On The Same Page pt3 (Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader Bookshop! AU)
When Johnny drops in, you get an unexpected guest...
Part 2, Part 4, Masterlist
“You know what's coming on that playlist”
You look up from your breakfast,
The song comes after David Bowies Magic Dance,
Flicking through a little book of sex tips
Remember when the boys were all electric?
Now when she's told she's gonna get it
I'm guessing that she'd rather just forget it
Clinging 'til I'm getting sentimental
Said she wasn't going but she went still
Likes her gentlemen not to be gentle
Was it a Mecca Dauber or a betting pencil?
“You might as well let it play out, does it remind you of…”
“If you say his name I will personally shove my fist up your ass so far…”
The door dinging cuts you off as Soap enters carrying a Tupperware container, now clean and empty of your cookies. You had started a habit of baking for the man during afternoon tea.
The song continues dutifully under your negligence:
Oh, the boy's a slag, the best you ever had
The best you ever had is just a memory and those dreams
Weren't as daft as they seem, not as daft as they seemed
My love, when you dream them up
“ I swear to god, Sam you have my phone change the damn song!”
Soap reaches the counter and sets the container down, the music pauses for a moment as Sam thinks somewhere amongst the books, you hear his thoughts:
“Do not test me, Sammy!” You sigh before American Idiot by Green Day kicks. Thoroughly pleased you finally turn your attention to Soap.
“Heya Johnny, What are you up to?”
He grins and pulls a small object from his pocket, a flash of silver before handing it out to you. You take it and your face lights up.
You’re reverberating with excitement as in your hands is a bookmark. Not just any bookmark but a pewter bookmark with the stamping of an old English knight. It tickles your inner literature nerd. You look back up at Soap and he rubs the back of his head.
“Some customer left it at the bar a while ago and never came back for it so I figured you’d like it.”
He seems a little flustered and the motion makes your heart warm a little bit. You set the bookmark down and pass around the counter to hug him. His arms reach around you and he pats your back. A second passes and you suddenly feel a presence, you pull away and jump.
You weren't the only one startled as the man stood a little straighter at the voice instinctively.
He turns to the culprit, the man in black from earlier, whose dark eyes look between you and the Scot before looking down to Johnny.
“Bloody hell Ghost, might give a man a heart attack doin’ that. What are you doing here?”
You watch in curiosity as ‘ghost’s’ shoulders relax his eyes soften a little in a comfortable setting, It is clear the men are close as you watch a grin light up Soap’s. He waits a moment before answering in a thickly accented voice.
“Moved in recently down the street.” He offers little more,
“Aye we’re all neighbors then Lt.” Soap bumps a fist into the taller man’s chest and you want to giggle. Soap looks to you then and mentions to Ghost with his hands.
“This is, well was, my commanding officer when I served.”
You remember the non-classified moments soap told you, of a wraith of a man behind a skull. You examine the man before you.
He is built like a tank, you imagine him in combat gear and yeah you can see it. But there is something different about the man before you. Looking closer at his masked face you can see the traces of scars, along his arms as well, but this Ghost carried himself more freely, and like Soap you wondered if he was retired.
Ghost’s eye meets yours and you are flashed back to your dream. He regards you calmly before raising an ungloved hand. You blink and Soap himself seems a little taken aback,
“Simon, Simon Riley” He offers it simply and you take his hand. It's rough like Soap’s, but warm, and his eyes crinkle a little, he might be smiling under his mask.
The scot’s hands come up in surrender with a grin. Simon holds your hand for a moment longer before drawing his back to himself. You both watch each other for a moment before you turn away to Soap.
“Did you need anything else Soap?”
“No hen, you're fine, I need to get back to the bar. Drop in sometime yea Lt?”
And with that the man turns to leave, padding out before opening the door. You look back to find Simon unmoved and watching you. You are about to speak when the music pauses and you hear the blasted phone ring.
Sam comes around the corner and stops seeing you and Simon standing closer together.
“He’s calling again. How do you want to handle this?”
You clench your fists instinctively in frustration. You turn to Simon, and with a polite excuse me, you turn and take your phone from Sam. For the first time, you answer it.
There is silence on the line as if your ex is surprised his spam tact worked. Then his voice comes:
“Where are you?” You are seething at this point, but force yourself to calm down when Sam approaches and sets a hand on your shoulder shaking his head no. It's not worth it.
You look back to him nodding, I know.
“It doesn't matter James, leave me alone.”
“I don’t care, stop calling from other numbers. We are over, we’ve been over.”
James on the other end hits a spike of temper. Because when he replies it is heated:
“Listen you little bitch…” You cringe and hold his yelling on the phone away from your ear. Sam offers to take it but you shake your head.
“He always accused me of cheating on him with you I don't want you to be dragged into this.”
The yelling continues for a moment and you pass a glance at Simon in apology but you find him tense, clearly listening and upset at the threats coming from the other end of the phone.
“I will track you down…” These words catch all of your eyes. A sense of dread hits you and hang up, unable to take any more abuse. You sigh, trying to release tension but your phone starts ringing again.
“Let me answer it.” The request is quiet but stern, your eyes widen and you look to Simon, his mask! At the moment of the ring, the man had taken off his mask revealing a young but chiseled face. He was clean-shaven, with short blonde hair swept back. He had a scar tracing from the side of his nose and over his lip. But he was quite handsome. In a bit of shock, you hand him your phone and he answers to hear yelling. But he remains quiet, waiting for James to shut up. A minute later when the phone goes quiet.
His voice changes, taking on a practiced authority, one you assumed came from his serving days.
“Stop calling this number.” It's not a request but a warning. There is silence as you and Sam look at each other, a chill running down your spine at Simon’s voice.
“Who is this? Where is she…”
“Not coming to the phone anymore, stop calling this number or there will be consequences.”
There is a tensioning silence before in a slightly different voice James asks,
Simon’s eyebrow shoots up, and he, he…almost looks amused.
“Her Partner now fuck off.” And with that bold declaration, Simon hangs up, an upturned smirk as he hands your phone back to you. It doesn't ring again.
Your mouth is agape taking the phone from him, you look to Sam but he's too busy admiring Simon, an eyebrow shoots way up.
“That was ballsy.” Your head shoots to him and you elbow your best friend.
“What he means to say is that you didn't have to do that.” Gratitude and an embarrassed admiration swells in you.
“I wanted to.” The confidence is evident in Simon’s reply as his eyes flicked between you and Sam.
“Oh! This is Sam, co-owner of this fine establishment and my best friend.” The two men shake hands briefly. Sam looks very pleased, sending you a secret look before he turns to head to the back.
“I need to get back to orders, you two have fun!” And with that, you are alone with your savior.
“You didn't need to do that-”
“He was threatening you, I won't let that stand dove.” It comes out strong and a light blush trails up your face. He regards you silently.
“Can I do anything for you, Simon? I appreciated that.”
“Tea sometimes and perhaps dinner.” He states it simply but the implications have your heart jumping.
“Sure…of course, did you need anything in the store I know you came in and looked around.”
“I set aside a hold a few days ago,”
Simon Riley, S.R. The thought clicks at the moment and you move to the counter and set aside your empty plate to pull out Twenty Thousand Leagues from the stack. The gilding gleams in the warm lights of the bookstore. Simon follows you to the counter.
“How often have you been in? Usually, only regulars know about the hold policy.”
Simon looks down at you before he answers,
The past month? How the hell did I not take note of him? Well, I guess you subconsciously did. Hince him appearing in your dream.
“Huh. Good choice in Verne. He’s one of my favorites.”
“I know.” The simple answer stuns you for a moment before he explains,
“You read a lot.” He mentions to the side of the counter where a worn paperback of Journey to the Center of the Earth sits, halfway read. You look back at him and his eyes catch yours, and then you understand, biting your lip.
He’s been observing. How hadn't you noticed? Simon shifts his weight watching the gears in your head turn. You don't seem too distressed to have figured him out. The truth of the matter was he had wandered in while looking for Johnny’s place, wanting to drop in since he had moved into the city. After some time in a smaller town, he felt comfortable enough to stand the noise of London proper. So walking down the street he caught the sound of chattering and music earlier in the morning on a fine clear day.
Gathered around what seemed to be a small shop was a crowd of people eagerly waiting for entrance into the Fox’s Den Bookstore. The collection of people was of a mixed age. Simon noticed a few parents with young children, an older couple, and the rest around early to mid-20s. He looked down at his watch, he had some time, and a light-set curiosity built so he joined the edge of the crowd. He caught some chatter here and there:
“It's Tuesday! You know what that means!” A little girl, looking to be around 8 looked up at her mother and tugged her hand.
The mom smiled down and nodded, and a student next to them knelt and smiled at the girl.
“Blueberry muffins today right?”
The child nodded back excitedly and Simon’s battered heart stirred.
It was a few minutes later but at the ding of the bell, the door finally opened revealing a tall man, who he knew now to be Sam.
“Come on in everyone! Everything is set up in the back for today's book club! Thanks for coming!” Sam’s eyes scanned the crowd before clocking Simon in the back. With his height, tattoos, and scars he must have looked out of place. Simon hesitated as Sam observed him. The commanding presence of Ghost was still within him, but after a few years of being out of the force he had calmed and gotten used to life in a smaller town. Sometimes, however, when the beasts of his past reared up in his head, Simon felt disassociated and alone, like an outsider.
But Sam only watched and then smiled.
“Head on in big guy, grab a muffin, they're homemade,” Sam eyes his height, “well perhaps two.”
Simon nods. The man is American he thinks, Sam’s accent standing out. As he enters the bookstore he is met with an open area flanked by a wall on the left, a counter straight ahead guarding a door, then an expanse of bookshelves.
“Just head straight in and take a right at the counter, there is a path between the shelves to the sitting area. Just mind your step please.” And with that Sam shuts the door and enters behind Simon, going around and taking place at the counter.
Simon follows the directions, stepping past haphazard piles of books arranged in every sort of way. He seels a stack of all E titles, all aquamarine, then another of leather-bound tomes. His footsteps are muffled by a slightly tattered runner rug, he looks up to find the ceiling painted. A vision of heaven looks back but instead of angels, foxes run amongst the clouds. The art, obviously done with love raises an eyebrow but amuses Simon nonetheless. He moves along and finally makes it to the back of the store and there he finds you.
Everyone is sitting in a collection of chairs, stools, and even on the floor. The little girl from earlier sits entranced as you finish reading a children's book. Upon finishing she takes the book excitedly.
“You mean I can keep it!” She looks at you with puppy eyes and you laugh, a sound that is music to Simon's ears.
“Well considering I wrote the book, yes you can!”
The little girl is ecstatic and runs back to her mother who gives you a gracious smile. Your eyes catch Simon and you smile at him. He freezes and you point to the table set up with your homemade muffins.
“Well, what are you waiting for? Grab a muffin and join in!” He obediently does as he is told and one of the other children pats the spot next to them.
Simon sits and so progresses book club, Simon’s heart-warming as you proceed to read. Every once in a while a patron calls your name (Simon takes note) and they ask a question which you answer. Meanwhile, Simon lowers his mask to take a bit of one (of the 3 muffins) he took. Upon the piece hitting his tongue he is transported back to brighter times.
Back in a small town in France, between deployments when he was just a tourist, he had stumbled upon a small family bakery. When he entered, the small wife of the baker ushered the large man to a small table. The following onslaught of pastries changed Simon on a fundamental level. After leaving the force, he took up baking trying to emulate the tastes he found. Safe to say he loved the muffins and unashamedly finished the 3 in front of him within a few minutes.
And there he was in the middle of a random book club. He found a comfortable space and taking another look at you, he would be back.
Simon shakes off the memory as you bag the book, he passes you payment and you hand it and the bag back to him. He checks his watch and mentions to the door.
You frown and his lips turn downward. You quickly react under the counter and scribble your phone number on a post-it note before passing it to him.
“Any friend of Johnnys is a friend of mine! Besides, next time you come I owe you tea. Maybe then we can have a proper sit-down and chat!” His hand brushes yours as he takes it and a tingle goes up your spine as his umber eyes meet yours.
He waits a moment, pulls his mask back on then turns around with a quiet goodbye, and a moment later he's gone.
You spend a moment watching his form disappear into the crowd. Sam takes the time to return from lurking in the back.
“I don’t think so, he's just quiet.”
You reply and your phone buzzes. Sitting under a notification from your mom is a little message of a skull. You smile and set your phone aside, hopeful for Simon’s return.
