Excuses of the Plant-Based Variety
Authors note: Ach, yous are cute, had to write a bit more of bunny and Ghost. And…maybe a bit more after :3 enjoy
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You were going at it again. The singing.
Ghost kept shooting daggers your way as you sang along to the tune of Prince’s ‘It’s Gonna be Lonely’ blasting from your phone’s speaker.
“Don’t, rabbit.” Ghost growls as he folds another shirt and puts it in his duffel bag.
“Without you by my side, don't you know that I could die, baby!” You croon dramatically as you kneel on his bed, really giving it your all as you perform.
Ghost shoves a shirt in as he glares at you. “Why are you over here actin’ like this? D’you not have to be at work?” Ghost asks as he lets out an all-suffering sigh.
“I don’t work on a Monday! You know that.” You reply brightly before doing the drum pattern and continue banging your head to the beat. “Besides you need a send off, Simon.” You add, grinning at him as you sing the last line and flop back dramatically on the duvet.
Ghost felt it, the roll of his stomach that always happens when you were near. He stares at you as you laugh in amusement and shakes his head.
“You’re so annoying.” He mutters, bundling up some socks. “Don’t need a send off. Or want one, bunny. Maybe I wanted one last hour of peace in my home before I get sent off to buttfuck nowhere.” Ghost clicks his tongue as he looks at you again.
“Right right…” You hum, like you hadn’t considered ‘peace’ as an option. Which, of course, you hadn’t. You wanted to see Ghost before he went.
Ghost packs a bit more in quiet as you stare at his ceiling. Ghost is very much ignoring what you being in his bed was doing to his supposedly well-trained, military disciplined mind. Your hair is spread out on the duvet, your little nimble fingers pinched at his pillow at your side. You were being wrapped up in his scent and leaving yours in return and of course- he was going. He couldn’t lie down and bury his face into it like some sort of dog. He’d have to hope your smell lingered in his space till he returned, whenever that would be.
After a moment you sit up, sitting cross-legged. “You want me to water your plants again? While you’re away?” You ask, brushing your hair out of your face.
“No- well…” Ghost pauses his usual objection. The idea of you being here while he was gone sets off alarm bells. There’s about four places in the house he can think of that he doesn’t want you nosing around in. However, on the other hand, you in his space while he’s gone, ah that actually…kinda has a nice ring to it. Leaves a nice taste in his mouth. A plan was forming as the devil on his shoulder pulled at his earlobe and whispered silly silly ideas into it.
“You could manage that?” Ghost asks, crossing his arms, looking at you skeptically. “Coming over a few times a week to do that?”
“Uh huh.” You bob your head, your face adorable as ever. “I mind children for a living, I can manage plants.”
He nods. “I’ll give you a key then. And if it’s late you can stay here for the night.” He shrugs off handily.
“Ok.” You grin now, scrambling off the bed to follow him as he walks out of the bedroom and down the stairs.
“Oh this is actually a great idea.” You decide, clapping your hands. “I can just stay here and save money on Tube fare.”
“There’s an idea, bunny.” Ghost mutters, glad he’s facing away from you to hide his smirk, acting as if that wasn’t precisely his plan. You staying over will certainly keep your scent gracing his hallways.
He goes to the front door, digging through the little dish until he produces the spare key. “Now don’t lose this.” He says as he holds the key out for you, a serious look in his eyes.
“Alright.” You giggle, snatching it from him like the gremlin you are.
“Great.” Ghost responds, roughly patting your head. “Go away then, I need to finish here.” He nods towards the door. “I’ll see you when I’m back.”
You laugh as you sit down to pull on your shoes. “Ach come on. We’ll have a hug.”
“We won’t.” Ghost replies, crossing his arms, looking down at you very unimpressed.
“We will we will we will.” You argue with a smile, standing and holding your arms out. “Come here to me, I won’t see you, Simon.” You say, tone dipped in sincerity and a tinge of worry.
Ghost regards you, emotionless as ever. It’s a pregnant pause before he rolls his eyes. “Fine.” He mutters. His arms drop but he doesn’t wrap them around you when you step forward, burrowing into his chest. Your arms wrap around Ghost’s neck and all it takes is a soft whine that he knows is ‘please, play along for once’ and his arms slide around you tightly. Like he needs it as much as you do. Which maybe he does, but he would rather die than admit it.
“Be good, rabbit.” He sighs as he tucks his nose to your hair.
“Where’s the fun in that?” You respond with a soft chuckle.
It’s six weeks before Ghost returns home. He’s weary, sore, feels like his head is full of cotton from exhaustion, but he’s home- and happy for it.
Your back is to him when he comes up the front path. Your headphones blasting their usual tunes as you close the door drowns out the sound of his SUV being locked behind you.
It’s too easy, giving you a fright and Ghost knows he shouldn’t…yet?
“Bunny…” He murmurs on his approach. His free hand reaches forward to close around your hip and the yelp you let out as you bump forward against the door in surprise (and a piss poor escape attempt) makes Ghost’s mouth curl at the corners.
“Christ, Simon!” You shout, the music in your ears and the fierce thump of your heart not helping your volume. He snorts, amused to no end which, for obvious reasons, earns him a whack on the chest when you face him.
“Simon.” You say again, softly now that you push your the headphones off, sighing in relief once your brain clicks. He’s back, he’s alive, he’s here. “Simon, Simon, hi.” You practically whine as you jump on him in a hug.
He has left this long before, but it didn’t make it any less shit. For whatever was happening between you and Simon, whatever unspoken thing, you certainly did not like when he left.
He breathes out your name, like it had been stuck to the inside of his ribs the entire time he was away. No calls, no texts, no updates- for six weeks he had only time to stay alive or keep his mind occupied. And what usually kept his mind occupied was you. God he was becoming a simp.
His arm loops around your waist tightly, lifting you to his body with ease despite his tired bones, solid and warm, aching to hold you. He was a weak man when he was like this. His walls lowered unwillingly, he couldn’t deny himself you after being stuck with the same stinky lads, wearing the same uniform, following orders almost as much as he gave them out. He wanted something soft and alive, something sweet, something that was his.
“Where you goin’, hm?” He mumbles against your hair as he steps you back against the door. Ghost drops his duffel to fish out his key and unlocks the door. He leans over as it swings open and lifts his bag, tossing it carelessly into the front hallway and shoulders the door closer behind him. Home. Home. And his plan worked- your smell, essence, traces of your being there were everywhere. A pair of Doc Martins at the doorway, a scarf of yours. A blanket you’d brought over for the couch, a bobble on the kitchen counter, a mug in the sink you told yourself you’d clean later. He’d go upstairs later and see his sheets rumpled, already knowing you probably slept in his bed instead of the guest room because he had intentionally not made up the bed, knew you’d be too stubborn to do it yourself.
“M’just back. Come have a cuppa, rabbit.”
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