Chapter Text
A month later
Ghost was a creature of habit.
He woke up at 6:30, most days. Some days, he got up a little later, letting the sunlight drift in through his bedroom window, hitting him fully in the face. Those days happened to be the same ones where his side of the bed was not the only warm one.
He still had breakfast over the kitchen counter, tea, an English muffin and scrambled eggs; although he now also had coffee in his cupboards, and had learned how to make french toast.
He went to the grocery store on even days, and stopped by the coffee shop on odd days. He stayed longer than two hours, especially since Nox now had a brand new person that would join in with their teasing of Ghost.
He went to the bookstore in the afternoons, usually picking up a straightforward spy novel, and then perusing the fantasy section, trying his best to learn about dragon lore and about what fae were.
He went to the gym on the same specific days. He still said hello to Farah at the reception desk, now smiling more often. He still had the same routine, but had upped his weights considerably since he had last started. His shoulder still bothered him on rainy days, but was mostly dormant otherwise.
He now went to Johnny before leaving his bag in his locker, gave him a short peck on the cheek. The first time it had happened, the whole room had dissolved into hoots and hollers, and he had wished he could sink right into the ground. Johnny, however, was bright red, his eyes glinting with mirth and sunshine.
He would never stop greeting him like that.
Soap now slept over every other day or so. He insisted on cooking dinner for the both of us, only once almost burning Ghost’s flat down. Ghost was learning, sitting silently on the counter next to him and watching him work, taking mental notes. He was nowhere near as adept, but still tried, and according to Johnny, that’s all that mattered.
He had mastered the way Johnny liked his coffee, and made french toast just for him. He usually brought them to him in bed— the Scot was impossible to pull out of bed early if he had nowhere to go. Ghost didn’t mind; he usually ran his errands early, so that he could come back and ease Johnny into consciousness with soft kisses down his spine. Johnny would smile sleepily and arch into it, stretching his arms above his head. He would blink lazily up at Ghost and say good morning with a gravelly voice, before pulling him down for a soft kiss. It was Ghost’s favorite time of day.
When they were in the gym, he tried to keep to himself as much as he could. Apart from saying hello to him, he left Johnny to his own devices, knowing very well how much of a professional he was, and not wanting to interrupt his work. He would catch his stares through the mirrors, have the Scot send him a cheeky wink when he saw him ogling.
He took to staying at the gym after he was done with his routine, sitting next to Farah at the desk, waiting for Johnny’s shift to be over to walk him home. He started bringing books to read while he waited, trying to pass the time. It took Farah only a couple of days before she brought it up.
“Why are you always here, Simon?” It wasn’t said unkindly— she was genuinely asking.
Ghost shrugged. “Got nothing else to do.” He lifted his book and shook it slightly, to bring her attention to it. “I would be doing the exact same thing at home. Might as well wait for him here.”
Farah watched him closely for a few minutes. “Do you want a job?”
Ghost blinked up at her, confusion evident in his face. “Huh?”
“A job.” She repeated. He raised his eyebrows as if asking her to go on. “After the fundraiser, several of our members approached me asking for self-defense classes. Some others, not members, said that they would join if there was such a class. People said you were a good teacher. You’re spending most of your time here already, so.” She shrugged nonchalantly. He had a feeling that she was not as carefree as she was pretending to be, but tried to make the offer as casual as possible to avoid spooking him. “Job’s yours if you want it.”
“I—”
Did he want it?
Doing that class for the fundraiser had been interesting. Fun, even. It was a part of his job he missed and he could translate it into civilian life easily. It was something he knew well, and could teach well. It was something the community could certainly benefit from. It would give him something to do, something to plan for, something to look forward to, something to bring meaning back to his routine.
His nerves ate at him. Self-doubt clouded his eyes, and he broke eye contact with Farah, his gaze trailing after Soap, who was joking with Mike over by the weight rack.
“Can I think about it?” He settled on, eyes finding Farah’s again. She nodded curtly, taking a step back as if to give him some physical space on top of the mental one.
“Sure. Don’t overthink it, though. I see the gears turning. You would be great.”
Ghost, true to character, did overthink it. He had never had a job. All he knew was the army. He had joined as soon as he could, trying to escape his home, and had never looked back. Now, his pension was decent enough so that he didn’t need a job. He had his flat, had enough to survive, and could even splurge a little on hobbies, should he want to.
Needing something to survive economically and needing something to survive psychologically were two very different worlds.
He enjoyed his routine immensely, but there were dull moments in between activities, little stagnant pools of nothing that were starting to weigh him down. Working at the gym not only would solve that, but it would give him new purpose. He would be doing something that he was good at, doing it because he wanted to, because it made him feel good about himself.
Still, he spiraled. What if he didn’t like it? What if he started, felt restrained and wanted to leave? What if the members didn’t like how he taught the classes? What if Farah was taking a shot on him but then realized that he was not what she wanted as an employee? What if working in the same place made his relationship with Johnny difficult? What if he started having panic attacks because he’s constantly surrounded by people? What if—
Ghost waited a couple of days before he brought it up to Johnny. They were snuggled up on the couch, watching yet another Kim and Kourtney fight, their feet on the coffee table, their fingers intertwined on Ghost’s lap. Ghost had mentally checked out from the episode minutes ago, trying to figure out how to phrase the situation.
“Farah offered me a job.”
Johnny’s head snapped to the side, his eyes wide. “She did?”
“Self-defense. Said people asked about it. About me.” He could feel his cheeks tinting at the thought.
“I heard some of that. People really loved you.” That did not help his blush. “Are you going to take it?”
“I’m… thinking about it.”
“I think it could be great for you. And not only because I’d like to see you all sweaty more often.” He knew that was Johnny trying to diffuse the tension and prying him out of his own mind. He smiled softly at the gesture. “Don’t overthink it, love. If you don’t want to do it, Farah won’t hold it against you. But if you do want to do it, and I think you do because otherwise you would have said no already, it would be great. For the gym. For you. For us.”
“I—” He marveled at the way Johnny could read him so easily. As someone who prided himself in being secretive and not showing emotion, it was a little nerve wracking to have someone know your exact thoughts. He loved it. “You’re right. I’ll do it.”
Johnny pressed a kiss to his cheek, then nibbled at it obnoxiously until Ghost pried him off, rolling his eyes.
“Alex will be so happy .”
Two Months Later
Of all the new things that came with being in a relationship with Johnny, having him make himself at home in Ghost’s flat was one of his favorites. On his previously unoccupied second nightstand, there was now saline solution and a contacts case, next to the pair of glasses Johnny dubbed “only in case of emergencies” but that drove Ghost insane whenever they were worn. He tried to make his case about them, telling Johnny he looked devastatingly handsome , but there was no budge.
There was also a new toothbrush next to his, a very fancy facial cleanser next to his shaving cream, a new towel on the rod. His flat now smelled like coffee sometimes, and he had found that while he did not enjoy the taste, he did not mind the aroma. It actually reminded him of Johnny— it made his flat feel more like a home than it had ever been.
One late Friday morning, while Johnny was at work, Ghost went on a grocery run. Instead of going to the local shop, he took a trip to a farmer’s market that was a few minutes out of town, but where he knew he would find the type of local honey Johnny loved to add to his breakfast. He got back a little after noon, and opened the flat door to music. He frowned in confusion, sure that Johnny would be at work for at least another hour.
He shut the door with his foot, slipping out of his sneakers before walking towards the kitchen, bags in tow. He stopped at the door, bags slowly eased into the floor as he watched the scene in front of him.
Johnny, in nothing but a pair of ratty shorts Simon had begged him to get rid of but that he loved too dearly. Johnny, bopping along to the music, hips swaying obnoxiously as he worked over the stove. Johnny, wearing those glasses he swore he hated but that Simon loved on him. Johnny, using a ladle as a microphone, turning around to finally see Simon standing there and nearly jumping out of his skin.
“Jesus, Mary and Joseph, yer sneakier than a cat, Simon.” He blushed bright red as he realized Simon had seen everything, and promptly dropped the ladle. “I— uh— I forgot Gaz had asked to work this morning so I helped him out a little during the rush hour but figured I could come home early and surprise you with lunch and, uh— this was—” He stumbled through the words, eyes casted to the floor, clearly embarrassed.
What was this? This was Johnny clearly in his element. Johnny being his truest self, his most comfortable. This was Johnny letting his guard down in Simon’s space, showing he trusted him. This was Johnny calling Simon’s flat home .
Simon crossed the distance in two long strides and gathered Johnny in his arms, crashing their lips together. Johnny yelped in surprise, too busy staring at the floor to notice him get closer, but immediately melted into it, hands finding their preferred spot between Simon’s locks.
“I love you.” The words slipped past Simon’s lips in a gasp between kisses, a soft, reverent whisper of the soul.
Johnny broke the kiss, staring intently into Simon’s eyes for a few seconds, trying to find anything, anything that would tell him that Simon was not being truthful.
The smile that cracked his lips said he didn’t find anything.
“Say it again.”
Simon chuckled, bending at the knees to pull Johnny up with him, placing him on the counter. Johnny wrapped his legs around him and pressed him close just as Simon’s lips brushed over his cheeks, his neck, his ears, his eyes, whispering I love you, I love you, I love you.
Three Months Later
The gym was always closed the last week of the year. It gave the team the opportunity to take some time to visit family, relax and recharge for the new year. December was usually a low-turnout month in terms of members, so it made sense all around.
Soap had been gearing up to go visit his family for the past two months. That was the usual way he spent his holidays: he would take a couple of days for himself after the gym closed, then take the train up to Glasgow to be with his family for Christmas and New Years. He looked forward to it, always one to miss home.
Simon knew all of this, had been told in detail what the MacTavish holidays entailed. He was, however, watching the approaching dates in the calendar with a little apprehension. He feared the only logical option Johnny would find was to invite him to come along. He didn’t fear it because he would not do it; on the contrary, he would love to make the trip, see where Johnny grew up, spend the holidays cozying up to him under a blanket, cowering from the Scotland winter. What he feared was the social interaction. His family had never been the warm and inviting kind. He loved his mother to pieces, but his father made it hard for him to see his home as a place to return safely to. Now there was no one to go home to; he didn’t have anecdotes of hot cocoa, and adorably off-pitch caroling, and of babies squealing in delight at Christmas gifts.
He was afraid that if he made the trek, they wouldn’t like him. They would try to make Johnny reason that Simon was no good for him.
As it turned out, all of his spiraling was for naught (as it usually was, a tiny voice in his mind provided). Johnny’s parents are going on a cruise for the holidays, so he will be stuck in London. The news were delivered with a pout, and Simon could not help but gather Johnny in his arms to try and help ease his mood.
“They deserve the vacation, really. It’s just… strange to not go, you know?”
And Ghost knew. Not from personal experience, but he knew. He saw it in the way Johnny teared up after talking to his mum on the phone. He saw it in how he had already started packing, even if the trip was a month away.
He knew.
They eventually decided to spend the end of the year together. No fuss, no big parties or celebrations. Just the two of them, enjoying each other’s company, bringing in the new year in peace.
At least, that was what Simon thought.
“Huh.”
They were in the coffee shop, tucked into the corner table. Johnny had his sketch pad in his lap, looking out the window every now and then, taking inspiration from the scenery, while Simon was reading a book— Fire and Blood, recommended by Johnny himself.
Simon’s phone had vibrated with a text alert. He opened without much thought, and froze as he read the words. Johnny looked up from the page he was working on after hearing no other sounds coming.
“Si?”
“My— Price and Roach are coming. They’re on leave, and they’re coming for a few days.”
If meeting Johnny’s family made Simon scared, getting him to meet Price and Roach had him downright terrified. He wanted them to meet, wanted them to hit it off, to be friends, to enjoy time together. He was petrified with the idea that it wouldn’t happen. That Johnny wouldn’t like them. That they wouldn’t approve of Johnny. That they would not be able to stand each other and Simon would be caught in the middle of it.
His shoulders sagged a little when he realized that the news had made Johnny a little nervous, too. It helped to know he cared enough to be nervous about it. It was endearing.
As it turned out, Simon had nothing to worry about. At least, he didn’t have to worry about the lads not liking Johnny. He realized, at the initial meet up, that he should have been more worried about them liking him too much .
Roach and Johnny got along like a house on fire. Price and Roach had walked into the flat, Simon having picked them up from the train station, Johnny waiting for them in the living room. Price immediately went for a handshake, introducing himself and his sergeant.
“We’ve heard a lot about you.” Simon did not enjoy that connotation, but he let it slide, seeing the bright smile Johnny had on. Roach gave him a wave of the hand, signing hello as a way of saying this is how I communicate.
Simon’s eyes nearly fell out of their sockets as Johnny immediately signed back.
It’s very nice to meet you both.
“You know BSL?” Price and Simon asked at the same time, earning a chuckle from Johnny.
“I had a neighbor growing up who was deaf. It felt wrong not having a way to talk to him, you know?” He spoke and signed at the same time, the ease in his movements clear. “I haven’t used it in a while but I remember most of it.”
That broke the invisible barrier between him and Roach very quickly. After dinner, they sat cross legged on the living room floor, hands flying a mile a minute.
So, is he showering? Because if he doesn’t, those feet will start to stink .
Oh, I’m aware. Stinky doesn’t realize I’ve been washing his socks twice because otherwise the whole flat will smell.
“Hey!” Simon yapped, offended. He was sitting on his tiny dining table, Price by his side. They were discussing work, and a little football, so he had tuned the younger men out. As he glanced at them, though, he caught enough to realize they were talking shit about him. “It’s not that bad!”
“Babe.” Johnny leveraged him with a stare, and Simon let out a broken whine in embarrassment.
“Really?” He whispered.
“No, it’s not bad!” Johnny corrected immediately when he saw his expression. “It’s, uh. Interesting.”
Roach dissolved into giggles, falling backwards. Johnny tried his best to stay serious, but couldn’t help but chuckle, too. Simon let out a groan, pressing his forehead against the table. Price patted his shoulder placatingly, but very pointedly stayed out of the conversation. It seemed that this was something they all knew about him, but no one had brought up. Until now.
Simon didn’t have enough room in his flat for his friends, so they had booked a hotel nearby in advance. A little after midnight, they said their goodbyes, promising to meet in the morning to go for breakfast and do some sightseeing. Roach and Johnny had even made plans on their own, so that Johnny could show him his very extensive video game collection he had in his own apartment. As Simon saw them make the plan while standing on the sidewalk, he shot Price a look that the Captain answered with a shrug. What are you gonna do.
He then walked closer, pulling Simon into his arms. Their hugs were usually kept short, but Price lingered on this one. Simon let himself relax into it, closing his eyes.
“I like him for you, son. He’s doing you good.” He mumbled into his ear, so only Simon could hear him. He answered with a hum, head moving minutely in a nod. “You’ve done well.”
He knew what that meant— it wasn’t only about Johnny.
You’ve done well with yourself. You’ve done the work. You’ve adapted to civilian life. You’re living your life. You have found someone that complements you. You are doing well.
You will be okay.