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Sunlight trickled through the crack of the light green coloured curtains. They fluttered gently in the early morning breeze- one of them must have forgotten to shut the window before falling into bed.
Simon’s eyes opened slowly, hesitant to leave the comfort of sleep. Ever since he had been discharged with his lover, sleep was easier than it used to be at the base. Here, in his home in Scotland, the sheets were soft, the pillows fluffy. The blankets were thick and warm, the mattress just the right amount of firm and soft. Gone were the days with paper thin sheets and scratchy blankets. However nice the bed might be, Simon would argue that the best part was who else was in the bed with him.
He blinked at the window a few more times, before closing his eyes again, sinking further into the mattress. He allowed himself to relax deeply, focusing on the warm arm that was holding onto him. He smiled to himself, content to sit here for as long as he wanted. Johnny’s even breath fanned across his neck, disturbing his hair and causing it to tickle the back of his neck. He did not care, a part of his mind at peace knowing that Johnny was still breathing.
No matter how long it had been since the discharge- almost a year at this point- he still struggled some days. Some nights he did not get a minute of sleep, night terrors playing behind his eyelids. Some nights he woke up after a nightmare, and just one touch from Johnny could ground him. Those nights were the nights he held Johnny the tightest. And then, there were the days that nothing could help, not Johnny’s gentle reassurances, or the soft whispers promising that they were safe. Simon just saw people he killed, the torture he went through, burning fires, fellow soldiers falling, and nothing he did, nothing Ghost did, could save them.
But, Johnny was nothing but patient. While Simon struggled, Johnny sat with him, waiting for him to come back to his body. Waited for the nightmares to fade, waited for Simon’s eyes to clear again. He would wait until Simon fell apart, just so he could help put him back together.
Of course, Johnny had his own nightmares, similar dreams as Simon’s. Even after years, he still had nightmares of Hassan dangling him out the window. Had it not been for Simon, he would have died. His nightmares of that night felt so real. He still felt his own blood soak his clothes, the way Hassan’s hand wrapped around his throat. The raw fear he felt in his bones as he was dangled hundreds of feet off the ground.
The nights he had that dream, he would wake up panting- almost never screaming- his heart racing. The moment Simon touched him, Johnny would cling to him, not letting him go until he is deep asleep once more. It broke Simon’s heart when it happened, knowing that Johnny was still affected even after so long. Those were nights when he also got no sleep, too worried Johnny would wake up again with another bad dream.
There was a subtle shift in the breathing pattern behind him, and Simon was brought back to the present. He felt the arm around him tense slightly before relaxing once more. He held his breath for a moment, hoping Johnny had settled, possibly fallen back to sleep. Right as he went to release his breath once more, Johnny’s nose pressed against the nape of his neck, a gentle kiss being pressed in between his shoulder blades.
“G’morning, my love,” he murmured, accent thick due to sleep.
Secretly, this was Simon’s favorite time, because of Johnny’s voice. It was husky with sleep, soft and warm. He hummed, letting out the breath finally.
“Morning,” he said, letting one of his hands tangle with Johnny’s.
He shifted slightly, so he was on his back. He turned his head to look at Johnny. His eyes were squinting slightly, the sunlight hitting just right, not quite in his eyes, but enough to be too bright to freshly opened eyes. Simon admired his husband, his hair an absolute mess, but it was endearing.
Maybe a few years ago, when he first met Johnny, the domestic feeling he had in his chest would have terrified him. Ghost would have locked it away in the darkest part of his mind. He would have built more walls, pushed Johnny out further. However, Johnny was a stubborn little shit, and he blasted his way into the locked prison that was Ghost’s heart. He single-handedly brought Simon Riley back from the dead.
“You a’right?” Johnny whispered, propping his head up on his hand, resting his elbow against the fluffy pillow beneath his head.
'Of course, I woke up beside you,' Simon wanted to say. 'I love being able to see you every morning.' He wanted to spill his heart out for the man next to him.
“Mhm,” is what he said instead.
It was enough for Johnny though. He smiled widely, leaning down to pepper soft kisses on Simon’s face. He started with his forehead, working his way down to his nose, planting a few on the tip of his nose. He moved onto his eyelids, kissing down to his cheek. He pressed a few longer kisses to the scars on Simon’s cheeks, then kissed the corner of his mouth gently, where another scar stretched. Simon’s eyes fluttered shut once again, tilting his chin up just slightly. Johnny chuckled, before planting a gentle kiss onto his lips. Their mouths moved together, their lips slightly chapped from sleep. Johnny leaned a bit further over Simon, pressing him into the mattress further. The kiss got deeper, but not heated. After a few moments, Johnny pulled away, pressing one more kiss to his lips as he sat up, stretching his arms out, groaning as his back cracked a few times.
Simon admired him, a smile stretched across his lips lazily. Johnny caught him watching, and he just grinned back, winking at him. He pushed the covers off of himself, leaning over once more to catch Simon’s lips in a quick peck, before standing up. Simon sat up himself, unabashedly raking his eyes down Johnny’s body. He was shirtless, his muscles on display. When he turned, the natural “v”-shape of his hips caught Simon’s eyes, lighting a small fire in the pit of his stomach. Johnny chuckled, and Simon’s gaze snapped up to his lover’s eyes. Happiness danced on his face, his blue eyes bright.
“You gettin’ up anytime soon?”
“Would rather stay in bed with you,” Simon admitted cheekily, but he slowly stood up nonetheless.
Johnny easily rounded the bed, grabbing Simon around the waist, pulling him close. The taller of the two threw his arms around Johnny’s shoulders, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. The Scot pressed a kiss to Simon’s cheek before moving down to press a few kisses to the side of his neck, gentle over the bruises that littered the base of his throat. This only fanned the fire in Simon’s stomach, tilting his head to give more room to him.
“Johnny…” He said, meaning for it to come out as a warning, but it came out more as a whine.
Johnny, to his credit, understood it anyway. He chuckled as he pulled away, still holding Simon.
“Y’know, a day spent in bed with you would be heaven,” he grinned, wiggling his eyebrows. Simon rolled his eyes, pushing him away. It does sound like heaven, and arousal spread further as he thought about the implication behind Johnny’s words. He would happily take him up on the offer.
“I’m hungry,” Simon says instead, trying to snuff the fire in his gut, turning away from Johnny to find a shirt.
That was how he found himself in the kitchen, making eggs and bacon for himself and his lover, who was currently buttering the toast beside him. Johnny had put the kettle on for Simon’s tea, and started the coffee pot for himself. Once the kettle began whistling, Johnny poured and made the tea the way Simon liked, muttering about Brits and their tea. Simon couldn’t help but grin as he began to plate the eggs and bacon.
Johnny set the table, and helped Simon put the plates on the table. Once again, Simon was hit with the domesticity of the task, and his body felt warm. As they sat at the table, Simon couldn’t help but smile at the man across from him. Johnny, ever elegantly, shoveled food into his mouth, not paying attention to the warm gaze that was directed at him.
Once upon a time, the sight might have offput Ghost. Ghost would have snapped out something along the lines of “Learn some manners, MacTavish” or something equally rude. However, he was no longer Ghost. The Ghost was retired, and while he showed up late at night after nightmares, he was not welcome in Simon’s everyday life.
So, here Simon sat, content to watch the love of his life eat messily. He sat in the dining room of his home in the civilian world, across from his husband, content with life.
“Hey, Johnny?”
“Hmph?” The response, muffled around food. Once again, Ghost would have been disgusted, but Simon found it endearing.
“I love you.”