synopsis : Simon goes to a pub after a mission and ends up getting a bit more drunk than he bargained for. After asking for you incoherently Gaz finally gets you on the phone.
author's note : This was inspired by this work I read while I was on the train and I had to put my two cents in. Simon might be OOC in this but it's my story so I get to decide how he acts drunk.
The sound of your ringtone fills your bedroom and wakes you up with a start. You fumble around the empty sheets looking for your phone, you squint at the brightness of the screen and answer once you see Simons contact photo.
"Hey! I think Ghost is asking for you. He's a little bit wasted right now." I man in a baseball cap says to you. You watch as he hands the phone over to Simon.
Simon's face fills the screen, once he catches sight of you the fabric of his balaclava folds in a way you know means he's smiling. "Hi baby." You coo at the screen. His eyes light up as he brings the screen closer to his face. You can tell he's drunk when he leans against Price as he replies.
"Hi doll. I miss you." He slurs his words together, between that and the usual muffling of his mask you can barely make out what he's saying.
"I miss you too Simon." This elicits what you can only assume is a frown from him.
"You don't call me that." He grumbles, you giggle in response and the sound of Price chuckling comes through the phone.
"Damn! You're whipped LT!" A Scottish accent shouts, also clearly drunk.
"Where are you love? I'm gonna come get you." You start putting on your sweatshirt and shoes, you laugh as you hear Simon ask Price the name of the they're at. You hang up, much to Simon's dismay, and drive to go get him.
You enter the mostly empty pub and quickly catch sight of the table full of burly men who all seem to be arguing over something.
"Well is she your wife Ghost? You have their last name saved as Riley." The one who answered the call says, now having shed his cap from earlier.
"Why didn't you tell us about her." Another man says, his hair is sticking up in a mohawk.
Price chuckles at their antics, having caught sight of you walking towards them. "Nice to see you again." He greets, giving you a quick side hug.
"Again?!" The mohawked one says incredulously. You chuckle and introduce yourself to the two men. Simon, suddenly alert once you start speaking stands and wraps his arms around you tightly.
"I missed you doll." He mumbles into your neck, ignoring the laughs from Gaz and Soap.
"I missed you more baby. Now let's get you home, you're wasted." You chuckle as you lead him away from the table. You wave at the men and get Simon into the car.
Once you get into the drivers seat Simon grabs your hand and holds it tightly. You smile as you begin to drive home. Making sure to take a few pictures when Simon falls asleep in the passenger seat.
You and Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley have been married for three years, together for five in total. A year ago you left 141, something you are thankful for. You needed to get out after a bad injury that left you in a coma for two months. The recovery from that took so long that you lost the drive for the job that you used to love so much.
Everything seemed perfect between the two of you, after getting past his cold, hard exterior of course. To be fair he worked more than anything, giving little time to actually fight with one another at the time. It was mostly you two fucking, specially that. You never made love, at least not by your standards.
Two months after you, he left the military, retiring to stay home with you, to be with you. Both of you agreed it would be best, for your relationship and for his health.
Things were perfect, they weren’t. Until the arguments started three months after he retired. It was little ones at first, him pushing you away in the moments you both needed one another, but later on they grew into fights that seemed to burn inside of you both. You couldn’t understand why he is doing it, pushing you away, being cold again, but he is.
↠
You stand in the middle of the living room, watching Simon walk through the front door after a night out drinking. He started to drink more, go out more, about a month ago, around three weeks after you got pregnant. Of course him going out to drink isn’t abnormal, but the amount he is consuming now makes your heart break. You hadn’t even had time to tell him the bad news because of his new habits.
“Did you have fun baby?”, you ask, coming over to greet him with a kiss, ignoring the anxiety pricking at your fingers. You knew you had to tell him soon, otherwise the guilt would eat you alive.
He brushes past you, not even taking off his mask after closing the door. In a way it seems he has become more of the Ghost you knew before, not the Simon you fell in love with.
“Simon-”, you start, an awful feeling sinking into your gut.
“Fuck off”, his british accent seeps through his slurred words, something you had fallen in love with long ago.
“Simon-”.
He turns to you, eyes flashing in anger.
“I said- Fuck. Off”.
You feel your nose flair a bit in anger, heat rising into your chest. Even now, when you are trying to just be his wife, he is pulling away. Not even a simple ‘hello!’, ‘I love you’, ‘I’m tired and going to bed’. Not even a simple kiss.
“Why are you doing this”?
“Doin’ what Y/N”?
Ghost’s eyes don’t leave yours as he takes a step closer, his mask making him even more intimidating, reminding you of the day you first got to the base. The day he kicked your ass for being a newbie, in the ring of course, but shit was that awful nothing less.
“Pulling away”.
“I’m not”, his response is short and blunt, but an obvious lie.
Your hand goes to your face, pinching the bridge of your nose. For half a year you both went to therapy to learn how to communicate more, be more ‘in tune’ with your feelings. Not hiding things and learning how to not pull away were the things you worked on the most.
Even then, you have only seen him cry once, when you two finally married. Otherwise, he doesn’t cry, steeling himself when he starts to even tear up.
“Stop lying, love. Tell me what’s going on with you. I just want to help! You have been drinking every single night for the past month…Frankly it’s concerning”.
Ghost scoffs, taking another step closer to you, sticking a finger to your chest. The pressure of his finger immediately forces your anxiety to the surface, your breathing speeding up. You can smell the alcohol on him, strong and sour.
“You want to know what’s going on? You really do? I left my fucking job for YOU! I left my entire life behind to be with a woman who sits here and complains all day that I drink. Too fucking bad for you luv, you knew who I was when you married me”, he spits out, pulling his hand back.
Heat rises into your chest as you step back, your breathing becoming erratic. He has never once spoken to you like this since you got together, always making sure to try and not yell or scream. Even in the arguments you had before, you both rarely raised your voice even close to a yell.
This isn’t Simon.
This is Ghost.
“What the fuck Ghost”.
“Oh? Look at you being fuckin’ childish”.
“You know what, I really don’t like you”. You catch yourself before you say you hate him, you don’t, but you’re tired of this.
Before you two started arguing, your life was good, but then you retired and started arguing more. Then the baby, dragging you two apart like a divine force.
Ghost laughs, a manic laugh, dragging his mask off his face. You study his features, the scars lining his face, the blueness of his eyes. He’s still him, just not him.
His jaw clenches as he throws his mask onto the ground, running a hand through his hair.
“If you don’t like me, why the fuck did you marry me”, his voice raises to a complete yell, making you take another step back, “You are fucking nothing! Nothing at all. You aren’t even worth the energy to yell at! If you really don’t like me, why are you carrying my kid huh”?
He pauses, looking down at your stomach, another laugh escaping his lips.
“I wish you had fuckin’ killed that thing. I fucking wish you had, I pray to God it isn’t like you. I wish I never met you”.
He's never said anything like this before, never once raised his voice, or even said anything mildly hateful outside of work.
A lump fills your throat as the weight of his words sink in. You want to cry, to scream, to throw a fit like a child, but you won’t. Every part of you is screaming to run away, to hide and never come back. You had your time to grieve this all, to cry, and now you just feel empty. Nothing really matters in this moment, every spark of hope that laid in your heart is now gone.
Years spent with a man who wishes death upon your child as if it was nothing. Years spent loving someone who truly has no heart.
Without another word you turn and walk towards the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of vodka out of the cabinet. The clear liquid caresses the glass as it sloshes around as you open the bottle.
No seconds are wasted before the bottle is on your lips, the burn of alcohol assaulting your throat. Two shots worth is all you can muster, dropping the bottle to your side as you clench your jaw. A waste, the time with him has been a waste.
“Y/N- What the fuck are you doing”, Ghost practically screams out, rushing into the kitchen as you drop your arm. You watch as his hand rips the vodka out of your hand, panic and anger lacing his features.
How sweet innocence is.
“You know, you got your wish, Ghost”, your voice cracks as you tilt your head back, ugly sobs threatening to spill out, “I miscarried, but you were at the bar until the morning and wouldn’t talk to me. It was two weeks ago. Happy now? You got what you wanted”.
The emotion is overwhelming as you speak, eyes studying Ghost’s face as he sets the bottle down with a heavy thud. He looks awfully tired, realization nestling itself deep inside of him.
“You’re… our baby…it’s…”.
“Gone, just like you wanted”, you whisper, arms going around your stomach. Tears finally prick at your eyes as you see his expression turn from anger to fear, sadness, and guilt.
Instead of waiting for him to respond, you snag the bottle off of the counter and head up to your room, ignoring the sound of his boots hitting the ground behind you. He calls out for you, words being slurred by the alcohol and the pain ripping at his heart.
You didn’t even tell him how it happened, that the doctor said that you were too stressed so your body couldn’t handle it. You had spent too much time worrying over Ghost that your health had slowly declined.
His footsteps stop, and so does his voice, as sobs rack at your body. Sliding against the wall outside your door, you hug the bottle to your chest, knowing that you don’t really want to drink, you just want to get rid of the pain in your heart.
You’re crying so hard that you don’t even notice Ghost coming to stand in front you. He squats, grabbing the bottle out of your arms and placing it on the ground. His arms slide under you, picking you up gently. You can feel his shallow breaths as he picks you up, his heartbeat thudding in rhythm with yours.
Shaking hands grip his shirt as he brings you into your room, laying you down onto your side of the bed. You turn to the side, facing away from him in fear. Ghost doesn’t move, the sound of him out of breath mixing in with the buzzing of the fan.
It’s almost as if your tears have run dry now, your eyes forced wide by the realization that your baby is gone and the father of the child hates you. You don’t understand what you did wrong, what could have prompted the universe to do this to you- but you wish you never did.
Questions swirl around into your head until they finally form into a list. You can’t help but ask, you have to know so that you have clarity.
“Why do you hate me?”, you can’t help but feel like a little kid as you ask, curling up to be small.
You can hear the dam inside of Ghost break as he starts to cry, an ugly cry that tears you apart inside. As much as he’s hurt you, you still love him deeply. Tears prick at your eyes again as he sits on the edge of the bed, the weight of the dip causing your backs to touch.
“I don’t hate you”, he pauses, catching his breath so he can stop crying, “Fuck- I love you Y/N. I didn’t mean what I said. It’s just…”.
Turning to him, you lay your body against him, hands gripping at his shirt for comfort. The feeling of him turning back to look at you makes you want to cry even more. You can’t be sure if his words are true or not, you don’t know who he is right now or why he’s doing what he is.
“Just?”, you ask apprehensively.
A grunt of frustration fills him as he turns on the bed, moving you so that your head is on his lap. You should push him away, drag yourself away from him. But you can’t. He’s your husband, the love of your life. He hasn’t treated you this bad until now.
His hand softly plays with your hair as he speaks, the other hand grabbing his phone out of his pocket.
“I got told you were cheating, I never actually got to confirm it myself but I was watching for signs”, he hands the phone to you after pulling up the chat thread, “As time dragged on, I got nervous and started to drink more. Then you got pregnant and…I didn’t know if it was actually mine or not”!
He pauses to look down at your face, searching it as you read the chat in horror. An old friend of you both, not Soap thankfully, had messaged him extremely fake screenshots of you cheating on Ghost. You could see why Ghost believed them, but also why he doubted them.
“I never cheated on you”.
Your voice is a whisper as you hand his phone back to him, understanding and disappointment mixing inside of your empty womb. Your hands go to cover your stomach.
“I shouldn’t have said what I did, I should have brought this up in therapy”, he says in bitter disappointment.
You grunt in response, not wanting to cry if you speak.
“I should have just asked”.
“No shit captain obvious”, you snap, warm tears spilling from your eyes as he pulls you closer to his chest.
“Y/N”, the sound of your name on his lips sends aches through your heart.
“Ghost don’t”.
He tenses under you as you call him that.
“Please call me Simon ‘luv”, he whispers back.
“Simon-”, your voice breaks as you start to cry again, your arms wrapping around him as tight as you can.
“I’m…I’m sorry”.
Shock is the only emotion you feel as you pull away from him slightly, eyeing him with confusion, completely ignoring the tears streaming down your face. Never once has he apologized for anything, only occasionally admitting he was wrong or giving a grunt in response. It isn’t like he’s needed to say it before the arguments started, but it feels good to hear now.
Simon's eyes are bloodshot as they look down at you, the feeling of his heart beating widely fast giving away how anxious he is. His skin is splotchy from crying, endless tears still threatening to fall. You’re sure you look the same as him, hair a mess and snot running down your face.
You’re angry at him for sure, but he’s yours, through sickness and health he is yours.
His blue eyes dart down to your stomach, horror filling his face.
“It’s because of me isn’t it”.
“The stress”.
“So yes because of me, tell me the truth”.
Your silence is the only response he needs, your eyes looking away as you lean back against him. Is it truly his fault? No, but there isn’t anything you can do to tell him otherwise. You blame yourself after all, but there is nothing you could have done, and nothing you can do.
His cries break the silence as he curls his giant body around you, salty tears staining both of your faces as you cry with him. Simon's pain almost seems to bleed into yours as you yell, scream, and hold one another. Grief weighs heavy on you both, a disgusting thought of losing one another to death as well turning your stomachs.
“I- I killed our baby. Oh my god Y/N I’m so fucking sorry”, his voice cracks as he cries, pausing inbetween words to catch his breath. The love of your life shakes underneath you as he allows himself to open up to grief with you.
“‘Luv- our baby- and what I said”.
Coldness sinks into you as you feel his arms leave your body. Curious eyes open to Simon with his head in his hands, his breathing speeding up so fast you’re scared he might pass out.
“Simon”, you grip his wrists, pulling his hands towards you.
“Please don’t leave”, his voice is gravely as he lets you pull his hands away, placing them on your face instead of his. “Please ‘luv, you can’t leave me. I’ll do whatever you need”.
A somber smile overtakes your face as you lean into his touch.
“Let’s just get through this, okay”?
A nod is all you get in response, his icy blue eyes trained in your face. He’s studying you, watching for how you feel. It feels nice, for him to be concerned about you.
“I need to take better care of you”, the slurring is completely gone from his voice now as he speaks. His words stir old emotions up in you, the hot spark of love you felt warming back up.
After taking a deep breath he kisses you on the forehead softly, seeming reluctant to lean back.
“Let’s run you a bath and make some tea then go to bed, we can talk in the morning”, he mumbles against your hair, kissing your forehead once again.
You nod in response to him, only wanting to feel warmth and comfort in this moment. You’re thankful that things turned out this well, even if there is so much to sort out now.
Placing a soft kiss against his lips, you get up, ready to start anew with him.
[Suddenly, drunk Simon. What if he starts to say things like "We need to stop bugging Filius, brother, I don't want you to fight with the very sister you're supposed to protect!" to Peahen and "Sweet Trinity, Peacock, Filius is such a puny boy. I mean, c'mon! Even my sister and Filia agreed to fight when the time comes, but Filius? Noooo, mister I-can't-kill-an-undead doesn't want to fight me!" to Peacock.]
