My requests are open! Right now I'm really only writing Ghost but I'll likely expand in the future.
Simon "Ghost" Riley
~ One Shots ~
Enough To Feed a Village
Pregnancy hormones are weird...
Love Language
Simon's oblivious and you just go along with it.
That Was a Close Call
No one knows you and Simon are together and you want to keep it that way. Simon doesn't care who knows, but he might have a secret of his own.
~ Mini-Series ~
Bring Her Home Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3
For once, everything was going right in his life. Now it's all gone to hell, and he'll be damned is he's not the one to fix things.
What Do I Do? Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3
Simon’s in an accident while he’s deployed overseas and your world threatens to crumble at your feet.
How Do I Live Part 1
They were best friends since childhood and depended on each other for almost everything, even after becoming adults. She loved him deeply and she never let it slip, but tragedy after tragedy pulled him further and further away from her until he was gone. Now, she grieves the man she loved and the life that was taken from him too soon. All the while he's living in secret, far away from the life he used to know. Until he suffers another loss, and thinks it's time to make his return.
Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader x John "Soap" MacTavish
~ Mini-Series ~
Falling First and Falling Harder Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3
Simon and Johnny have been together for years. When you come along and catch their eyes, it’s not as simple or secure as you’d like—especially in a situation that’s very new and unfamiliar to you. Johnny makes it so easy, but Simon makes you feel like an outsider. And maybe he has every right to. You can’t read him, the only thing he seems to give you is indifference. He’s never mean or antagonistic, but he’s not entirely welcoming either. Maybe you’re causing more problems than you’re worth. But maybe you don’t have the whole story.
Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x f!reader (callsign "Jazzy") x John “Soap” MacTavish
Summary: Simon and Johnny have been together for years. When you come along and catch their eyes, it’s not as simple or secure as you’d like—especially in a situation that’s very new and unfamiliar to you. Johnny makes it so easy, but Simon makes you feel like an outsider. And maybe he has every right to. You can’t read him, the only thing he seems to give you is indifference. He’s never mean or antagonistic, but he’s not entirely welcoming either. Maybe you’re causing more problems than you’re worth. But maybe you don’t have the whole story.
You’ve signed your name so many times it’s starting to look weird. Document after document, file after file, signature after signature—eventually it ends and it becomes official.
You’re part of Bravo Team.
When you’re finally able to drop your pen, Captain Price holds his hand out for a handshake, not unlike the one you accepted two days ago in Captain Diaz’s office. Your nerves haven’t settled since then, and neither has the stress of knowing you’re going to be around Soap and Ghost a whole lot more often.
Price walks you out of his office with a heads up that your first official day would be the next one with training and a new mission briefing. For now, you’re free to do whatever you’d like. You get a break.
When he opens the door, Soap almost falls through it. He stands up straight with wide eyes when he’s caught. “Ah wasn’t listening.”
You smirk and Captain Price tilts his head with an unimpressed look on his face. “Say hello to your new teammate, Soap.”
He smiles wide. “Hello, new teammate. Gaz and Ah were thinkin’ drinks tonight tae celebrate.”
You shrug and ignore the burst of excitement you feel at the chance to see him and Simon off base. “I’m free.”
“Cap?” He asks.
“If you’re buying,” Price answers.
“Ah’ll consider it.”
“Then I’ll consider it.”
Soap grabs your arm and pulls you out of the doorway and into the hall with him. “See ye tonight, sir. Seven sharp!”
Price slams the door in response. “Think he’ll show up?”
“Always does. Cannae turn down a chance for a Scotch.”
“What about you?” You ask as you walk. “What’s your poison?”
“Also Scotch, of course. Simon likes bourbon, Gaz likes beer.”
“I’m a cocktail girl myself.”
“Oh yeah?” The corner of his mouth lifts.
“Yep, I like the sweet stuff.”
“Fittin’.”
You think I’m sweet? is what you want to say, but that feels like crossing a line. So you just leave it.
“Simon and Ah will take ye, just meet us out front ‘round 6:30.”
“Oh, that’s okay. I have my car.”
“Don’t think so, lass. We’ll be escortin’ ye.”
“Wouldn’t that be a pain? You’ll have to come back here to drop me off and then leave again to go home.”
“Would rather ye get home safe than Simon ‘n I get home quick. Just meet us out front.”
You sigh as you turn the corner and see your door up ahead. “Fine. Where do you live anyway?”
“Got a house in Whitecross not far from the city centre. Moved in about a month after we got married.”
“And when was that?”
“Almost three years ago.”
“Almost?”
He smiles. “Anniversary’s in a month.”
“Any plans?”
“Well if we’re not deployed we’ll probably just have dinner. We don’t get too fancy, just happy to both be still alive and together.”
You smile but your eyes find the floor, not wanting him to see how much you want to mean something to someone—like what they mean to each other.
“What about you?” He asks while you both stop at your door. “Ye got anyone special?”
You shake your head. “No, not for a while. Too focused on the job. Not enough time to meet someone in this line of work anyway.”
“Could always meet a comrade,” he shrugs. “Ah did… Well he was more my superior officer, Ah guess. Still my superior officer.”
You chuckle. “Trying to sleep your way to the top, MacTavish?”
“Caught me,” he smiles. “I’ll see you tonight, 6:30 out front.”
“I’ll be there,” you nod as he starts backing away.
“Welcome to Bravo Team, Jazzy girl,” he beams.
Your heart flutters and you giggle as he waves and rounds a corner. Your cheeks are already sore by the time you unlock your door and press your back against it inside.
Just a teeny tiny crush.
You sigh and decide you need a breather before you go out with everyone. A few laps around the track should do the trick.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
It did not do the trick.
You’re out front in your civvies with your hair a mess because you couldn’t decide if they’d like it up or down more and your phone is shaking in your hands because of your nerves. All afternoon you’ve been thinking about tonight and being in the car with Ghost and Soap and wondering if you’ll get to sit beside one of them at the bar and if you should limit yourself to just a couple drinks in case you get too comfortable and make it obvious that you have a crush.
You’re in the military for fuck’s sake, you’re not some lovesick high schooler. You continue to remind yourself of that and you start to get a grip on yourself, but then a car pulls up in front of you.
“Evenin’, lass!” Soap calls from the passenger seat. “Your chariot has arrived.”
You smile and quickly walk over, frowning when Soap gets out of the car. “What are you doing?”
“Sittin’ in the back,” he says, pushing the passenger door open wide for you.
“Are you sure?”
“Aye, bonnie. The pretty ones sit up front, right Simon?”
You notice then that Ghost isn’t wearing his usual skull mask, but rather a black balaclava with a skull design where it covers his mouth, leaving the bridge of his nose, his eyes and his eyebrows visible—all covered in eye black. It’s the most you’ve ever seen of him, and you’re almost too stunned to move.
For someone so scary, his eyes look so soft.
But then he rolls them and looks over his shoulder at Soap opening the back door. “Just get in the car, MacTavish.”
You follow his order, even though it wasn’t meant for you. “Lieutenant,” you greet.
“Sergeant,” he replies, eyes on the road as he pulls away from the base’s entrance.
“So, we gettin’ pished tonight or wha’?” Soap asks, leaning forward to rest an elbow on each of your and Simon’s seats.
Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x f!reader (callsign "Jazzy") x John “Soap” MacTavish
Summary: Simon and Johnny have been together for years. When you come along and catch their eyes, it’s not as simple or secure as you’d like—especially in a situation that’s very new and unfamiliar to you. Johnny makes it so easy, but Simon makes you feel like an outsider. And maybe he has every right to. You can’t read him, the only thing he seems to give you is indifference. He’s never mean or antagonistic, but he’s not entirely welcoming either. Maybe you’re causing more problems than you’re worth. But maybe you don’t have the whole story.
You start seeing them around base a lot more often in the weeks following your concussion. You don’t know if it’s because you’re seeking them out (or vice versa) or if it’s just a coincidence, but it’s nice. You’re still new to the 141, so you don’t have a ton of friends. Your One-One Team comrades are great, but they’re all much older. And there aren’t a ton of women on the task force. There are some, but most of them live off base and others are more removed from your specific line of work. Like the doctor.
Soap made good on his promise to check in on you while you recovered, even after that first night. He joined you for more walks around base and continued the conversation you started up the first time he accompanied you. Nothing too personal, just a bit about his life back home in Scotland, how he worked his way to the 141, and some crazy demolitions stories. You, of course, met him halfway and shared about yourself as well.
He’s so easy to get along with, and you find yourself getting excited at the prospect of running into him. Ghost is around sometimes, too. Always quiet, always brooding. You ran into them on your way to the armoury once and Soap insisted on tagging along to catch up with you, forcing Ghost to just follow behind the two of you without a word. You didn’t know if you were supposed to engage him, but Soap wasn’t. So you just focused on him.
There was one day in the mess hall when you joined your team late after a quick check in at medical, and they of course finished eating and left before you did. You didn’t plan on staying much longer, but Soap found you and dragged Ghost over to sit at your table. You were elated and then immediately concerned by the strong pang of excitement in your chest. You’ve never felt those for your friends back home. It felt like more than that, and that would open up a big can of worms.
So you might have a little crush on him. A little one. One that you can and will (because you have to) get over. The man’s in a very obvious relationship, and if they’re living together off base that means they’re married. Plus, his husband could kill you with one look.
Just a teeny tiny inconsequential crush, you tell yourself. It’s nothing, but maybe try to find some distance.
Yeah, distance is good. Distance will settle the fluttery feeling you get when you see Soap, and the slightly uncomfortable but also intrigued jitters you get when you see Ghost. He may be scary, but he’s a big man with a deep voice and a commanding presence. And Soap is so incredibly sweet and handsome and he smells good and—
“Jesus Christ,” you groan, letting your head fall into your hands.
“You good, kid?”
You sit back up and turn to face Charlie on your right, as if nothing happened. “Yep, perfect.”
Your team is in a briefing room and your captain will be there any second. There’s a new assignment on the horizon. This is perfect. It’s the distance you need to clear your head and get over your feelings. Your very small and easily reversible feelings.
“Alright everyone,” Captain Diaz greets as he enters the room. “We’ve got a hostage situation in Russia. It’s nothing we haven’t seen before and I don’t expect it to run long, but our target is Konni Group and they’ve got one of ours.”
He slaps a headshot onto the conference table you’re all sitting around and you and your team lean in to get a look.
“I’m sure you all know Nikolai, or have at least heard of him. He’s being held in a Russian ghost town and former gulag. Now, our team is known for our hostage rescues, but we’ve never dealt with Konni, so this is gonna be an inter-team effort.”
With perfect timing, there’s a knock on the door. Captain Diaz stands to open it and he reveals Captain John Price. Your heart just about drops to your ass.
“Speak of the devil,” Diaz says, stepping aside. “One-One, please welcome Bravo Team. We’ll be working with them on this opp and leveraging their extensive experience with Konni Group.”
You watch as Captain Price and Sergeant Garrick file into the room, feeling those flutters when Soap follows them.
“Aye, Jazzy!” He exclaims, rushing right over to you and pulling up a chair on your left. Ghost isn’t far behind, but he stands near the front of the room where Price and Diaz are. You greet Soap politely and with a quiet laugh as he pats your arm a few times, but both Captains have started getting into the briefing so you both fall silent to pay attention.
It’s like any other briefing, and you learn that you’ll be taking overwatch. You nod, and then turn pale when Price says Ghost will also be taking overwatch from another position. You sneak a peak at him and he’s already looking at you through his mask. You give him a pinched smile, hoping you don’t look like you’re in pain, and then tune back in.
When the meeting is over and everyone starts leaving, Soap hangs back to chat. That means Ghost stays as well. “Ye ready to get yer hands dirty, lass?”
You nod. “Think I am.”
“Think ye can handle it?”
You laugh sarcastically and roll your eyes. “I can handle it.”
“Aye? An’ Ah guess we’ll be seein’ yer famous snipin’ skills after all, eh Ghost? Nervous?”
“Shakin’ in my boots,” he says. You’re worried he’s annoyed, but when you make eye contact he gives you a nod. “See you at 0500, Jazzy.”
Soap stands. “Try not tae run into any more soldiers before then, eh?”
You laugh. “I’ll do my best. See you tomorrow.”
Ghost walks out of the room and Soap waves his fingers at you as he follows. You continue staring at the door after they’re gone. Those damn flutters. You put your hand on your stomach and take a deep breath. So much for distance.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
It’s kind of funny seeing Soap in his gear. Ghost, it seems, is always ready to go to some degree, but Soap looks pretty civilian around base. The vest and headpiece and weapons don’t equate with the softhearted man you’ve become friends with. He’s still smiling and relatively cheery as everyone boards the transport, but he has an edge today.
“Bonnie,” he greets you as you approach. “Sorry tae tell ye this but Ah think someone came tae school wi the same outfit.”
He nods toward the inside of the transport and you follow his gaze to see Ghost wearing the same all-white suit and helmet. You smile and shrug. “Well, on Wednesdays we wear white. No one told you?”
“No, an’ Ah’ll be havin’ a word with the missus about tha’.”
You laugh and follow him inside, joining your team as they strap in. You find a spot beside Charlie and bump your fist against his. “You look flashy.”
You roll your eyes. “I blame the snow.”
“Jazzy,” Diaz calls as the door starts closing, Ghost coming up behind him. “You and Ghost are jumping five miles out.”
“Copy,” you nod.
“You jump before?” Ghost asks.
“Several times, sir.”
“Good.”
“Remember you’re splitting up to cover both sides of the warehouse. Jazz, you’ll end up being a bit further away.”
“Not a problem, Cap.”
“That’s what I like to hear,” he turns to address the entire group. “One-One! Bravo! Gear on and weapons in hand. Sit your asses down and get strapped in. We’re off the ground in two minutes.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Jazzy, Ghost, this is you.”
You unbuckle your belt and stand. Your drag bag hangs by your hip holding your rifle. You bid farewell to your teammates as you walk to the back of the transport behind your fellow sniper. He stops at Soap to softly tap the sitting man’s helmet, and receives a tap of his own on his stomach. Your chest constricts watching the way Soap looks at him, and you avert your eyes before you’re caught.
“Stay safe out there, Jazzy girl,” Soap tells you as you pass. He holds up his fist and you bump it with your own.
“See you on the other side.”
With the door wide open Ghost steps aside and looks at you over his shoulder. “After you, Sergeant.”
“Yes, sir.”
You grab onto the straps of your chute to make sure it’s there and then take off, diving into the open air and spreading yourself like a starfish as you fall. You never get over the exhilaration no matter how many times you do this. Even though you’re essentially going into battle every time you make the jump, it’s your favourite thing in the world.
You land gracefully, as always, in thick Russian snow and start pulling out your rifle to assemble as you wait for Ghost. He lands nearby and you meet him halfway, watching as he also works on his weapon.
“Stay hot,” he tells you. “Recon suggests Konnis don’t stray this far west of the building but there’s a first for everything. We split up in two miles.”
“Copy.”
“Keep up, Jazzy.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~
The walk is silent, save for updates from the air. Diaz and Price give orders and you listen intently to ensure you’re caught up with what they’re planning. When you and Ghost split, you have about a mile to get to your station. That leaves you about two miles out compared to Ghost’s mile and a half. You assumed the superior officer would take the harder shots, but he’s facing the busiest side of the building.
You know you’re good. You’re not worried.
You make it to your little nook within the trees and snowy ground and set yourself up stealthily, getting on your stomach, setting your rifle up, and checking your sights. You’ve got a great view of several exits and where the 141 is meant to enter. You can also see guards keeping watch outside.
“One-One-eight to One-One-two,” you say into your radio.
“Go for two,” Diaz answers.
“I’m in position and ready to go. Clear view of west and south sides, checking windows but lights are out and I don’t see movement.”
“Copy, 0-7 how’s it looking?”
“Half a mile out,” Ghost answers.
“Copy, we’re descending in 10 minutes.”
While you wait, your eyes never stray. You’re scoping out the place, figuring out where people can come and go and where they can try to hide. You have a few places flagged by the time Ghost is in position and both teams are making their approach. You’ve also timed the guards’ movements and know when the men on different sides of the building are furthest apart, and therefore can be taken out without alerting each other.
“One-One-two to 0-7,” you call.
“Go for 0-7.”
“I’ve got four guards patrolling the west and south sides of the building, all heavily armed. Each pair walks from the halfway point of their side and away from each other to the corners. They make it back to that halfway point every two minutes. Pairs are about 70 or 80 years away from each other at that time and would be too far away to notice any hits if we’re quick enough.”
There’s a brief moment of silence. “I see the same on the north and east sides. 0-6, how copy?”
“At the treeline,” Price says. “Free to engage.”
“Got about 90 seconds before they’re where we need them to be.”
“Two quick hits east and west sides first, then follow up north and south,” you suggest.
“On me, Jazzy.”
“Copy, sir.”
You count down in your head, your breath calm and completely silent while your body stays absolutely still. You watch the guards on the west side of the building take their last few steps toward each other, your finger hovering on the trigger waiting for them to meet. When they do, you exhale.
“Drop ‘em.”
One two… three four.
Two quick shots into the guards on the west, and two more into the ones on the south. “Clear.”
“Clear,” Ghost echoes.
You watch your teammates breach the treeline to the west and quietly approach the building with their weapons raised. You don’t see them for long since they’re in Ghost’s sights, but you do see a Konni exit on the south side. You keep him in your sights, knowing he’s about to notice the two dead guards. You’ll drop him, but the door he came through is still slowly closing and you don’t want to risk anyone inside hearing your shot.
He’s staring down at a device in his hand so it’s buying you some time, but he happens to look up sooner than you hoped. You target his forehead so the kill will at least be silent if the shot isn’t. He catches sight of the dead men and opens his mouth to exclaim when you shoot, getting him between the eyes and watching him fall just milliseconds after the door shuts.
You wait for more to rush outside, but they don’t.
“You fire on someone, Jazz?” Diaz asks. They must still be outside.
“Konni came out and saw the bodies.”
“Anyone rushing out after him?”
“Nope, quiet one to the head. Left them all inside for you to play with.”
“Heading in,” Price says.
You listen closely to the conversations and orders on your radio while also paying close attention to your sides of the building. You try the windows again but still see nothing inside, despite hearing the yells and gunshots going on. You’re about to pass over a small south-facing window on the far west side of the building when you notice something. There’s a bit of light, a flash of a hand, and then the side of a face. A very familiar-looking face.
“One-One-two to all teams, I’ve got movement in the interior southwest corner on the second floor of the building. Lights are out but I can make out Nikolai.”
“Copy that,” Price says. “0-6 and 7-1 heading over.”
“Be advised, Konni are believed to be in the room but I can’t get a clear shot.”
“Hard copy.”
You wait for what feels like forever, making sure to check out the rest of the building but routinely coming back to check that room.
“0-6 and 7-1 approaching the southwest corner of the second floor,” Price says.
“Copy,” you respond. “Room is in my sights.”
Light fills the room when the door is slammed open and you see Price and Soap enter with guns blazing. They take down three Konni in relative darkness before Price exits seemingly to keep watch while Soap approaches Nikolai.
“7-1 to all teams,” Soap says. “Hostage secured and unharmed, will need backup to retreat.”
“Copy that,” Diaz answers.
You watch Soap fuss over Nikolai. It looks like he’s strapped down to a chair. The darkness of the room is really starting to irritate you, but you continue keeping watch knowing that just because Nikolai is in the 141’s hands again doesn’t mean this is over.
And you know for sure it isn’t when you see movement behind Soap. He’s not reacting and Price hasn’t entered the room again. You can’t make out a face, you just see a small blob of light skin in the shadows behind Soap. You don’t have time to make guesses, you just take aim and note that Soap is facing the window.
“Soap, watch your eyes.”
Without waiting for a reaction, you shoot, and the blob behind Soap disappears. He whips around and you see him staring down at something as Price appears in the doorway. They share a quick look before Soap turns back to Nikolai and Price joins him. You see your friend grab his radio.
“How the bloody hell’d ye see that in here, Jazzy?”
You smile. “You’re welcome.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~
The rest of the mission went smoothly. Your teams suffered a few scrapes and minor injuries but no one was lost and Nikolai is back home. You were one of the last to make it back to the transport during exfil just because of how far you were from the action, but you arrived to a rowdy audience.
Soap sang your praises and Charlie patted your back so hard you almost threw up. Even Ghost gave you a small tap on the shoulder. Really, you were just doing your job. But you can’t deny it felt good.
Debriefing back at base was a nightmare. Everyone was just falling asleep. By the time it was over, you didn’t know how you would make it back to your room without passing out in the hallway. Of course Soap noticed and he insisted he and Ghost walk with you.
He spent the whole time making sure you knew just how talented you are, retelling the story over and over again.
In the dark, Ghost. Can ye believe it?
‘Watch yer eyes’ and BAM!
Guy’s finger was still on the trigger even after the shot.
You just played along and let him make you out to be a badass. When you got to your room, though, his face turned serious. He told you he was grateful, that he’d probably be dead if you hadn’t been watching over him. It did nothing to help those stupid flutters in your stomach, and neither did the sweet hug he gave you as thanks.
And when he stepped away, Ghost stepped up. “Thanks for keepin’ an eye on ‘im,” he’d said. And that did you in, too.
Distance, you reminded yourself once they left. Mission’s over, now keep your distance.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
You wake to incessant knocking on your door. Groaning, you roll out of bed and rush over to pull it open. It’s Charlie, looking apologetic.
“Sorry, kid. Diaz wants you in his office ASAP.”
Your heart drops a bit, worried that something is wrong. You nod and thank him for coming to get you and then make quick work of getting dressed and looking presentable. You leave your room and hustle your way to your captain’s office. Why does it have to be on the complete opposite end of the base?
You knock firmly when you arrive and Diaz calls out to come in. When you push the door open, you’re surprised to see Captain Price sitting in front of Diaz’s desk. You push down your confusion and look at your captain.
“You wanted to see me?”
“Come sit, Jazzy,” he gestures to the other chair on Price’s right. You follow his order and take a seat, looking back and forth between them before Diaz speaks. “You’ve been an invaluable asset to One-One Team, Sergeant. Not just yesterday, but since you joined. This task force is made up of the best of the best from around the world, but even the best of the best have their own highest performers.
“The One-One has been a great starting point for you, but your skills are meant for greater things. Bigger missions. Higher stakes. You give it your all every single time, and that makes you one of the best of the best of the best. So, as much as it pains me to say this, you don’t belong on One-One.”
You frown. “I’m sorry?”
“I’ve heard about you before, kid,” Price says. “News travels fast. As soon as you joined you made a name for yourself. Highly-skilled negotiator, interrogation abilities beyond your years, a shot that rivals the seasoned old farts around here. Not to mention, you gave Ghost a run for his money on overwatch yesterday.”
“Just doing my job, sir.”
“And I want you to keep doing it, but you’ll be doing it for me now.”
Your eyes widen. “For you?”
He smiles and holds out his hand. “Welcome to Bravo Team, Jazzy.”
Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x f!reader (callsign "Jazzy") x John “Soap” MacTavish
Summary: Simon and Johnny have been together for years. When you come along and catch their eyes, it’s not as simple or secure as you’d like—especially in a situation that’s very new and unfamiliar to you. Johnny makes it so easy, but Simon makes you feel like an outsider. And maybe he has every right to. You can’t read him, the only thing he seems to give you is indifference. He’s never mean or antagonistic, but he’s not entirely welcoming either. Maybe you’re causing more problems than you’re worth. But maybe you don’t have the whole story.
“Holy shit!”
You groan from the blinding pain in your head, squinting your eyes shut and bringing your hand up to rub at your forehead. One minute you were up and sprinting, the next you’re on your back after slamming into a comrade. The lights in the warehouse are far more painful to look at now than they were 30 seconds ago.
“Sergeant, can you hear me?”
You try to open your eyes but slam them shut and turn your head immediately from the pain. You roll over and your body forces you to empty your stomach before your mind has caught up. That was two blows to your head. One on another soldier’s shoulder and one on the ground. Ouch.
“Get her to medical.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Ion need me-medi— no,” you ramble.
“Shut up, Jazz.”
And then you’re being lifted, and your world spins. You nearly throw up again but you’re able to keep it down. You’re in and out of sanity, remembering what’s going on in one moment and not knowing where you are the next. Eventually your mind stops spinning and you get a handle on yourself, but that just leaves you with the pain and nausea.
“I’m putting you down, alright?”
You just groan, and then you’re slumped over in an uncomfortable chair, unable to keep yourself upright. You take a deep breath and try to tame the vomit that’s threatening to spew to open your mouth. “That you, Charlie?”
You hear a huff. “S’me, kid.”
“Watch where you’re going next time, asshole.”
He laughs and rubs your back as you stay slumped over. It feels nice, so you try to focus on that instead of the pain. It goes well for a few minutes before footsteps and voices pick up nearby.
“Ah dinnae need a chaperone.”
“Yes, you do. Mithered it’s me.”
“So oan yer bike.”
“Captain’s orders.”
You can’t see them, but they sound familiar. They walk past you and Charlie and, by the sounds of it, sit a few chairs down in what you assume is the infirmary’s small waiting area.
“Can’t keep skippin’ out on these, Soap.”
The other man sighs. “Haud yer wheesht ‘n Cap would never know—”
“Johnny.”
You know who they are now. Ghost and Soap from Bravo Team. You see them around base sometimes but you don’t know them that well. The only details you have on them are that they’re incredibly good at their jobs, they’re massive and scary, and they’re together. Like, together together. Have been for a few years, from what you’ve heard.
Now, another thing you know about them is that their talking is worsening your headache.
“Ah dinnae ken why this is necessary,” Soap says. “Medical’s fer emergencies.”
“And mandatory routine checkups.”
“Could be a’ the shootin’ range right now.”
“So could I.”
“Let’s go then!” Soap exclaims and you groan a little and move to cover your ears.
“No.”
“Let’s bolt.”
“No.”
“Doc cannae tell me anything I don’t already know.”
“What’s your blood pressure?”
“What’s yours?” Soap asks, and you try to control your breathing. Charlie rubs your back with a bit more intention.
“One-fourteen over 75 last I was here.”
Soap doesn’t say anything.
“So she can tell you somethin’ you don’t know.”
“Fuck up, Ghost.”
You hiss through your teeth when one of them adjusts their chair and you feel Charlie lean over your back a bit, toward them. “Uh, Lieutenant?”
“Sergeant Davis,” Ghost says.
“Sorry to interrupt, sir. We’re just dealing with a concussion over here so the noise is just…”
There’s a brief pause. “Copy, excuse us.”
“Sorry, lass,” Soap says.
You shape the hand closest to them into a weak thumbs up. “All good.”
“Jazzy, aye?” He asks, voice much quieter than before. “One-One?”
“Affirmative,” Charlie answers for you.
“Heard ye might be a better sniper than Ghost here.”
“I’ve been told,” you say. But then your eyes widen and you throw yourself up to look at your superior. There are only two chairs between you and Ghost, and Soap sits on his other side. You catch a glimpse of his smiling face and Ghost’s infamous mask before your sudden movement makes you dizzy. “Sorry, sir. That’s— That wasn’t what— I didn’t mean to—”
“Och, don’t worry, bonnie,” Soap saves you, patting Ghost on the chest a few times. “He can take the heat, right LT?”
Ghost nods once, and you can see his eyes through his mask pinned on you. “Stand down, Sergeant.”
You don’t need to be told twice. You’re about to slump back over when the doctor finally opens the exam room door.
“Sergeant MacTavish, can I ask you to wait a few minutes past your appointment time?” She asks. “I’m just going to do a quick exam for Jazzy here and then I’ll be ready for you.”
“Of co—”
“No,” you say, squinting so you can look at her. You feel bad that Soap very clearly doesn’t want to be there. “He can go first, he has an appointment.”
“You do know how emergencies work, right?” Charlie asks.
“I’m fine,” you say.
“Jazzy, I have to insist,” the doctor says.
“Go on, lass,” Soap says cheerfully. “Ghost and I don’t have anywhere to be.”
He looks unbothered, but Ghost doesn’t. You can’t tell if it’s just the mask, but he looks tense. Annoyed. But Soap’s kind smile is enough to get you to your feet. “Alright, thanks.”
“I’ll be here to walk you back,” Charlie says. You give him an appreciative nod and follow the doctor into the room.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Well, it’s a concussion. But you knew that. A few tests just made it official. Luckily it’s not so bad you need to stay overnight for observation, but you’ll need someone to periodically check in on you over the next 24 hours. And because you threw up and were drowsy in front of the doctor, she doesn’t want you to sleep until nightfall and you’ll have to be woken up a couple times even then.
It’s pretty much the same as staying overnight for observation.
When the doctor escorts you out of the room, Ghost and Soap are still there but Charlie is gone. You frown. He was supposed to walk you to your quarters.
“Yer captain called him back,” Soap says. “Needed him fer somethin’ urgent. Ghost is gonnae walk ye to yer bit.”
Ghost sighs. “That means your place.”
“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” you say to the larger man, remembering him saying something about being ordered to accompany Soap to his appointment. Plus, Soap’s his partner. He would want to stay.
“Nonsense,” Soap waves you off. “Sounded like yer mate’ll be a wee bit preoccupied fer the time bein’. Ghost and I can help ye oot.”
You look over to Ghost again. He’s giving no indication that he’s alright with this. But he’s also not making it seem like he’s bothered either. He’s unreadable. It’s incredibly intimidating. “I… Okay, thanks.”
“Ready when you are Sergeant,” the doctor says from behind you.
Soap smacks the armests of his chair and stands. “Right, go on, you two. Jazzy, see if ye can give ‘im any sniping tips. He’s lettin’ the team doon lately.”
“Full check up, Johnny,” Ghost says as he stands as well, both of them absolutely dwarfing you. “No cutting corners, no getting out of it.”
“Aye, mo chridhe, Ah ken. Go on.”
Ghost watches Soap follow the doctor into the room and waits for the door to close before turning to you. “Let’s go.”
You nod and offer a tight smile before leading him out of the infirmary. Your head is still spinning a bit, but not enough to prevent you from walking. You just need to take some deep breaths and keep your eyes away from the lights.
Your walk is quiet. You don’t know what to say. You don’t know if you should say anything. He’s a superior and you don’t want to be rude, but it also seems like he doesn’t want to talk. But he’s here reluctantly walking you to your room when he’s supposed to be with his partner. You should make it worth his while.
“Thanks again, for this. I appreciate it.”
“How’d it happen?”
You wince a bit, thinking back to earlier. “Hostage simulation drills. Saw the target and took off, Davis did the same from another direction. We collided and my head hit his shoulder and then the ground.”
“Doc said you’re okay?”
You nod. “Yeah, just need some rest and some check-ins.”
“Got a roommate?”
Shit, you think. How are you supposed to be woken up overnight? “Uh, no. I’ll set a couple alarms to wake me up.”
“Doesn’t seem safe.”
“I’ll ask Charlie if he can drop by.”
He hums but says nothing else. When you make it to your room, he watches you unlock and push the door open before turning and heading back toward the infirmary. To Johnny.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
There’s an art to concussion recovery. You need rest, but not too much rest. You shouldn’t be doing too much physical or mental activity, but you can’t do absolutely none. You’ve taken your pain meds and you’ve taken to reading. Somehow, it’s not hurting your head. But it is making you tired and you have another seven hours before you’re allowed to sleep.
You’re just getting up to go for a walk around base when a knock sounds at your door. Maybe it’s Charlie. When you open it, you’re surprised to see Soap.
“Hello, bonnie.”
“Hey,” you greet, somewhat confused.
“Yer lucky day today, ye’ve got a concussion companion.”
You frown, laughing a bit at the term. “A what?”
“Well, when Ghost said ye didnae have a roommate to keep an eye on ye I very graciously volunteered myself.”
“To check on me?”
“Aye.”
“Don’t you live off base?”
“Aye, but LT’s got a shiteload o’ paperwork to do an’ he barely sleeps anyway. Plus, he’s got a well comfy couch in ‘is office that Ah’ll take when Ah’m not ‘ere makin’ sure ye havnae died in yer sleep.”
You giggle. “I mean… okay?”
“Okay,” he enunciates. “What are we up tae?”
“Well I was reading, but it was making me sleepy so I was gonna go for a walk.”
“A walk it is then.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sleep can’t come quickly enough, but it’s still less than ideal. You can’t get comfortable, you’re still in a bit of pain, and you just want to cry. And on top of all that, you know if and when you finally do fall asleep, you’re going to be woken up anyway. Is there really a point in trying? Your mind is leaning toward no, but your body, without you really noticing it, is quickly succumbing.
“Wake up, Jazzy.”
Something outside of you is making noise. You try to ignore it but you hear it again. Then you feel something tickling your cheek. You peek your eyes open and see a face in the darkness of your room. It’s new, but it’s familiar.
“Hey, bonnie.” It’s Soap, and you can see him smile as he curls your hair behind your ear. “Glad tae see ye’re still with us.”
“What time is it?” You muffle into your pillow.
“About 1 a.m. Did ye sleep much?
You huff. “Maybe an hour… two?”
“S’not bad. Ah know ye must be uncomfortable.”
You shrug as best you can. “I’ll live.”
He smiles again. “There’s a good lass. Get some more sleep an’ Ah’ll be back in a few hours.”
You hum and close your eyes, falling asleep before you can hear him leave.
Summary: Simon’s in an accident while he’s deployed overseas and your world threatens to crumble at your feet.
It’s not chaotic, but the air of the ICU is heavy with trauma and sadness. The energy is dark and you pray that Simon doesn’t have to stay here long.
Dr. Rojas leads you through what feels like a never ending maze. You pass rooms filled with weeping loved ones, laughing children, and lonely patients. You don’t want to be here. You don’t want Simon to be here. You want to go back in time and find a way to keep him from going on his deployment.
Your fingers shake as you walk, feeling your heart jump to your throat with every new room you pass thinking it’ll be his. You don’t know what he’ll look like. Will he be recognizable? Will he be in pain? Will he be hazy from the anesthesia?
“Here we are,” Dr. Rojas announces, lightly knocking on a door on your left and softly pushing it open. “Lieutenant Riley, your wife is here to see you.”
Dr. Rojas steps aside in the doorway to hold the door open for you and you walk out from behind him. Simon’s massive but broken body dwarfing the hospital bed is the first thing you see. His left arm is in a sling and that hand is splayed out on a pillow on his torso in its own little cast.
His entire right leg is plastered and not covered by his gown or the thin hospital sheet. His chest and stomach are covered, but you know for sure he’s wrapped there based on the injuries Dr. Rojas told you about. He looks so fragile, so unlike the big, strong man you know. You cover your mouth with your hands, not comforted enough by his soft eyes landing on you when you’re confronted by the extent of his injuries. You feel your own eyes sting when he lifts the corner of his mouth in a tired smirk.
“Come all this way just to gawk at me?”
You huff and lower your hands, revealing your trembling lips as you approach him and round the bed to where his good arm rests. You’re about to reach out and grab his hand but you stop, noticing a chest tube running out from underneath his gown.
“‘S fine,” he says, reaching up and grabbing your hand.
“Simon—”
“I’m fine,” he insists, squeezing your fingers.
“Try not to move around too much, Lieutenant,” Dr. Rojas warns, though it sounds more like a reminder he’s had to repeat several times at this point. Now that you’re there, you’ll make sure he doesn’t have to be reminded ever again. So when your husband reaches up to wipe a tear from your cheek, you gently block his hand and lower it back down to the bed before he can.
“You heard what he said,” you croak.
“I don’t care wha’ he said.”
“Simon,” you hiss.
He turns to look at Dr. Rojas. “Respectfully.”
The doctor just shakes his head with a chuckle. “Your nurse will be in and out to check on you. You have a while before visiting hours end. Use your call button if you need anything.”
“Thank you, doctor,” you say sincerely.
He nods. “My pleasure. Make sure you both get some rest, alright?”
When he leaves the room you look down to find Simon already looking at you. Now that you can focus more on him, you can see the exhaustion in his eyes. You feel that sting again and you lean down to press your lips to his.
“I thought you were going to die.”
“This is nuthin’.”
“This is not nothing. A building collapsed on top of you.”
He frowns and waves it off. “It collapsed to the side of me.”
“Simon, you don’t have to play it down like you always do. I’m right here, I heard what happened to you from the doctor and from Price, I’m looking at you broken in a hospital that you had to be airlifted to. This isn’t nothing.”
He sighs and stares at you, his resolve slowly crumbling. He looks down at your interlocked hands and starts rubbing his thumb into your skin. “I guess.”
“Hey,” you brush your fingers along his jaw until he looks back up at you. “You’ll be fine, though. Dr. Rojas has been telling me non stop how well the surgeon did on base and how well the surgery here went. They’re feeling really confident about your recovery, they just have to keep you here to monitor you for a while.”
He nods. “I knew it was gonna happen. Not the blast, didn’t see tha’ coming. But I was still awake when I hit the ground, then I saw the building start to fall. I tried to get up and move but my head…”
He trails off and you wrap both your hands around his. “It’s okay.”
“All I could think about was not makin’ it home. I woke up back on base screamin’ in pain thinkin’ I’d die in the middle o’ fuckin’ nowhere, but they told me you were comin’ to see me, and tha’ we had to go. And now… now I know I’ll make it home, but wha’ if this is my life now? Lyin’ around, not allowed to move? What if I can’t work anymore? What if I can’t fix our bannister or paint the kitchen? What if I can’t drive or walk or… What if this is it?”
“Simon,” you whisper.
“What do I do?”
You take a deep breath and reach out to rub your thumb along his cheekbone, holding the side of his head. “Listen to me. This isn’t going to be easy, okay? You’re really hurt, you know that. But you just got out of surgery. A successful surgery that your doctors are feeling really good about. You know Dr. Rojas told me they don’t suspect there to be any long-term damage once you make your recovery? That’s great news, right? They’re going to monitor you for as long as you need and they’ll set you up with the best care team to get you back on your feet. But right now you just need to take things one step at a time, starting with lots of rest. That’s the best thing to do for yourself right now.”
He nods and you kiss his forehead and then the bridge of his nose.
“I love you, and I’m so, so grateful you’re okay. I don’t know what I’d do without you, you big idiot.”
He smiles. “I love you.”
“You gonna sleep for a bit?”
“Maybe.”
“I think you should.”
“But you’ll wake me if visiting hours end?”
You nod. “Of course.”
“Where are you staying?”
“Military base about an hour away. Price is gonna take me back.”
“That’s too far.”
“For now it’s fine,” you assure him. “I’ll look into hotels nearby eventually. Now will you go to sleep?”
“Fine.”
“I’ll hold down the fort and make sure the hospital doesn’t collapse on top of you.”
“Would ya? Two in less than 48 hours would suck.”
You giggle and kiss him. “Sleep.”
He gives you another smile, but he’s out as soon as he closes his eyes. You keep your word, watching over him as he sleeps and paying close attention whenever the nurse comes in to do her check. He may be in bad shape, he may be broken, but he’s in front of you breathing and holding your hand in his sleep. He always promises to come home, and through you’re not there just yet, you will be. Both of you, just the way it should be.
If you get this, answer w/ three random facts about yourself and send it to the last seven blogs in your notifs. anon or not, doesn’t matter, let’s get to know the person behind the blog! 🩷
Hmm…
My favourite colour is purple (if you can’t tell by looking at my blog)
Summary: Simon’s in an accident while he’s deployed overseas and your world threatens to crumble at your feet.
Simon’s two hours away by the time you land in London. You want to go straight to the hospital and wait so you can guarantee that you’ll be there when he arrives, but your escorts insist that they take you to the military base where you’ll be staying first. It’s quite a drive so you’re reluctant to agree, but John happened to call again and warned you that Simon will be rushed to surgery as soon as they get there. You won’t be able to see him for a while.
Tearfully, you relent and let the two soldiers travelling with you take you to the base. You’re antsy for the entire trip, consistently wringing your fingers, checking your phone for texts or calls, and gnawing at the skin of your bottom lip. You’re also driving yourself crazy imagining the absolute worst case scenarios, thinking of every single possible thing that could’ve happened to your husband.
The worst part, though, is that you know it’s bad—and everyone who’s spoken to you about it knows it’s bad—so is a “worst case scenario” actually that far off from reality? Will Simon survive the transport? Will he survive surgery? Will he wake up?
You contemplate this on the way there, while you drop your bags in your new temporary home, and on the way to the hospital. Your one reprieve is that the journey took so long that Simon’s due to arrive in only 20 minutes. You fidget, shake, pace, and cry in the waiting room. You beg your escorts to share any information they know that may have slipped past you. You go up to the nurse’s station 15 times asking if they’re sure this is the best place to wait for him, if they can give you more details, if they know his specific whereabouts and if he’s close.
You’re about to completely lose control when John exits the elevator and hurries over as soon as he notices you, dismissing the two soldiers who have stayed by your side. You nearly collapse when he gets to you, letting him hold you steady by your elbows.
“We just got here and they ran him into surgery right away,” he says.
“Is he okay? Was he awake? What does he need surgery for? How long will it be?”
“The doctors are gonna come find you soon to give you all the details, but he was fine on the transport. He was awake and talking a few times. He was aware of everything, understood what was happening, and he knows you’re here. Got the news that you’d landed while he was up.”
“John,” you say sternly. “I need to know what happened to him. I need to know what’s wrong.”
He pauses, clearly thinking about what to say. He’s not allowed to share, but you’re so desperate and scared and worried, and he’d hate the person to push you further into that space. He opens his mouth to speak, but he’s cut off by someone else.
“For Lieutenant Simon Riley?”
You both turn to the doctor a few feet away, looking at you expectantly. You step forward. “Yes, I’m his wife.”
“Mrs. Riley, I’m Dr. Rojas. I’m one of the doctors on your husband’s care team. I understand you haven’t been given any details yet, correct?”
“No, I haven’t,” you rush. “Can you tell me anything?”
“Let’s sit down,” he gestures to one of the empty chairs nearby.
“N-No, no, I don’t want to sit. I just want to hear what’s wrong.”
“Ma’am, there’s a lot to go over and I think it would be best if we sat down together.”
You sigh and let him lead you to the row of chairs. Price stays put. “I’ll give you some privacy.”
“No, please!” You rush out. “Stay. Please.”
He nods and sits beside you, waiting for the doctor to share the news he already knows and wishes he could divulge to you himself. Your body is angled towards him, anxiously awaiting what he has to say.
“Your husband was involved in a blast that threw him about 20 feet and caused a partial building collapse. He was caught under heavy rubble for some time as I understand it. He’s suffered a shattered shoulder and fractured femur. When he landed he was impaled on a piece of metal that punctured his kidney, and the weight of the rubble caused a few of his ribs to fracture, which resulted in a collapsed lung.
“There may be some nerve damage in one of his hands, but other than that and his concussion, there doesn’t seem to be much damage to his nervous system and his cognitive function. The surgeon on base did a great job patching him up. He’s still in surgery, of course, so they’re still analyzing the full extent of his injuries but they’re very hopeful that he won’t have too many long-term physical effects as a result. We’re most concerned about his lung, but it seems to be quite stable for the time being. His heart and breathing are strong, we just need to get him put back together.”
You stare at him with wide eyes, taking a while to digest everything he’s just told you. When your breath finally comes back to you, it’s a shudder. You feel your body erupt in chills and your hands begin to shake.
“Try to take some deep breaths,” Dr. Rojas says. “Everything’s okay. I know it sounds incredibly scary, but he’s safe here and he’s got a great team taking care of him.”
You squeeze your eyes closed and nod, feeling John kindly rub your arm from his spot behind you. “H-How long until he’s out of surgery?”
“Right now it looks like four hours.”
You sniffle and run a hand down your face. “How soon can I see him afterward?”
“We’ll need to keep him in recovery for a while to monitor his vitals, the timing depends on how well the surgery goes and how quickly he wakes up from the anesthesia. We’ll come get you when we transfer him to the ICU.”
Your chest feels tight. Four hours and then an undetermined amount of time before you can see him. You’re going to go crazy. You start to shake your head, staring at Dr. Rojas like you need him to speak the words you can’t even begin to think of. “What am I supposed to do now? What do I do?”
“You’re welcome to wait here, get something to eat in the cafeteria. We have a waiting room one floor down with an entertainment unit that a lot of families waiting through long surgeries often use. You can pick a film to watch, read a book, play a game. I know this all sounds ridiculous given the circumstances but it really does help the time pass by quickly. If you don’t want to stay, you can leave your information with us and go get some rest. We’ll call with every new update.”
You exhale deeply, feeling sick at the thought of leaving the hospital. “No, I’ll stay. I need to stay.”
“You should get some rest,” John chimes in.
You turn to him. “I really don’t want to leave. I’m going to stay.”
“I’ll come find you when there’s news,” Dr. Rojas says. And then he takes his exit. You and John sit in a few beats of silence, taking everything in before you ask him the inevitable.
“How bad was it?”
He huffs and shakes his head. “Bad. Saw the whole thing happen. Swear I went to help him as quickly as I could. We all did.”
You nod. “I know… I know.”
You take the time to really take him in. He’s clearly exhausted. And concerned. The dark circles under his eyes and wrinkles between his eyebrows tell you that much. He’s tense and on high alert. He just went through something traumatic. It’s part of the job, but it’s still a big deal.
“You should go. Go sleep and eat and wash the day off of you.”
“I’m fine,” he says.
“Seriously, John.”
He shakes his head, pushing himself to his feet and offering you a hand. “Let’s go check out those films he mentioned.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
A few hours later, you’re passed out on the waiting room couch in front of the TV playing The Wizard of Oz, the third movie you’ve thrown on. You made it through the first, watching tensely. You drifted in and out during the second, causing John to shift both of your positions so you had space to lie down. Now, you’re fast asleep.
Dr. Rojas came in once to let you know that Simon’s lung gave them one last scare during the surgery but that he came right back and everything was going smoothly. You tried to be genuinely thankful for his update, but you were just empty. You needed to see Simon.
John stays alert while you sleep. He’s watching the movie but paying more attention to every person who passes the doorway into the room. He’s happy you’re sleeping, but he’s ready to shake you awake at a moment’s notice. And that moment comes near the end of the movie when Dr. Rojas comes in a second time with a smile on his face.
You stir and push yourself up to sit before you even open your eyes or register what’s going on. But then you see the doctor and clumsily push yourself to your feet.
“He’s out of surgery,” he says. “It went very well. We need to monitor him for a bit before you can see him, and then we’ll have to monitor him going forward while he’s here to get a better picture of his recovery journey, but he did great.”
You sigh and feel your body go numb, the tension leaving you at once. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”
“I’ll be back when you can see him.”
He leaves and you fall back onto the couch. You can’t help but weep in pure relief. He made it, and you’ll be able to see him soon.
“That’s a good lad, huh?” John rubs your back. “Gave us a scare but he pulled through.”
You sniffle and nod, turning to him. “Thank you for being here. And for coming with him.”
“‘Course.”
“Go home now,” you insist. “I mean it. Get some sleep. You don’t have to go back, do you?”
He shakes his head. “Finished the job, we’re done.”
“So get outta here. I’ll keep you posted, I got this now.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure.”
He sighs and grunts when he pushes himself to stand. “I’ll be back, though.”
“I know.”
“You call me when you want to head back to base and get some rest.”
“I will.”
He nods one last time before properly bidding you farewell and disappearing. You feel refreshed. Simon is fine, he’s recovering, and you’ll be able to see him soon. Your emotions are all over the place and it makes it hard to sit still. You need to pace the room. You need to pace the hallway. You need to pace the floor.
An hour later Dr. Rojas finds you sitting on the floor in front of the couch with your knees tucked to your chest and your teeth latched onto the nail of your thumb. You scramble to stand.
“He’s just been moved. Are you ready to see him?”
“Yes, please,” you press your hand to your chest to calm your racing heart.
Oh my gosh! You just appeared on my dash randomly, and I read a few things. Now, I just read "Bring Her Home," and I swear my stomach was aching because of the stress and curiosity. I loved it when he had the same nightmare on repeat. I wish it was longer; that was so cool.
Thanks for reading! I’m so glad you liked it. That one was fun to write and I kind of put it together on a whim so it’s great to hear you enjoyed it.
Summary: They were best friends since childhood and depended on each other for almost everything, even after becoming adults. She loved him deeply and she never let it slip, but tragedy after tragedy pulled him further and further away from her until he was gone. Now, she grieves the man she loved and the life that was taken from him too soon. All the while he's living in secret, far away from the life he used to know. Until he suffers another loss, and thinks it's time to make his return.
Chloe was 16 years old when she fell in love with Simon. Well, she was 16 when she realized. She probably loved him long before then, she just didn’t know it.
She didn’t know why her chest would tighten painfully if Simon spoke about another girl in their class or if one of them asked him to hang out after school. She didn’t know why she’d get butterflies whenever she saw him leaning against her locker at the end of the day, waiting for her to pack up after her last class so they could walk home together. She didn’t know why she felt such fierce protectiveness over him when she first learned how abusive his father was, believing she could march over to his house and knock some sense into the man herself. She didn’t know why she’d feel so alone and empty when he wasn’t around.
She didn’t know, until she did.
Simon, of course, had no idea. And she vowed to never tell him. She was too happy being his friend and didn’t want to jeopardize that. She’d get over it.
So they continued on as usual—walking to and from school together, copying each other’s homework, squeezing into her small bedroom with Tommy on the nights they needed to get out of their house for their own safety.
Then they turned 18, and she was off to college in London while he joined the army. She knew it was what he wanted, and she’d known for a while. But it didn’t make their last night together before he left less painful. She only let him go after he promised that he’d be safe, that he’d make good choices, and that he’d stay in contact.
As for her, she promised him to watch her stress levels, to make friends, and to finish each year at the top of her class. It was a tearful goodbye, but she knew she’d see him again. She knew it.
Eighteen months went by and everything changed. Living in London isolated Chloe from her friends and family in Manchester. She stopped hearing from Tommy. She met a boy who gave her just the right amount of attention so she got too distracted to keep up with her visits and letters home. Simon stayed in contact like he said he would, but with every new email she received she’d drown herself in her boyfriend—if that’s what he was. It was the only way to somewhat lessen the pain of being away from Simon.
That’s why she stayed with him even when he started encouraging her to skip classes and skip assignments. And when he convinced her to help him pay for his weed habit. And when he confessed that it was weed and heroin. And when he pushed her onto the ground of the parking lot while she tried to stop him from getting behind the wheel while he was high. And when he told her not to bother reconnecting with her family because she had him instead. And when he hit her across the face for catching up on and finally responding to Simon’s emails.
She stayed with him through everything. He was the one who left her, completely broke and failing out of school.
She’d hit rock bottom, sobbing in her dorm room on the day before Christmas break knowing she was going to have to drop out and return home to the family she’d ignored in favour of a boy who abused her and ran off with her money and her sanity. When she heard a knock on her door, a new wave of dread washed over her knowing that it could very well be that bastard back for more. And what scared her was knowing that she might actually let him have what he wanted.
What else did she have to lose?
But it wasn’t him at the door. It was a man. A giant man in army fatigues and a maroon beret and a face that look familiar but foreign. Chloe choked on her tears, new ones falling from her eyes as she jumped into him and gripped his shoulders like she might drown if she let go. He returned her embrace, her feet lifting from the floor and he walked them into her room and gently shut the door behind them.
She whimpered at the feeling of his palm cupping the back of her head. “What happened to staying in touch, huh?”
She sobbed. “I’m sorry, Simon. Everything’s… everything’s falling apart.”
He sighed. “That seems to be the case for a lot of people these days. Tell me what’s going on.”
So she did. She told him everything that had gone wrong, leaving out the part where she only started dating the arsehole because she was in love with Simon. And he told her that everything would be okay. That, yes, she’d probably have to drop out, but that he’d take her home so he could take care of her, his mother, and Tommy all together. They’d figure it out.
And that’s exactly what happened. He brought Chloe home, she made amends with her parents, and she helped Simon get his mother and Tommy back on their feet while working together to get her into a school in Manchester where she wouldn’t let distance or addicts get in her way.
Years went by and Simon came and went, but everyone was doing well. Chloe was still madly in love with him, but it was more of a soft hum in the background. A comfort, almost. Something she could leave untouched and unattended to and it wouldn’t make a fuss. It wouldn’t beg for attention. She accepted her feelings and she accepted his. They were friends—that was all she needed.
“I’m going to America.”
The hand bringing her cup of tea to her lips paused and she looked at him through the steam rising before her eyes.
“Something big is happening over there. In Mexico. They’re lending me to an American task force to take it down.”
She set her cup down on the kitchen island between them. Their breakfast was untouched. He only got to her flat 20 minutes earlier. She’d just put the plates down.
“I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.”
Chloe swallowed her apprehension. “How big is big?”
“Big. You know I can’t give you details, Chlo, but it’s not something I can back out of.”
She nodded. She hated when he left. Hated it with her whole being. “When do you leave?”
“Tomorrow night.”
And when that time came, she clung to him like she always did. She made him promise, as usual, that he’d be safe, that he’d make good choices, and that he’d check in if and when he could. He kissed her on the top of her head—making her heart flutter—and said he’d be back before she knew he was gone.
But that wasn’t true, because he didn’t come back. Instead, a soldier knocked on his mother’s door to notify her that he was declared MIA—missing in action. When Chloe heard, she locked herself in her room for weeks. MIA was as good as dead. He was never coming back. Her best friend was gone.
And she never told him she loved him.
Life became a bit of a blur in the ensuing months. She was so used to Simon always being around, even if he wasn’t physically there. He was the one who carried her home as a kid whenever she fell and scraped her knee. He was the one who laughed at all her terrible jokes. He was the one who got her out of London. He was the one who convinced her she was worthy of trying school again. He was the one who drove her to her first job interview, and he was the one who took a short leave of absence when she got it so he could celebrate with her. He was the one who taught her how to believe in herself. And he was dead.
She was at work trying her best to get through the day when Tommy rang her to say that Simon had been found. Her whole world seemed to stop when he told her he was on his way home. She could barely get a cohesive sentence out while she tearfully asked her boss for the afternoon off.
She stayed by his side every second that she was allowed to be there. Even when he was unconscious and unmoving, she sat there and watched him breathe. When he woke up groggy, turned his head to see her, and passed out again, she was right there to let him sleepily slip his hand into hers. When he woke up again—properly that time—and she was asked to leave so his fellow army men could discuss what had happened, he held tight to her and said he didn’t want her to go. And when he had a hard time articulating everything he’d been through, she was there to stop the doctors and soldiers from being so pushy and help him find the words, even if it broke her heart to hear.
She drove him to every therapy appointment. She helped him tend to every physical injury that was still healing. She helped him relearn who he was and assured him he wasn’t a monster. And he was so immeasurably grateful to have her.
He was making progress by the time Christmas came. He wasn’t back on active duty like he wanted, but he seemed more like himself, watching over his family, playing with Joseph, letting his mother and Chloe fuss over him. The nightmare seemed to be over, but Chloe still had a feeling of dread in her stomach.
Everything that had happened made that soft little hum in the background of her mind grow into a loud buzzing that demanded her attention. She couldn’t ignore her feelings anymore. The words threatened to spill out of her whenever she was around Simon. She needed to tell him, even if he didn’t feel the same. She just needed to get it out to silence the buzzing and then they could go back to normal, as if nothing had ever happened.
“Simon, there’s someone at the door for you. A Yank.”
They looked up from where Joseph was playing with his toy cars in front of them and to Beth, standing at the end of the hallway. Chloe could see him shut down a bit, but he nodded and went to see who it was. Joseph throws himself into Chloe’s chest, demanding to play the airplane game Simon had started just a few minutes earlier. She does her best, spinning him around the room as his eyes twinkle in the lights from the Christmas tree.
“I’ll be right back.”
They all turned to see Simon at the far end of the room. His mother spoke up. “Where are you going, honey?”
“The guy at the door, he’s… he was one of… I’m just gonna get a drink with him.”
Everyone seemed to understand what he was saying, but Chloe wanted to make extra sure that he was alright. She placed Joseph on his feet and hurried over to Simon, lowering her voice. “You okay?”
“Yeah, just… didn’t expect to see him.”
She nodded. “You go. Think Joseph’s going to bed soon anyway. The night’s pretty much over.”
“You staying here tonight?”
It was supposed to snow, so that was the plan. “Think so, we’ll see.”
“Well then maybe I’ll see ya, we’ll see,” he smirked.
She loved him so much. “Go to your friend.”
He did, and Chloe went back to his family. Joseph was way too hyper for sleep even so late in the evening, so the night went on. Chloe, however, was exhausted, and seeing no snow on the road made the thought of curling up in her own bed with her soft sheets all the more appealing. So she bid everyone farewell and left for her flat.
She saw the headlines the next morning.
Simon Riley was the most dangerous man in Britain. He’d killed his family, his commander, and his shrink. And he was wanted.
Chloe tried calling him. She tried calling Tommy. She tried calling Beth. She tried and tried until she got to the house and saw the police and body bags. They were dead. They were all dead.
Something was going on. She knew, even as she hyperventilated and felt the most fear and sadness and disdain she’d ever felt in her life that something wasn’t right. It wasn’t Simon. It couldn’t have been. He’d had his outbursts but he loved his family. He never even raised his voice to them.
She didn’t know what to do. She was caught up in the whirlwind of trying to plan a funeral while trying to find the man she loved. She was trying to grieve while trying to be strong. She was trying to breathe while being pulled underwater. Simon wasn’t there to hold onto anymore. She just needed to find him and sort it out.
But it was too late, because not two days later his body was found burnt to a crisp in the same home his family was executed in. He was unidentifiable, but he was wearing his dog tags. And Chloe was there screaming while they pulled his body out of the broken home.
That was years ago now, but Chloe’s never believed for one minute that Simon was responsible for the murders. He was set up, she knows it. But there’s no one to fight anymore. No one cares, and no one has to, because he’s dead.
She doesn’t know if he was murdered or if he was so overcome with grief that he did it himself, but he’s gone. She was mad at him for a long time. Sometimes she still is. She wishes he would have come to her, asked her for help. There may not have been much she could’ve done in a case like that, but damn it she would’ve tried. She would’ve done everything she could to protect him. To fight for him.
But most of all, she’s at peace knowing they’re all together—even if she was left behind. They were all taken too soon, but they were all taken together. Laid to rest together.
And that’s where she is now, sitting at Simon’s grave like she always does every Sunday afternoon. She never brings flowers because he would’ve hated it, but she sits with him for hours. She tells him about her week, about her cat, about her friends, about everything. And she cries. Every week she cries for her best friend, for the man she loved. She lets her chest crack open and spill out.
She should go home. She never wants to, but it’s about to get dark. She gets on her knees and touches her forehead to Simon’s headstone, closing her eyes and letting her fingertips run over the letters of his name.
“I love you, Si,” she whispers. “I’ll see you next week.”
She exhales deeply and pushes herself to stand, brushing her knees off and making sure she has her phone and her purse before turning to walk to her car. She’s shocked to see a man leaning against it, and she’s about to panic seeing how big and tall he is when something in his eyes makes her pause.
He’s wearing a black face mask, but the top half of his face and his hair are visible. He’s staring directly at her. He doesn’t look away, so she doesn’t either. It gives her a chance to figure out why she feels like she knows him. When he reaches up to unhook his face mask from his ears, her eyes widen and her chest heaves. Now she understands why she feels like she knows him—it’s because she does. He's leaning against her car like he used to lean against her locker after school. Waiting for her to meet him there.
She freezes, feeling way too many emotions at once. After a few seconds, only one prevails. Anger.
Summary: Simon’s in an accident while he’s deployed overseas and your world threatens to crumble at your feet.
For context, Simon lives in Virginia here by the CIA headquarters, which in my mind is the main base for TF141. In real life, it's the home base for the CIA Special Activities Center so with the details and affiliations from the game, I'm just deducing that the task force would fit under that umbrella. But totally up to interpretation—he can live wherever you want him to!
You never like when Simon leaves. It’s one thing when he’s just working on base, training young soldiers, checking weapons—the usual tame stuff. You can handle that. But his leaving for deployments is a whole other story.
You never know where he’s going, how dangerous it will be, or exactly how long he’ll be gone. So each time, after bidding him a tearful goodbye at your door and making him promise that he’ll be safe and return unharmed, you’re left alone. You wake up, go to work, come home and worry, then go to bed. You try to fit in visits with family and friends or a trip to the gym to clear your head and keep you from thinking too much. But your mind is too active.
You do your best to keep it together, but then he comes home. Sometimes he looks the same as he did when he left. Sometimes he looks even better. One time after a particularly long deployment, he came back twice his size and nearly sent you into cardiac arrest thinking a giant had broken into your home. And then there are times when he comes back with scratches, bruises, a sprained wrist, a noticeable limp, another soldier as a personal chauffeur when he had a concussion and couldn’t drive himself home.
But he always comes home. He’s a little banged up sometimes, but he always comes home. And your stress just melts away and you always spend the ensuing few weeks giving him as much attention and love as you can. Because you miss him when he’s gone—he takes a part of you with him and you don’t feel complete until he’s back.
He’s got that part of you now and he’s about to walk out with it.
You take a deep breath as he sets his bags down at the front door, then he turns and pulls you into his chest. He doesn’t know how long it will be until he’s back, but he will come back. He promises, like he always does. You nod and try not to let too much of your sorrow show when you lift your head and pull him down for a kiss. And too quickly, he’s gone.
You go through the motions like you usually do, but you’ve been doing this long enough—you’ve been with Simon long enough—to not feel so hollow and broken and scared during his deployments anymore. The more you worry about terrible things happening to the man you love, the more likely they are to happen. So you force yourself to stand taller every day, to fill your mind with positive thoughts, to remind yourself that your husband will be home any day now.
You’re folding laundry in your room with the windows open and the soft breeze flowing in when your phone rings. You don’t recognize the number, but being married to a man on a top-secret task force means you have to answer those calls. He checks in sometimes.
“Hello?”
“Hi there, this is Officer Jay Patel with the Central Intelligence Agency. I’m calling to speak with the wife of Lieutenant Simon Riley.”
Your eyes widen and you feel your body go slack. This can’t be what you think it is. It can’t be. There’d be someone at the door, standing in front of you. Simon told you so. Maybe he’s trying to get through and can’t so he’s asking the CIA to connect you. Right? You exhale shakily. “Th-this is she.”
“Mrs. Riley, I’m the Staff Officer for Station Chief Kate Laswell. I’m sorry to disturb you but I’m calling to notify you that Lieutenant Riley has been injured during his deployment and he’s currently being treated by the military surgeon at their base.”
“Surgeon?” You splutter, feeling your heart drop. “H-How bad it is, what happened to him?”
“Unfortunately I don’t have the details but he is considered a Very Seriously Injured case at this time, and once he’s stabilized they’d like to airlift him to a hospital in London.”
Your head is spinning and you have to lower yourself to sit in the middle of the floor. “I-I, how do I see him? I—... I have to see him, I—”
“He’s not stable enough to leave their base yet, but when he is you can meet him in London. We can arrange to fly you out and figure out accommodations. There’s a military base nearby where you can stay while you’re there.”
“When are they moving him?”
“Hopefully within 24 hours, it depends on if he can handle it.”
“Jesus,” you sob. “I-Is he awake, is he… you really don’t know what happened to him?”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Riley. All I know is that there was an accident during their operation that resulted in injury and he’s been in and out of consciousness since he was evacuated. If you’re ready for it right now, I have the details about the flight out for you. But let me know if you need a couple minutes to digest.”
“No,” you urge, crawling to your nightstand to grab a pen and pad. “No, tell me what I need to do.”
Just 10 minutes later you have the details you need and you’re more than halfway packed. Your home looks like a tornado has torn through it from your running around and gathering what both you and Simon will need. When your phone rings again, your heart threatens to just fall out of your chest thinking it’s Officer Patel calling you back to say Simon’s dead. That he succumbed to his injuries. That there’s no reason to fly out to London because they’ll be flying his body home instead.
The unknown number does nothing to quell your worries, but you answer it anyway. “Hello?”
There’s heavy breathing and then a frantic voice. “It’s John.”
You sob. “They called; they said he’s hurt and they’re flying me to London but they couldn’t tell me anything else, I need to know what happened.”
Price sighs. Everything’s classified. He shouldn’t even be calling you, but you hope he’s past following the rules at this point. “A building collapsed. I can’t say much but he was right in the middle of it. He’s banged up. It’s not great, but the doctor has everything under control and he’s confident we can get him out of here in a few hours.”
“Oh, my god,” you cry. “Is he awake? Is he talking?”
“It’s been touch and go, but they’re taking good care of him.”
“John,” you try to steady your voice, but you’re really feeling the despair of possibly losing your husband. He’s an ocean away—and then some—and he’s hurt. A building collapsed on him. You can barely keep your thoughts straight. “What do I do? I-If… He can’t die, what if…? Just… what do I do?”
“You take a deep breath, and you take it one step at a time,” he says calmly. “All you can control right now is getting on the plane and getting to the hospital. So do that. He’s in good hands, they’re making progress and he’ll be lifted outta here soon. And I’ll be with him the whole time.”
“You will?”
“Until you’re there to take over, I swear.”
Your chin trembles and you’re grateful to know that Simon will have someone by his side while you do everything in your power to get to him as quickly and safely as possible. “Thank you.”
“I’ll see you soon.”
Within another 10 minutes, you’re out the door and on the way to the airbase. You have a long drive and then a long flight ahead of you, but you force yourself to remember everything John told you. The doctor has everything under control, they’re taking good care of him, and he’s in good hands.
Everything will be fine. It has to be, because you don’t know what you’ll do if it isn’t.
Summary: No one knows you and Simon are together and you want to keep it that way. Simon doesn't care who knows, but he might have a secret of his own.
You don’t want to leave. You want to stay naked and pressed up against him, head on his chest and fingers running over his skin. He has you wrapped up and you know he’s about to fall asleep. It comes so easily when you’re together. You’re both so relaxed and at peace in each other’s presence.
But you have to leave.
You kiss his chest a few times as you slowly pull yourself out of his arms. You let the sheets fall as you stand and collect your clothes from the floor.
“You don’t have to go.”
You huff. “Yes, I do.”
Simon rolls over. “I’m your superior, I’m telling you that you can stay.”
“Your being my superior is exactly why I need to leave,” you say as you button your jeans. “I need to get back to base before people start wondering where I am.”
“Who cares if people know we’re together?”
“They could think it’s inappropriate, a sergeant and her lieutenant. I don’t need people thinking I’m sleeping around to get ahead or you’re taking advantage of the lower ranks. And how bad would it look to Price if he knew two people on his team were messing around? The last thing I need is my boss knowing about my dating life.”
“We’re well past messing around,” Simon says. “Half your stuff is here. You’re going back to an empty room on base.”
“I know what we are Simon,” you assure him. “I just don’t think other people need to know.”
You finish getting dressed and lean over your side of the bed to kiss him.
“See you tomorrow?”
He pulls you back to peck your lips a second time. “See you tomorrow. Let me walk you out.”
“I’m good, I know where it is,” you smile. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
“Sleep well.”
You exit the room, gather your things by the front door, and head out of his apartment, locking the door behind you with your copy of his key. You pause before fully leaving. You want to stay—truly—but you can’t fathom what people might think of you before understanding the situation. You don’t want to chance people catching on, especially the rest of the task force and especially Captain Price. So you leave.
Keeping it a secret for a little while longer won’t hurt. You and Simon have a sort of secret language anyway. It keeps things kind of fun. Admittedly, you make more use of your signals and secret signs than he does but he understands them all the same. And he answers—meeting you at your room on base, warmly greeting you at his apartment, casually sitting down at the same table as you during meals like there’s nowhere else to sit, showing up at the gym as if he didn’t know you were there and offering to be your spotter simply because it’s convenient. The list goes on and on.
And it works for both of you. For now, at least.
One day it’ll be the right time to just come out with it. But for now, you want to keep it a secret. And Simon’s happy to do what makes you happy… in his own way.
He’s in Price’s office going over the intel informing their next mission when there’s a soft knock on the door. Price grants them entry and you poke your head in, making quick eye contact with Simon before looking at the man you came for.
“Recruits are waiting for you, Cap,” you tell him. “Soap and I got them all tired out. Think a couple might drop off and change their minds about joining.”
Price chuckles. “Good on ya, sarge. I’ll be there in 15 minutes.”
“Yes, sir,” you nod. When Price looks back down at the papers on his desk, your eyes shift to Simon and widen so he knows you’re communicating to him.
He watches you go through the familiar and overly complex motions—a couple taps to your nose, a flick of your head, a shoulder roll, and a vague gesture with your hands. He gives you a nod like he always does and then you exit and close the door behind you.
“The bloody hell was that?” Price asks, still looking down at his papers.
“Wants to eat together later.”
Price frowns and looks up at his lieutenant. “Thought that one involved pretending to eat.”
Simon shakes his head. “She thought that’d be too obvious ‘case anyone saw.”
Price sighs and looks back down at his desk. “God forbid anyone think she’s up to something if she mimics eating while she’s communicating like a baseball player all over our base.”
Simon smirks under his mask and can’t help but feel a wave of affection for you.
“When you gonna tell her I know?”
He shrugs. “Dunno. She likes the signing stuff. I find it entertaining. Might as well keep it up for a while.”
“Might be mad you didn’t say something sooner.”
“Not my fault you found out, tha’ was all her.”
“Right, hip thrusts are pretty easy to decipher, even when they’re part of a secret language.”
“She didn’t know you were there,” he comes to your defence, but he can’t help but find it hilarious.
“As long as you’re not distracting my sergeant from her job, I don’t care what you do with each other.”
“Wha’ about her distracting me?”
Price waves him off while he’s reading documents. “Takes her job too seriously to do that.”
“The one hip thrusting in the middle of the commissary?”
“She’s also the one currently training the new recruits.”
“You asked me to come ‘ere.”
Price shrugs. “Could’ve said you were too busy shaping the future of our team.”
Simon slams the papers he’s holding onto his captain’s desk and storms toward the door. “Fuckin’ hell.”
“Hey, when you get there, tell her this,” Price taps his nose, pinches his cheeks, scratches his elbow, rubs his chin on his shoulder, takes off his hat, puts his hat back on, and then smiles.
Simon stares frustratedly from the doorway. “The fuck does that mean?”
“I don’t know, I just made it up. Go ahead and use it for something. Royalty free.”
Simon rolls his eyes and leaves. He makes it to the training grounds with a good 10 minutes to both check you out while you’re running drills and intimidate the recruits before Price shows up.
And later when it’s time to eat, he drops himself into the seat across from you in the mess hall like you asked him to (although he would’ve anyway). When he sees Price heading toward your table, he says nothing.
“Evenin’,” your captain announces, and you immediately sit up as straight as possible and look anywhere but at Simon.
“H-Hi, cap,” you say.
“Just the two of you tonight?”
Your eyes widen and you look at Simon then. He’s relaxed behind the mask and you struggle to find words. Any words. “I-I, we— um, Soap was coming. I think. I don’t, he might be… um, shower. Showering.”
Price nods. “Well, I’ll leave you to it.”
You nod and wait for him to be out of earshot before you zone in on Simon. “You couldn’t tell me he was coming over here?”
He shrugs. “Didn’t see him.”
You huff before letting a small relieved smile rest on your lips. “Jesus. That was a close call, huh?”
He raises his eyebrows briefly like he believes you. “Very.”
Summary: Simon's oblivious and you just go along with it.
“What’s a love language?”
You frown, looking away from the near-finished deck on your laptop screen and to Simon, whose eyes are on the TV straight ahead. “What?”
“Someone mentioned it at work, seemed like a serious topic. No idea what they were on about.”
“They mentioned it to you?”
“No, I overheard.”
You close your laptop slightly. “It’s how you like to receive love. You can take a quiz to figure it out but it’s basically like getting presents or spending quality time together or verbal cues.”
“Did you take the quiz?” He quirks an eyebrow, looking at you now.
“Mhm,” you nod.
“And?”
“Mine is acts of service. S’why I was all over you last week when you did the groceries and laundry and made me a coffee without asking.”
“Tha’s why?”
“Yep.”
He frowns and looks back at the football game. “Should I take the quiz?”
“You can, but you don’t have to. Yours is pretty obvious.”
“What is it?”
“Physical touch.”
He tuts and shakes his head. “No it’s not.”
“Sure it is!” You laugh.
“I hate touching, s’not my love language. Mine’s like, food.”
“Okay, food is not a love language,” you set your laptop down on the coffee table, revealing your position on the couch. Simon’s facing the TV and you’re sitting sideways with your legs draped over his lap—a position he often maneuvers you into. Even now as he denies his love for physical touch and affection he’s playing with the hem of your sock with one hand and is feeling the smooth, freshly-shaven skin of your leg with the other.
He stares at your expectant expression. “What?”
You gesture to the two of you.
He shrugs and his face turns more confused. “What?”
You shake your head and grab your laptop again. “Oblivious.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The next day you’re walking together through the park by your building, needing some fresh air. You’re hand in hand until you notice a bunny further up the path and you remove your hand from Simon’s to point it out excitedly.
With no hesitation, Simon grabs your arm and lowers your hands so they’re back where they were before—between you and interlocked. He continues walking like nothing just happened—albeit with a slightly tighter grip on your fingers—but you smirk at the side of his face.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The movie’s only just started, but Simon’s already asleep on top of you. His head is resting against your stomach and your legs are tangled together. You continue to watch the action as your fingertips absentmindedly scratch at his scalp. Eventually you stop, opting instead to clasp your hands behind Simon’s back. He groans and you look down at him. He doesn’t move, but he groans again.
“What’s wrong?” You ask.
He grabs your elbow to lazily direct your hand back to his head. You smother your knowing smile and resume scratching at his scalp and playing with his hair until the movie’s over.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Your grip is tight around the spindles of your headboard and your head is thrown back as Simon thrusts into you, until he pauses to unwrap your fingers from the wood and encourage you to wrap your arms around his neck instead. He does the same with your legs and his waist before carrying on.
You gently bite his earlobe with a smile.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
“Time for the shoe swap.”
You made it all night in your heels, but you won’t make the walk home. And that’s exactly why you brought a big purse to stuff your flats in for the inevitable. You dig your hand into your bag, depending on the streetlights to aid you in finding your shoes amongst the rest of your junk that you should really clean out of there. You feel them and are about to pull them out when Simon couches in front of you, facing away.
“What are you doing?”
“Get on,” he says from over his shoulder. “Acts of service, right?”
You smirk and nod like you fully agree. “Right. Acts of service.”
You hop onto his back and he adjusts you so your ankles are locked and your cheek is pressed up against his. “Good?”
You giggle and kiss his temple. “Good.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
“Sorry I’m late!” You huff as you rush into your office. “I uh…” was forced to make out for 20 minutes on my way out of the apartment and missed two trains because my boyfriend moped about having to be home alone on his day off. “I left my laptop and had to turn around.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Simon comes home exhausted, complaining about a group of young soldiers thinking they’re too good to take orders and clean up around base. You tilt your head in sympathy and grab his face to rub your thumbs on his flushed cheeks.
He snatches you up and runs you into your room.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
“I think it’s words,” he says one morning while he’s got himself wrapped around you in bed. You can barely breathe. “My love language.”
You roll your eyes and shove his hulking body off of you to reach over to your nightstand for your phone, pulling up the quiz and shoving it into his hands. “Prepare to have your mind blown.”
The hallway smells sweet and warm. It makes Simon’s mouth water and he wonders if he can convince you to order in desserts or bake a cake or something. He really doesn’t have to wonder—he knows you’d agree. As soon as he mentions it you’ll be craving it more than he is.
As he gets closer to the door to your shared apartment, the smell becomes almost overwhelming. He quickly realizes it’s coming from inside. From you. He gets excited about the thought of satisfying this newfound craving until he opens the door and sees the state of your home.
Cupcakes line almost every surface available. Some are decorated, some are plain and likely still cooling. There are cupcakes on the kitchen table, on the window sills, along the top of the TV, on the couch. Simon pulls his balaclava off and stares wide eyed, maintaining his expression as he turns his head to the kitchen and sees you mixing away like your life depends on it.
“Fuckin’ hell,” he drawls.
Your head snaps to the side and your surprised expression matches his, but he notices upon further inspection that it more closely resembles desperation. You shake your head. “I can’t stop.”
“What happened?”
“I don’t know,” you breathe. “I came home from work, blinked, and now I’m here.”
You’re still in your work clothes, but there’s flour all over you and icing on your forearms and one cheek. Your hair is pulled back but it’s a mess. Your makeup is slowly smudging from sweat.
“I think it’s the baby,” you explain. “All I could think about all day was making food and feeding people. My boss was so busy she didn’t have lunch with us and I almost went to the kitchen to grab her salad from the fridge and spoon feed her myself.”
“So these are all for…”
“Her,” you answer. “And the rest of our team. And you. And me. The neighbours. Maybe the whole building, I don’t know. I can’t stop, Si.”
“Just put the spoon down.”
You look at him incredulously. “I can’t stop mid-batch!”
“Well you look wired, so maybe you should.”
“Welcome home, nice to see you, too.”
“That was my polite way of saying you look like a mess and need to shower and relax.”
The oven beeps before you can respond and you turn away from the mixing bowl to grab your mitts and pull the next batch out. The smell that had captivated Simon earlier gets stronger. He fights his instinct to stuff his face and rushes forward. He grabs your waist after you place the hot tin down and before you can turn back to the bowl and start mixing again. His fingers brush your bump and his heart flutters like it always does when he touches you there.
“Step away.”
“Just one more batch,” you try to pry his hands off of you but he doesn’t budge.
“Tomorrow. Turn the oven off.”
“It’ll go bad just sitting there,” you gesture to the bowl of batter with a wooden spoon sticking out of it as Simon gently walks you both backwards out of the kitchen.
“I’ll wrap it and put it in the fridge.”
“But there are cupcakes everywhere, we have to put them away.”
“Leave ‘em. Who’s gonna get into ‘em in ‘ere?”
“You.”
He rolls his eyes. “I’ll keep away.”
You sigh and relax your body, relenting as he gets you into your bedroom. He turns you to face him and kicks the door closed so you can’t just run right back. Despite your tired fight, he can see how relieved you are to be out of there. He cups the side of your face and your head tilts toward him.
“Better?”
“Yeah.”
He leans forward to kiss you. “Hi.”
“Hi,” you smile softly. “Good day?”
He shrugs. “Nuthin’ exciting. Just lots of drills and training to supervise.”
“Big important man,” you dig your nails gently into his abdomen, leaning into him and smirking.
He smooths your hair back. “You get that presentation done?”
You nod. “Done, presented, approved. Next couple months before maternity leave are gonna be crazy.”
“Take it easy, yeah?” He brushes his fingers over your stomach and then presses his palm against you.
You nod again, placing your hand on top of his. “Sorry about the baking.”
“I don’t care that you’re baking, I care that you're mentally sound,” he jokes and you laugh. “Smells amazin’ if it makes you feel better.”
Your eyes widen. “Okay, let me just get the last batch in then and I’ll bring you one—”
“Stop,” he holds onto your arm to stop you from turning back. “You need to shower and lie down.”
You exhale and nod. “Come with me?”
“I dunno,” he tilts his head. “The icing in your eyebrows isn’t really doin’ it f’me.”
You nudge his sternum and walk past him. “Asshole.”
Later, when you’re both showered and in bed, Simon waits for your breathing to even out to gently slip his hand from under your shirt and get up. He moves as quietly as he can on his way out of your room and across your apartment to where the decorated cupcakes sit on the coffee table in front of the couch.
He switches on a nearby lamp to see, but there’s nowhere to sit, so he just bends to grab one and eats it right there. It’s perfect, which isn’t a surprise. And they look perfect, too. He downs one more and starts on another quickly.
“No more than three.”
He jumps and turns to see you groggily standing in your bedroom doorway staring him down. He’s been caught red-handed. Or pink-lipped, given the icing he’s yet to lick away. He swallows and considers your demand, noting that he’s only one bite away from reaching your limit. “Five,” he says around his mouthful.
“Four and I never show the picture I just took of you to your friends,” you pull your arm out from behind your back so he can see your phone in your hand.
“Deal.”
You turn around to go back to bed and he leans down to grab his last treat of the night.
