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Simon doesn’t remember what a good night"s sleep is. Sometimes it feels like he hasn’t slept in years. Nights are spent staring up at the ceiling of wherever he"s been told to lay his head. The quiet is what kills him- would rather prefer the sounds of bullets whipping past him than the stillness of a room at night.
The quiet allows him to be alone with his thoughts. Thoughts about his past. His mom. Brother. Nephew. Sister-in-law. His dad. They pop into his mind daily, but he’s usually able to distract himself with his work. Now- when he has nothing to keep his mind busy- does he think about them and all the what-ifs.
Usually, his nights are spent at his desk, going over mission information and combining through the details once, twice, three times if needed. He’ll stay into the bitter hours of the morning, grabbing another cup of tea and then starting his day early.
It wasn’t until he met you did everything change for him.
He no longer hated the end of the day. He actually looks forward to it. Because he knows when he gets back to his room, you’d be there. Telling him what a long day you’ve had- how this one rookie keeps getting on your last nerve with his smart mouth. He’d laugh- telling you to instill some fear in these newbies and show them who’s boss. You’d laugh, sarcastically, and tell him that you’ve been doing that for the last week.
Sometimes you’d already be in his bed when he comes in, sleeping soundly. He’d be extra quiet when winding himself down, but most of the time you wake up when he comes to lie down. He’d apologize for waking you and tell you to go back to sleep.
“I will, but I need to tell you about…” And you’d talk. Filling his mind with rambles of your day- important or not- as you throw an arm around him and lay your head on his chest. He laughs at how much stuff you remember. At how you have to tell him everything. But, you just shush him and tell him to go to sleep now- that you’re exhausted.
For being known as one of the best, Ghost was a bit slow. It took him a long time before he even realized you were flirting with him- that you even liked him. And then even longer for his feelings to be realized and reciprocated. So, of course, he’d be a little slow to catch on to what you’ve been doing. Talking to him before he goes to bed. Getting his mind off of whatever he might be thinking of and filling it with gossip that you’ve overheard or whatever had ticked you off that day.
He had given you very little background about his life, but with the pieces he’s given you, you could connect the dots here and there. He’s told you about his resentment for sleeping. Seen him working late into the night and early into the morning on multiple occasions. You could understand how much a past could haunt someone.
He would tell you about his day, too. About the dumb shit Soap had done. About the piles of paperwork he insists on looking through (but then complains about later). About the disgusting lunch that was served in the cafeteria- he was never a fan of meatloaf and now he’s not sure he’ll ever eat it again. And you’d laugh; agree with him on the disgusting block of meat that was served today.
You’d try to look into his eyes, to see if they’re starting to droop before officially trying to go to sleep yourself. He’d always kiss you when your eyes would meet, gently and full of love. Love. Something he was sure he’d never feel again. And he’d see it in your eyes when you’d tell him to sleep tight. You cared for him- you really did. He doesn’t know why, but he’s not about to ask questions he’s not sure he wants the answers to.