Chapter Text
The sun had begun to set and Ghost knew he’d have to wake Soap soon. After their little talk, he’d quickly fallen asleep against his side and Ghost hadn’t had the heart to wake him up. He looked more peaceful than he had in days.
As he was gearing up to wake Soap, the sound of distant footsteps pulled his attention outwards. It took a moment for him to recognize them as Price’s footsteps, the familiar jingling of keys following his person everywhere he went.
Sure enough, the figure of their Captain soon came into view. Price didn’t seem surprised to see them there, so he must’ve come looking for them.
“I see he finally fell asleep.” Ghost nodded, slowly shifting Soap a little more upright without waking him.
“It’s been days, hasn’t it?” Price nodded, sitting down on the bench across from them. His eyes were trained on Soap and the bandages wrapped tightly around his arms. There was a certain kind of sadness in his eyes Ghost hadn’t seen often. Soap sighed in his sleep, undoing Ghost’s work of moving him upright to lean back into the man's space.
“He doesn’t need pity.” The darkness of his voice surprised them both. Price glanced up, gaze now carefully neutral.
“What makes you think it’s pity?” Ghost wrapped his arm protectively around Soap in response.
“Because that’s the same look you’d give someone when a loved one you don’t know dies. Condolences. Sympathy.” Maybe Ghost was overreacting, looking too much into that look, but he knew Soap wouldn’t want sympathy from anyone.
Empathy, maybe, but not sympathy. Sympathy was how you looked at a wounded dog, not a soldier.
“Maybe you’re right.” Price just gave Ghost a short smile before standing up. He didn’t take Ghost’s defensiveness personally, he was protective of what was his, after all.
“Talk to him, yeah?” Ghost was still, his eyes not leaving Price until he seemed to relax minutely, glancing back down at the man asleep against his shoulder.
“Yeah. Of course.”
Once Price had long gone, and the sky was painted with oranges and pinks, Ghost woke Soap up. He tried to be as gentle as he could, shaking Soap a little, but the man did not want to wake up. He groaned in his sleep, pushing his face against Ghost’s chest, and for a moment Ghost got this overwhelming need to hurt something before it passed quickly, much to his relief.
“Soap, wake up.” His voice did the trick, thankfully, and bleary eyes looked up at him. Soap seemed to recognize him fairly quickly and he shot up as his face flushed.
“Fuck, sorry lt, didn’t mean to fall asleep.” Ghost let out a short huff of a laugh and shook his head. He already seemed to be back on track, voice more steady than it had been in at least two days.
“You feel better, though, don't you?” Soap paused to consider, genuinely giving it thought, before nodding sheepishly.
“Yeah, a lot better actually.” Despite his embarrassment about falling asleep, Soap didn’t actually move away. He just shifted a bit to the side, still keeping his knees against Ghost’s leg.
“So then it’s not a problem. I have a feeling you’ve probably got a lot of sleep to catch up on.” Soap groaned, leaning his head back, eyes turned up to the evening sky.
“Fuckin hate this so much.” Just the topic seemed to tighten Soap’s muscles, tension building across his face. He pinched the bridge of his nose, letting his fingers press up and out with more pressure than Ghost thought should be comfortable.
“I- I know ye said not to apologize, lt, but I feel like I need to.” Soap was still staring at the sky, not bothering to look over, he knew Ghost was listening to him.
“It wasn’t fair of me to yell at ye like that. I was frustrated and in pain, but that doesn’t mean I get to bark at ye for tryin to help.” Ghost huffed out a breath in acknowledgement, turning his eyes up to see if he could spot what Soap was so intently staring at.
“I don’t really have a great explanation for… what happens. For the most part, it comes out of nowhere, just builds and builds until I snap.” Some stars were beginning to appear in the sky as the sun set further, casting them into shadows.
“The boredom is kinda the warning sign that it’s happening but I never had a good way of fixing it, so I always used to let it fester…” When Soap trailed off, Ghost turned back to him, making a little sound of encouragement, not used to his Sergeant being so hesitant to talk.
“I might take you up on that offer. To run the course with you, when it comes back. That helped a lot, Ghost, I just… I let it sit for too long. Got too worked up and snapped.” Ghost didn’t hold it against him, worse had been said to him many times, and Ghost had been prepared to get snapped at. It was either that or let Soap continue to hide whatever was happening until it escalated, which he was certainly not going to let happen.
“Happy to help, Soap.” They were quiet for a while longer, Soap’s eyes on the sky as the stars appeared one by one, Ghost watching the reflection in Soap’s eyes.
“Simon?” Soap’s voice was quiet now, different in tone somehow, and he knew this was Johnny, not Soap and not his Sergeant. Just Johnny.
“Mm?” Johnny’s face flushed as he finally turned to face Simon, not quite meeting his eyes but not looking away. His mouth opened and closed, fighting with the words he wanted to say.
“Can… can I please spend the night with you?” It was Simon’s turn to blush, and he did so furiously. Somewhere deep in his mind, he’d thought about having Soap in his bed, but never did he imagine it would be so… vulnerable.
“Yeah, Johnny. Of course.” Relief seemed to visibly wash over Johnny, letting his head roll back down to rest against Simon’s shoulder. He could feel the Scot smile against his shirt, daring to rest his own forehead against the top of his head.
The last of the sunlight was fading from the sky when Johnny finally stretched out his limbs, shaking with effort. He yawned, head bobbing for a moment as he gathered himself.
“Are ye really sure it’s ok if I spend the night with ye?” Simon could hear the hesitation in Johnny’s voice, the way he seemed to curl in on himself a bit.
“Johnny.” He stood up and reached over, placing a hand gently on Johnny’s cheek to tilt his face upwards. “I wouldn’t say yes if I wasn’t okay with it.”
When Johnny looked up at Simon like he’d hung the moon, the intensity and surety of that adoration in his eyes took Simon aback. He wasn’t quite sure what he’d said that deserved the look, knew it made his cheeks burn with a deep flush, but he couldn't help the way his heart swelled having those eyes on him. The way he never wanted Johnny to look away.
“C’mon, it’s about time I get you to bed.” Johnny pouted at that, though he got up to follow Simon without complaint.
“You haven’t been sleeping well, I take it?” There was a good period of silence where Simon really thought Johnny just wasn’t going to answer, like he hadn’t processed what Simon had said.
“Maybe gotten about… seven hours of sleep in the past four days?” Simon stopped in his tracks, Johnny almost bumping into him as he turned around.
“You mean to tell me you’ve been running around training sleep deprived?” Johnny flinched. There was no anger in Simon’s voice, for that he was grateful, but there was warranted concern.
“‘m sorry.” His voice came out as a pitiful whine and he wanted to shrink away from Simon’s gaze.
“I can’t just walk up to Price and tell him ‘Hey, I’m so bored I got insomnia so haven’t slept in four days, let me have a day off.’ can I?” He followed after Simon when the man continued to walk, head bowed.
“You said this doesn’t happen often, right?” Johnny looked up just in time to see they were approaching Simon’s quarters, and that he was being herded in without room for protest.
“Yeah, the first time it's happened in probably two years now. Why?” Simon was already shuffling through some of his drawers as Johnny shut and locked the door, a man on a mission, and a pair of sweats and a shirt were thrown at him.
They’d long past gotten over the need for privacy, so Johnny just stripped and changed where he was, neatly folding his clothes and placing them next to the desk.
“Why don't you ask Price to set up a plan for when it happens? He’s worried about you, y’know. He might be a stickler for… everything, I suppose, but he isn't heartless, Johnny, god forbid you need a day or two to recover from something other than an injury every few years.” So maybe Simon had a good point there, but there was still the hurdle of actually asking for help.
And he hadn’t actually even asked for Simon’s help. Simon had found him crying in the fucking kitchen at two in the morning, much to Johnny’s horror. He’d been dragged out to the course and run ragged, though his body had only let him get about two hours of sleep before waking him up again.
“Maybe. I’ve never had to before, though, so why should it start now?” Simon just scoffed at him, dressed now in a nearly identical outfit minus his usual mask, though Johnny noticed how nicely he filled out the clothes compared to the way they were slightly baggy on him. Not that he was complaining about the sight.
“Because you need to take care of yourself, Johnny.” Oh, wasn’t that a concept. Price and Simon had already grilled him on his tendency towards self sacrifice on many occasions.
He couldn’t help it, his mind just automatically shifted to the needs of others before himself. It was never intentional to ignore his own needs or his safety, it was just how he worked. He said so to Simon, sitting down on the side of the bed with a groan.
“What do you mean?” Simon had paused, looking over to him curiously.
“I don’t know, I just… never think about it? Used to struggle with things like eating and showering and brushing my teeth as a kid, but I had no issue making sure my siblings did their routines. Just how I work, I guess.”
Simon kept staring at him, and Johnny was fighting that damn flush that his attentive gaze always brought, like he was being studied.
“Your arms, do you do that on purpose?” Johnny cocked his head to the side, unsure of what Simon was talking about until the man came over and held up his forearms, running his fingers gingerly along the edges of the bandages medical had taped down. The question didn’t feel like an accusation, though, and if Johnny was being honest he preferred the blunt honesty of it over how most usually danced around the subject, or flat out refused to bring it up.
“Ah… no. Subconscious habit, really. Rather nasty one.” He wouldn't admit to the fact that he also had a history of picking at scabs or raised scars that he had mostly worked himself out of, almost solely due to the fact that his uniform covered most of his skin. These- episodes, or whatever they were- were the only time that old habit resurfaced now.
“Makes sense.” Johnny couldn't put two and two together, but obviously Simon had figured something out.
While they’d been talking back and forth, Simon had pulled some toiletries out from somewhere- where, and why, was he hiding all this stuff in his room?- and put them out for Johnny on the counter in his bathroom.
“It’s like ye been waitin for me to spend the night, Simon.” His voice was full of teasing, but he’d missed the way Simon’s eyes widened ever so slightly.
“In your dreams.” The man countered, jabbing a hand into Johnny’s side as he joined him at the bathroom counter.
“Oh you’d like to know all about those dreams, wouldn't you, Simon.” A dramatically scandalized look was sent Johnny’s way and they both laughed. There was more truth in those jokes than either would like to admit, but Johnny was too drained to even consider thinking about that, still just trying to process that Simon had even agreed to let him sleep in his room.
They’d brushed their teeth and washed off their faces, Simon turning most of the lights in his room, when Johnny grabbed a pillow and a blanket and dropped them on the floor, fully prepared to sleep on the ground. He wasn’t opposed to it, he knew his joints might protest it in the morning but something about the floor was almost appealing.
“What are you doing, Johnny?” Simon was looking at him like he was crazy.
“Going to sleep…?” Apparently this was the wrong answer because the pillow and blanket were promptly snatched away and tossed back onto the bed.
“Not on the floor, you aren’t. You've gotten less than a full night's sleep over the span of four days, Johnny, if you do not get in this bed right now I will knock you out and do it myself.” Johnny blinked, stunned for a moment, before hesitantly making his way to the bed.
He’d have been more than happy sleeping on the floor, he’d slept fine in less comfortable places many times, but Simon didn’t seem to be leaving any room for arguing. Simon shooed him to the far side of the bed that was tucked up to the wall before sitting down on the edge. He reached over to turn off the last light, a little reading lamp by his bed, and the room was flooded by moonlight.
“You want proximity, right?” Johnny nodded, barely perceptible, but Simon was finely tuned in to Johnny’s every move.
Just being around Simon made the ache in his nerves slip away, tugged all the racing thoughts from his mind. Those minutes of sleep he’d gotten on the bench, tucked up to Simon, felt more useful than the seven hours he’d gotten over the last 96. It had taken all of his willpower to ask Simon if he could sleep in the same room as him, and Johnny hadn't expected him to say yes, let alone insist on sleeping in the same bed.
But he trusted his Lieutenant, his friend. With his life. So fuck it, if he wanted honesty, and it seemed like Simon could read him like a fucking open book anyways, he’d give it.
“Yeah, like being close to ye. Makes me feel… less. In a good way. Everything feels less loud.” Simon smiled, actually smiled, and moved to get more comfortable on the bed.
“Then sleep here, next to me.” That was all the reassurance Johnny needed to relax, slowly letting himself sink down onto the soft bed. His body felt like it was going to melt into the mattress as his eyes started to slip closed.
He blinked them open when he felt Simon grab one of his hands, their eyes met and neither looked away, as Simon brought his hand to his chest. Johnny could feel his steady heart beat under his palm, and when Simon gave him a gentle nod, he shifted closer. They were nearly chest to chest, foreheads mere inches apart, and Johnny felt more at peace than he had in months.
Simon pulled the blankets up over them, careful not to cover them fully, and let his free arm drape across Johnny’s side. The man was already half asleep, mumbling something incoherent beyond his accent as he quickly slipped into unconsciousness.
This certainly wasn’t the turn he’d been expecting his day to take, but if it meant that Johnny felt safe and content, then he was willing to do whatever it took