First half of this is done. Only took me like HOURS. And it still looks funky to me UGH

I keep getting these little simple wishes that I had someone like Simon or Price, men made for the metal of guns and the courage to hold someone's skull in their hands and crush it without empathy, becoming softer for their miss/mister.

Sighh helping you in the shower, even though its hot as fuck, he'll stay with it simply because he wants to touch you more. Groping at your waist and kissing your neck before grunting.

"What's with you?" You question, glancing at him as you try running your fingers through your tangled hair. You hissed to yourself. You hadn't even laid down once today, and they're still fighting at you!

"You taste weird." He sounds sad, in his own gruff manner. He leans back as he let's you reach you grab your comb and climb out the shower. You stand before the mirror to start detangling them. He seems intrigued.

"Wot's all this?"

You hummed, parting your hair with ease as Simon watches you. He palms at the soft fat of your stomach, gaze following the fall of your hair over your shoulders.

"Just products, thinking of braiding my hair again. What do you think?"

He shrugged simply.

"Have no 'pinion. Do wot you want."

You laughed before gently guiding him off, earning a pushy whimper from him of course. You sat down on the rim of the bath and began lathering your fingers in hair products, all the while Simon sat nearby watching you close.

He followed the path of your fingers, the way your curls twisted and fought with your digits, slowly succumbing to the detangling products with work. He found you enthralling, like a mythical creature he knew nothing about and wanted nothing more than to study you.

"Could I learn to do tha'?"

He questioned, eyes slightly glazed from wonder. If he could, he wanted to be able to help you.

"With a few years of practice, maybe," you teased, but he didn't care so long as he could watch you.

"Teach me," he pleaded.

You gave him a look before wetting your comb.

"Later, yeah? You seem to be enjoying yourself fine."

"I miss touchin you."

That means texting Johnny, Kyle or Price at three a.m with some random fucking thing because he felt sad and knew he should talk to someone. He doesn't know nor exactly want to talk about it, but he wants to talk.

So he sends random ass things to his friends and is delighted when they all text him back, some earlier than others (Johnny has his phone notifications on just for Simon, no Simon does not know, yes Johnny loves Simon a lot and wants to be there for him whenever Simon needs him to.) (Kyle is an insomniac, you can't change my mind.) (Price answers in the morning, a few minutes after he wakes up.)

(They're happy that Simon trusts them enough to reach out some way when he doesn't feel good.)