Chapter Text
Simon was pulled suddenly out of a deep sleep. It was late, but a flash of light had woken him. The rumble of thunder that followed it was far off, he found it comforting in a way. The man he lay in bed with, though, wouldn’t. He got his bearings and rolled over to reach for Soap, thinking it hadn’t woken him yet. He must have been wrong though, because his boyfriend’s side of the bed was cold.
He sat up. Handling Soap in the middle of an episode was a delicate balance. Sometimes he was just shaky, overwhelmed, he needed grounding. Sometimes he was somewhere else altogether.
Simon planted his feet on the floor, knowing it didn’t matter where Soap was, he was going to come back to their reality in Simon’s arms. He checked the bathroom but found it empty.
They shared Soap’s house, they had for nearly a year. Since he came home from the hospital after the incident with Marcus. With the cop still safely locked away, they were open with it, it often wormed it’s way into Simon’s nightmares more than he'd like to admit but he was open with Johnny as best he knew how. The memory of his own weakness was damn hard to escape, even when Johnny reminded him that it wasn’t his fault. He’d never had anything he was so afraid of losing.
He stood at the top of the stairs and listened. He couldn’t hear anything below him but that didn’t mean Johnny wasn’t down there. Carefully, so as not to startle him, he descended.
They’d made the house their own. Simon had been right. Free, Johnny was even brighter, even funnier, completely full of an energy Marcus had wanted to take away. Simon only wanted to feel as much of it as humanly possible. It showed in the way they’d changed the furniture to make the space more open, in all the dishes in the sink from the dinner they’d cooked together.
Simon walked past it with lethal silence. He could see Soap’s silhouette in the living room, on his sofa. He was board straight, staring out the window.
It had been one year since Marcus shot him in his own living room. They hadn’t talked about it much, but they were planning to get out of the house. Get in that hike Marcus had taken from them that day. He’d need sleep if that was going to be the enjoyable experience they hoped for.
There were hurts Johnny faced that Simon felt angry for, the way he’d been quieted by the people in his life, the ways in which his ex had chosen to silence him. This was different. This was a hurt Simon felt, too, and related with personally. It didn’t make him angry, though. It was Soap’s own mind working against him, and Simon loved everything about Soap’s mind, even when it struggled to align reality with a memory or pulled from trauma to fill in blank spaces.
He stayed in the doorway for a second, still letting his eyes adjust. Watching him. “Johnny.”
Johnny flinched at the low sound of Simon’s voice. But he didn’t turn. Simon could see he was just sitting there, his hands gripping the edge of the cushion. Not a danger to Simon or himself. So, Simon approached. Slowly, letting his feet fall heavy on the floor so he didn’t startle him, he came to sit beside him on the couch.
“Johnny?” His wide eyes didn’t leave the windows.
“Yeah?” Soap’s voice sounded serious. Commanding. Like a soldier.
Simon forgot the steps he was supposed to take to make sure Johnny didn’t fight him. He reached for his arm. As soon as his skin met Soap’s, he jerked away and stood, walking across the room and closer to the window.
Simon followed him. He got in his space, he reached for him, and this time Johnny turned to face him. He opened his mouth to speak but thunder rolled again, still far off, and Soap turned his attention back toward the window.
“Johnny, look at me.” Simon said gently, coaxing him to focus on something besides the storm.
“They’re out there.” He whispered.
Simon’s heart tightened at the concern in his voice. Never fear, but incredible tension and weighty responsibility.
“No one’s out there, Johnny.” Simon said quietly, knowing then that it didn’t matter what he said, Soap likely wasn’t hearing him.
Simon reached for his arm again, and pulled him closer. His lover looked at him with those same wide eyes, but he didn’t move away.
“They’re coming, we need to move.” He said, again in that serious voice.
He stepped further toward the window and knelt, pulling out of Simon’s grasp. Simon followed, kneeling down with him.
“No one is coming Soap.” The man looked at him blankly. “It’s just a storm.”
A slight twitch of his eyebrows. Confusion as he saw Simon’s face for the first time. Simon grabbed him again and pulled him against his chest. Johnny was tense for a moment, and then he relaxed just slightly. Simon could feel his heartbeat, Soap’s naked chest against his clothed one. It was too fast, but it was perfectly steady. Slowly, he relaxed further. Simon held him, sitting on their floor, Soap’s head on his shoulder.
“Where are you?” Simon asked. Soap could feel Simon’s voice in his broad chest, next to his heartbeat. And it was soft. Even if he was confused, that sounded safe.
“With you.” He murmured, his face pressed into the soft fabric of Simon’s shirt.
It took a few minutes for him to fully understand. It felt a lot like waking up, letting his mind adjust to the fact that he was home, and that he was okay. That wherever his mind pulled him, that was over. Pressed into Simon’s warmth, matching his breathing, that helped.
“I’m sorry.” Soap said quietly. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
Simon pulled Soap closer, digging his fingers into the muscles of his back. “The storm woke me.”
“I’m sorry.” He whispered again.
Simon slowly pulled away from him and helped him to his feet. Thunder rolled again and whatever Soap had been doing to try and keep his hands from shaking stopped working.
Simon never wanted him to suffer but to think that before they met it had always been alone, that’s what hurt him. In that moment, he was just happy to offer him the safety he sought. He didn’t need to know where Soap’s mind had taken him, only that he was okay, that he felt safe now.
He didn’t chide him for apologizing. He knew it wouldn’t do any good. “Can I take you back to bed?”
“Yeah.”
Simon left him though, and stepped into the kitchen. He scratched Beau’s head where he’d hopped up on the counter to watch the men. He pulled a cold water bottle from the fridge and handed it over. Soap needed comfort and safety, sure, but not coddling. Simon had learned how suffocating to be, how much room he wanted. Soap thanked him and followed Simon slowly back through the dark house and up the stairs.
Reentering the bedroom, Simon climbed back into bed as Soap did, gripping him by the arm and pulling him under his.
Soap stayed there, the single most important benefit of the position being Simon’s steady heartbeat in his ear. He could feel guilty, say he should be so strong, so afraid of nothing, but he knew that wasn’t right. Simon was afraid of plenty. They tended to hold each other in different ways and at different times, and in that moment it was simply his turn.
Simon smelled clean, his breathing easy even as the rain began again, and Soap matched it, inhaling him with every slow breath.
“What time is it?” Soap asked.
“After midnight, not by much.” Simon answered him without looking.
They had plans the next day, Soap didn’t want to ruin them.
“You haven’t ruined anything, Johnny.” Simon assured him and Soap raised his head. He didn’t think he’d spoken out loud. Seemed more likely that Simon had read his thoughts.
“Okay.” He laid his hand gently on Simon’s chest. “I’ll take your word for it.”
Simon stayed awake until he felt Soap fall asleep on him. He slept soon after.
Simon rolled over to see Soap facing away from him, sitting at the edge of the bed. His nightmares, anxiety, and Simon’s warm skin making him damp with sweat and he wanted a shower. He was ready for a day out of the house, but the shame of the previous night was hard to overcome, knowing it would darken his mood, that was worse.
Simon hadn’t said anything, he let Soap and his tight shoulders go into the hot shower alone. He laid there for a bit, comfortable and lazy. Soap hadn’t ruined his night, and in fact he’d slept better with the soft sound of the rain and a warm body pressed up against him. He’d never thought he could have this. Something that felt like family. He’d been perfectly content in his apartment with his cat and his life he’d made for himself.
Soap had come along and ruined that so perfectly. It wasn’t about his sunny personality and his constant energy either, although Simon craved those things one hundred percent of the time, even now. It was about how he approached a man like Simon, who’s solitude had eternally defined him, and treated him like a human being with wants and needs and flaws.
Simon knew Soap would likely be in a bad mood. The night before, the anniversary they faced. But it marked a year of something else. It marked a year of Simon knowing beyond a shadow of any doubt that he needed that beautiful blue eyed man in his life, even if from afar. He was so damn lucky that Soap had wanted to be close to him. To give him a chance.
Simon didn’t have to try and change his mood. He just had to be there, he just had to let Soap know that if he struggled, it wasn’t going to push him away. The same as Soap had done for him time and time again.
He heard Johnny shut off the water and went and opened the door, leaning against the frame as Soap stepped out, a towel already wrapped around his waist.
“You’re letting my warm air out.” He stated.
Simon looked down, stepping inside and shutting the door behind him. He didn’t speak, he went to the sink to brush his teeth. Soap watched him. Sometimes the ease with which Simon was around him in spite of his darkened mood was unbelievable to him. He found himself wondering if it was a trick. A year later, he still found himself wondering if the other shoe might drop, and he hated himself for that. It made the whole thing worse.
Simon met his eyes in the mirror, sleepy and deep, dark brown, and they smiled softly at him. There was another thought that always wormed his way into Soap’s mind. That he couldn’t believe how lucky he was, that he was the one that got to see Simon like that. No one else. And maybe the chance that it might all fall apart was worth those little momentary looks.
Simon still didn’t speak as he left to get dressed. When Soap walked out, he was standing at his dresser in a pair of shorts, and what a sight he always found that to be. Simon always covered up, far too much in Soap’s opinion. He even liked wearing pants to bed.
“Maybe we stay in.” He raised his brows, making a show of looking Simon up and down as he turned over his shoulder to answer.
Simon chuckled. “I dressed up for you, now you have to take me out. That’s the deal.”
Soap smiled to himself. He’d rather have him later anyway, sweaty, and loose, tired muscles. He got dressed. He followed Simon down the stairs and into the kitchen to fill their canteens, and out the door into his car.
He wanted this, he wanted out of the house. He wanted to take back everything Marcus had tried to take from them. Everything he had taken from Soap before Simon Riley entered his life. And this is how they did that, slowly and quietly, day by day and side by side.
It was a couple of hours out of the city and into the hills. Soap didn’t talk much and Simon didn’t mind the silence. He let music Soap chose play a light background score and enjoyed the sights of the city changing to trees and wildflowers.
“Did you sleep, Simon?” Soap asked him tentatively, breaking the quiet.
Simon looked at him for a split second. “Like a baby.”
“I didn’t keep you up?”
“I sleep better with you that close, Johnny.” He smiled, knowing Soap was looking out the window and not at him. “Did you?”
“Yeah.” He shifted in his seat. “After the storm ended I slept fine.”
“You didn’t bother me, Johnny, you know I’m not—”
“Don’t say it.” Soap shook his head. “I shouldn’t even bring it up. It’s been a year.”
“I don’t mind if you bring it up, John, there’s no reason to pretend it didn’t happen. And I don’t think anyone has stuck an expiration date on this.”
“I’m so messed up.” He grumbled.
“We are all messed up, it’s not something to be ashamed of.” He cleared his throat. “If you needed something you’d tell me, right?” Simon wasn’t worried about the struggle Johnny faced, but he was worried he’d try to handle it alone. That Simon wouldn’t see something he should have.
Soap didn’t have it in himself to lie. “I don’t know.”
And that was okay. It was big enough that he could admit to that, and Simon didn’t have to shoulder it alone. Soap had been working through his PTSD with a professional for a long time, it just so happened that triggers kept finding their way into his life. Like getting shot by his ex boyfriend.
Simon didn’t answer. Johnny needed time to process. So did he. He was just glad it hadn’t driven them apart yet. If anything, it made them closer.
The trail wasn’t too busy, even for a nice Sunday afternoon. That made Simon happy, and gave them more time to chat. Soap was in a better mood already, the fresh air a perfect distraction. The conversation in the car had no real resolution but the words were a weight off of his shoulders regardless.
Johnny always kept an eye on Simon when they did anything like this, worried it might exacerbate old injuries. But the hike was easy and deep down he knew it was just an excuse to keep his eyes on Simon’s perfect body, broken and repaired and completely solid. His desire for Simon hadn’t worn off. Not even a little bit.
Simon deliberately met his eyes and raised his brows questioningly, making Soap laugh. He smiled in return. This was what he’d waited for, suffered for, for all those years before. He’d felt old, when he took the job in the city. Chose to give up his home country and the few people there that knew him. That sound made him feel young. Like he still had a whole life ahead of him.
They met the end of the trail, a beautiful outlook over a valley. A sea of perfect green. It wasn’t too hot, a light breeze blew, but Simon had worked up a sheen on his bare arms. Soap pulled his baseball cap off and wiped his brow. Simon liked the hat, it made him look young and it shaded his eyes just enough to make the blue even more shocking.
Soap turned to find Simon staring at him, gold flecks in his sunlit brown eyes. “What is it?”
Simon didn’t answer, he just reached for Soap’s arm. Like he had the night before. They were alone up there, not that it mattered. Simon pulled him closer, against his side. Johnny stood there, resolute, like a column that would hold them both up against whatever storm came. He’d felt weak since the previous night but he would do anything, anything, Simon asked him to do. Anything he needed.
He supposed some people would call it a honeymoon phase. Maybe it was. He’d drink every ounce of it he could, either way.
Simon had something on his mind. Something he’d been thinking about for weeks and weeks. Something he knew was irreversible when he met Soap’s eyes in the bathroom mirror that morning. They were doing life together, and he never wanted that to end. Ever. Legally.
Simon wrapped his arm tighter around Soap’s shoulders and pushed him so he was forced to turn and face him, still pressed together. Johnny chuckled again and gently wrapped an arm around Simon’s waist.
“What is it, baby?” He said, muffled, pressed into Simon’s chest again.
Baby. This little pet name Johnny rarely used, except when he was so caught up in Simon’s presence that he couldn’t help himself. It covered the back of Simon’s arms in goosebumps. That was a level of affection he rarely felt worthy of, it was praise so sweet he didn’t know how to accept it.
He swallowed. “I need to talk to you about something.”
Simon felt Johnny shift on his feet, still pinned against him. His voice turned serious. He placed a palm against Simon’s side in case he needed to push away. “Yes?”
Simon knew why he hesitated. He didn’t think Johnny would say no, but maybe he was vulnerable right now, maybe he wouldn’t put enough thought into it, to make a logical decision. But he didn’t want to wait.
He swallowed. “I think we should make this more official.”
He felt Johnny’s wheels turning and bit his tongue. Still a coward, he couldn’t seem to ask it outright. He gave himself an out by making the question vague.
“Explain.”
“Marry me.” He blurted, his arm gripping Johnny impossibly tighter against his chest like it might keep him from running away.
Johnny did push back though, against Simon’s side. He didn’t go far, staying in front of him and looking up into his face. He remembered late nights and drinks and dinners and his desire to crack whatever hard exterior the man threw at him.
It was cracked. The man he looked at was the same person, but also free. Broken open and willingly exposed. And he wanted that forever.
“Yes.” Johnny nodded. “Yes, of course. Just say when. Tomorrow, if you want. Yesterday, if I could, Simon.” He looked down, smiling. After a moment, he cleared his throat. “Why now?”
Simon forcefully pulled him back into his arms, shoulders dropping in relief. “Because a year ago I learned I couldn’t live without you, but I had to give you time to decide if you could live with me. And now, doing this, I just want to tie myself to you forever. And I want everyone to know.”
Soap laid his hands flat on Simon’s back, protective and possessive. “I can live with you, Simon. For the rest of my life.”
“I don’t have a ring. I couldn’t decide if you’d want one or not.” He admitted. “But uh, I did ask permission. From your sister.”
Soap laughed against his chest. “Thank god, I was dreading having to surprise her.” He pulled back again. “I want a ring. I want everyone to know.”
“Okay.” Simon nodded, smiling. It was so pretty. Soap knew Simon felt old, like his life had passed him by, but he didn’t look it then.
“You’re sure you want to be mine?” Soap feigned a frown.
“I haven’t had a choice, Johnny. Not since I met you.”
Soap took his left hand, turning it over and imagining what it would look like adorned with a wedding band. He spoke quietly, as if to himself. “How did I get so lucky?”
Simon lifted Johnny’s chin with his other hand and kissed him, knocking his ballcap back and making him reach to catch it. They lingered like that for a moment.
Simon looked down at him. “We shouldn’t do it tomorrow. I want enough time to plan a celebration.”
Soap chuckled, patting Simon’s arm. “Sure, that sounds fine.” He started walking. “Let’s go home. I want to celebrate alone first.”
Simon slowly followed him, fighting an urge to strip him right there on the trail. They’d go back to work the next day, and back to normal. No one would know yet that their world had changed.
Even for them, it hadn’t changed that much. They made a few plans for dinner on the way home. Soap seemed emotional and Simon didn’t want to force him to address it yet, even if it was positive. He wasn’t sure he could take it if he did. And the anticipation built.
By the time they got home, even Soap’s excited leg had stopped bouncing and neither of them had said anything for miles. Simon purposefully kept strictly to the speed limits just to drag it out. Soap was already kissing him as they crossed the threshold, dropping his things unceremoniously on the floor. Simon shed his backpack too, and his shoes, and gripped Soap by the front of his shirt with both hands, pushing him up against the wall.
They stayed there, kissing like they’d never touched before. Like it had been a year of yearning instead of constant contact, slow and drawn out like the drive back into the city. Soap had barely fought it in the car with his lethal focus, but he was very quickly hard, pressing his hips against the taller man to feel that he was, too.
When Soap finally moved against him, Simon pressed into him in response. Slowly he ground against his man, his fiancé, savoring the frustrated huff of breath he let out when Simon pinned him too tight to move. He pulled away, hanging his head beside Johnny’s.
“Shower?”
“No.” Soap shook his head. “I want you like this.”
Simon kissed him again, unable to prevent a groan from escaping his lips. Soap hauled Simon off of his body and pushed past him to ascend the steps. Simon was close behind him, taking two at a time to catch the hem of Soap’s shirt and pull it off as they entered the bedroom.
Soap looked at the bed where he had made so many horrible memories and watched all of them be erased as Simon spun him around and pushed him into it. Simon stood in front of him and pulled his own shirt off, the sweat dry. Soap reached for him, pulling him down on top of him, finally getting to feel him skin to skin. Simon adjusted, stretching them out so he could slot one leg between Soap’s and push his further apart.
Soap let him, running his hands the length of Simon’s strong back, lightly scraping his nails across scarred skin, and tentatively slipping his hands beneath the waistband of those damn shorts. In answer, Simon dropped his hips and ground against Johnny again pulling a low hum from him. He lapped it out of his mouth, doing it again and again until Johnny was pushing on his shoulders. He wrapped his leg behind Simon’s knee and pushed, forcing him over onto his back.
Soap straddled his hips, watching the rise and fall of his chest as he caught his breath. “I want to take your name.”
Simon slid his hands down Soap’s sides, hooking his fingers in the waistband of his shorts. “You don’t want to be a Mactavish anymore?”
He shook his head, running a hand up his stomach and chest, squeezing his nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Simon fought the urge to arch his back into it. “I think we should be the Rileys.”
“I don’t like that name all that much, Johnny.” Simon breathed, not making eye contact, keeping his eyes on Johnny’s perfect body instead.
Soap leaned forward, kissing Simon from his neck up to his jaw. “I know. I think we could take it back, you know? Make it something good again.”
Soap raised just enough to look into Simon’s eyes. To force them to meet. Simon did, searching the lighter ones above him as the sun went down on them. He had always resented his name, what it meant to him, but he would share it with Johnny. It might become something he loved again.
Instead of answering, he claimed Soap’s mouth again, reaching to card his fingers through his hair. It was gentler, then. Softer and sweeter. Soap only let that last for a moment before he raised up again.
“Turn over.”
The command settled in a burning pool at the base of Simon’s stomach. He had never trusted someone so explicitly, the part of their pasts that they shared making it a uniquely safe place for him. And Johnny handled him so well, and with such reverence.
That moment was no different. Soap raised up onto his knees to give Simon room to roll over. Soap loved him, and he loved everything he did, but that obedience, that willingness to turn his back to Soap, that was his favorite.
He laid his body on top of Simon’s and pushed his knee between his legs, spreading them like Simon had done to him. He kissed the back of his neck, licking lightly across his skin. It stung with salt, and it was hot from his flush. He kissed down his spine slowly, tasting him as he went.
He slid his hands under Simon’s hips and coaxed them up as he reached the top of his scar. He gripped him and ground against his still-clothed ass, running a gentle finger the length of it. He bent to kiss it again, wrapping Simon’s waist and sliding both hands beneath the elastic of his shorts and his boxers. With one, he pulled the shorts down and with the other, he gripped Simon’s already leaking erection.
He kept his body pressed against Simon, one hand firmly against his thigh, the other slowly pulling along the hard length. Simon buried his face in the pillow, but Soap could feel his jerky breathing. He’d planned to go slow, to really fuck him, but he wasn’t sure he’d last that long.
“So eager.” He whispered, his lips against the dimples at the base of Simon’s spine.
Simon fisted the sheets beneath his hand as Soap let go of him and gripped him by both hips again, grinding against him. They had plenty of time to drag things out. Later. Forever.
He pulled Simon’s shorts the rest of the way down and pushed him to the side, rolling him back over. Simon kicked out of his shorts as Soap slowly lowered his own. Simon watched him, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth and biting down to get a hold of himself.
Soap positioned himself back over Simon and slid down between his legs. Without touching his cock, he kissed the inside of his thighs, tasting his salty sweat again. He licked a line to where his hips met his torso and up to the base of his stomach. He gripped Simon and moved him out of the way, making him buck his hips in surprise.
Soap ran his tongue up to the base of Simon’s navel and raised to look at him. Simon was watching his every move, his golden lashes lowered, heavy over his eyes. He didn’t beg, he knew he was going to get what he wanted. Soap couldn’t resist him.
He took the hand gripping Simon to hold him still and held him up to his mouth instead. He flattened his tongue against him, feeling the veins and skin so familiar to him. He lowered, slowly, until Simon was in his throat and his nose was in the soft hair at his base, breathing in the scent of him.
He repeated the motion a few times, a steady pace, until Simon gripped his hair, begging him to speed up. He obliged.
“Soap.” Simon warned him, which was kind, but Soap had no intention of stopping.
His hand went from Simon’s thigh to gently squeeze his balls and he came. Quietly, as usual, both hands now in Soap’s hair as he swallowed, licking him clean and waiting for him to soften completely.
He raised up, running a hand over the back of his mouth. It was dark by then, but Simon could see his smile as he pushed up on his hands, gripping Soap beneath his arms and pushing him backward. Soap scrambled to keep his balance, stepping back onto the floor.
Before he could ask what Simon wanted, the man was on his back, one hand around the back of Soap’s thigh, pushing him forward. He hung his head off the edge of the bed. Soap obeyed his demands to come closer until his own aching, swollen tip was at his lips. Simon wasted no time, as Soap hadn’t, opening his throat and swallowing him whole.
Soap was no small man, larger than Simon but he knew how to take him. He knew what Soap liked. Simon guided him, pushing him deeper, until there was none of him left. And then placing his hand at the front of his thigh to push him back out. By the second time, Soap began to move on his own.
“Jesus.” He whispered, and Simon smiled, taking the time to run his tongue along his tip as his lips parted.
When he closed them back, he wrapped both hands around the back of Soap’s legs, so he moved faster again. Soap came, pressed into Simon’s throat.
“Simon, Simon, Simon.” He said as it wracked him and he hung his head to kiss his chest as Simon swallowed what was left.
Soap pulled out. He squatted so their faces were level. “Shower?”
“Yes.” Simon sat up slowly, getting his bearings and his breath.
Soap beat him to the bathroom, turning on the water without turning on the light and stepping back out for something. Simon was unsure what so he went into the bathroom. He turned on the light as Soap entered behind him. Simon turned to face him and noticed tears running down his face.
He paused. “Johnny?” He stepped toward him. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Johnny shook his head. “I just love you.”
Simon looked down at him, at the emotion he knew he’d been holding back in the car. He pulled him into a hug. Again. And he’d keep doing it for eternity if it were allowed. He knew Soap’s tears were of relief, that he got to have something for himself without the risk of punishment.
They bathed each other, not saying much, and crawled back into the bed together.
“Can I call you my husband?” Soap asked into the quiet.
Simon chuckled. “You never even call me your boyfriend.”
“You’re too tall for that, it doesn’t sound right. But you can be a husband. It suits you.”
“Fine.” He pulled Soap under his arm like he had the night before. “I’d be honored.”