#the complex

As Johnny’s heavy footsteps approach, you brace yourself, keeping your stroke steady even as he bursts into the bathroom like the two of you are teenagers, hiding away from their father. 

As soon as the gentle lull of the music and the position the two of you are in hit Johnny, he snorts out a laugh.

“Looks like I owe Garrick a few quid.”

You finish your downstroke, twisting to wipe your blade off, before your glance at Johnny.

“Why’s that?”

Johnny leans against the doorframe and tips his nose toward Simon with a wicked grin.

“Gaz was saying Simon’s new bird must be doing something ‘cause he is less scruffy. Can see why now.”

You hum and turn back to make Simon tilt his chin up a little more.

“Any more bets from Garrick I should know about?”, he rumbles underneath you. You can hear Johnny’s grin in his response.

“Aye, won’t tell ye, though.”

“Bloody hell, Johnny-”

“Less talking.”

He harrumphs but shuts his lips tight. You hum and carefully do his upper lip, wiping clean before you smooth out his chin.

As you wipe again, Simon grabs your ass.

You catch him looking at Johnny whose eyes are intently focused on Simon’s hands.

“There’s leftover dinner for you in the microwave, Johnny. Mind bringing that cocktail mix over for me while you’re at it?”

"'Course.”

“Thanks.”

You look over at him and he takes the invitation to move the two steps towards you and lean down for a kiss. You hum airily before he parts from you. He smiles brightly before leaving, closing the bathroom door on his way out.

You turn back and grin smugly at Simon before you tilt his head back to start on his neck.

“He is back early.”

You get an affirmative grunt from Simon who is gently petting over your lower back.

“He was trying to catch us fucking, wasn’t he?”

Another affirmative grunt.

“He likes to watch, then? Was it like that, before, too?”

“Johnny’s eager to a fault. This is new. The watching,” Simon mutters as you wipe the blade a final time, before setting up for the last swipe over his jugular. 

Simon doesn’t show any sign of uneasiness even as you hesitate. You blow out another breath and glance at your hand that has started to shake a little.

“Go’on.”

“Just-” you take another deep breath. In the kitchen, the microwave beeps. 

You swallow and shake your head, before steadying your hand and removing the last of his stubble.

You exhale heavily as you wipe the last smidges off on the towel, before getting the damp, clean one from inside the sink.

Simon takes it out of your hand and carefully dabs his face clean of any leftover shaving cream. His other hand stays on your back, keeping you seated as you rinse off the towel in the sink, before cleaning the blade one more time. You set it down on the counter to dry and hang the towel on the side of the sink, before taking the other one from Simon to do the same.

You have to stretch up to get the aftershave balm out of the cabinet. Simon lets his other hand nudge underneath your shirt to rest it on your waist, his thumb rubbing over a rib. 

You carefully spread the balm over his face with your fingertips and press a careful kiss to Simon’s lips as soon as you’re finished. Just a breath later, Johnny opens the door once more, nudging it open with his elbow. He’s holding his dinner in one hand, your cocktail in the other.

“All done?”

“Unless you want a turn,” Simon rumbles, while you get up and take the drink out of Johnny’s hand. Behind you, you hear Simon grunt as he stands and starts to put all the shaving things away.

“I’m good.”

You look up, furrowing your brows a little while the pungent taste of dry alcohol and tart cherry burst across your tongue.

“Growing the mohawk out can’t be regulation.”

“Mohawk’s no’ regulation either.” 

You bite your lip as you smile at the dry comment from behind you, while Johnny quickly swallows his first bite of dinner.

“Doin’ it myself later, before I shower.”

“If you leave all your hair lying around again-”

“Agh, wheesht yer heid, it was no’ that bad.”

Simon bumps against your back and you feel yourself flush as he grabs your waist. His other hand encloses yours that is holding your drink in his own to make you lift it enough for him to take a sip behind you.

Johnny is wearing a shit-eating grin as he chews on another bite of his dinner. His eyes are on Simon’s.

“How was debrief?”

“Alright. Price chewed me out, the usual.”

You reach out to finger at the hem of Johnny’s shirt as the two men talk. He frowns as he is scarfing down his next bite, before he answers Simon again.

“...’s no’ my fault I had to improvise.”

“Mh. Agree. Y’did a good job.”

“Can we move to the living room or do you guys have a fetish for bathrooms?”

“Tha’ would be Simon, no’ me.” Your ears perk up at that one, thoughts running to all kinds of mission scenarios where that joke could have come from.

“You’re the one standing in the way,” Simon retorts and you grin before shaking your head.

You gently push at Johnny who makes you walk into him, shamelessly wrapping an arm around your waist.

“Don’t get my shirt dirty.”

He makes a negatory noise. Simon takes your glass out of your hand. You make a sound of protest but he just herds you and Johnny in the direction of the sofa.

“Movie night?”

Johnny grins and looks up at Simon.