Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“You tell me what happened or I’ll break inta that room myself, Price!” Soap snapped, an angry pointed finger jabbing in Price’s direction. His eyes were ablaze like a roaring wildfire.

The captain and Gaz had managed to drag him into the private room, although it wasn’t because Soap was putting up a good fight. The man was on a mission and he didn’t care who got hit in the process, leaving Gaz with a sore jaw and a busted lip.

“If you would just relax I’ll tell you what I can-”

“Don’t give me that bullshit Captain!” Soap shouted, throwing his arms in the air, and pacing through the small space of the office. “You tell me everything or I- Captain I swear- It has been a month. No contact, comms down, I went to fuckin’ Las Almas alone, he was late on arrival,” Soap was counting things off on his fingers, his voice strained with the volume he was using. “And all I’ve gotten was a ‘he’s fine’?! That’s bollocks Price!” In his frustration he kicked one of the desk chairs across the room, chest heaving as adrenaline and anger coursed through him.

“MacTavish don’t make me pull rank on your ass.” Price bit out in a low growl. They both glared at one another, Soap opening and closing his mouth, unsure of what to say. Price crossed the room, grabbed the chair Soap had sent flying, and slammed it down in front of his desk. “Sit. Down. John.”

Soap was fuming, his blood sitting at a rolling boil as he obediently sat down in the chair. His foot bounced as he tried to find something to do with his hands. First resting on his thighs, then picking the skin on his thumbs, finally, he crossed his arms with a huff and watched his captain sit in front of him behind his desk.

A month ago they were sitting just like this. A month ago Soap was asking why Ghost was going out on his own. A month later he was still asking the same question.

Price pulled out a document, and placed it on the table without breaking eye contact. “There are some… Nasty pictures in there.” He said as a warning, lighting up his cigar and taking a couple puffs from it.

Soap blinked at the file as if it had spoken and asked him a question. A feeling rolled around in his gut that told him that he shouldn’t look. That he would just take Price’s words for it. But he had to look, he had to know. Johnny opened the file and felt nausea instantly pool in his belly and tears prick at his eyes. “... Fuck… Oh my fuckin’ Jesus,” Soap sobbed out, flipping through them.

The photos were appalling. Ghost had been damasked in all of them, covered head to toe in bruises, busted lip and nose, close-ups of Ghost’s ankles where they were bound by barbed wire. The worst photo of all though, that had Soap holding back another outburst, was the photo of Ghost suspended by his ankles from the ceiling. He was completely naked, and a long, deep, cut went right down his middle, starting under his pecs and tearing through to his hip bones.

Soap didn’t think he had ever seen that much blood. In the photo, it had matted Ghost’s beautiful blonde hair to his scalp, ran down his arms, and dripped from his fingers. What really made his blood curdle, was that Ghost’s captures were all standing around him, smiling at the camera as if he was the first kill of hunting season.

He threw the file back on Price’s desk, wiping at his eyes, angry huffs of air escaping him as he tried to remain calm. As calm as he could be. “What… What the fuck happened?” Soap managed, rubbing at his jaw, willing the tears to stop but they wouldn’t.

Price let out a long breath. He looked just as pained by this information. Soap knew that his Captain was internally kicking the shit out of himself. “Ambush. Buggars got pissed when our boys got the drop on them, sent out a squad to follow. Guess they wanted Ghost as a trophy. When Gaz and the others tracked him down there was no one there guarding him. Wanted to give us a warning.”

Soap did get out of his chair at this, pacing quickly through the room to let out some of his steam. Price didn’t reprimand him. It made him utterly sick thinking that they put Ghost through all of that bullshit just to leave him for dead. And for what? A fucking message? He’d slaughter them all, that would be his fucking message. “Why didn’t you send me out…”

Price shook his head as if he was expecting the question. “By the time we would have gotten there, Ghost was already found and-”

“Well, why didn’t ya’ fuckin’ tell me!?” Soap was raising his voice, turning on Price and causing the other to stand again with narrowed eyes.

“Oh and have you losing your mind, getting yourself killed? Making you worry about something you couldn’t control? Sergeant, I was looking out for-”

“I SHOULD HAVE BEEN THERE!” Soap cried, the palms of his hands coming down on Price’s desk repeatedly. “I should have been on that fucking mission! If I was there I could’ve… I could’ve…” Soap’s hands were shaking as they came to press into his eyes to will the tears away. He felt the anxiety in his chest rising as guilt wrapped itself around him like a cozy blanket. “I should have been there to look out for him, if I had just been there, this wouldn’t have happened.”

The captain didn’t move for a long time, worrying the inside of his cheek. Watching Soap crumble like this in his office, leaning against his desk as some form of survivor's guilt engulfed him… Well, it didn’t make Price feel good that’s for damn sure. “Don’t you blame yourself. You know better than anyone that this is the risk any single one of us runs stepping outside of this base. I know you’re mad at me-”

Soap waved a hand out to dismiss whatever statement Price was about to say. “No… I’m not mad at you… Just… mad,” He let out a huff, taking a minute to pull himself back together once more. Deep down he knew the fault didn’t land on anyone. He knew Price didn’t intend on this happening, knew his being on that mission likely wouldn’t have changed a single thing. Soap knew that the only ones to blame were the people who hung Ghost up by his ankles and filleted him like a fish.

The soldier was pulled out of his thoughts when a large hand clapped on his shoulder. “Well… He’s not dead yet, let's go get a status update.” Price said gently.

When Soap looked up at him, finally making eye contact with his captain, he could tell that he was trying his best to keep his own composure. Price always had to be strong for everyone else. Often Johnny forgot how much history his captain and leuitenant had. That Ghost was dear to his captain, and this event wasn’t something he was going to brush off tomorrow morning.

Johnny nodded solemnly, scratching at the nape of his neck. “Yeah… Okay.”

***

When they got to medical and found Ghost’s room, Gaz was waiting outside the door, ice pack pressed firmly to his jaw.

A wave of embarrassment and shame washed over Soap at the sight of his friend. The poor sod went through hell and back to get Ghost to base and was greeted with a slug in the face.

Gaz greeted them with a nod, and Price moved into the room to get some clearance for some adjusted visiting hours.

Soap leaned against the wall with Gaz as they waited, clearing his throat bashfully. “... Sorry, about… That,” He tilted his head towards the wound Gaz was nursing. “Didn’t mean it, just… Lost my head a bit there…” He shuffled his boots on the shiny tiles of the floor, daring a look at the other.

His fellow sergeant let out a breath of air, similar to a laugh. “Oh, this? Hardly felt it, just played it up so the pretty nurse would give me a once over,” Gaz’s mouth pulled back in a toothy grin, bumping Soap’s shoulder with his own. “It’s all good, mate.”

Tension loosened its grip on Soap, allowing himself a shy smile before they fell into an awkward pause of silence. It felt like hours but it was likely no longer than thirty seconds before it was Gaz’s turn to clear his throat.

“None of… None of the others saw him,” Gaz started, “I was the first to find him, got his face covered and all that before I called for backup…”

Soap blinked at him, eyes probably bigger than moons. A grateful smile broke his expression. “Thank you, Gaz. He’ll be thankful to know that,”

Gaz nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders, a teasing grin on his face. “I don’t do this for the glory, MacTavish.”

Before their conversation could go much further, Price opened the door. His eyes were glossy though his eyelashes were devoid of dampness. The captain didn’t say anything, just held to door open for them, Gaz motioning for Soap to head in first.

A part of Soap wished that the nurses wouldn’t allow them to visit, told them they had to wait until he was back in tip-top shape. Seeing Ghost like this was… Hard. His lieutenant was hooked up to so many cords and wires, an oxygen mask replacing the typical skull one, bandages holding his midsection tight.

The nurse assigned to him gave Soap an encouraging smile, waiting for the three of them to take a seat before she began updating them on Ghost’s condition. “We have him on some heavy painkillers, which essentially has him knocked out cold. Thankfully we have enough blood supply to replenish what he lost, the um… The large wound is sewn up nicely. Despite how bad it looked, it didn’t reach his organs. It’ll take a couple of months and some intensive physical therapy but Lieutenant Riley will make a full recovery.” She assured them quickly, clutching a clipboard.

Soap hadn’t taken his eyes off of the shallow rise and fall of Simon’s chest, almost as if fearing that if he took his eyes away it would stop moving altogether. “He needs his mask.” He barely whispered.

The nurse leaned forward to hear him. “I’m sorry?”

“He needs a mask on,” Soap said again, voice tinged with anger.

“Oh, um… Well, with the oxygen mask, it isn’t-”

“At least a cloth one,” Soap’s voice was getting louder by the second, the nurse shrinking back on herself. It was miniscule and in the grand scheme of things it truly didn’t matter, but Simon wouldn’t want to be unmasked like this in front of all these prying doctors. It was the one thing Soap could control in this situation, it was the least he could do for his partner. “He needs to have his mask, he-”

“MacTavish,” Price’s hand clasped around Johnny’s shoulder, giving him a warning squeeze. He looked to the nurse, a kind glimmer in his eye. “No visitors besides us three until he can be covered, anyone else will need to get clearance from Captain Price,” The nurse began making anxious notes on her clipboard. “Can you mask him once he doesn’t need the oxygen?”

The nurse blinked between them before nodding quickly. “Of course, as long as his breathing isn’t obstructed we would be more than happy to accommodate that request.”

Soap seemed to settle for that compromise, shifting uneasily in his seat.

The three of them stayed with Ghost for a while, the nurse having left to give them some privacy. They shared stories, Gaz filled them in on the more light-hearted parts of the mission, Soap updating them on his own. Around 5PM Price and Gaz pulled themselves from their chairs.

“Don’t waste away in this chair,” Price said as he headed for the door. “Get something to eat, try and get some rest.”

Soap did neither of those things and opted for resting his head on his crossed arms on the edge of Simon’s bed, watching him breathe until the sun came up.

***

Price had offered him leave, but Soap never took it. Instead, he insisted on taking on some of Ghost’s workload, telling Price that keeping his mind on work would help distract him. Price would only let him do that if he went to the base therapist twice a week, which Johnny only agreed to do if he could spend nights in Ghost’s room.

It was a week before the oxygen mask was taken off, and another week before Ghost woke up. Well, actually woke up. There were moments in between when Ghost would snap his eyes open and thrash around on the bed in a panic, Soap helping the nursing staff to calm and restrain him. Or there were moments when Ghost would respond by moving his fingers or blinking to answer simple questions. Though he was so drugged up that Johnny wasn’t even sure Ghost knew he was there. It was heartbreaking to watch.

Johnny wasn’t even awake when Ghost came to. His routine consisted of waking up early, working himself to the bone, running himself ragged in the gym, cleaning up, and then sleeping uncomfortably in the chair next to Ghost’s hospital bed. To say that he was hanging on by a thread was an understatement.

The sergeant was awoken from his dreamless sleep by the feeling of rough fingers tickling through his mohawk. Instinctually he groaned in annoyance, swatting the hand away. “Let me sleep ya’ clingy bastard,” His grumpy scolding earned Johnny a rough and unused laugh. When the other’s hand found its way back in his hair, Soap sat up angrily, rubbing his face. “Simon-!” He snapped out, “I thought I told-”

That’s when the puzzle pieces finally came together. Blue eyes shot open and his jaw nearly hit the floor. Soap’s body felt like it was zapped with electricity that was still looking for a way out of him.

Ghost looked like absolute dog shit. His eyes were bloodshot and tired, and although he was wearing his mask, Soap knew how greasy his hair was, how nasty his mouth must feel. Not to mention the countless cords and tubes Ghost was plugged into making him look like something out of a cyborg movie.

Despite all this, Ghost’s eyes were bright, and Johnny could tell he was smiling. Ghost hardly had enough time to lift his mask over his head before Johnny was clamoring into the bed, placing both hands on Simon’s cheeks, and pulling him into a deeply messy kiss.

Simon’s lips were dry and cracked, though it didn’t stop either of them from humming into each other's mouths. Fresh tears left Johnny’s puffy eyes, dripping down his chin and eventually pooling into the hollow of Simon’s throat.

They stayed like that for all of fifteen seconds before Simon’s body went rigid under Johnny, and he was letting out a loud hiss of discomfort.

The sergeant was quick to pull himself away, checking IVs, monitors, and the big patch on his superior’s stomach for any signs that he had caused any harm.

Simon chuckled low in his throat, reaching out to brush his fingers across Johnny’s forearm. “‘M okay, just a bit sore,”

Johnny didn’t sit when Simon asked him to, rather, he triple-checked that the other was still in a stable condition before he hesitantly sat back in his seat. He propped his head in his hands, elbows on the edge of the bed as amazed blue eyes took in the sight of his partner. Simon was drawing patterns on whatever part of Johnny’s arms he could reach.

“Thought I lost ye,” Soap finally muttered, making eye contact with the other. Simon hadn’t cried at all, but his lashes were suspiciously damp.

Simon let out a huff of air through his nose, a smile pulling at his cracked lips. “It’s gonna take more than that sergeant,” He managed to pull one of Johnny’s hands to his lips, where he pressed a gentle kiss to the back of it. “Besides, I think I promised you something once I got back,” Simon pulled Johnny back into his space and wasted no time in mouthing at the base of his neck. “You know I can’t break a promise,” He cooed, dry lips brushing against Soap’s ear that left the younger of them shivering and lighting his insides on fire.

Johnny simply rolled his eyes, although he didn’t stop himself from leaning into the touch, hands carding through the dirty heap of hair on Simon’s head. “I don’t think so,” He reprimanded despite letting out a groan as Simon bit into the tender skin of his neck. “Yer’ not doin’ nothin’ ‘til yer one hundred percent.”

This earned the sergeant another bite, this one right above his collarbone. Simon soaked in the way Johnny’s body tensed before immediately relaxing. “Well, I can still do somethin’... Can still give you a handy,” He accented this by letting his fingers toy with the waistband of Johnny’s sweatpants, feeling gooseskin bubble up under his touch. “Yeah? Jerk you off real nice while I stretch you out on my big, thick fingers huh? You’d like that wouldn’t you sweetheart?” Simon’s voice was babying him, that large hand of his sinking into Johnny’s sweats and palming him over his underwear.

Johnny placed a hand over his mouth to stop himself from whatever sounds were about to spill out of him at the contact. God, he hadn’t touched himself since that night Ghost called him in Las Almas, and now he felt like he was about to burst. One of his hands clamped onto Simon’s shoulders as he felt the other’s hand wrap around the outline of his dick. “Si- C’mon… Were- ah~”

“That’s it,” Simon hummed, sucking a bruise into his partner’s shoulder. “Missed me, didn’t you? I’m gonna pull you apart, won’t stop until you’re cryin’ and shakin’, that what you- fuckin’- goddamnit-!”

Before Simon’s hand found its way into his boxers, he was recoiling away, gasping as if a vacuum attached itself to his lungs and sucked all the air from them. The heart monitor picked up its pace, and Simon fell back into the bed with his eyes shut in pain.

Johnny blinked out of his haze, wildly looking between Simon and all the monitors. “Christ alive Simon!” Soap growled, his own heart racing in a panic. He leaned over the bed to double-check all the IVs once more, lifting the blanket to check Simon’s bandages, ignoring the tenting of the thin medical pants he was wearing. No blood, it didn’t reopen. Thank the high heavens.

The scot ran a hand down his face and exasperatedly motioned to all the medical equipment. “I’m serious you bastard! I’m not lettin’ you put extra stress on your body, not for somethin’ so… stupid!” The anxiety in his chest was boiling over into frustration.

Simon rolled his eyes, although he seemed to still be catching his breath. “I’m not going to die from some sore muscles, sergeant. Really, I’m oka-”

“For fuckssake Simon, do you even know what happened to you?!” Johnny jerked his arm away from Simon’s outstretched hand that was trying to pull him back into his arms. The look on his lieutenant's face made Johnny feel like someone had taken a knife to his stomach.

The larger of them pulled his hands hesitantly into his lap, clearing his throat bashfully as if the scolding he was getting was finally registering. “Well… No… Know I got captured, I know…” He paused as if trying to collect the memories. “That they beat me,”

Simon had stated it so matter of factly that it made Johnny wince.

“Know they stripped me down, and… when I was on my way back, Gaz was pressin’ rags into my stomach.” Simon ended with a nonchalant shrug and it made Johnny’s stomach turn.

There was a glaze over his brown eyes, the tone of his voice was cold and calm. Johnny knew this meant he was shutting down. Something in his frustrated panic had sent the warning signals that Simon had rightfully developed over his years of sustained trauma, and he was pulling away emotionally.

Soap sat on the edge of the bed with a sigh and placed the palm of his hand on Simon’s cheek. He was so thankful that he felt the other lean into it. “They…” He swallowed the lump in his throat, pondering if he should even tell him or let him forget all about this nightmare. Unfortunately, he knew Simon’s twisted brain would eventually force him to remember one way or another. “They bound you with barbed wire, Si… and,” his voice was watery again, “bled you out like a fuckin’ deer… I-”

Upon this new information, Simon’s eyes welled with tears, though they never broke through. Johnny was on the edge of his seat, waiting for the sobs, waiting for the screams, the anger, anything. But there never was. Simon blinked his tears away, and just nodded in understanding.

It broke his heart to see him running away from all the feelings he must have. But that was his Simon, that was his Ghost. “I just-” know that I’m the reason you’re in this position, and I’m going to make sure that I fix it, “don’t wannane put additional stress on your healin’...” Johnny whispered, thumb rubbing circles in the prickly stubble on Ghost’s face. “It’s gonnae be a real hard time gettin’ ya back on yer feet but, I promise I’ll be right next to ya,” There was a grin on his face, trying to lighten the mood any he could.

Ghost huffed out a laugh, turning to kiss the palm of Johnny’s hand. “Can we at least hold hands?”

They both shared a smile, just taking in each other’s presence before Johnny leaned forward and pressed a long kiss to Ghost’s forehead. “I love you,” He murmured, not moving away from his spot, kisses littering his partner’s face.

“I love you more,” Ghost muttered, quickly reaching up to wipe a tear from the corner of his eye before Johnny could take notice.

***

Things had changed between them. Something was off. But Soap was too exhausted to pick up what it was.

Ghost started his physical therapy after two weeks of being bedridden. If being gutted alive wouldn’t kill the bastard, Soap would’ve if he had to deal with the stubborn giant being locked in a hospital room for much longer.

His lieutenant would never know this, but he was supposed to be on bed rest for another week, but he and Ghost’s head nurse agreed that if Lieutenant Riley didn’t want to be a murder victim, they could find a way to release him early.

Physical therapy wasn’t much easier. Soap was there for each and every step of the way, from going to his appointments to making sure he did his stretches before bed. Ghost was frustrated, and understandably so.

Your core is such a critical part of one’s movement. Pushing, pulling, sitting, standing, basically anything you move starts in the core. And Ghost’s core muscles were starting from square one.

The poor sod lost so much of his independence. It reminded him of when he went to visit his sister after she had her first baby. The doctors told her she shouldn’t lift anything heavier than a gallon of milk, and Ghost was just about in the same boat.

Johnny helped him in and out of bed, helped him get dressed on really bad days, and Christ’s sake Johnny helped Ghost get on and off the toilet for a week and a half just so the bastard could take a shit. Anyone would be frustrated, he knew that he would. And as most people can assume, the guy in a skull mask isn’t one for feeling his feelings. It channeled into a lot of anger and frustration, which used to get beat out of him in the gym… But Ghost couldn’t even work out until his physical therapist deemed him ready for it.

There was more bickering, more outbursts, more silent treatments, and Johnny was fucking exhausted. Not only from taking care of Ghost 24/7, but he was still taking on the extra workload to make sure that things were going to be in tip-top shape when Ghost got back. It was running him ragged.

Though he didn’t resent Ghost for any of it, and he would never stop doing it. Anytime he found himself undeniably angry with Ghost for lacing his boots up for the third time in a day or carrying all his shit around for him, he immediately felt insanely grateful that he even had someone to be mad at. Johnny would take any amount of shit from Ghost as long as it meant he could curl up next to him at the end of a long night. It was the least he could do for what he had done to his partner.

Another change that Johnny had noticed was big shirt. Johnny hated big shirt. Once Ghost found out he couldn’t go back to the gym until he passed a certain amount of tests from his physical therapist, Ghost started wearing this big shirt. He had dug it out from somewhere far in the back of his dresser, and it was just a simple black tee, but this thing engulfed Ghost. The neck of it swooped low past his collarbone and rested right about his mid-thigh. A big ass shirt to cover such a big ass guy.

Usually, when they would go to bed, Ghost wore nothing but some boxers, if that. But now, he wore that shirt to bed, to the mess hall, to his physical appointments, everywhere. In the beginning, it was cute, Johnny had never seen him wear something that made him look so tiny. Now, all he wanted to do was throw it in a fire.

Ghost also wouldn’t let him shower with him anymore. What used to be a nightly ritual where they would unwind and would typically leave them messier than clean, would now grant him a harsh scolding. Johnny figured it was the one thing that Ghost had control over, that Ghost could at least wash himself alone. So Johnny stopped asking, respecting his need for some kind of independence in all this, despite his partner looking a bit like a sad puppy each time he didn’t offer to go with him.

Their intimacy also took a turn for the worst. Though not from lack of persistence. Ghost was always trying to get him to slip up from his rules, and he did a damn good job too. Though Johnny just couldn’t let himself. He knew that they would both be so upset with themselves if Ghost pulled something, opened an old wound, and gave himself extra work to get back on track.

One night when they had shared a couple glasses of wine, Johnny was willing to break some of his rules. They were panting and groaning into each other’s mouths, biting and sucking on each other’s lips. Johnny told him that he would suck him off, make him feel good, honestly the scot was essentially begging for it, under the one condition that Simon didn’t move a muscle. They were both so pent up that the scot could care less if he got off, swallowing around that cock he knew so well would be enough to satisfy him for weeks.

Simon just rolled his eyes and told him, “I’m not some pillow princess, MacTavish. If I can’t throw you around a bit what’s the point?” There was laughter in his voice but Johnny wasn’t drunk enough to give in that much.

So, to give Simon a good incentive, Johnny told him that once his physical therapist clears him for the gym and he can start working out again, he will reward him with the best sex of his life. He figured that if his doctor thought he could get back to moving and lifting heavier, then it would be safe to bring some intimacy back into the bedroom.

That, however, was the wrong answer apparently. Ghost didn’t outright say so, and even made a good effort to play it off. With a laugh and a shake of his head, Ghost had given him a feverish kiss, excused himself to take a shower, and when he came back, rolled into bed with his back turned and the blankets pulled over him tightly. Johnny knew he fucked up when the overly touchy Simon wouldn’t even throw an arm around him that night. And no matter how much he asked, all he got was a, “Thank you for looking out for my best interest.”

When Johnny asked Gaz about what could have tipped Ghost off, all he got was a pat on the shoulder, Gaz poured him a shot and told him that flowers fix everything.

***

It had officially been four weeks of physical therapy for Ghost, nearly two months of Soap running around the base like a chicken with his head cut off. All Soap wanted to do, was curl into a ball and die. The rookies were awful today, Price gave him an extra stack of paperwork, and some ass hole clogged up like four toilets that left the bathrooms flooded with shit water that somehow ended up being his responsibility to fix.

When Soap opened the door to Ghost’s room, eyes barely open, he kicked his boots off and started shedding clothes. The only thing on his mind was crawling into bed with Simon and letting him kiss him asleep.

Before he could shed his jeans, the bathroom door opened, warm steam rolling out and a fresh smell of soap filled the air. Simon came up behind him, wrapping his arms around his middle and planting gentle kisses along the column of his neck. “Hey,”

Johnny hummed and leaned into the touch, displeased to feel the fabric of big shirt against his back rather than the smooth, hard muscle that was Simon. “Hey,” He parroted sleepily.

Simon moved over to the other side of his partner’s neck to give it equal treatment, hands rubbing circles in Johnny’s hips. “I’ve got a surprise for you,” There was evident excitement in his voice.

The sergeant raised an eyebrow at that and turned to face him, locking his arms around his neck. He was freshly showered, hair still damp and sticking every which way. Soap rested his head on Simon’s chest, taking a deep inhale of that familiar smell that was his L.T. He let his eyes flutter shut as Simon began to gently sway from side to side. “Is it a pony?”

The brit laughed at that, shaking his head and pressing a kiss into Johnny’s mohawk. “Unfortunately no, they were all out,”

Soap sucked his teeth in dismay.

“But,” Simon continued, pulling out of his partner’s arms to grab a sheet of paper off the nightstand and hold it out to him. Johnny took it but his eyes were so tired he could hardly make out what it said. “I got cleared to start working out again, only light pilates, swimming and stuff like that but,” He ended with a dismissive shrug.

Johnny blinked a few times before it clicked, eyes widening as he flung his arms around Simon, peppering his lips with quick kisses. “Si that’s great! I’m so proud of you!”

Simon chuckled deep in his throat, his large hand coming up to cradle Johnny’s jaw, cupping it and pulling him into a slow and deep kiss.

Johnny knew that they both could feel it, that this was the beginning of progress. It was the beginning of getting things back to normal, that all this hard work was finally going to pay off.

The scot was pulled from his thoughts, a groan ripping through him when Simon squeezed on his ass, pulling him impossibly closer. Johnny panted against his partner’s lips, pushing himself away enough to look up at him. The absolute blissed-out haze that was in Simon’s eyes was almost enough for him to cream his fucking jeans right then and there.

“Ughhh…” Johnny groaned in dismay, on the verge of tears. He hid his face in Simon’s chest, remembering the goals he had given the other. But the only thing keeping him upright currently, was Simon holding him. “I-... I’m so sorry Si… Not tonight, I- I’m just too tired…” He felt so fucking guilty, and not only that, but he wanted nothing more than for Simon to fold him in half and absolutely rail him. But the second he touched that mattress he knew it would be over for him. He chanced a peek at the taller of them, Simon’s expression was unreadable, and Johnny took hold of his hands. “I promise, tomorrow. I’ll take the day off, spend it with you, doin’ whatever you want. I promise… This is a big step forward, and I’m really, really proud of you… I just-” He was cut off by an overwhelmingly large yawn.

Simon moved to cup his face in his hands, scanning over his features. Johnny looked dog tired, and if he was being honest with himself, he’s looked that way for a while now. Simon was just too… focused on wallowing in his own selfish, self-pity that apparently he forgot to appreciate just how hard Johnny was throwing himself into this.

Simon kissed him again, thumbs rubbing circles into the tense muscles of his partner’s jaw. “It’s okay,” was all that Simon whispered, watching as Johnny’s eyes tried to stay open. “Need help washing your face?”

Johnny had a rather extensive nighttime routine and stuck to it religiously. The first time Simon ever helped him with it, he was black-out drunk. Johnny wouldn’t go to sleep until he had completed all his steps, even biting Simon on the arm when he tried to wrestle him into bed.

Now it was another way for them to spend time with each other. Typically it was Simon bullying him from his spot on the bed as he watched Johnny applying all his creams and lotions, but on rare occasions, Simon would help, like tonight.

Johnny nodded slowly, allowing himself to be led into the bathroom. Once his bare feet hit the cold tile, he started to gain some energy to pull himself together. He saw Simon mentally preparing to lift himself to sit on the counter. Sure it might not hurt, but he could see the cautious fear in his brow.

The smaller of them pushed into his space, grabbed Simon by the thighs, and effortlessly hoisted him onto the white countertops. Simon responded with a grunt of surprise and instinctually wrapped his legs around Johnny’s waist.

There was a moment where they just looked at each other, both seemingly lost in thought. It was Johnny who let his grip on Simon’s thighs tighten and experimentally roll his hips into the other’s. Johnny sucked his teeth at the friction, “Oh, fuck me…”

“Oi!” There was a deep blush on Simon’s cheeks as he pushed Johnny out of his space, the other laughing with an ornery grin. “Stop bein’ a cheeky bastard, thought you were too tired?”

“Well you stop bein’ a temptress,” Johnny countered, hiding a yawn behind his hand as Simon pulled him in close once more so he could press a wet rag to his skin. “Look so sexy I can’t help it,”

Simon rolled his eyes and chewed on the inside of his cheek, rubbing in a cleanser before washing it away, and now starting on all the creams. He always double-checked the labels to make sure he was putting them in the right spots. “I look like a travesty, that’s what I look like,” There was laughter in his voice, and it only picked up when Johnny shook his head in frustration.

“Don’t you say tha! All I can think about every second of the day is rippin’ yer clothes off!” Johnny protested, hands resting gently on the tops of Simon’s thighs, eyes closed so he didn’t get anything in them.

Simon couldn’t do anything but snort at the idea, “Now I know you’ve gone delirious, MacTavish.” He put the final bottle away and alerted his partner he was done with a quick press of his lips to his own.

Johnny snapped his eyes open, sending a glare to the other. Without a warning, he scooped Simon off the counter, the larger of them locking his ankles behind his back. Johnny ignored all the protests sent his way, about how he could walk, or he was too big, or whatever else, and carried Simon back to bed.

Once there, Johnny gently lowered the other onto the bed and pressed himself against him, mindful of his abdomen. He crashed their lips together, hands trailing up his sides, along his arms, and pinning his wrists above his head.

Soap forced his tongue into Simon’s mouth without waiting for an invitation, pressing his half-hard boner into Simon’s matching one. When a whiney moan tore its way through Simon’s mouth, that’s when one of Johnny’s hands came to squeeze on the other’s jaw, keeping those dark brown eyes locked on him.

“Yer the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen Simon Riley,” Johnny murmured, scanning over his partner’s features. “Every second yer in my sight, I gotta force myself to keep my hands off ya, you got me wrapped around yer finger, Simon. Don’t forget that,” He accented this by bringing his hand down to smack one of those muscular thighs that were currently holding him in place.

There was a possibility that Simon was going to overheat, face red, heart racing as Johnny pinned him to the bed. He let out a yelp, though the stinging in his thigh only made him hungry for more. Brown eyes narrowed up at the smug blue ones looking down at him. “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Simon dismissed despite the warmth that Johnny’s words left in his chest… and his boxers… He kicked the other off of him, play-hitting him any chance he got. “If you’re so damn tired then piss off to bed will ya? Stop teasin’ me,” He grumbled, crawling under the blankets.

Johnny was a giggly mess, following him under the blankets and wrapping an arm around Simon’s middle. “I love ya, you cranky bastard,”

Johnny was snoring loudly in Simon’s ear before he could even return the sentiment. He did so anyway with a smile on his face.

***

Johnny had never slept so well in his entire life, he hadn’t moved a muscle, hadn’t woken up to toss and turn. He dreamt too, though it was one of those rare occasions where his imagination was kind to him, maybe a bit too kind.

Apparently, his mind was just as excited as he was of his promise to take the day off locked away in Simon’s room. Images of just what exactly they could get up to danced in his brain, leaving his boxers tight and damp.

Currently, in his third eye, Simon had him bent over the cold bathroom counter, a leg hiked up next to him so the larger of them could spread him open and tongue fuck him.

A soreness in his hip had him trying to put his leg back on solid ground, but a firm hand kept him in place. Johnny groaned in attempts to communicate what he wanted, though it went to deaf ears.

“... Johnny… Please… Just… More…” Simon’s breathy voice was distorted and felt far away.

Johnny shook his head, fuck why did his hip hurt so bad? He had to move it, had to reposition, but he just couldn’t. He felt like all the strength was drained from him, in that way you run in dreams but never get anywhere.

The lines in his mind started to cross as he began to wake, but that pinch in his hip never subsided with it, though Simon’s sounds of pleasure only gained in volume.

“Come on, baby, please,”

The sergeant finally blinked his eyes open, and what he saw had him arching his back into the pillows and covering his mouth so he didn’t wake up the entire base.

Simon was straddling him sideways, essentially scissoring him. His face was flushed and there was a sheen of sweat dampening his brow. He had one of Johnny’s legs straightened out and held close to his chest as he kissed and sucked across his calf and ankle, explaining the ache in his bones. Simon was sitting up straight in his lap, grinding his leaking cock trapped in his underwear up against the soft part of Johnny’s inner thigh and then rolling back to tease his partner's dick with his ass.

“Ohhh, fuck me Simon,” Johnny groaned, reaching out with one hand to guide the other's hips, bucking up into him.

Simon reached back with one hand to place it over Johnny’s, prompting him to squeeze. “Tryin’ to, MacTavish,” He breathed, tossing his head back when Johnny got his nonverbal signal.

The sergeant licked his lips, taking in the sight before him before his mind caught up. “Let- ah- let me call Price, t-tell him-”

Simon shook his head, hand trailing up Johnny’s muscular arm to splay on his chest and keep him in place. “Already did… mmhhaAAhH~ Come on, been waitin’ all mornin’.”

His voice was gruff with sleep and it sent shivers down Johnny’s spine, biting his lip as he watched the other shamelessly rock up and back into him. “Okay… Okay…” He panted, a laugh in his voice. “But ya gotta put my leg down, hip is killin’ me… fuck,”

Simon did as he was told, slowly releasing his grip and massaging the strained muscle before straddling his hips, continuing to rock back into that hardness against his ass.

Johnny grabbed at the back of his neck and pulled him down into a bruising kiss. Their tongues clashed, fighting for dominance as Johnny thrust up into that heat above him.

“Been tossin’ and turnin’ all night,” Simon panted against his lips, biting down on them harshly, and sucking Johnny’s bottom lip into his mouth to soothe the pain when he felt the other wince. “Couldn’t- oh!- stop thinkin’ about you, feel,” Simon grabbed one of Johnny’s hands hurriedly, hiked his big shirt up just enough to place his hand on the front of his boxers, gaining him a wonton moan. “So fuckin’ wet for you, Johnny,”

And wet he was, there wasn’t just a wet patch where the tip was stuck trapped against the fabric. No, Simon was truly sopping. And when Johnny pulled his hand back, damp with his partner’s slick, he couldn’t stop himself from licking his palm before plunging two of his fingers into his mouth to suck on. His eyes rolled back at the taste, at the smell. God he’d missed Simon.

Simon also, found this incredibly overwhelming, placing his hands on either side of Johnny’s head and grinding down. Both of them tossed their head back with a moan.

Simon started sucking and biting down the thick column of his sergeant’s throat, growling as he did so. “Need you, Johnny, need to make you feel good.”

Johnny nodded in agreement, drooling around his fingers before popping them out of his mouth. “Ya always make me feel good, baby. Let me… fuckin’ Christ L.T… Let me get prepped and-”

“Oh you’re not liftin’ a finger,” Simon reprimanded, biting roughly on his shoulder. “Gonna pamper you… Make up for everything,” The last part was hardly a whisper, Johnny would have missed it if Simon wasn’t right next to his ear.

The smaller of them squirmed under his hold, causing a beautiful friction between their dicks rubbing together. “No, no, no, today is about you.”

Before Simon could protest, Johnny locked his ankles behind Simon’s back, placed a hand on that broad shoulder of his, and flipped them over. Johnny tried not to laugh at the surprised look on his superior’s face, though it was quickly replaced with one of pleasure as he rolled his hips down.

“You just be a good little pillow princess for me,” Johnny whispered against his lips, arm reaching for the nightstand drawer. “And I’m gonna ride you til’ the fuckin’ sunsets,” He accented this by prying Simon’s jaw open, nearly growling as he watched his partner’s tongue lolling out of his mouth. He spit into his mouth before diving in to fight Simon for who got to swallow it.

“Fuckin’ hell Johnny,” Simon panted, hands resting on his hips. “I need you so bad,”

Johnny nodded, grabbing the lube from the nightstand and popping the cap on it. “I know sweetheart, you lay back,” He kissed down his jaw, “Watch me stretch myself open thinkin’ about you fuckin’ me raw, while you jerk that ungodly cock of yers.”

A laugh bubbled from his chest as Simon shook his head in defiance, warming the lube on his fingers and starting to remove his own boxers. “Impatient bastard,” Johnny huffed, “It’s been a while, love, and I just want you to sit back and relax while-”

Simon was suddenly very quick, grabbing ahold of Johnny’s wrist before it could reach behind himself. Everything seemed to slow down as the older of the two dragged him back down so he was lying flat against him. “Johnny,” Simon whispered, brown eyes blown wide as he scanned over the other’s face, “I need you,” Just in case he hadn’t gotten the message, Simon wrapped a strong leg behind Johnny and guided him into a mind-numbing friction between their overly sensitive pricks.

Johnny blinked down at him, trying not to cream himself then and there. It wasn’t the first time he’d topped Simon, though typically it was as a little treat… Or after Johnny begged for it to the point of humiliation. They both enjoyed it, though both also genuinely enjoyed the “roles” they typically took. Though Simon had never essentially pleaded for it. “Are you sure?” He asked hesitantly.

The other nodded hysterically, pulling him down into a kiss that was all teeth and tongue, moaning into each other's mouth. “Need to feel you Johnny, need you to use me up,” He sucked bruises into his neck, “Fuck me for all you think I’m worth,”

Warning flags were popping up in Johnny’s mind, dots starting to connect, and everything was starting to feel a little self-destructive. It wasn’t uncommon for them to use dirty talk like that. Hell, sometimes there were nights where Johnny wouldn’t even let Simon call him anything but a good-for-nothing hole. But this… just felt different. “Simon…” He said with a warning tone, propping himself up on his elbows so he could look at the other. Simon wouldn’t look at him, instead, he opted for groping at anything he could get his hands on and rutting up into him.

“Hey,” Johnny put a light hand on his partner’s jaw, one that he could easily break away from, but he didn’t. Good sign. “What’s goin’ on, love?” His voice was so gentle he wondered for a minute if Simon heard him.

But when Simon finally looked at him, Johnny could basically hear his heart snap and fall into his stomach. There it was, that glossy film over those stunning brown eyes that told him he was seconds away from crying.

“Oh… Baby,” Johnny cooed, petting his hair out of his face, planting feather-light kisses on his forehead and eyelids. “Talk to me, Si,” He pleaded, but all he got in return was a watery sigh and a shake of his head.

Johnny felt his own eyes well up, watching his partner struggle with something he wasn’t understanding. Growing angry with himself for not catching it sooner. He chewed on his lip and then nodded with his head, motioning to his body. “Show me then… Go on, show me how I can make you feel loved,” His voice was gentle, soft, and unbelievably patient.

Within their relationship, it didn’t take John long to realize that when Simon got flooded with emotions he had a hard time vocalizing. Forcing him to talk it out only leads to arguments and the cold shoulder. So, they developed a way to non-verbally communicate what love language they needed at that moment until they were ready to talk it out. Not necessarily sign language, but signs they made catered to them.

They had signs for the love languages, and also one to signify space. Because sometimes all you really needed was to work things out on your own. Johnny prayed to a God he didn’t believe in that this wasn’t one of those moments.

Typically the signs would be followed with yes or no questions so the other simply had to nod or shake their head to better get to what they needed. There was also an unwritten rule that when they were ready, there would be a conversation about it.

Simon took in another shaky breath, worrying the inside of his cheek before reaching between them and tapping on Johnny’s lips twice. “Words of affirmation,” Johnny stated, watching as Simon nodded in confirmation.

There was a moment of hesitation before Simon’s palm rested on his bicep, the pad of his index finger making two figure eights there. “Physi- ow! Si!”

Simon had repeated the symbol again, though this time the blunt nail of his finger scratched deeply into his skin. Johnny couldn’t help but laugh at the ornery grin on Simon’s face. “Okay, okay I get it, physical touch.” His partner nodded quickly.

Johnny peppered kisses along Simon’s strong jaw, smoothing his hand down his right side, cursing the way his calloused hands caught on the fabric of Simon’s big shirt. “Are you my sweet little girl?” Every now and then they would play with feminization, maybe Simon was feeling some shame in that tonight?

Simon quickly shook his head no.

Johnny hummed in understanding, rolling his hips back into that hardness that had seemed to never stop poking his lower belly. “What about my good boy?”

Simon seemed to ponder this one, starting to nod before defiantly shaking his head no.

This one stumped Johnny for a minute. He didn’t think that Simon would be up for dehumanization, and if he was, Johnny was going to call his bluff for this not being self-destructive. But when Johnny’s palm lazily trailed up his bicep and Simon flexed it under him, a grin pulled at his lips. “Are you my big strong man?”

This earned him a gasp from the other, watching as Simon’s eyes fluttered closed, hips bucking up involuntarily, nodding enthusiastically.

Johnny hummed low in his throat, pulling the neck of Simon’s shirt down to kiss and bite along his collarbone. “And you promise this isn’t… self-destructive, right?”

Simon nodded quickly, carding his fingers through the little amount of hair on Johnny’s head he could. Johnny could have purred.

“I promise,” Simon whispered. “I just,” He took a big gulp of air. “I really… really need you, Johnny.”

The Scot smiled lovingly at him, kissing him slow and full of all the words neither of them were saying. The kiss tasted like safety and home, and I love you, I love you, I love you. “You’ve got me, big guy,”

Things felt like they moved in slow motion after that. Johnny took his time, covering Simon’s throat with open-mouthed kisses, hands smoothing over covered skin. Simon already had a tremble coursing through his muscles.

Johnny’s fingers pulled at the fabric of his partner’s boxers, every movement achingly slow as if Simon would scare him off. Though he didn’t, a breathless gasp left his throat when the chill air of the room caught his exposed skin.

Simon’s cock was red and leaking, laying heavy on his stomach. Johnny wanted to devour him.

When he made a move to finally rid the larger of them of the dreaded big shirt, Simon gripped at his wrists quickly. Their eyes met and Simon was shaking his head hesitantly. “Want to keep it on for now,”

Johnny tried not to frown, tried to keep his cool but fuck he hated this damn thing. He nodded instead, thumbing at the hemline of the shirt. “Can I push it up a bit?” Compromise was his friend tonight it seemed.

When Simon responded with a slow shake of his head, Johnny chewed on the inside of his lip, quite literally biting his tongue. “Can I… Touch under the shirt?”

When Simon pondered this, eyes asking the ceiling for the answer to this question, Johnny licked a feather-light trail on the underside of his partner’s dick. That got the other out of his head, trembling at the contact. “Won’t sneak a peak, honest,” He lowered his voice to a deep grumble, “Just wanna feel how fuckin’ strong you are,”

That got him the desired response, Simon nodded his head quickly, hands releasing his wrists to travel up and down Johnny’s thick arms. “Please Johnny, need you to touch me,”

It sounded like a prayer, one Simon had said every night before bed. And John was not one to ignore a sinner.

A cord had snapped between them and Johnny’s war-torn hands traveled under his partner’s shirt, not stopping until he was cupping Simon’s pecs in his hands and giving them a healthy squeeze. Both of them groaned at the feeling, hard muscle under strong fingers. The pad of one of his thumbs moved to rub over one of Simon’s nipples that he knew from memory it was soft and pink and so so sensitive.

His free hand traveled further, coming out of the collar of Simon’s shirt. Johnny’s index and middle fingers rubbed against the plush skin of Simon’s bottom lip, blue eyes cloudy with lust as he watched the other open up for him, tongue lolling out heavily. “Put ‘em in your mouth,” He tried to sound commanding, but it came out more breathless than he would have liked.

Regardless, Simon listened obediently, drawing his fingers in his mouth and giving them the same treatment he would have given his cock.

Johnny chewed on his lip as he watched, the other hand pinching and squeezing at Simon’s nipples equally. “Wannae stretch you out just like this, you’re strong enough to take it aren’t you, Lieutenant.”

Simon groaned around his fingers, eyes fluttering shut as he nodded.

Christ alive was he a mouth-watering sight. Johnny couldn’t take his eyes off of him, watching as spit-covered lips bobbed on his fingers, a sinful deep blush piercing through the pale skin of Simon’s cheekbones. When those deep brown eyes met his own, Johnny almost jumped. He’d never seen Simon look so… needy.

Without breaking their eye contact Johnny settled between Simon’s legs, laying on his belly. His tongue licked his slightly chapped lips before he pressed it flat against his partner’s length.

Simon’s eyes rolled into the back of his head, fingers popping free as a low grown replaced them.

Johnny didn’t waste their time, his fingers now on a mission. He delicately wrapped his lips around the angry red head, giving Simon a rough suck. His middle finger squeezed in next to him, circling the tight muscle between his partner’s legs.

The other was breathless, head pressing back into the pillows as his hips bucked instinctually into the warmth of Johnny’s mouth. The movement surprised Johnny, causing him to gag but it didn’t deter him. The Scot doubled down, relaxing his throat and sinking down until his nose was tickled by the course blonde hair on Simon’s pubic bone, pressing his index finger roughly into the second knuckle.

Johnny had never heard Simon sound the way he did. An almost high-pitched squeal left his lips, large hands shooting down to grab onto his mohawk. “Fuck J-Johnnyyy~”

Simon sounded sweet, sounded so blissed, so wrecked and they hadn’t even started. Though Johnny was feeling the effects too. He liked to think that he didn’t, but he’d missed Simon’s touch. Those blunt nails pulling at his hair and leaving crescents on the back of his skull had his own eyes rolling back into his head, setting a consistent pace with his mouth and now his finger.

The sergeant couldn’t help himself, hiking one of his legs up and oh so slowly rolling his hips into the mattress. When Simon sounded like that, touched him like that, tasted like that how could he not? The feeling of the shitty military bunk pressing back into his hard-on pulled a growl from his throat, muffled by the thickness taking up space there.

Johnny pressed his middle finger in with the first one, taking his time with this one. When he met resistance, he pulled off Simon’s dick with a pop, placing a sloppy kiss on his hip bone. “You gottae relax for me big guy,” Even though it hadn’t been long, his voice was rough with use. “Need to get you nice and ready for me, know you’re the only man sturdy enough to handle it.”

Simon took a shuddering breath, willing his body to relax. One hand moved to tangle in the sheets next to him while the other played absently with Johnny’s hair.

Johnny grinned to himself as he felt Simon loosen up around his fingers, pressing into his knuckles in search of that sweet spot. When he looked up, however, and saw Simon clamping down on his bottom lip to keep himself quiet, well that just wouldn’t do. Johnny moved to give Simon’s sensitive inner thigh a hard bite, holding on when his lieutenant tensed and jumped, a groan escaping him.

“Let me hear you, let the whole damn base hear you,” Johnny nearly snarled, tongue pressing flat to soothe the irritated indents in Simon’s thigh. “Want everyone to know just how good you fuck me.”

Simon took in a breath like his head had been underwater too long, and now a calloused hand was cupping his jaw. Big brown puppy eyes looked at him through damp lashes. “Right there, Johnny- Fuck right there mo chridhe~”

It felt like a jolt of electricity ran straight through Johnny’s body, his mind blank for a second. He’d never heard Simon say anything remotely close to anything in Scots, not even when he was picking on him. To him, this small term of endearment felt more powerful than any I love you they’d ever whispered to one another.

Johnny pulled his free hand back from where it had been leisurely toying with Simon’s pecs and hooked it around a strong thigh. His big hands wrapped around the other’s spit-wet dick and pumped it quickly in time with his fingers.

Moving slightly, he spits where his fingers disappeared into his skin and added a third, setting a brutal pace. The veins in his forearm pulsed under his skin as he milked that spot deep inside Simon.

Simon was a babbling mess, moaning low in his chest at the sudden stimulation he was getting. That hand that had been gently cradling Johnny’s jaw was now holding onto it with a crushing force. Neither of them would be surprised if he had a bruise there tomorrow.

“That’s it, Simon, bein’ so good,” Johnny was panting now too, hips rocking into the bedding under him absently. “Look right fuckin’ sexy takin’ my fingers so well, so tight around me,”

There was a twitch in Simon’s leg, Johnny could feel his inner thigh shivering against his shoulder where it was hiked up. He planted kisses wherever he could, sucking hickeys into the pale skin as he did so. “Cum for me L.T., come on, show me how good I make you feel,”

That was all Simon needed, mouth hung open in a moan that would never come as his body went rigid. Johnny caught most of Simon’s cum in his fist, and he was trying to finger him through it, but powerful, shaking thighs closed in on him, practically crushing his skull.

Everything was Simon, he peeked up to see his lieutenant twisting his hands into the sheets, his unrealistically large biceps quivering with restraint to not rip the bedding apart. Johnny could feel that Simon had crossed his ankles as they pushed into his tailbone, effectively putting him in a headlock.

Johnny’s eyes rolled shut, gasping as he let his senses take over. He could feel Simon’s orgasm pulsing around his fingers, the smell of Simon’s body wash and sweat and musk and sex was overwhelming him. Simon’s strong thighs shaking and pressing into his head had him gasping for breath. And fuck that crease in the sheets as rubbing against his dick in just the right way.

The sergeant ground his hips into the mattress just three times before he was moaning into the crease of Simon’s thigh and hip, his own body stiffening up as he came into his boxers.

The only reason he came to was because he heard Simon gasping for breath, sounding like he was panicking with how shallow and quick they were. Johnny blinked up at the other, still trapped in the hold of his legs. He pressed a firm hand to Simon’s belly where his scar was. “Relax love,” He said quickly albeit breathless, “Gottae relax, hurtin’ yourself.”

Slowly but surely, Simon’s hold on his head loosened, and the muscles in his stomach went slack, both of their breathing evening out.

Johnny gently pulled his fingers out of his partner, pushing himself up on wobbly hands. “Fuck that was sexy Si. Wee bit embarrassed, jizzin’ in my boxers like a-”

The Scot was cut off by a large hand wrapping around his throat and dragging him up. Johnny was quick to straddle him so as not to irritate the slowly healing muscle of Simon’s belly. He was pulled into a rough and sloppy kiss, groaning when he felt Simon reaching into his underwear to palm his slowly softening dick.

“Don’t you go soft on me now, Johnny,” Simon’s voice was well-used and deeper than usual. Despite this, his tone was more of a beg than a threat. “Think you can get hard for me again?”

Johnny gasped as Simon pulled his cum covered dick out of his boxers, waistband under his balls. His tongue pressed into the other's mouth. He would do anything if Simon asked him to. “For you? Anything for you,” He breathed into his mouth, moaning high as he felt those rough fingers squeeze his throat. “Just give me a minute, I’ll gi-”

He was once again effectively cut off when Simon grabbed his hips and pushed his dick into the back of his mouth. Johnny shook with overstimulation, hands reaching out to white knuckle the headboard as he looked down at the other.

Simon hummed around his length, brown eyes fluttering closed as his tongue gathered up what cum he could, toying with the vein on the underside.

Johnny’s head relaxed between his shoulders as he groaned, watching Simon’s lips stretch around him. He didn’t move or put in effort, just kept the sensation on him, big hands massaging the meat of his hips and legs.

They stayed like this for a moment, basically purring at one another. Somehow, by the grace of God, it didn’t take Johnny long to fill out again. He felt a little proud of himself, he’d never recovered so fast. Though, he was sure that meant this would be over just as quick. Can’t win them all he supposed.

However, Johnny wasn’t going to rush it. It scared him a bit that Simon’s orgasm had hurt him so much, all those worries bubbling back up. Maybe they had pushed it, maybe Simon wasn’t ready for this. He’d be so angry if, at Simon’s next appointment, he got his gym rights taken away because he couldn’t control his stupid dick. Maybe they- “Ow!”

Simon pinched one of Johnny’s ass cheeks, the other thrusting into his mouth in reaction. Simon simultaneously gagged and moaned around him before pulling off. “You’re thinking again Johnny,” Simon warned, though there was something in those eyes, something that looked like anxiety. “I’m not made of glass,”

Johnny grinned lovingly down at him. No, if Simon was made of anything it sure as shit wasn’t glass. He’d proven that time and time again. He’d been taken apart, buried alive, built back together, and gutted like a wild animal, and here he was. He felt like Simon was speaking in his head when he thought, a bit egotistical of me to think that this would be his point of no return. Even if they did pull something, and set him back, another week without the gym wasn’t going to stop Simon from getting back on his feet.

So, might as well give them what they both want.

Johnny crowed into his space, kissing him slow and sweet. “No, yer not, are ye?” He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, chewing on it before soothing it with kisses sweeter than honey sitting in the spring sun. “But I’m gonnae break you apart like you are, fear mòr.”

The younger of them brought his hand down in a harsh slap against Simon’s thigh, the other groaning in response. Johnny quickly stood, making quick work of his boxers. He was hardly gone for two seconds before Simon was pushing himself up into a sitting position.

Johnny placed a hand on his shoulder and pressed him back into the bed, though he met some pushback. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Simon just rolled his eyes playfully, hand coming to push Johnny’s wrist away. “Going to ride you, not going to make you do all the work tonig-”

Johnny’s other hand gripped Simon’s jaw with a bruise-tight hold, nails digging into the bone. The muscle in his bicep strained against his skin with the force, blue eyes burning. He tried not to snicker as he saw Simon’s dick jump with interest out of the corner of his eye. “Thought I told you that I was takin’ care of you tonight? You lay back down,” He pushed the other back into the pillows, adoring the way Simon’s eyes had quickly glazed over with lust, pupils wildly scanning his features. “And you relax,” With his free hand he grabbed a pillow from the many and maneuvered it under Simon’s hips. “And you’re gonnae cum on my thick cock,” Johnny was between his legs now, grip never leaving his jaw, growling against Simon’s kiss-swollen lips, swallowing all the shallow gasps the other was giving him. With his other hand, he grabbed onto his own length, teasing Simon’s hole with the head of his dick that was already throbbing for it. “And you’re gonna take it like the massive tank of a man you are.”

Simon groaned into Johnny’s mouth, legs spreading obscenely to make as much room as physically possible for the other. “Yes sir,” He breathed, barely a whisper.

Johnny growled low in his chest, pressing their lips together in a clash of teeth and tongue. He wasted no time pushing his dick into that tight heat with a quick snap of his hips, both pulling away to moan at the feeling of their skin pressed together.

The sergeant did give Simon a chance to adjust, not moving an inch until he felt the other relax around him. Simon had his hands all over him, rubbing up and down his arms, his back, wiping the sweat from his brow. He looked like he didn’t know what to do with himself and he adored it.

Once Johnny felt that give, he was moving. There was nothing slow or graceful about it, setting an intense pace from the get-go. He was sure they both felt it, that need for closeness, to bury themselves within each other's skin. They’d spent many nights that others, including themselves, would call “romantic” or specifically “intimate.” But none of those nights compared to right now.

No, nothing about it was gentle, sweet, or even very romantic. But Johnny was starting to feel a little misty-eyed and a pull at his heartstrings, feeling Simon squeeze around him, wrapping those legs around his hips to keep him exactly where he was. Simon was alive, he was breathing, bleeding, living flesh in his arms. It felt like all was right in the world, nothing could take this man from him, and nothing could stop Simon from coming back to him. Simon was his, just as he was Simon’s, and things were only going to get better from here.

Johnny was pulled from his thoughts when he felt the pad of Simon’s thumb wiping at his lashes, not even realizing a few of those mists had turned into a couple of fat tears. “I’m right here- ah~! Sweetheart,”

It took him a minute but Johnny realized that Simon had damp cheeks as well. The man beneath him had his mouth hung open, moans pulling through his throat whenever they pleased, without shame.

Johnny felt his stomach drop and he knew he wasn’t going to last much longer. His arms curled under Simon’s shoulders, pressing his weight into him as his fingers tugged at the blonde hair on the back of his partner’s skull.

Simon’s lips pressed to his ear, whispering “I’m right here, I’ve got you, I’m never going to leave you,” over and over again.

Johnny bit into the side of Simon’s neck to stop himself from sobbing, though he would easily admit that the squeezing in his heart at the words left him dizzy. He would never love anyone more than this man.

There was a break in Simon’s monologue, nails raking scratches into Johnny’s tanned skin. A groan nearly busted Johnny’s eardrum, and he could feel Simon’s dick drooling as it rubbed where it was trapped against his belly. “Johnny- oh fuck please- I’m ah!”

Johnny pressed his tongue into Simon’s mouth, kissing and biting any chance he got. “Me too, love,” He breathed into his mouth, using his hold on the back of Simon’s neck to snap his hips deep into the other, punishing that bundle of nerves he knew so well. “With me, okay? Cum with me?” He was the one begging now.

He was pretty sure Simon had responded in some form of a yes, but he would never be positive. White spots were filling his vision, the sounds of them both wailing like wild animals overtook his senses, and Johnny felt Simon convulse under him and his belly sliding against something warm and sticky. It wasn’t a second later that the Scot was pressing his hips deep into Simon to fill him up with his spend.

Johnny collapsed against the other, both of them fighting for breath as they came down, minds warm and fuzzy in the afterglow. Their skin began to cool and Simon was gently scratching his fingers over Johnny’s scalp, kissing his head ever so often.

When he felt that tacky feeling of Simon’s cum beginning to dry on his skin, Johnny pushed himself up but not before planting a kiss across his collarbone. He scanned Simon’s scarred face. His eyes were closed and he looked so utterly peaceful.

Johnny smiled at him, hidden from view. He placed a gentle hand on his cheek, thumb rubbing soothing circles, pleased when Simon leaned into it with a grunt.

“Need a bath,” Simon grumbled, though not moving.

Johnny kissed his forehead. “I’ll make you one,” They both groaned when he pulled out, Johnny’s head spinning a bit. He gave Simon’s hip a gentle pat before standing on wobbly legs. “I’ll make you some tea, can have it while you’re in there.”

Simon grabbed his wrist before he could get too far, though when Johnny looked at him, his eyes were still closed, a yawn pulling from his mouth. “Take one with me,”

He laughed quietly, running a hand through Simon’s blonde mess of hair. “I don’t think we can both fit Si.”

Simon just squeezed his wrist. “Get in the tub,”

Johnny chewed on his lip, his other hand smoothing over the fabric of big shirt on Simon’s side and tugging at the hem. “... Are you sure?”

An angry eye looked up at him with a glare. “Get. In. The. Tub. MacTavish.”

Johnny couldn’t help but snort at that, placing a quick kiss on his lips before pulling his hand out of the other’s grasp. “Okay, okay, I’ll go make it. I’ll be in there when you’re ready.”

Simon nodded simply, letting his eye shut again. Johnny was nearly positive the other wouldn’t join him, but he seemed adamant.

Johnny wandered into the attached bathroom, sitting on the edge of the tub and letting out a hiss when the cold porcelain touched his heated skin. He warmed the water, filled it up, even added some bubbles, and settled in. Simon be damned, a bath was a great idea. He groaned as he let himself sink into it, muscles relaxing as the nearly boiling water covered him.

Simon sure was taking his sweet time, Johnny reached over to the floor where he had placed his phone so they could play music and actually checked it for the first time. His face instantly heated when he saw he had texts from Gaz.

Gaz: You guys building a fucking rocket or something?
Gaz: OH. MY. GOD.
Gaz: SOAP SHUT UP YOU SOUND LIKE A GIRL
Gaz: JOHN FOR FUCKS SAKE CHECK YOUR PHONE IM BEGGING YOU
Gaz: You fucking piece of shit I have drills this morning
Gaz: I’m going to kill you
Gaz: PUT A FUCKING GAG IN HIS MOUTH OR S O M E T H I N G
Gaz: Assholes woke me up an hour before my alarm

The last text had a video attached to it. It showed Gaz’s face, looking utterly exhausted, with dark eye bags, and the very obvious sounds of what he and Simon had been getting up to for the past two hours.

Johnny let out a groan of embarrassment, but before he could get to work on writing a formal apology, Simon opened the door to the bathroom. He set his phone aside with no issue, and quickly put his hands over his eyes.

Simon huffed a laugh. “You can look,” He chided.

When Johnny peeked from between his fingers, he couldn’t help but ogle the other. He felt like a man from the early Victorian era seeing his first ankle as Simon carefully hiked up the big shirt and tossed it aside.

Johnny’s heart seized. He hadn’t seen the scar since it had been stitched up. It has a nice pink, white around the edges where it was healing. The guilt and shame came bubbling to the front of his mind, if only-

“I know, I know,” Simon muttered with a laugh as he made his way to the edge of the tub. “Let myself go, I’ll get back in shape once I can get back in the gym full time.”

Johnny wanted to strangle himself in that moment. How could he have been so stupid to not realize it. When you get back in the gym, then we can think about having sex. Leave it to a MacTavish to say something so obviously unkind and not even realize it.

He grabbed onto Simon’s hand, eyebrows knitted with an apology. “Don’t say that, Si. That’s- I- You look just as good as the day I met you,” Yeah, Simon had lost some of his definition, but that was never his concern. It was just realistic, going from everyday training to months of bed rest would do that. Johnny just wanted him to be healthy, get back on his feet, be alive. He hadn’t meant it the way it came out.

Simon only shrugged, defenses starting to go up as he put a foot in the hot water. He settled in the best he could, the size of them making it awkward but eventually, they got it figured out. Simon pressed his back into Johnny’s chest, head resting against his shoulder. “It’s really okay Johnny, put on a couple pounds, shouldn’t be a problem to get them off in a month or two.”

Johnny despised how nonchalant he sounded about it. He knew it had been eating him alive this whole time and he’d never told him. What pissed him off more was that he hadn’t figured it out. He hesitantly wrapped his arms around him, tightening his hold when Simon didn’t flinch away. “Simon, you could be nothin’ but a head floatin’ in a fish bowl and I’d never find someone as absolutely bonnie as you,”

Simon took a big gulp of air and swallowed it, eyes closing gently.

The sergeant took a washcloth they kept nearby and loaded it with bubbles, gently rubbing it over the skin that couldn’t be reached by the water. He placed gentle kisses in his hair, whispering sweet nothings. “You’re beautiful, you’re fucking massive, I love you, it’s an honor to stand by your side, you’re so sexy I drool all over myself, I love you, you’re right gorgeous, I love you,”

Johnny was stopped from his ramblings when Simon leaned forward, hands covering his face. Slowly, he took the rag and rubbed soothing circles over his broad back. Simon’s shoulders began to bounce with the telltale signs of crying. Johnny’s heart couldn’t take much more of this, chewing on his lip as he massaged the strong muscle of his partner’s back. “Talk to me, love,” It was a whisper, a breath, a plea.

Simon sniffled, hands not leaving their place of shielding his face. “I- I was so scared Johnny… I was bloody terrified, I didn’t want to leave you,”

Johnny had now simply wrapped his arms around him, pressing kisses into his back when he could, tears of his own escaping his eyes.

“It made me sick to think what would happen to you if I didn’t come back, I was scared I would never see you again. And I was fucking pissed for getting caught so easily, how was I so fucking STUPID!” A burst of rage clawed its way out of Simon’s chest, fist coming out to hit the wall next to them that Johnny was sure rattled the whole base. “And I fought, and fought and I survived and I thought that would fix it but… I think that made it worse…” Simon took in a shuddering breath, choking on his sobs now. “You’ve been working yourself to death, for me… Me? Christ alive Johnny fucking look at me, for me!?” Simon was gasping for breath, pulling at the roots of his hair, pulling out clumps as he cried.

Johnny was quick to hook his fingers under Simon’s hands and struggled to pull them out of his hair. Finally, he was able to, locking their fingers together and squeezing them with as much force as Simon was squeezing his. The whole time shushing him, offering whatever calming reassurances he could, though it was falling on deaf ears.

“I couldn’t do a damn thing for myself. Surprised I could even blink on my fucking own. Might as well have let you do that for me too since you were doing everything else. I feel like me surviving this- this whole… Mess was more of a burden than a blessing. Couldn’t take over my drills, couldn’t walk on my own, couldn’t fucking get you off. I was so fucking scared that if I couldn’t even do that then what use would you have for me anymore? I would get it… I still would. Johnny, I would never resent you for dropping me. Would have done it a long time ago if you knew what was best for you,” Simon pulled Johnny’s arms tight around himself despite his words.

Simon was quiet for a long time, so long that Johnny was wondering if it was his turn to butt in. Tell him just how wrong he was, shower him in love and adoration and the only kindness he’s ever known. But just as he was about to open his mouth, Simon was speaking again and it made him nauseous.

“Every time I’m sent to a psych eval, or I have an… episode. I never consider myself suicidal. I’ve lost… So many people, Johnny. So many… I’ve been dead for years, biopsied, buried, you fucking name it… And I still fought, and I still moved forward. It’s a miracle I haven’t given up… But seeing what I’ve put you through? That you’re willing to run yourself into the ground to take care of… what? A corpse? That Johnny, makes me wish I would have bled out in that warehouse… Or that that bitch nurse would have overdosed me on sleeping medication…”

Johnny was pressing his lips into Simon’s shoulder, trying to will his own sobs away. He knew it wasn’t his turn to be sad, to feel upset. This was Simon processing his emotions and God did he want to give him that but it absolutely gutted him hearing Simon talk about himself like this. Quivering lips covered Simon’s back and shoulders with kisses, the other shook in his arms.

Finally, he gathered the courage to speak, sure his voice would be watery. “Simon… I-... I need you to know…” He took a deep breath, thumbs making circles on Simon’s hands where they were still locked together. “You are the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me… I don’t know what I would do without you… It has been hard, yes, of course, but I’d do it a thousand times over just to know you’re alive, know you’re who I rest my head with at night.”

A rough sob tore through Simon’s chest and he shook his head quickly. Johnny just tightened his arms around him.

“You’re beautiful, and strong, and unfortunately, pretty funny… You’re an amazing leader, don’t leave anyone behind, you care for people. I think you have afternoon tea with the bloody devil and come back to tell the recruits to wash behind their ears.” Simon huffed a laugh at that, and Johnny joined him. “With the cards you’ve been dealt, you should be half the man you are… Yet when I look at you, you’re all I’ve ever hoped to be. And if you want me to breathe for you I’d do it, no questions asked. Nothing you do will stop me from caring for you, Simon. Nothing you do will stop me from caring for you, Ghost.”

Simon’s breath hitched, and a shaking hand released Johnny’s to gently rub across his bicep. “I’m always going to be here for you, cause I know you’d do the same.” Johnny’s left hand rested on the back of Simon’s left hand, and he wrapped their ring fingers together. “Sickness and in health, til’ death do us part… and all that other bullshit,”

They shared a watery and sniffly laugh at that, though Simon linked their ring fingers together and brought them to his lips, pressing a long drawn-out kiss there.

The two of them stayed like that for a long time, holding each other as they cried. They stayed like that until the water ran cold and they were both covered in goose flesh and their eyes could no longer produce tears.

Simon was the one who pushed out of the water, though, rather than getting out, he turned around, kneeling in front of Johnny. His eyes were red and swollen, but there was a grin tugging at his lips. Johnny’s eyes looked just as fucked as he did. “You’re an idiot for sticking around this long MacTavish. Now I don’t know how to get rid of you,”

Johnny laughed, planting his hands on Simon’s hips. “You think anyone else would be able to put up with me? I’ve got to take my blessings where I can get them.” He leaned forward, just enough for their lips to touch, but he waited for Simon to meet him the rest of the way. They kissed long and slow, no tongue, no teeth, just holding one another close until they both began to shiver.

Johnny stood, holding a hand out for Simon who took it. He once again hooked his arms under Simon’s legs, who easily went with him, wrapping himself around John’s strong figure. They kissed as Johnny waltzed him over to the bed, gently placing him down and chasing each other's lips as he pulled away to rummage through their dresser for some cozy clothes.

The sergeant pulled out a pair of sweats for each of them and one of Johnny’s sweaters that his mother had gotten him. It was about three times too big for him, so it would have some room for Simon. He figured since big shirt was covered in unnamable fluids, that wouldn’t be the best option. Johnny dressed his partner and pulled the blankets up around him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll go make us some tea… Then we can watch a movie?... Or do you want some space?”

Simon shook his head, playing with the hem of the sweater and definitely not blushing like a schoolgirl because it was Johnny’s and because his mom had given it to him. “A movie sounds good… And then round two?”

Johnny laughed loudly at that, punching the other in the shoulder playfully. “You’re an absolute menace L.T. After a quick nap and some lunch, we can have round two.”

When Johnny came back, two mugs hot in his hands, Simon had the laptop propped up on the bed with a movie he had picked out, forearm covering his eyes and snoring like a wild bear.

***

Gaz was lacing up his boots when he heard a knock on his door. “Just a minute,” He called out. But when he opened the door there was no one there. A look around and he couldn’t spot anyone. Stepping out, the sole of his boot came down on something soft. Looking down there was a small box wrapped in a bow and a bouquet of twelve red roses.

He picked them up and inspected the tag on the roses.

Gaz,

A good mate of mine said this fixes everything.

Love,
John “Soap” MacTavish

Gaz snorted, walking back into his room and tossing the roses on his bed before he made quick work of the box. It was a pair of noise-canceling earbuds. A note fell out and onto the floor, which he was quick to pick up and turn over to read.

Gaz,

Johnny took the day off. Might want to put these to good use.

Don’t Tell Price Or I’ll Kill You,
Simon “Ghost” Riley <3

Gaz groaned loudly, going to their shared wall and banging on it a couple of times with his fist. He had put the earbuds in before he could hear the roar of laughter coming from the other side of the drywall.