’d made a right mess of you. Gave you his load just like you begged him to.  

He watched with rapt attention as you swallowed his reward, planting a sweet kiss on his softening length. Huffed a laugh as you stuck your tongue out in a job well done, milky film covering the surface. 

He scooped the remaining spend from your face onto his thumb, gliding it over your glistening lips before feeding it to you, letting you gratefully suck his cum off his finger. 

“Thank you, Sir” you murmured against him, kitten licks making his cock twitch against his thigh. 

“That’s a good girl…” he praised, lazily fucking his spend into your mouth. “Always so polite f’me…”.

~

A heavy silence fell over the both of you, the sound of your mingled breaths interluding your come down. The act of sleep imminent in Ghost’s drooping eyes. 

You suddenly felt incredibly raw and vulnerable at his feet, a lump forming in your throat with the urge to cry. Feeling too much all at once had tears of overwhelm filling your waterline. The perspiration on the back of your neck quickly cooling you into shivers. 

You were brought out of your stupor as quickly as it came, the lieutenant scooping you off the floor and depositing you on his bed. He rifled through his duffel bag, an ice pack quickly activated with a crack before holding it to your bruised knee. Shushing you when you winced in pain. 

Disappearing into the bathroom he returned with a damp washcloth. The material warm against your skin as he gently wiped the last of his spend from your face. You lifted your hips at his prompting, arousal clinging to your panties in gossamer strings as he pulled them off. 

Even after your lewd performance, you felt shyness creep up your flushed face as you spread your thighs for him. The same cloth carefully wiped you clean of your arousal before helping you into a pair of fresh underwear. 

Your mind was quiet, blissfully free of worry as Ghost did all the thinking for you. Took care of you. It was hard for you to speak. It was so much easier to just follow him, let him guide you through the haze fogging your mind. 

One arm, then the other, then your ears and head carefully emerged from one of the t-shirts Ghost dressed you in. Soft with years of wear,  you felt like you were swimming in it, cocooned in his scent. 

Lavender bergamot comforted you as you snuffled into his neck, his lips pressed to your forehead as your body slowly relaxed into the mattress beneath you. His hands brushed the fur of your ears, up and down, up and down, rhythmically lulling you into a dreamless sleep. 

That familiar feeling of safety enveloped you like a hug, had you sighing a shaky breath of relief. For the first time in weeks, you felt at ease. He’d come back. He was home. Healthy. Strong. Safe. Everything you’d prayed for, safe within your grasp. You didn’t know how long this would last. When the world would need him again. But for right now, he was yours.

a/n: here we are! a whole five months later hehe I am so incredibly sorry. this was very hard for me to write, but I am slowly getting more comfortable with smut. i present to you part 4.5, a drabble meant to connect part 4 and what is to come in part 5 (the heat fic) thank you all for your neverending patience and support. this series means the world to me and i am happy so many of you seem to like it as well. comments and critiques are always welcome! until next time <3

a/n: please leave a comment to be added/ removed from the bunny list! reminder that this blog does not interact with ageless blogs so if your age is not listed as 18+ I cannot in good conscience respond to you :( thank you!

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dividers by: @hamsterheartz @kyejiz

“alright listen up,” price’s voice commanded the attention of everyone in the room. “this mission if simple but that don’t mean it’ll be easy. first and foremost this is a rescue mission; get in, get out with the target. weapons free on anyone else in the building.”

“no civilians in the area, sir?” gaz asked.

“negative on civilians. the building is abandoned and the closest town is an hour away. your enemies will be armed, and they will be expecting you,” the captain explained.

“what’s our target?” soap asked, tightening the laces on his boots.

“your target is a military special forces officer, being held captive by a group of terrorists who have ties with hassan zyani. it is likely they’re looking for information,” price continued briefing the task force.

“every one of hassan’s men we take out in the process is an occupational bonus,” ghost added gruffly, earning a look from price.

“information on what?” soap asked.

“us. knowing your target they’re unlikely to get any intel without drastic measures.”

the captain turned on the screen behind him, a blank photo with the name ‘doberman’ printed at the bottom staring back at them.

“that’s our target?” gaz asked, sounding unable to hide the surprise in his voice.

“yes, sergeant. that’s yer target.”

“what information would the doberman have on us? and how are we supposed to find someone when we don’t know who we’re looking for?”

“for the sake of this mission it’s in our best interest to assume ‘e knows everything,” ghost replied, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

“and trust me - you’ll have no trouble identifying the target,” price assured gaz, the two sergeants taking no notice of the way ghosts eyes lingered on the floor in front of him.

“how did they manage to capture the doberman?” soap asked. “from the stories i’ve heard’e can take out a building of 50 people on his own.”

“indeed, the doberman has quite the reputation. that don’t matter much when your squad turns on you and leaves ya for dead.”

“so what i’m hearin is one of the most deadly and well trained soldiers in the country is in the market for a new squad?” soap suggested with a smile, holding his arms outstretched to gesture to the rest of the task force. “bet he’d fit in real cozy with us.”

“if we’re lucky,” ghosts voice came from the back of the room.

“let’s not get ahead of ourselves boys,” price cautioned, switching the screen to a picture of the building and a blueprint of the warehouse they were heading to. “we gotta get ‘em out alive first.”

“we will,” ghost said, his voice sure as he shared a nod with the captain.

“what are we waiting for then, fellas?” soap smiled, standing up from his seat. “let’s go walk the dog.”

•

“on me, gaz,” ghost whispered, leading the trio down the hallway of the warehouse. they had got past the guards outside and cleared the first three rooms, and were approaching a large storage space, likely the main area of the warehouse.

likely where the target was being held.

“movement, far east corner,” soap whispered from the back of the group.

“good eye sergeant,” ghost replied, locking eyes on four hostiles, and two bodies on the ground next to a puddle of blood; one of hassan’s men and one wearing military gear. neither was moving.

“we have possible eyes on the target; preparing to engage,” ghost spoke into his comm, relaying their status to price back at base.

“nice work. go get em,” prices voice replied through their earpieces.

“is it just me, or does it feel like LT knows something we don’t?” gaz whispered to soap, however not quietly enough to go unnoticed by ghost. they walked carefully across a catwalk that circled the entire room, likely for access to higher shelving. they were positioned about 100 feet from the enemies, and 12 feet above.

“don’t know what you’re talking about. you’re an open book, aren’t you, LT?” soap joked.

“let’s focus,” ghost said, unamused.

“yes sir,” gaz replied as soap tried to stifle a laugh.

“let’s take em out,” soap said, aiming his sniper rifle towards the group.

“wait,“ ghost ordered, holding up a fist. one of the hostiles walked towards the captive, and sent a boot into their ribs with a hard kick.

they flinched, coughing weakly as they crawled on their stomach to get away, wrists and ankles bound together.

ghost hand tightened around his gun, but the trio remained still, awaiting orders.

“let’s try this again,” one of the men. “who is working against hassan?”

the man grabbed the captive by their bound wrists, throwing them against a support beam.

“holy shite,” soap muttered, as he watched the woman who now sat leaning against the pillar, fighting to catch her breath.

“the doberman is -“

“a woman?” soap asked.

“in trouble. let’s go,” ghost said at the same time. “we have confirmed eyes on the target,” he spoke into the comm, signalling for the two sergeants to follow him.

“don’t disappoint me, fellas,” prices voice warned.

“not today,” ghost promised.

as they approached the stairway down from the catwalk, one of the men pulled out a knife and stabbed it into the woman’s thigh, but she only winced softly, barely conscious as her head fell forward. her black hair cascaded over the sides of her face, irritating cuts and bruises that littered her face.

the three other hostiles didn’t seem to be on high alert, not sensing much of a threat in the beaten down woman in front of them, making it almost easy for gaz to sneak up behind the closest one and but him in a sleeper hold, squeezing until he stopped moving. gaz carefully placed him on the ground as not to alert the others and out their target at risk.

ghost and soap shared a look, and aimed their guns at the two remaining guards, nodding to a count of three before pulling the trigger.

now alone, the man who stood taunting the doberman turned his attention to them, and quickly grabbed her, using her as a shield against the three guns now pointed at him.

“don’t make this difficult,” ghost warned, his voice dark.

“let me go and you can have her.”

“sorry, can’t do that,” soap declined, taking a side step to try and get an clean angle on him; it was too risky.

“don’t you dare miss,” ghost warned, his eyes locked on the dobermans.

“i won’t,” the woman’s voice rasped, before she used every bit of whatever strength she could muster to kick her foot back, making direct contact with his shin. there was a loud crack, followed by a scream, and he dropped her to the floor as he toppled over sideways, the lower half of his leg bent the wrong way as blood turned the fabric of his pant leg dark red.

“secure him,” ghost instructed soap, as he approached the woman, setting down his gun as he crouched down next to her. there was blood on her mouth and down her chin, and a black eye beginning to blossom amongst the other visible injuries.

“i’ll get the others,” gaz offered, but ghost shook his head.

“no, check the rest of the room. make sure there’s no one else,” simon snapped as he u tied the rope from her wrists and ankles.

“copy.”

“can you walk?” ghost asked the woman, who feebily attempted to stand, only to be caught by the lieutenant’s strong arms as she faltered.

“stubborn thing, aren’t ya?”

“to my grave,” she said softly, as simon lifted her into his arms.

“rooms clear,” gaz reported back, as soap finished restraining the man who was whining in pain over his broken leg.

“what are we gonna do with you?” soap asked aloud with a tilt of his head.

“nothing. take her, johnny,” ghost demanded, though his voice was calm. soap put his gun on his back and took the woman in his arms, her eyes drifting closed as she fought to stay awake.

“please, you don’t have to do-“ a bullet from ghosts pistol lodging itself between his eyes stopped him sentence, and he slumped over dead.

“time to go,” he said coldly, walking back towards the stairs to go back up to the catwalk; but not before putting a bullet in the head of each of the other hostiles who lay unmoving on the ground.

soap and gaz shared a look, but didn’t say anything, before johnny adjusted his hold on the woman and followed after the lieutenant.

“requesting export now,” ghost spoke into the comm.

“is the target secure?” price asked, the smallest hint of concern in his voice. ghost looked behind him to where gaz and soap were ascending the staircase, and his eyes lingered on the woman asleep in johnny’s arms.

“we got her.”

•

“nice work boys,” price greeted the team as the got off the helicopter, ghost carrying the unconscious woman who had used his thigh as a pillow the entire ride back to base.

“she needs medical,” simon spoke.

“take her straight there, and keep an eye on her to monitor how she’s doing,” price ordered.

“copy that, sir.”

price patted him on the back as he walked by, before leading soap and gaz to his office so they could brief him on the mission.

once they had gone over all the details of the operation, price dismissed them, soaps hand lingering on the doorknob as gaz disappeared down the hall.

“captain, can i ‘ave a word?” he asked, hesitating in the doorway.

“that depends. what about? i got a report to finalize, sergeant.”

soap shut the door before he spoke.

“LT…. he seemed different on this one,” he said cautiously. “seemed to know who we were looking for.”

“what exactly are you asking me, johnny?”

“seemed like he knew her.”

price didn’t respond, instead running a hand over his moustache.

“why keep us in the dark?” soap finally asked an actual question, and price leaned forward, his hands clasped together as he rested his elbows atop his desk.

“sit down, sergeant,” he replied, and soap obliged, taking a seat in one of the chairs facing the man. “some things are need to know, and for this mission, ya didn’t need to know. might’ve compromised things.”

“compromised things how?”

“this information is strictly classified, and if… certain people find out you know, and that i told you, it’ll be both our asses, understood?”

soap nodded, and price opened a drawer of his desk, before tossing a manila file folder on top of it.

johnny hesitated, before reaching for the folder, opening it to read the files inside. his eyes lingered on the photo inside, a woman with black hair and brown eyes, a deep scar across her left eyebrow. the woman they’d found barely looked like her with all the blood and bruises.

name: maya dobson rank: sergeant

call sign: doberman born: october 8 1996

he continued on in the file, his eyes widening as reread the same line about six times.

“you’re telling me-“

“yes, sergeant.” price answered. soap was silent for a moment, opening and closing his mouth like he wanted to say something, but couldn’t find the words.

“how long have you known?”

“few months. since her unit got tangled up with hassan. ghost asked me to keep an eye out for her name.”

he looked down at the file again; specifically

affiliations: Lt. simon ‘ghost’ riley - spouse

“he told you an not me, the bastard,” soap muttered.

“johnny, you have to understand-“

“i do, captain,” he sighed. “i won’t say a word.”

“very good, son,” price nodded. “go check on them for me. need to know how long before we might start tryna convince her to join our unit.”

“roger that,” soap handed the file back to price.

“soap.”

“yes captain?”

“not. one. word.”

“on my life.”

•

johnny approached the medical wing of the base, not surprised to find ghost sitting in a chair next to the dobermans - maya’s - hospital bed. she was sitting up, propped up by a pillow, with a few bandages on her face. without all the blood, she looked more like the girl in the picture. soap wondered what she had looked like in a white dress standing next to simon on their wedding day. then he pictured ghost, the image of him in a suit and balaclava making him laugh to himself, which he hid with a cough.

the sounds made the couple turn their attention to the doorway, stopping their hushed conversation.

“how ya feeling?” soap asked, trying not to be suspicious, although he felt like he had a post it not on his forehead with the words “I KNOW” in bold letters.

“never better,” she said sarcastically, an amused look in her dark eyes. johnny scratched the back of his head awkwardly.

“stupid question, my apologies,” he looked at ghost and then back at her. “captain wanted an update on your condition for the report.”

“a few broken ribs, dehydration, a black eye, and some flesh wounds,” ghost recited the medical report, his boot grinding a piece of gravel into the floor under his foot as he sat. “but she’s tough, this one. ain’t ya?” simon looked over at her, and a smile threatened to form at the corner of her split lip. “killed one of her attackers before we even got there.”

“that so?”

“if you’d given me a few more hours i probably coulda taken the rest of them out too,” she joked.

“i don’t doubt it,” soap replied.

“a few more hours and you might’ve bled out.” ghost was less than amused at the idea of them not getting there when they did.

“that guy on the floor, you killed him? his throat was all torn up, it looked like an animal attack,” soap remembered the sight of the man, and the large puddle of blood surrounding him.

“let just say they don’t call her the doberman for nothing. she’s ain’t all bark,” simon offered, and soap looked at maya, trying to figure out how a person could rip someone’s throat out with just their teeth.

“you’re a scary one, ain’t ya lass?” johnny smiled.

“that’s what they tell me,” she smiled, a wicked glint in her eye,

oh yeah, they’re perfect for eachother, he thought to himself

one of the medical staff walked into the room, and johnny got a copy of the medical report from her before bidding simon and maya goodnight, and leaving to take it to the captain.

once he was alone in the hallway, he let out a deep breath. he could tell something was off with ghost during the mission, but he never imagined this was the reason.

he peeked through the window of the medical room, and smiled to himself as simon took off his mask, before sliding his hand into mayas.

One way you liked to rewind after a mission was to go out drinking with your friends, or occasionally, squad 141. This was how you coped, let loose, hell, forget about all the terrible shit you saw on a daily basis. And seeing that Ghost was your boyfriend, he usually (always) tagged along with you when you went out.

Why did he come with you every time?

One might say he also wanted to blow off some steam, and what better way than alcohol? And for you, what better way than dancing, and being carefree with your friends?

Others might say that he couldn’t let you out of his sight. He was very conscious of his surroundings, and also the surroundings of everyone around him. Whenever you were in the same room as him, he always had his eye on you, following you, and knew your position within his proximity.

When you were out, whether it be at a bar, restaurant, store, he always slightly blocked you from the view in any doorway, always standing closest to it. Somewhat shielding you with his body.

He would slightly walk in front of you, hand stretched behind him to grasp yours when you were walking on the sidewalk. And of course, he always walked on the side closest to the cars, you were always in the inside of the sidewalk.

If by some chance you weren’t, he would wrap an arm around your shoulder and gently move you over; so now he was on the outside. He kept his arm around you though.

In restaurants, he always sat in the seat where he could see the whole room, and the entrance. You didn’t notice this at first, but on one of your dates when you initially starting dating, he sat in the booth seat. You joked and said, “Oh, usually that’s my spot.”

He didn’t get your reference and simply stated, “What? This is the spot where I can analyze the whole room in case something happens.”

You let him have the booth.

It was no different when you went out. His brooding stare and massive height and size deterred any man who even had the thought to approach you. And on top of that he was always sporting his black, half skull balaclava, which added on to the intimidation he exuded. Great for you, you think. The last thing you wanted to deal with was a random man.

Needless to say, you hated dealing with men while out. Especially drunk, pushy men. And there was always at least one during these occasions.

Tonight, everything was going smoothly, and just as planned, like your usual nights out. You were dancing, and having a good time with your friends, Ghost was somewhere in the near distance, and you didn’t have to look at him to know that his eyes were already on you. You might have thrown in a couple extra moves while dancing.

You seemed so carefree in this moment. All your troubles wiped clean from your face, your body relieving any tension it held. You moved to the beat of the music, drink in your hand. You were drunk by now, the full effects of alcohol finally hitting you.

Suddenly, you felt a hand grasp your waist. At first you thought it was your boyfriend, and you turned around smiling, but only to be met with a much shorter man, with no skull balaclava covering his face.

Immediately your lips turned down, and eyebrows furrowed. Your body flinched at the unfamiliar contact. Leaning away from the man, you waited to see what he wanted.

“Wanna dance?” His lips upturned as he asked this, and his grimy hand was still grasping your waist, and even started to move downward.

Bold move, you think.

“No, I’m good.” At your response, his friendly (more so creepy) smile vanished form his face and his brows started to furrow, signaling to you he was offended, shocked that you would ever reject him.

He started badgering you, trying to get you to dance, and you grew more and more uncomfortable by the minute.

“C’mon, just one dance.”

“What’s the harm?”

He also kept trying to touch you. Something you didn’t appreciate at all, and he wasn’t listening to your no’s.

All of a sudden you feel your body being tugged backwards until you hit a firm chest. Recognizing the smell of your boyfriend, you immediately relaxed into his embrace and place your hand on Ghost’s forearm that was holding you.

“She’s with me, fuck off.” Ghost’s rough voice cuts through the air.

The man’s face pales as he fully takes in Ghost’s presence. He lifts up his arms as if surrendering, then swiftly left, tail in between his legs.

Once he was out of sight, Ghost turned you around and brought up a hand to gently cup your face, tilting it upwards so you could look at him. His thumb rubbed back and forth on your jaw, soothing you.

“Are you alright?” His voice much softer than when telling off that man.

You sigh, “Yeah. Thank you, baby.”

You grant him a sweet smile and then wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss.

--

On your walk home, you’re holding Ghost’s hand, swinging your conjoined hands back and forth. Absentmindedly, you say, “You know, you kind of give off scary dog privilege.”

Ghost knows that you’re drunk right now, and he looks down at you to already find you beaming up at him.

“And what do you mean by ‘scary dog privilege’, hm?”

You start gesticulating with your other hand, “You know, if you own a big scary dog like a German shepherd, Rottweiler, Akita, etc., men are less likely to approach you or harass you; i.e., scary dog privilege.”

You hear him hum in acknowledgement and he squeezes your hand.

You bring you other hand up and rest it on his bicep, and lay your head against his shoulder, basically leaning on him as you continue to walk down the street.

“So, what kind of dog am I then?”

“Hmm. Definitely a Cane Corso. They’re known for being noble, intelligent, loyal and strong. All the things you are; but they are also low key the sweetest on the inside. Also like you.”

You feel him let out a brief laugh and he squeezes your hand again.

“Mm, thank you sweetheart.”

You smile against his shoulder and continue walking with him all the way home, the creepy man from before long forgotten.

--

today was a very tiring work day, having to write a full written document of what was spoken in yesterday’s meeting was not tiring, but boring.

re listening the conversations at least 5x trying to understand what they where saying, sometimes the british folks in here tended to speak a bit fast, making it hard for you to understand whatever the heck they were discussing!

you could say, ever since simon left for that mission, you’ve been like a lost puppy around base. you’ve been used to just do everything with him next to you.

every time you sat down to work, there he was, by your side—sometimes even on his lap, your favorite place. his fingers would playfully trace patterns on your stomach, occasionally grabbing at the adorable rolls or gently pulling you closer, resting his face on your shoulder just watching whatever you were doing, sometimes even helping you when you were stressed or tired

it was like a sweet distraction, and his touch was nothing short of heavenly. his hands seemed to know the perfect spots, making every moment a delightful pause in your routine.

but now, you found yourself buried under the weight of the workload, yearning for the comforting touch that once turned mundane hours into blissful interludes.

the room echoed with the ticking of the clock, each passing second amplifying the anxiety that clung to your shoulders. the playful distractions had faded, replaced by a pressing realization that this night would be a lonely one.

you wanted to sleep, to escape the mounting pressure, but the looming uncertainty about simon’s return kept you on edge. the ache of not knowing when simon would be back or if he was okay gnawed at your nerves, pushing you to the brink of a nervous breakdown.

you craved his return more than ever. and simon was no different than you.

the separation, now stretching into a month, had carved an ache in his heart. each passing day fueled his anticipation, and the nights without you felt longer than ever. the need to have you back in his arms, to feel the warmth of your presence, became an insatiable craving.

now, on the plane back, he could almost taste the reunion. the hum of the engines seemed to sync with the rhythm of his heartbeat, both propelling him towards the destination that held the promise of your embrace.

his mind was a whirlwind of images – the way you'd smile when he surprised you, the laughter that echoed in shared spaces, and the softness of your presence as you slept in his arms.

as the plane carried him closer to you, his eagerness reached a crescendo. he was ready to step off that plane and into the warmth of your world, to wrap you in his arms and just keep you there forever.

and it almost seemed like that was about to become true. simon was out of the plane in an instant, the cold hitting his face but he didn’t care one bit, he just cared about finding you.

he just got rid of the big cold jacket and his vest, not wanting any barriers when he finally felt you again, went straight to your room. it was late already, close to midnight, you’d probably be sleeping he thought!

but it was quite the contrary, you were about to cry, it was the 10th time you heard this small 5 second fragment, and you couldn’t understand a shit, it was like he was speaking a whole other language, enough to make you frustrated.

you were on your desk, knees close your chest, head on top of your knees, and your index finger just clicking and clicking again everytime the audio stopped. it was making you mad.

two minutes later you just couldn’t anymore, your mind was overthinking about simon, simon and simon. gasping for breath, you needed fresh air, your feet carrying you to the backyards, a retreat from the suffocating walls. the chill in the air bit through, but the warmth of your fluffy sweatshirt provided a comforting shield.

meanwhile, Simon, nearing your hallway, was jarred by the abrupt slam of a door. curiosity knitted into his features as he wondered about the disturbance at such an hour. time seemed to pause when he turned the corner, catching sight of you. your world hanging on the precipice of a breakdown, weariness etched on your face as your gaze lingered on the ground.

unbeknownst to you, simon punctuated his steps more, you, lost in the swirl of your own emotions, remained oblivious until the familiar cadence of footsteps broke through your solitude. at the speed of light, your eyes flickered up, and there he was – your simon, making his way toward you.

"simon" you breathed out, a soft whisper escaping your lips. the astonishment painted across your face mirrored the surge of emotions within.

the uncertainty of when he would return made the sight of him standing before you, muscles defined beneath a black sweatshirt, feel like a dream. as you sprang running toward him, the anticipation built, and the tears you hadn't realized were brimming spilled over.

without a second thought, you dashed towards him, his arms already open wide for you. as your arms wound around he whispered “my love” in a voice so relieved that it melted away the distance and uncertainty.

as your faces drew near, his breath whispered against your hair, a whisper of promises and unwavering devotion.

“i missed you so so much lovie” said simon while hugging your head even closer to him. his voice sounded so soft it was even unreal to him.

his hands traced soothing circles on your back, a gesture so familiar and comforting. it was as if he was trying to convey all the love that words couldn’t capture.

but simon wanted more. he effortlessly lifted you, your legs instinctively wrapping around his hips. the world blurred as he spun you around, a gesture that felt like a dance in the moonlit night. his arms, a fortress of warmth, held you securely.

simon pressed you against him, his heart beating in tandem with yours. the fabric of your hoodie pressed against his sweatshirt, and the chill in the air was forgotten in the warmth of shared laughter.

as if memory muscle, your hands instinctively went to his balaclava, pulling it to the middle of his face, the familiarity of his lips, so soft and kissable, now revealed, made your heart swell.

without hesitation, you kissed him, pouring all the longing and joy of the past month into that single moment. it was a kiss filled with the weight of separation and the relief of reunion. his lips met yours in perfect harmony, and the world seemed to pause, allowing this shared ecstasy to unfold.

simon, in that moment, became not just a figure of your imagination during the lonely nights but a tangible reality, warm and alive.

in response to your passionate embrace, simon deepened the kiss, pulling you even closer as if trying to defy the very forces that separated you. his lips melded with yours, making all kind of noises of appreciation, of being back with you, making you even more needy to be near him.

he missed you as much as you missed him.

“i missed you so much simon” simon could hear the agitation from your voice. he knew you’d be having very heavy work this week, you had a very important meeting, a very important step in your career. yet simon couldn’t help but feel disappointed for not being there.

“i’m so sorry i wasn’t there love” “don’t you worry about that simon” you said looking him straight to his eyes “all i care is that you’re here now” he saw you smile, the smile that made him all warm inside, the smile he absolutely loved seeing every morning.

“how about we take a shower big guy” simon just laughed, he came straight to see you he forgot he did just came in fact from the dessert, probably stinking.

the shower was filled with love, your hands expertly massaging tender spots on his back making simon groan from satisfaction. washing his hair, his face, his arms, all of him, every now and then just you clinging onto him to hug him for a few minutes. he was here again with you.

you two were basically one in that shower, not a small space in between you.

simon kept turning you over to help you “clean” yourself, but that just meant him just massaging your breasts, waist, bum, basically all the things he absolutely loved holding on to when you were distracted. and you laughing at him “you’re getting distracted again” “i’m sorry i just can’t deny them attention” you just rolled your eyes, but couldn’t deny how much you loved the attention you were receiving hehe.

after cleaning up, simon changed into the hoodie you absolutely adored, and laid in bed waiting for you. he saw all your work piled up on your desk, clearly seeing the stress you were going through moments before he found you.

as you went outside the bathroom, you saw simon, literally waiting for you, patting his chest. your second favorite place. smiling you reached to his side, cuddling next to him, clinging like a koala, your leg on top of his hip, hands on his neck, the other under his back hair, just playing with it, making simon shiver once again from satisfaction.

"how was the dessert?" you inquired, your curiosity piqued about simon’s experience in a place you've never been, let alone lived in for a month. his voice, deep and resonant, rumbled like an earthquake, making you giggle.

"ugly as hell" came his reply, and you couldn't help but laugh at the honesty. "what do you mean? didn’t you see any camels?" you added playfully.

simon chuckled, his laughter carrying a hint of amusement. "oh, plenty of camels. i even tried to have a conversation with one, but they're not great at small talk."

you couldn't help but snicker at the mental image of simon engaged in a one-sided chat with a camel in the vast desert. the quirky exchange became a moment of shared laughter, turning the conversation about a "dessert" into a sweet and funny memory.

along the conversation, you shifted positions, now lying on your side, and simon followed suit. the moonlight painted the room in a gentle glow as simon’s fingers delicately played with strands of your hair. you were pressed against his chest, your leg draped over his hip, creating a cozy tableau that felt like a warm hug.

with a softness in his voice, simon began lulling you to sleep with tales of the mission. each word was a whispered melody, painting vivid pictures of his adventures that unfolded in the vast desert.

"imagine this," he began, his voice a blend of playfulness and warmth, "a camel giving me side-eye because I accidentally interrupted its afternoon siesta. i swear, I've never seen such a judgmental camel."

you couldn't help but chuckle at the mental image, feeling the vibrations of your laughter against simon’s chest. his tales continued, each one sprinkled with his unique sense of humor.

as his hands gently massaged your hips and traveled up to your chest, you couldn’t help but feel a wave of cuteness wash over you. the tenderness in his touch was a language of its own, expressing care and affection without uttering a word.

you found yourself in a dreamlike state, murmuring sweet nothings and declarations of love. "i love your hands" you blabbered, a smile playing on your lips as simon’s warmth enveloped you.

his heart swelled with affection, seeing your drowsy contentment. he absolutely loved how affectionate you became when you were sleepy.

simon, feeling the warmth of your love, whispered, "and you don't know how much I love you." the words lingered in the air, a sweet promise exchanged in the quiet of the night.

as sleep claimed you, simon held you close, savoring the precious moment of having you in his arms again. he slept like a baby, content in the embrace of love that had transcended the distance of a month, finding solace in the shared dreams and whispered affirmations that filled the night.

he felt complete again ♡

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

i live for soft simon 🥲 wishing i was reader rn, anyway!

you often went back and forth in your head about what was the worst day of your life. after careful consideration and an unhealthy amount of dwelling on it, you were still yet to come to a conclusion.

was it the day you got the phone call, the one that sent you to your knees, sucked all the air out of your lungs? you could still hear it, replaying in your head like a tape stuck on an endless loop.

“it’s johnny,” simon’s voice cracked. “he’s gone.”

you hadn’t replied - what could you say to the news that your husband was dead? your sobs echoing through the speaker the only confirmation to simon that you had heard him.

or was it the next day, when you woke up and realized it hadn’t been a dream? he wasn’t coming home, he was never coming home.

a box of johnnys things had arrived at your house a few days later, hand delivered by the lieutenant himself. he was dressed in civilian clothing, baseball cap and surgical mask, his tired eyes visible above the black fabric.

he looked like hell.

you’d had a few conversations with him over the years when you had visited johnny at the base, and he had been to your house once or twice before with the rest of the guys.

“felt wrong to just ship it here,” he had said, his eyes unable to meet yours. if they did, he felt the guilt would’ve eaten him alive - it was close already, ugly head rearing and crooked teeth on display, ready to take a bite. how could he face you when he hadn’t been able to protect the person in the world who was most important to you?

maybe that’s why he had broken all the mirrors in his apartment. maybe he was just angry at the world. or maybe he couldn’t face himself either.

“thank you,” you had sniffled, eyes red and puffy from the never ending flow of tears, mascara stains on the sleeves of johnny’s hoodie that you were wearing; the smell of him both a comfort and a knife to the chest.

your arms wrapped around simon in a hug before you could stop yourself, body collapsing into his arms as you cried until you physically couldn’t anymore. if you weren’t so wracked with grief you would have been embarrassed, considering you barely knew the man.

you woke up on the couch the next morning, a blanket draped over you and a glass of water on the coffee table, along with two painkillers for the inevitable dehydration headache. you didn’t remember falling asleep, or simon leaving, but you drank the water, your throat sore from sobbing, and wished he was here so you could thank him.

a note on your kitchen table caught your attention and you dragged yourself off the couch to read it.

‘call me if you need anything’ in simon’s messy handwriting, followed by his phone number.

•

it was days before you could open the box of johnny’s things, the realization that he was really and truly gone crashing down on you all over again as you picked up his dog tags; the metal cold between your fingers.

not warm like they were from his body heat when you laid on his chest, fingers fiddling with them absentmindedly.

next was his ring, silver and engraved with your wedding date on the inside, and you slid it onto the chain before putting his dog tags around your neck. your eyes landed on a polaroid of the two of you in the box, a wide smile on johnny’s face as you kissed him on the cheek, and you decided you couldn’t do this today. maybe not ever. the box would sit collecting dust on the floor of your living room for weeks, untouched, your only acknowledgment of it being when you reminded yourself not to trip over it.

•

a few days after he had first come over, simon was back at your front door, a bag of groceries under one arm.

“figure you hadn’t really been thinking about eating, but you need to at least try,” he said, putting away a loaf of bread, some milk, coffee, and few other essentials that didn’t take much effort to throw together a meal.

you also noticed after he’d left that a box of your favourite cookies sat in the pantry, unsure how he knew or if he just made a lucky guess.

either way, you knew he was right, you had to try; johnny would want you to try.

you made your first meal in three days, the coffee tasted bitter and the toast tasted dry even though it wasn’t, and you went to bed, the cookies remaining unopened in the cupboard.

•

it was two weeks later that you called simon for the first time, your voice sounding like a strangers to your own ears as you had barely spoken in days.

“i’m really sorry to bother you,” you started once he picked up the phone. “the engine light is on in my car. i was gonna go get groceries but-“

“never a bother,” he assured you. “i’ll be over in an hour.”

he took you to garage to drop off your car, letting you wait while he spoke to the mechanic so you didn’t have to, and then you were surely the oddest looking pair at the grocery store. a 6’4” man with a mask and a woman with tired eyes and dark circles that were rivalled only by a raccoon as you followed behind him, putting what you wanted in the cart that he refused to let you push.

despite your protests, he paid for both the groceries and the bill at the garage, something about not wanting them to try to charge you for extra shit since you were a woman.

it was the first time you had left the house in weeks, and walking back into it alone, looming and empty, sent you into tears again.

•

three months after johnny’s death, simon had called to let you know he was leaving town for a few weeks. he dropped of a key to his apartment in your mailbox and said if you needed anything, you could raid his pantry. you had never been to simon’s apartment, not even sure how many times soap had been there, but he texted you the address, and you saved it in your phone under his contact.

“thank you, i’m sure i’ll manage,” you said. you thought about telling him to stay safe, to say hi to gaz and price, but decided against it.

“i know you will,” he replied.

you had no intentions of going to simon’s apartment, functioning well enough to keep your fridge stocked groceries and even cook a real meal some days.

simon had been gone for a month when you woke up to a nightmare, the same one that had haunted you almost weekly, and for the first time in your life you didn’t want to see johnnys face. at least not like that; eyes glazed over, a bullet wound in the side of his head.

deciding to go for a drive to distract yourself - there was no chance you’d be getting any sleep after that anyways- you got dressed in some leggings and one of johnny’s hoodies before getting in your car. you drove for hours, before your eyes were fighting to close, and somehow you ended up outside simon’s apartment.

you never thought that the idea of going home to the house that johnny wasn’t in could be scarier than walking into the apartment of a man you barely knew. you fished the key out of your bag and locked your car before punching in the door code he had given you and going inside the building.

simon’s apartment was minimally decorated, which made sense considering how little time he actually spent there. you looked out at the city, enjoying the view from the sixth floor, the sun just starting to creep up over the horizon as it was now nearing five in the morning. exhausted, you curled up on the grey couch, which was surprisingly comfortable, and drifted off to sleep.

•

the last thing simon expected to find when he got home from base a few hours later was you asleep on his couch, and if it weren’t for your shoes by the front door he probably would’ve walked right past you and collapsed into bed.

he quietly put water and coffee in the coffee maker and turned it on, before placing a blanket over you and hopping in the shower, making sure to leave his boots out so you could see that he was home when you woke up.

the smell of freshly brewed coffee roused you from your slumber, and you looked around confused, taking a moment to remember where you were.

the shower running and the boots by the door indeed let you know that simon must be home, and you thought about leaving, feeling bad that you had crashed at his house.

“morning,” simon’s voice sounded from the hallways, and he appeared, dressed in a black t shirt and some sweatpants, his face free of any kind of mask.

“hey, i’m really sorry for -“

“don’t. it’s not a problem.”

“i should probably go. i’m sure you just want to relax.”

“at least stay for coffee,” he suggested, and you nodded, letting him pour you a cup. “i dont have any milk since i haven’t been home, but there’s sugar in the cupboard,” he said, pointing to the one above the sink.

“that’s fine,” you promised, noticing that he didn’t touch any of the coffee and instead made himself a cup of tea.

you sat across from eachother at his small dining table, not speaking for a few minutes as you searched your brain for anything to say.

“price and gaz both wanted me to say hi,” he spoke first, and for the first time in months a smile tried to pull at your lips.

simon watched as you fiddled with johnny’s necklace, sipping your coffee quietly, and he hoped to himself he had made it okay; not too weak or too strong.

“tell them i say hi back.”

“will do,” he agreed.

simon studied your face, the colour slowly starting to return to your cheeks that had looked lifeless for months, and he hoped that meant you had at least been eating.

“i should get going so you can get groceries - and i’m sure you have other stuff to do today since you just got back.”

“i’m not in a rush,” he shook his head. “but don’t feel like you have to stay.

“thank you for the coffee, and for letting me stay here,” you said, standing up and placing your mug in the sink. “oh, here’s your key back-“ you reached into your bag to grab it but his voice stopped you.

“hang on to it,” he said. “might need it again.”

“are you sure?” you asked.

“positive. you’re welcome here anytime.”

he walked over to the sink to put his own cup in the sink. you gave him a hug, which made his body go rigid for a second before he relaxed, patting you on the back gently.

“thank you, simon,” you spoke into his chest, before letting go.

“don’t mention it.”

“is it okay if i use your washroom before i go?”

“knock yourself out,” he said, pointing down the hall.

you followed his directions into the small bathroom, closing the door behind you. you blinked in surprise at the broken mirror, a fist shaped indentation on one side that cracked like a spider web around it, and tears threatened to form in your eyes.

you felt guilty, and it was like a wave of realization washed over you. this whole time simon had been making sure you were okay, while he was also dealing with the loss of his best friend.

you had never once asked him how he was doing, not that you thought he wanted to talk about it; because you didn’t either.

you looked at johnny’s necklace hanging from your neck, and pulled the chain over your head. opening the clasp, you carefully slid one of the two dog tags off the chain before putting the necklace back on, the silver of johnny’s wedding band catching the light.

once you were done in the washroom, you walked back out to the living room where simon was sitting on the couch, flipping through channels on the tv.

“i’ll see you around i guess?” you said awkwardly. you never planned to see him, it always just happened, whether you called him for something or he decided he was coming over to check on you.

“yeah, i’ll be around for a little while,” he stood up, walking over to let you out.

“okay,” you nodded. “simon if you need anything, i’m here for you too, okay?” you insisted.

“i’ll be fine,” he shook his head. you took his hand in your smaller one, placing the loose dog tag in it.

“you lost him too, i’m sorry it took me this long to realize that,” you weren’t sure how you managed to hold back your tears. simon ran his hand over the letters in the tag, staring down at it in his open hand.

“don’t worry about me. as long as you’re okay, i’ll be alright.”

you nodded, before turning and walking down the hall.

maybe taking care of eachother would give you both the purpose you needed to keep going.

•

a few days went by, and as you looked at your phone to turn off your alarm, the date stared back at you.

it was yours and johnny’s third wedding anniversary. you rolled his ring between your fingers, reading the date over and over again - thinking that your forever with him hadn’t felt that long at all.

you hauled yourself out of bed, knowing if you didn’t you would stay there all day, and for the first time in weeks, opened the box of his things in the living room.

you pulled out a few pictures of the two of you, a tear rolling down your cheek as you looked at his smiling face. you hadn’t been able to take down the ones around the house, but avoided looking at them; it still hurt too much.

but today you wanted to feel it. wanted to feel him, and all the emotions that came with him. love, pain, anger, sadness. all of it weighed down on you like a heavy blanket.

you set the pictures on the coffee table, and continued through the items in the box, pulling out some clothes, the scent of his cologne barely there but still lingering on the fabric enough to hurt.

at the bottom was a letter, sealed and addressed to ‘my dearest love’, and you felt guilty for not finding it sooner.

carefully opening the envelope you read it, tears falling down your face and staining the paper as your eyes went back and forth over his words.

‘if you’re reading this letter, that means i broke my promise to always come home to you, and for that i can never apologize enough. there aren’t words to describe how much i love you, lass, so i won’t try, but know that even though i’m gone, it doesn’t change a bloody thing. i still love you more than anything in the world, and i always will. promise me you’ll take care of yourself, for me.

there’s a thousand things i wanna say, but i’ll tell ya when i see you again - if i make it into heaven that is. i musta done something right to end up getting to call you my wife, i reckon. if you need anything, call simon. i know you don’t know eachother very well, but he’s a good guy once you get to know him.

i love you, my bonnie lass. till we can be together again,

-johnny

you held the letter close to your chest, wiping tears on your sleeve as you laughed and cried, reading the letter over and over again. you could hear his voice saying the words in your head. folding it up and placing it carefully in the box, beneath all the other items.

there was a knock at the door, and you dried your eyes again, sniffling as you stood to go answer it.

you opened the door to see a delivery man holding a bouquet of flowers.

“hi,” he spoke nervously at the sight of you, a woman who had clearly just been crying. the man couldn’t have been more than eighteen years old. “are you mrs.mactavish?” he asked, looking at the sheet on his clipboard.

“yeah,” you answered, not having heard anyone call you that in a while. not since all of the legal stuff to do with johnny’s death, where you finally had to insist they just call you by your first name instead.

“these are for you,” he smiled, holding the flowers out to you, and you took them from his hand.

“thanks, does it say who sent them?” you asked, looking at the bundle of all your favourite flowers, wrapped in beautiful white ribbon.

“sorry, i just get told where they’re going,” he shrugged. “have a good day ma’am,” he said nervously, like you might start crying again.

“thanks, you too,” you tipped him a few dollars and shut the door, smelling the flowers with a sad smile before putting them in a vase with some water on the kitchen table.

as you ran your fingers over the petals gently, you thought about johnny, and how he always for your flowers on your anniversary; and wondered who had managed to send you the exact same ones.

•

“hello?” simon answered the phone, as you held it to your ear with one hand, the other pushing a shopping cart through the grocery store.

“do you want to come over for dinner tonight?” you asked him nervously, looking through the items on the shelf.

“what’s the occasion?” he asked, sounding suprised.

“i don’t know, i feel like cooking and it seems like a waste to cook a whole dinner for one person. there’s always too many leftovers,” you lied. in truth, you wanted to do something nice for him, and considering you had only seen a single knife, spoon, and fork in his kitchen when you had been at his house, you figured he didn’t cook much for himself.

you had been to his place a few times in the few months since the first time you crashed there, and you guys always ordered pizza or takeout. simon wasn’t usually one for guests, but if the cheesy horror movies you or on made you smile, he’d have you round whenever you wanted.

“if you want to, but don’t feel like-“

“i want to simon,” you insisted. “are there any foods you don’t like?”

“i’m not picky,” he replied, just happy to hear you sound even the slightest bit enthusiastic about doing something for the first time since… a while.

“okay, does 6:30 work for you?”

“i’ll be there.”

he showed up exactly on time, dressed in all black with a bouquet of flowers in his hand.

“what are these?” you asked, unable to stop the smile from spreading across your face.

“thought you’d like em,” he replied, his surgical mask hiding a smile of his own. he didn’t wear one around you anymore, but you figured he had to run into the flower shop. it was the same flowers you had gotten for your anniversary a few weeks ago.

“how did you know gardenias are my favourite?” you asked him, and he took off his mask and hat, setting them on the table by the front door before he took his boots off.

“lucky guess,” he lied, and you eyed him suspiciously but didn’t question him further.

“dinners just about ready, come sit down.”

he followed you to the table, serving dishes of roasted vegetables, potatoes, and dinner rolls already set out. you just had to take the roast out of the oven. “do you want a drink?” you asked, getting two glasses from the cupboard.

“what ‘ave you got?” he asked.

“you know johnny kept a stocked liquor cabinet,” you laughed, and he smiled. you could finally talk about him without bursting into tears hearing his name, just a subtle ache in your chest. “or there’s soda or water.”

“bourbon?” he asked.

“you got it,” you said, grabbing a bottle from the cupboard, and pouring some into each glass.

“you’ve outdone yourself,” he commented as you pulled the roast out of the oven, placing it on the table.

“i haven’t had a chance to cook like this in a while, i really don’t mind,” you shrugged. it was true, with johnny gone so often, you didn’t cook a big meal like this more than a few times a year. now with him being truly gone for almost a year, you weren’t sure when you’d get the chance again.

“thank you,” simon said, carving the roast for you.

after dinner, he stepped outside for a cigarette on the back porch, suprised when you followed behind him, a blanket wrapped around your shoulder to fight off the chill of the evening.

“mind if i join you?”

“as long as you don’t ask to try one,” he teased. “johnny’ll kill me if i let you start smoking.” though it was impossible, you somehow believed him; johnny always was a determined bastard. if anyone could find a way to kill someone from the grave, it’d be him.

“he asked you to look out for me, didn’t he?” you asked, sitting down on the step next to him. simon’s composure faltered, but then he sighed.

“yeah, something like that,” he agreed, a little part of him feeling like he was betraying his friend by telling you.

“thank you,” you rested your head on his shoulder. “you’re doing a really good job.”

“happy to hear it.”

•

over the next few months, simon can over for dinner almost every week when he was home. he always protested when you insisted on sending him home with leftovers, but you wanted him to have proper food to eat at home, and he couldn’t say no to you. simon felt something growing inside him, and he had to fight every urge he had to pull away from himself. he didn’t want to think that way about his best friends wife. didn’t want to think of her as more than a friend. he didn’t know how to do relationships, but here he was falling for you.

“what do i do johnny?” he asked no one in particular, looking at soaps dog tag that hung on the wall in his apartment, next to a picture with him and the rest of the 141. “you warned me about this, you bastard.”

he looked at the letter on the coffee table in front of him, the one price had given him the day after johnny was killed.

“he asked me to give this to you, if he ever-“

“thanks captain,” simon had cut him off, not ready to hear the words. not ready to accept that his friend was dead.

“take care o’ yourself, simon,” price said, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“you too, captain.”

he read the letter for what must’ve been the hundredth time.

‘LT,

guess you were right when ya said i probably wouldn’t live long enough to be better than you. truth is, i don’t think i ever could, even if i lived to be a hundred bloody years old. you’re one of the best, LT. that’s why i need to ask ya a favour. take care of my wife for me, aye? she’s the best damn thing i got, and she’s gonna need someone she can rely on. i know you won’t let me down.

i warn ya though, you’ll probably fall in love with her, she’s so goddamn charming. it’s alright if ya do, i know you would treat her right. ill forgive you as long as she’s happy.

i’ll save ya a seat at the bar up here, bet they got some right fine bourbon.

i’ll miss ya, you spooky bastard. try not to miss me too much, can’t let people know you’re a big softie under that mask.

-johnny

in the envelope with the letter was a list, two pages long, all about you; your favourite foods, movies, how you liked your coffee, your favourite flowers. there was also important dates like your birthday and your wedding anniversary, with a note scribbled in the margins.

‘she might need a friend on these days’

simon put the letter back in the envelope, tucking it safely in his dresser drawer, before falling backwards on the bed, staring up at the ceiling and wondering what the hell he was going to do.

•

simon was over for dinner like he was almost every thursday when he was home. it had become a tradition for the last six months, and you found yourself looking forward to his visits more than you expected to. you told yourself it was because you liked cooking, that you just liked the house not feeling so empty, but really what you liked most about it was having simon around. after johnnys death, now a year and a half ago - though sometimes it still felt like yesterday - you told yourself you wouldn’t let yourself fall for anyone ever again. you knew that wasn’t what johnny would’ve wanted, but you truly weren’t sure if you could go through that again. if there would ever be room in your heart for anyone besides johnny. he was perfect in every way, caring, funny, handsome, and he loved you harder than you had ever been loved before; and you loved him back completely.

lately, you had found yourself in a dilemma, finding yourself missing simon when he was gone, more than you should miss a friend. you knew he was only looking out for you because soap had asked him to, but was there something more to it? and more importantly, could you do that to johnny?

“what’s on your mind?” simon asked, after you were oddly quiet at dinner, poking the food around on your plate instead of eating it. you were sitting next to him on the couch, curled up under a blanket with your knees tucked up to your chest as he leaned back against the cushions, his feet up on the table.

“it’s nothing -“ you lied. “just thinking about stuff.”

“johnny?”

“yeah, about johnny,” you said, a half truth. you were thinking about him - a moment didn’t go by where you weren’t thinking about him. “do you think about him a lot?”

he sat up straight, placing his feet on the ground.

“every day,” he answered honestly. he wondered every day why the world was so cruel, why it couldn’t have been him that took that bullet instead of someone as good as johnny. i guess they were right when they said the good die young.

“do you think he’d believe this if he saw it, us having dinner together?” you smiled, thinking about it. simon smiled back.

“would knock his socks right off,” he said, laughing softly as he thought about it.

“i miss him.”

“me too, love,” he said, and you smiled.

“he’d be happy that you’re smiling again.”

“well, he has you to thank for that,” you said honestly. if it hadn’t been for simon, you weren’t sure if you would have made it through losing johnny. he had been your rock, your shoulder to cry on, your anchor.

you didn’t know it, but you were his too.

“then i’ve done my job,” he replied. “we both want you to be happy.”

“i forgot what happy felt like for a while,” you admitted. “thank you for reminding me that it’s still out there.”

you cuddled into his side, sharing the blanket with him as his arm wrapped around you protectively.

“anything for you.”

you sat in silence for a while, and simon worried you could hear how loud his heart was beating with your head so close to his chest.

“it’s getting late,” he said, but he didn’t dare move. you were almost asleep on him when his voice stirred you awake.

you hummed in response, reading 11:03 on the clock. lately he had been staying later into the evening, sometimes watching a movie after dinner or more often just talking about whatever.

“do you want to stay?” you asked, too scared to look up at him to see his reaction.

“spend the night?” he asked, pulling away from you, and you sat up, thinking you’d overstepped. of course he didn’t want to. you were his best friends wife - his best friend that just so happened to be dead.

“i’m sorry, i shouldn’t have asked you that.”

“do you want me to?” he asked softly, and you finally met his eyes.

“does that make me a bad person?” you whispered, unable to shake the feeling that you were betraying johnny.

“no, it doesn’t. does it make me a bad person if i want to say yes?” he asked, and you shook your head. he pulled you closer, laying down on the couch with you on top of him, his arms wrapped around you. it didn’t feel right to sleep in the bed you and johnny had shared, and you had a feeling he knew that. he didn’t know you hadn’t slept in there most nights since he died anyways, opting for the guest room instead.

“he warned me about this, you know,” he whispered.

“about what?” you asked confused, lifting your head to look up at his face.

“warned me that i’d fall for you. left me a letter and said he’d forgive me if i did ‘s long as you were happy.” he’d show you the letter tomorrow if you wanted - but maybe not the list of your favourite things. maybe he’d keep that for himself, and maybe that made him feel guilty all over again.

“i wish he’d warned me about you,” you mumbled. “then maybe i’d have stood a chance at not falling for you too.”

“you wish you hadn’t?” he asked, and you smiled. simon had seen you at your worst, an empty shell, and he had helped slowly start to put you back together. maybe you’d never be whole again, and maybe he wouldn’t either, but maybe you could figure out the puzzle together. at the very least you could find all the pieces, even if they didn’t fit together the same as they used to.

you kissed his lips softly, the feeling strange but not as scary as you thought. you just hoped johnny could forgive you.

“no, i’m glad i did.”

you returned to the table with the fourth round of drinks for the night, sliding into your seat between gaz and soap as price dealt out the next hand for poker. it was the night before a mission, and as had become tradition, you and the rest of the 141 were drinking at the small bar on base.

it wasn’t fancy, if anything a little outdated, with tables with wobbly legs and an old jukebox in the corner that surprisingly still worked. it had quickly become one of your favourite places despite its quirks; a place where for a few hours, you and the rest of the task force could just be normal people, almost like friends, just enjoying each others company.

“this is a load o’ shite, captain,” soap said, throwing his cards face down on the table, folding for the second round in a row.

“bad luck, johnny,” price laughed, and soap rolled his eyes before finishing his beer.

“i’m going to dance,” he decided, stumbling slightly from intoxication as he stood up from the table.

“yer on your own, mate,” gaz laughed, and you shook your head in agreement.

“not a chance,” ghost grumbled, collecting the pile of chips from the table for winning the round.

there wasn’t often much dancing going on at the bar; sometimes if some of the younger women were around they would, but it was quiet tonight, most people having gone to bed already.

you knew johnny didn’t care if he danced alone, but after a few more rounds of cards, you couldn’t help but think he looked sad out there by himself.

“oh, put him out a’ his misery, would you?” price asked you. if you had been sober there wasn’t a chance in hell you would have entertained the idea, but after a few drinks it didn’t sound so bad.

“fine,” you sighed, forfeiting your hand and finishing you drink as an upbeat folk song came on. soaps face lit up as you walked over to him, and he reached a hand out towards you.

“couldn’t resist, ey lass?” he smiled, spinning you around by your joined hands.

“in your dreams,” you laughed. “this is purely out of pity.”

“you wound me,” he said, holding a hand over his heart.

“you love it.”

johnny was someone you would consider to be your best friend, and teasing eachother was like second nature.

“aye,” he agreed, spinning you around again as you drunkenly danced along to the music, trying to avoid him stepping on your toes.

you loved moments like this, where you could turn your brain off and distract yourself from your job. tonight it was proving difficult to get your mind off it though, something about tomorrows mission didn’t sit right with you.

there was a strange feeling in the pit of your stomach, lingering as the night went on no matter how hard your tried to chase it away with alcohol.

another strange feeling crept over you, and you looked back at the table to find ghost staring at you, before diverting his gaze back to the poker game. you had a strange relationship with ghost, in the way that you had almost no relationship at all. while you would consider the other members of 141 to be your friends, he was like a riddle you couldn’t crack. there was always a strange tension between the two of you, and while you hadn’t exactly expected him to open up to you, you saw how he was with the other guys and wondered what made you different.

maybe he just didn’t know how to talk to women, you had decided.

“i need a break,” you sighed, slumping against johnnys shoulder as he spun you around again to the beat of the fourth song, making you feel dizzy. “and another drink.”

“i won’t say no ta that,” he agreed, letting you lead him back to the table, his hand resting on your waist.

you sat down next to gaz again, picking up your drink that had started to get warm and watery as the ice melted into it.

“don’t tire him out to much, hey?” gaz teased, elbowing you in the ribs as soap let his head fall over the back of his chair.

“i can go for hours, don’t you worry,” he winked.

you and johnny were dealt into the next round of cards, and you played a few more before you all decided to call it quits.

simon lit a cigarette, his skull balaclava rolled up over his mouth enough that his mouth was exposed, allowing him to drink.

“oh no,” price groaned, squinting his eyes shut.

“what is it?”

“this bloody song-“

the rest of the table - except for simon, who had been silent almost all night - let out a collective groan.

“not this again!” soap his his face in his hands.

“it was her favourite-“ you could swear he almost sniffled.

“we know captain. you tell us everytime they play it,” gaz laughed, recalling the story you had all heard a dozen times about the captains first love and her favourite song.

“i’ll go change it,” you offered.

“i’ll get another round,” gaz sighed, knowing you were in for another drunken retelling of the story, meaning you’d be here a while yet. simon’s eyes followed you as you stood from the table, and you met his gaze, deciding if he was gonna sit there pouting all night, why not at least give him a reason to be grumpy. reaching across the table, you took the cigarette from his lips before putting it between your own and walking off towards the jukebox.

soap whistled at the lieutenant, who shot him a nasty look, but johnny just smiled back at him.

“when are you two gonna stop acting like ya hate eachother?” he asked.

“we don’t.”

“coulda fooled me,” soap argued, before thinking for a moment. “ahhh i think i get it captain,” he said, like a lightbulb had gone off in his head.

“nothing to get, johnny,” simon grumbled, finishing his drink and lighting another cigarette, to replace the one you had stolen. it pissed him off to no end, how you acted like you could get away with anything you wanted.

it pissed him off more that with him, you could.

he tried to think of anyone else he would have let steal a cigarette from his mouth, or anyone else he would let push his buttons the way you did.

the list was nonexistent.

“come on captain, let play a round of pool, it’ll cheer you up,” soap said, pulling price out of his chair and over to the other side of the bar, waving at gaz to join them once he got more drinks. price always won when you played pool, which is why most of you refused to play against him.

simon sat alone at the table, watching you stand at the jukebox across the bar, your foot tapping along to the beat of the song.

you scrolled though the list of songs, finally finding a suitable one when you felt arms on either side of you, caging you against the old machine with a soft thud.

“find something?” simon asked, his voice low as he spoke next to your ear.

“yeah, if you don’t like it i really don’t care,” you replied, pushing backwards against him as his large frame pressed against you. he let out a soft groan.

“have fun dancing with johnny?”

“why, are you jealous?” you asked, turning around so you were facing him, his arms still on either side of you. he had pulled his mask back down to cover his face, his eyes staring down at you.

“i don’t dance,” he responded, and you swore his cold eyes were staring right through you.

“you didn’t answer my question,” you tilted your head to the side. this was the most conversation you’d had with him in weeks, besides work related things of course. usually he just ignored you, or stared at you from across the room.

“ask one that’s not stupid.”

“fine,” you rolled your eyes, before thinking for a moment. “what did i do to make you hate me?”

“try again,” he shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest.

“that’s a valid question.”

“it’s not.”

“why not?”

“because it isn’t. ask me something else,” he said, seeming somehow both annoyed and entertained by you.

“you’re impossible.”

“i’ve been called worse things. most of them have been true.”

he took a step back, putting some separation between you, and you hated that you missed the warmth of his body close to you.

“the mission tomorrow,” you started. “does something about it feel.. off to you?” you asked, and simon looked a bit suprised that you were asking a serious question.

“off?” he asked, not sure what you meant.

“i don’t know i just have a bad feeling about it,” you looked down, feeling the alcohol rush to your head suddenly.

“as opposed to the warm fuzzy feelings you normally get before we ship out?” he asked, and you sighed.

“forget it,” you pushed past him, wondering why you ever let yourself be vulnerable in front of him; even if it had only been for a second. he didn’t stop you, instead watching you walk past the table, and out the door into the night.

•

a knock on your door drew your attention from where you lay, exhausted but wide awake in bed. you were unable to sleep with so much on your mind; not only the mission tomorrow, but simon and his confusing and infuriating behaviour. you hated how much it bothered you - the way he acted towards you, like you weren’t worth his time, like you were just an annoying kid who got in the way.

brushing that off, you heard another knock, and walked over to the door. it wasn’t uncommon for soap to crawl into your bed to cuddle when he got really drunk - but it was purely platonic.

“johnny, it’s about time you-“ you stopped mid sentence when you looked up, your eyes meeting simon’s.

“expecting someone else?” he asked, sounding a bit annoyed.

“what are you doing here?” you asked, not sure that you wanted to deal with him right now, but curious nonetheless.

“why were you waiting for soap?” he asked, avoiding your question.

“i asked you first.”

“i asked you second.”

“i’m really not in the mood for this right now. if you had something you wanted to say, say it or leave,” you snapped, crossing your arms. he was silent for a moment, and you honestly thought he might just leave; you weren’t sure if that made you happy or disappointed.

“the mission,” he finally spoke.

“what about it?” you raised an eyebrow, needing more than that to satisfy your curiosity.

“you said you have a bad feeling about it.”

“i did. i do.”

“wanted to make sure your heads right,” he answered. “need you focused for tomorrow.”

you were angry, to put it lightly.

“you’re joking, right?” you looked at him, dumbfounded. “you expect me to believe you’re concerned about me?”

“i’m concerned about the integrity of the mission, which happens to include you, so yeah, i guess i do,” he countered, matching your stance and folding his arms over his chest.

“you think i can’t do my job,” you said, not phrasing it like a question, because you felt you already knew the answer.

“i think i need you focused out there, so the rest of the team doesn’t get hurt.”

“go fuck yourself, ghost. you wanted a real question and i gave you one, don’t throw it back in my face like i’m any less capable than the rest of you,” you tried to slam the door, but he stopped it with his foot, following you inside your room and letting the door close behind him. “i told you to get out,” you snapped at him, but he took a step closer.

“and i’m trying to make sure you’re okay! i don’t need something happening to you out there!” he argued, standing face to face with you.

“as if you care,” you rolled your eyes for the thousandth time.

“of course i do. you are a part of this team, and i’m not gonna let you get hurt.”

the tension that followed the two of you around like a shadow on a sunny day loomed dark, and you noted the warmth radiating off his body as he stood mere inches from you for the second time that night.

“don’t pretend like you give a shit about me,” you pleaded softly.

“who’s pretending?” he asked.

“you have a really weird way of showing it,” you sighed.

“is’ the only way i know how.”

unable to look at him anymore, you let your gaze fall to the ground, but simon tilted your chin up with his finger, giving you no choice but to stare into his eyes. for once, they didn’t look at you with anger, or annoyance. they were soft, understanding.

unbeknownst to you, simon often looked at you when you didn’t notice, looking at you fondly when you goofed around with gaz, or with jealousy when you got too close to johnny. why was it so easy for them to make you smile, and so impossible for him to let himself get close to you?

“you and soap?” he asked.

“he gets clingy when he’s drunk - likes to cuddle. that’s all,” you answered truthfully. he seemed to process the information in his head, as if deciding if he believed you or not.

“let’s get you to bed, yeah? need you well rested for tomorrow,” he finally said, voice barely a whisper. you nodded, exhaustion crashing over you like a tidal wave, as he gently steered you towards your bed. you crawled back under the blankets, your eyes growing heavy the second your head hit the pillow.

“get some sleep,” ghost mumbled, turning to walk out the door. the feeling of your hand on his wrist stopped him dead in his tracks.

“stay,” you pleaded sleepily, hoping you wouldn’t regret it.

simon seemed to consider it for a moment, as if weighing the pros and cons in his head. finally, you felt the bed dip beside you, and your eyes snapped open.

you never thought he’d stay, and you never thought you’d ask; maybe it was the alcohol that had given you the courage.

maybe you just didn’t want to be alone.

simon hesitated, before pulling his balaclava off his head, and smoothing out his short blonde hair with a hand.

you looked up at him, and he glanced down at you as you studied his face for the first time; the smudged residue of eyeblack under his brown eyes, the scar across his upper lip.

“you’re staring,” he grumbled.

“no, just looking,” you smiled, closing your eyes before cuddling into his side - not much choice other wise with his large frame taking up most of the single bed. before you could overthink it, you leaned up, placing a soft kiss on his cheek.

“thank you simon,” you mumbled.