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Simon wasn’t sure where Johnny was.
To most, that wouldn’t seem like a big deal. His boyfriend was somewhere that wasn’t next to him, and he didn’t know where he was. That was normal, healthy even. Being constantly attached at the hip probably wasn’t the best, right?
But it wasn’t okay. Simon wasn’t okay with it. Because he always knew where Johnny was. Whether that’s because they were on a mission or on base together, or Price could tell him where Johnny had gone on a solo mission, or simply one without Ghost.
It wasn’t like Johnny hadn’t told him where he was going, no he had been very clear in the fact that he was going to get drinks with an old friend. But Simon knew he was lying. Johnny was a terrible liar if you knew what to look for, the way his accent would heighten slightly, and the fact that his eyes would dart around his face a fraction more than usual. Difficult to spot as an outsider, laughably easy to spot for Simon. Johnny had lied about what he was doing, and that left Simon pacing the apartment, his phone clutched in his hand with messages going unanswered. He wouldn’t admit that he was anxious, and logically, he knew that Johnny could handle himself. Still, something was gnawing at his insides no matter how hard he tried to ignore it.
Johnny had been acting odd all day. He was more jittery than normal, and Simon had caught him staring at his phone, lost in thought more than a few times. His hands had even shook slightly when he was lacing up his boots to leave, and Johnny always had remarkably steady hands for someone with their life experience. Then, he had stood up and announced that he was going to meet a friend and had promptly left. He hadn’t come home or responded to a single message since then, and it had been four hours. It was midnight, and Simon hadn’t been able to sleep, and knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep until Johnny was home.
Simon settled himself down on the sofa and mindlessly flicked through the various channels, although he wasn’t paying attention. How could he pay attention? He wasn’t sure how long he stayed there.
He was pulled out of his stupor by the sound of keys clinking on the other side of the door. He could have cried in relief. He all but ran to the front door as it swung open, and, as expected, there stood Johnny. But something was wrong. Something was terribly, clearly, wrong. Johnny smelled strongly of alcohol, and he was clearly drunk. Not the fun, cheerful and overly affectionate drunk that he was usually, but a sombre, upset kind of drunk. His eyes were blank and red-rimmed, and tear tracks still stained his cheeks. That was what threw Simon off the most. Johnny didn’t cry. He never cried, no, he faced everything with a grin and a sparkle in his eyes. But that sparkle was gone, leaving his grey eyes as cold as a stone wall. Johnny glanced up at Simon, and he could see even more clearly how bloodshot his eyes were.
Simon had originally planned to go on some kind of rant, telling Johnny how he should’ve answered his messages, to never lie to him again, to tell him what the fuck was going on. But all that died on his tongue when he saw the state that Johnny was in.
“What happened? Who do I need to kill?” Simon demanded, pulling Johnny inside and shutting the door firmly behind him. Whereas that would’ve gotten a laugh normally, Johnny just shook his head, eyes blank and glassy.
“Johnny, what’s wrong?” he asked, softer this time. “Talk to me,”
Johnny just shook his head again, more violently this time, and fresh tears started to slip down his cheeks, a choked noise tearing itself from his throat.
“Hey, it’s alright Johnny, let’s just head to bed, yeah?”
A nod this time. Jerky and uncoordinated, but a nod.
Simon slipped Johnny’s hand into his and led him towards the bathroom. He helped Johnny pull off his cargo pants and shirt until he was left in his boxers, sitting on the toilet seat, staring at the wall. He didn’t even bother to wipe the tears off his cheeks. Simon pressed a glass of water into his hands and watched as he drank it. He would’ve liked to get some food in him but was sure that Johnny wasn’t up to it. He helped Johnny brush his teeth to get the bitter taste of cheap alcohol out of his mouth before leading him to bed. Johnny still hadn’t said a single word the entire time, which was more than worrying.
As they lay down in bed, he expected Johnny to turn away from him and retreat to the furthest corner of the bed. So, he made sure to grab Johnny quickly and pull him towards himself so Johnny’s head rested in the crook of his neck, and he could lean down and kiss his soft hair gently.
“We’re going to talk about this in the morning,” he said, and if Johnny heard him, he didn’t acknowledge it.
+++++++++
When Simon woke up, Johnny was already gone. That was unusual, most of the time Simon woke up well before Johnny and went through his morning routine of cleaning his guns, a run, then tea and breakfast. Johnny was usually awake by the time he returned from his run, and they would have breakfast together. But today when Simon emerged from the bedroom, Johnny was already eating breakfast. Simon waited until he was finished, and sunk onto the sofa besides his partner, turning off the TV as he did so. Johnny turned to face him, sitting cross-legged on the sofa, and Simon saw that the same blank look still swirled in his eyes. He looked an inch from breaking down.
“You gonna tell me what happened last night?” he asked.
“It’s fine, nothing happened,” Johnny said, staring down at his hands where he was twisting his dog tags between his fingers.
“You’re a shitty liar Johnny,” Simon deadpanned, reaching over to clasp his hands over Johnny’s smaller ones. His calloused palms caught roughly on the scarred backs of Johnny’s hands.
“It’s fine Simon. It’s nothing anyway,”
“So, something did happen.” It wasn’t a question.
Johnny looked like he wanted to kick himself.
“It doesn’t matter if it did, it’s stupid anyway,”
Johnny had always been stubborn. If he set his mind on something, there was little anyone could do to stop him. And while it was an admirable trait most of the time, it was equally as infuriating at times like this.
“Who did you meet last night Johnny,” Simon shuffled closer, so their legs touched, still holding hands, and Simon tightened his grip to be more reassuring than just a loose hold. Johnny finally looked up at him, his eyes watery and threatening to spill over.
“My dad,” he said quietly.
Ah. Simon didn’t know much about Johnny’s relationship with his father, except that it was strained. He only knew what he had been told by Johnny’s mother. He felt slightly guilty.
“And I’m assuming it didn’t go well?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Johnny turned away from him again, and Simon cursed himself, had he said the wrong thing? He truly was awful at this whole emotion thing.
“Of course, it matters, if it upset you then I want to know,” Johnny looked up at him again, and this time, tears had started to decorate his face.
“It doesn’t matter, because whatever shitty relationship I have with my dad, no matter what he said to me, it doesn’t even come close to the shit you went through with your dad. I can’t whinge to you about how my dad isn’t perfect when you had it so much worse, that’s not fair to you. I have no right to fucking complain,” the words spilled forth from Johnny as though once he started, he couldn’t stop. When he finished, he pulled his knees up to his chest and buried his face in his arms. Simon just stared at him.
“Johnny, no. Yes, my dad was an asshole, but that doesn’t mean that whatever’s got you upset isn’t important to me,” he said, reaching out to cup a hand on Johnny’s jaw, lifting his head up to meet his gaze.
His lip trembled dangerously, and fresh tears were spilling down his face.
Johnny launched himself forward and collapsed into Simon, a sob tearing through him. Simon held him tightly until Johnny started to mumble.
“I asked to meet up with him. Wanted to talk since I didn’t get a chance to at dinner. Thought I could change his mind,” Johnny said, barely above a whisper. “Stupid idea,”
“Not stupid,” Simon argued, his hand immediately going to card through Johnny’s hair.
“I told him that I’d always been like this that I’m still the same person, and that I’m finally happy now I have you,” Johnny said, his voice slightly muffled against Simon’s chest and his occasional stuttering breaths.
Simon’s heart jumped slightly at that.
“He said that it wasn’t normal. He said that I’d dated girls before and asked if he’d messed up somehow, like I was doing it to hurt him. He told me that it wasn’t too late to get a wife and settle down and have kids. And after all that he had the balls to tell me that he loved me and only wanted the best for me,”
Simon breathed in sharply. He had known that Robert MacTavish wasn’t exactly happy about the fact that his son was dating a man, but he didn’t know that it was to this extent.
“Johnny, I’m so sorry,” Simon said, and was ignored by Johnny.
“I got mad. I asked him why he couldn’t just accept it, and that he didn’t really love me. I shouted at him and made it all worse. He got mad too. He yelled at me and asked why I couldn’t just be normal. Why I chose to make life more difficult for myself, if it was some stupid fucking bid for his attention. He said that Abbie and Clara were both normal, so why aren’t I?”
Johnny was shaking now, trembling in Simon’s arms as his breathing became more and more ragged.
“Sh-shouldn’t be complaining, my Ma and sisters are accepting and so is e-everyone in the 141,” the words were only half legible now, and Simon could feel tears soaking into the front of his t-shirt.
“Don’t say that. Your dad was a right bitch, and you have every right to be upset about it,” Simon scowled. Johnny laughed slightly, wrapping his arms tighter around Simon.
Simon held him as well and leant back on the sofa, ending with his neck and head propped up on some pillows with Johnny laying on top of him. He continued to run his hands through Johnny’s hair as the man tried to get his tears under control. Simon whispered sweet nothings to him as they lay there, running one hand up and down Johnny’s back. He wasn’t sure what else to do really. What could he say that would make any of this hurt less? After all it was partially his fault.
“Love you,” he finally whispered, barely audible into Johnny’s hair.
Johnny’s head whipped up at that, staring him straight in the eyes, searching for something that he didn’t seem to find. Simon did not outwardly say that he loved Johnny that often. You could probably count on one hand how many times it had happened.
“Love you too,” Johnny finally said, leaning up to join their lips. The kiss was soft and sweet and over far too soon.
They had been laying there for a while before Simon finally felt confident enough to speak.
“Your dad might just need time to come to terms with everything, or he may never. But there are people who care about you and love you as you are. Hell, Price is practically your dad already,” he said.
“A tired dad of many kids,” Johnny laughed.
Simon was glad to hear the sound, and the redness was starting to fade from Johnny’s eyes. Family was complicated, but they both knew that they’d be going back to their strange little family in a few days, and until then, they always had each other.