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This isn’t the first time a campaign has failed. It happens, but that doesn’t make it any less annoying. Especially when you can’t go home immediately after.
“We can’t get them every time,” Laswell said when Ghost, Konig, and Soap returned to base. “But we have his tail and he’s on the run. I’m going to need you all to stay close until we got him in our sights again.”
“How long are we thinking?” Soap asks, more out of curiosity than a want to go home.
For Ghost and Soap home was wherever the other was. So long as they kept it out of paperwork and didn’t outright maul each other during a mission neither Price nor Laswell cared about their relationship. It wasn’t the first-time love was found on the battlefield, a ring on Laswell’s finger was proof of that.
Konig, on the other hand, had somewhere to be.
“I can’t say. It’s going to be at least a few days. I’ll see about getting some barracks set up for you two. Showers should be open up already.” She said, conversation over with the turning of her back.
Ghost didn’t think much about Konig hanging back in Laswell’s office. A quick swat to his backside told him that no one was around and that Soap would see him later. Another action that he didn’t think much about. The only thing that matters now is the showers and clean underwear. Maybe a bed softer than the ground but that might be asking for too much.
There was nothing really special about the target they were after. Just another cartel “boss” that was destined to be arrested by authorities or killed by the actual boss. It was only through a sudden wave of brutality that the 141 was brought in. Followed a trail through several countries until they barely nipped at the target’s heels. At least they torched the makeshift compound he left behind.
Under lukewarm water Ghost let himself become bare. It’s easier to wash off someone else’s blood when not wearing a mask. It’s now that he can remove the image of the Ghost. He can be Simon, even if it’s while hiding under a subpar shower.
“Simon, you in?” Johnny’s voice calls through the bathroom.
Simon makes a hmm noise loud enough to be heard. He didn’t need to invite Johnny in, zippers were already being pulled down and clothing was getting removed rather quickly.
“There he is,” Johnny says, moving the curtain and stepping into the cubicle.
It took time and patients before Simon was comfortable with Johnny stepping in so casually. Even longer before Johnny could just press against Simon’s back without him tensing up. Now look at them; practically spooning in the shower.
“Nothing more romantic than a military bath,” Johnny says, having to practically stand on his toes to get some water over his head.
“Doubt the motel’s going to be any better,” Simon replied, eyes still closed.
“Not to worry about that, Babe. Königs’ got us covered.” Johnny places an open mouth kiss on the back of Simon’s neck. But that didn’t stop Simon from practically wheeling around.
“What do you mean?” Simon asked, black from his leftover face paint running down his cheeks like poorly applied makeup.
“König and the misses have a house not too far from here. He figured we’d prefer his guestroom over whatever motel Price considers ‘suitable’.” Soap says with air quotes over the word suitable. It’s only then that Johnny seems to remember Simon was a part of this. “Sorry, I should have gotten your input first. How’d feel about stopping by?”
Simon turns back towards the water as if it’s no big deal.
“Plans are already made, it seems. Let’s see how the giant lives.” Simon says, rubbing away the last of his face paint.
It’s almost funny how different Simon and Johnny were in their civilian lives. Simon had long ago given up on the idea of being a civilian. He was the Ghost, a lieutenant, and a badass when on the field. When off the field he was a lone wolf, the quiet guy in the superstore, and the big man you cross the street to avoid walking past.
Johnny, on the other hand, could make a friend in an empty room. The favorite uncle to his nieces and nephews. He’s that nice man who can grab things from the shelf at the store. Few social events are complete until John McTavish makes an appearance. It should be no surprise that Johnny became König’s friend, it was more of a surprise that it took so long to be invited for dinner.
-
You have to strain to hear the Jeep pulling into your driveway. There was no need to take a peek out of the window. Your shared home was a good ten-minute drive from the highway. Through trees and past farms no one pulls into your driveway on accident.
Your name is called out when the front door opens. Followed shortly by the thumping of shoes and soft talking of your guests.
“Nice place, König. Pretty far out from anything, though.” Comments an Irish accent.
“Not everyone wants to live ass to ass with their neighbors. It’s a pretty good location.” Adds in a British accent.
It wasn’t like König to invite “co-workers” home for the weekend. With Kortac you only got to meet Horangi, and that was probably so you’d have someone to call if something happened. This was likely a similar scenario.
“Darling,” König says when you round the corner to the front room.
He must have changed before leaving the base. It wasn’t like König could go about civilian life while wearing a sniper’s hood. Instead, he wears a mask or balaclava when he feels it’s necessary. This is almost exclusively when he heads into the city or has to stop by more populated areas. In his line of work being recognized could result in something awful. The likely hood of being recognized countries away from enemies is rare but not impossible.
You don’t care or worry about the guests still standing in the doorway. Not when your man is coming towards you with a smile that lights up his eyes. König removes his mask in a simple motion as he walks towards you. Leaning down for a kiss that you plant on him gently, but still insist on putting your arms around his neck.
König’s always been a mountain of ice when he gets home. König liked his AC and it was usually blasting throughout the car and house wherever he was. Supposedly it helps keep him awake when driving or doing paperwork. More likely than not he just wanted an excuse to drag you in for a cuddle.
You’re too focused on your own man to hear the small conversation happening at the door.
“Why don’t you kiss me like that?” The Irish man asked.
“Shut up.” Whispered the Brit, although no malicious could be heard in his voice.
The is never as long as you want it to be. But, it has to end, and you are refocused on your still-waiting guests.
“I’m so sorry, it’s nice to meet you.” You say to the two men, reaching out a hand towards them and giving your name.
“Likewise, Ma’am.” The Irish man says, taking your hand. “I’m John McTavish, and this is Simon. We work with König at the 141, he’s a good man.”
“You don’t have to tell me that.” You say, nodding towards Simon who reciprocates. “I take it you’re both operators, too. Königs’ told me a few things. It’s nice to meet the people watching his back.”
You instruct both John and Simon to make themselves at home. Directing towards the living room and bar that’s hardly used for company. “It’s stocked, so help yourselves.” You said, following your man when he disappeared into the kitchen.
“Is everyone you hang out with so damn tall?” You can’t help but ask.
“No, it’s just luck. I seem to attract them.” König says, putting his head through his apron’s top.
“You don’t have to cook,” You say, but have already walked around him to tie up the back. “I was just going to order in.”
Ordering in and grabbing food as you’re going to whenever König was away. He did most of the cooking in your household. Recipes passed down from his mother and father kept you fed through most of the year. This isn’t to say you couldn’t handle yourself but, who would choose cooking over someone doing that for you?
“It’s a tradition, don’t take this from me,” König explains. “Does spaghetti sound good? I don’t have time to do anything too complicated.”
“Do your thing, babe. Whatever it is I’m looking forward to it.” You reply, swatting his backside while heading out from the kitchen.
König was not the kind of guy you can cook alongside. More than once you’ve asked if there was anything you could do to help. And, more than once, König was hypercritical of your culinary skills. Mainly micromanaging how to cut vegetables.
That was the closest you’ve ever come to stabbing him.
Back in the living room John and Simon sat side by side on the couch. Simon leaning against the couch’s arm. His own arm rested over the back and, if he wanted, he could easily wrap it around John’s shoulders. John sat with a casual hand on Simon’s thigh. Both of the men holding glasses of dark liquid.
“So, what’re we drinking?” You ask, already at the bar.
“Bourbon,” Simon said raising his glass in an almost toast.
“Scotch for me. But I won’t judge you too harshly if you go with the whiskey.” John explains.
You went with neither. Picking your own preferred brand from the bottom of the bar. Far enough down that König wouldn’t accidentally clean out your alcohol.
“How long have you and König been married?” John asks.
“It’s barely been a year, but we’ve lived together before. I had to make sure the relationship would survive your line of work.” You explained.
Of course, it was quite a bit more complicated than that. You didn’t mention how it took months before König came clean about his job. That you didn’t believe him at first. And you certainly didn’t talk about how König was more scared of a relationship than anyone with a gun could ever make him.
The truth was it hurt every time your husband had to leave. It didn’t matter whether you had a day’s notice or a month’s notice. You held him close on those mornings and tried your hardest to convince him to stay. Of course he couldn’t but at least you had tried.
It wasn’t as if you were always available, either. Your own work, relationships, and life made this entire marriage feel a bit like an afterthought. More than once you’ve come home to König asleep on the couch. His feet hanging off the end and one of your pets sleeping on his chest.
“How long have you two been together?” You ask with a casual drink.
Johnny and Simon have a few seconds of interaction in the time it takes you to drink. Johnny squeezing Simon’s thigh and getting no reaction made the answer to your question.
“Not too long, either. But being too open about it makes work more than a little complicated. Anyway, you know about our work, what do you do? I can’t see you as a ‘oh, when will my husband come home,’ type of gal.” Johnny asks, leaning forward to emphasize who was expected to talk next.
It’s not often you find a real people person working in the military-industrial complex. Johnny was a rare case, even in the 141. True, he didn’t have the humor like Gaz or the unquestionable charm like Price. Even Simon had the tall, dark, and handsome vibe to him. All that was nothing compared to Johnny’s ability to simply be nice and know when to change the subject.
König was as skilled in the kitchen as in the field. Simple spices and meats added to store-bought sauce has an amazing effect on spaghetti. Even more so when the popping of a bottle rings through the house and you have to comment; “He has this special brand his mother got us. It’s so special that he keeps it on the highest shelf when I need to stand on the counter to reach it. Marriage isn’t always perfect, you know?”
Simon could understand that sentiment. Truth was he and Johnny were barely past the two-year anniversary of their relationship. But fighting alongside your partner in life-or-death situations can make that time feel so much faster. In Simon’s mind they were already an old married couple, only difference being his ass was still firm.
Dinner is served family style at the table. König setting out plates and bread as you came in to help him. Grabbing napkins and utensils without being asked or really thinking about it.
“Why don’t you cook for me?” Simon whispered to Johnny while they walked into the dinning room.
“For the same reason you don’t kiss me.” Johnny retorted, happy that Simon seemed to have relaxed somewhat.
It wasn’t as if Simon was some feral dog Johnny decided to adopt one day. Simon was a grown man who understood at least basic social expectations, but time and trauma had made him somewhat rusty. It made him quiet when around anyone but friends or colleges. What answers you were going to get out of him were short and sharp, wanting to reach the point as quickly as possible.
Anyone could sense this want of solitude coming off of Simon. It’s why most of the conversation took place between Johnny and yourself. König sometimes adding in but letting you handle a majority of the conversation. Content to simply eat the spaghetti and listen to the people around him.
“-So he’s holding my shirt and walking me backwards real slow. He’s not that much bigger than me but the size matters with that sort of thing.” Johnny tells his story with enthusiasm. Holding onto the front of his shirt for emphasis. “But, before we get too close to the edge, the cunt gets taken out by none other than the Ghost.”
It’s hard to see Simon’s face from where you sit at the table. The vase of flowers König had got you not too long ago blocked a clear view of Simon. The veteran operator likely sat there specifically to block your view.
You could imagine that he was smiling though. Johnny reaches his arm over Simon’s shoulders and gives him a squeeze. Had they been in private it’s not hard to imagine that the squeeze might also include a kiss.
“Sounds like you’re a pretty good sniper, Simon.” You say, speaking directly to Simon for the first time that night. “Unfortunately, I know for a fact that my König here is the better shot. Sniping or otherwise.”
“Oh no, Darling. Please don’t involve me in this.” König says with his hands up as if to surrender.
“We’ll test each other later, don’t you worry about that,” Simon says, his fort spinning over his plate.
It’s downright domestic how Johnny volunteered to help you with the dishes. König made a move to help instead but was practically glared back to his seat. If you let him he’d do everything around the house. Guilt from his work has that effect on him.
“How is Simon doing?” You asked Johnny, hoping that the wall and running sink were enough to hide your voice.
“He’s Simon, there’s no need to worry about him. Trust me, if he had a problem with you, he’d let you know.” Johnny replies. “How are you doing? I know that we pretty much barged into your house without warning.”
“König called me before you showed up, so not completely unannounced. It really is nice to see who has my husband’s back. It makes being without him a lot easier, I might even be able to relax next time.” You explain.
“You worry about him too much?” Johnny asks, glancing out the door towards your partners.
“I wouldn’t say too much, just a healthy amount. It’s not enough to stop me from doing things, but don’t tell König. All he’ll hear is that I’m worried and we don’t need that.” You say, being sure to stay close to the running sink while saying this.
“He won’t hear anything from me,” Johnny promises.
Johnny, Simon, and König resided in a world that you simply couldn’t understand. At most, you could get a few peaks in through the complaints or stories they choose to tell. Unlike you, they didn’t make too much of a habit of thinking about the future. For König he only felt safe thinking about the present and how he can best get back to you. Simon never saw himself with a real future, at no point in his life did he have a goal besides survival.
Johnny was different as he actually thought about the future. At first, it was just to be the best soldier in the field and as high ranked as he could get. Then Johnny met Simon and his goals turned into a heart-shaped plan. One that involved buying a house and maybe a dog that Simon would approve of. Knowing Simon it would be a German Shepard or two.
Johnny’s life plan shifted ever so slightly throughout the night. It glowed pink as he watched you and König share a drink. He looks out to Simon, smoking his cigarette on the back porch, and can see the one and only future he wants. One where Simon is safe and on Johnny’s lap as much as possible.
“I need to call my mother before it gets too late.” König practically declared around the nine pm mark. He leans over the chair and says; “I promise not to be too long.” He then looks up to Simon and Johnny. “The spare room is down the hall. I doubt sharing will be a problem for you.”
“I’ll show you,” You say while standing.
The guest room was the last thing decorated in the house. After taking your time to decorate the house most of your creativity went into the other rooms. Leaving the guest room looking almost bare. A King-sized bed with blue sheets and curtains to match. Two side tables and an armoire were the only things that could be considered decorations.
Johnny interrupts before you can apologize for the drab decorations.
“It could have stuffed ponies and this room would be better than some motel,” Johnny said.
“Or a motel,” Added Simon already opening his overnight bag.
“Glad to hear it, but I’ll see if I can find some stuffed ponies for you. Have a good night, gentlemen.” You say, making an almost show of closing the door behind you.
-
Simon was past the point in his life where sex seemed more important than it was. Able to pull out his pajamas, brush his teeth, and let Soap do the same before making a move.
“Hold on, hold on,” Johnny moaned after his face was grabbed.
Simon restrained himself enough for Johnny to lock the door. Turning back to Simon and this time leaning into the kiss that demanded so much more.
Simon still had some of his tricks from his barracks bunny days. Knowing that men like Johnny loved to plow their partners but only with said partner’s enthusiastic consent. Moaning out his wants and begging for more was never Simon’s forte. He was the ordering type, a real power bottom, that gave orders as easy as he would in the field.
“Lay down,” He ordered, walking Johnny back until gravity takes control.
Shirtless, straddling Johnny’s waist, Simon held Johnny’s jaw with a grip. His strength was only matched by the hold Johnny had on Simon’s ass.
“Mmm, just like that.” Simon moans, leaning forward so they are chest-to-chest. “Perfect. Bloody perfect right now.”
Johnny smiled when he hears this. Simon was one of, if not the, most selfless man you could ever meet. Even with the prickly exterior, Simon would be the first one running into the firefight. Ready with a plan and the voice to give orders and save the entire mission. If anyone deserved a perfect moment, it was Simon. He deserved more than just a moment; he deserved a lifetime.
“You-you ever think of making it permeant?” Johnny asks, hands sliding from Simon’s ass to his back.
Simon stills a bit but doesn’t pull away just yet. “What are you thinking about?”
“Retirement would look good on you, Babe. Pension alone would keep us both in steak and bourbon for years. There’s no need for both of us to stay, you know? Betcha Price would agree with me.” John says, digging gently into Simon’s back.
Simon sits all the way up. “That better be the alcohol talking.”
Johnny knew this was going to be a delicate topic to bring up. Johnny didn’t know Simon before the 141. He had only heard the stories from Simon or from the rest of the task force. At best the stories were violent, at worst they were simply sad.
That didn’t stop Johnny from wanting though. Johnny, like Simon, wasn’t about to back down just because the conversation got awkward.
“You never think about it?.” Johnny presses forward.
It’s obvious that Simon has never thought about it. He blinks down at Johnny as if trying to understand what he had just said.
“No, I haven’t,” Simon says, moving off of Johnny to sit facing away.
There was more Simon wanted to say. He wanted to be angry about the suggestion. He wanted to yell and demand to know why Johnny would suggest the idea. Did Johnny honestly expect Simon to become some kind of Stepford wife? It was a stupid thought and a stupid suggestion.
At the same time, Simon didn’t want to think about it. If he weren’t in the field as Ghost then he’d have to be in the civilian world as Simon. A part of himself that hasn’t been allowed to grow for years.
Finally, Simon was just a bit grateful. Johnny would be the only one to make this suggestion. He’d also be the only one that Simon would ever retire for. But a partner in arms and a husband at home were two very different things.
“I have,” Johnny almost whispers, reaching a hand out to gently run his knuckles over Simon’s back. “but I don’t want to lose you for a fantasy. I won’t bring it up. Not until you want, at least.”
Simon didn’t verbally respond. Only laying back down on the bed, still facing away from the one man he wants more than anything.
“Can we cuddle, at least?” Johnny asks after a few minutes of silence between them.
Again, Simon says nothing, Instead he gestures for Johnny to come closer. Which he gratefully does.
-
There’s a game you and König like to play sometimes. It’s where you pretend that König’s cock isn’t the only thing on your mind. Where you smile at his compliments and don’t lead him into the bedroom right away. König plays the same game by pretending he didn’t want you bent over. He stills himself against your hand on his backside. Pretends that he doesn’t see how your mouth touches the rim of your glass. Neither of you outright says; “I want to fuck”, it would ruin the magic of the tease.
The sexual tension builds until it breaks. This night you were the one to crack first.
König never spent more than an hour speaking to his parents. Enough time for you to make it back upstairs. Having that moment of panic where you try to decide whether sexy or comfy would fit the mood tonight.
In the end, it doesn’t matter what you wear, or if you choose to wear anything. König will look at you, just like he does every time, with large eyes and an almost surprised look on his face. It doesn’t matter how many times you wait for him. It’s always the same adoration.
“Hello,” König says, stepping up to the side of the bed. Close enough to cup your face but not enough to actually make contact.
“So beautiful…” He murmurs while holding your face. His head tilts while he looks as if you were some painting in a museum.
He doesn’t move when you reach up to his face. Gently sliding your thumbs under his mask and sliding it up. As often as possible you were the one to remove his mask when he gets home. It’s an intimate moment you get to keep special. Showing that he was home, and you were right in front of him.
Part of the reason he kept the mask/helmet combo was to keep his hair in one place. Light brown hair down to his shoulders didn’t make him the shaggiest in the world. It was certainly longer than most military personnel. The same being said for his facial hair; not quite a beard but it would get there soon enough.
He leans against your hand. Blinking slowly before leaning in for a kiss.
His weight presses into your body. Being pushed back until you were flat across the bed. König’s weight presses you in the bed.
“I missed you,” You whispered into his mouth, grinding your hips upwards.
“I missed you more,” König countered, his open mouth pressing into your throat.
He’s a firm mountain of a man that was all yours to do whatever you wanted. Whether it be to verbally ask him to turn you around or simply move your hips and hands in such a way that he rolls over. You really don’t need to do much to get what you wanted from him. He was always ready to please you in whatever way was needed.
He swears in German when he penetrates. His hips moved slowly but with enough purpose that there was no stopping the jolt throughout. He quickly starts moving to match that first thrust. Moving your body back and forth with each thrust he makes. Slowly, so slowly, quickening his pace.
It’s always a bit surprising that König, or any military operator, could be so soft in bed. He holds you close, kisses you sweetly, and never wants to let go.
-
It doesn’t matter that Johnny wasn’t on a mission. He liked his workout routine. So, just after 6 am, Johnny stirs awake against a body made of warmth and muscle.
Simon doesn’t give any indication of being awake. Not even when Johnny steps out of bed.
Seeing Simon’s thick body lying there peacefully was a nice view. Johnny was too much of a gentleman to interrupt his partner’s sleep. He pulls the top sheet up and over his sleeping partner, making sure that nothing indecent was exposed before getting dressed.
König had a similar routine in the mornings.
He tended to wake up earlier than necessary. Your wall of warmth slowly moves back from your body. Out of instinct, you grab his forearm before he can get all the way up.
“It’s just for a jog.” König whispers, a soft kiss on your mouth. “Go back to sleep.”
“Okay,” You whisper although not nearly awake enough to know what was going on.
You don’t hear him getting dressed. Or feel the dip in the bed as he leans over. Nor do you notice when he puts another kiss on your cheek. What you do finally notice is the moving around your kitchen.
It’s still early in the morning, just a bit after seven. So you’ll be forgiven for being confused about the random blonde man in your kitchen.
“Morning,” Simon from the kitchen counter.
He’s wearing a black mask, no different from the kind you’d wear during the pandemic. It makes his dark blonde hair visible. It’s short, no surprise, but just long enough that he might be thinking about a haircut in the near future.
You also get a better look at some of his face. You can see that he has a scar running from his forehead to his neck. A few other little scars here and there that hint at battles long past. Dark blonde hair creates a shadow over the parts of his neck that you can see. If you didn’t know any better he could have been just any guy you’d pass on the street.
“Good morning, You guys sleep well? Sorry, I couldn’t find those stuffed animals for you.” You say, going for the fridge like you would any morning.
“We made do,” Simon says, not willing to go any further.
You silently accepted that. Too focused on making breakfast more complicated than a bowl of cereal to try and force a conversation. Simon moved away from the counter to the island stool, his phone out and in his hand.
It was awkward, to say the least, but nothing could be gained by trying to force a conversation. You could probably get away with offering him some eggs, but even that might be too far. On the one hand, you didn’t want to be rude to your houseguest. On the other hand, Simon didn’t give off the friendly vibes that Johnny did so easily.
Neither of you was willing to try and keep a conversation going. Because of this only the clinking and clanking of your cooking makes noise.
Until the kitchen window explodes.
It’s a mess of glass and panic that fills the entire room. It doesn’t matter what training you did or didn’t have. When someone shoots through a window most people start moving, whether it’s to duck down and hide or if it’s run from the room. At that moment, you were in the latter category. Leaving the oven on, leaving Simon, and escaping the kitchen before the intruder knew you were even there.
If Simon was anything like König then there was no point in trying to help. Uniformed men were like that; protectors who would be insulted if their families or loved ones tried to help in a dangerous situation. Was it a stupid mentality? Absolutely, but that didn’t change the fact that it is what it is.
From the other side of the wall, you can hear the struggle. No words were spoken but grunts and anger followed by hitting and crashing. The smart thing to do would be to leave the house. Simon was a trained and seasoned operator. There’s no reason he shouldn’t be able to handle one intruder by himself.
Simon shouts out in anger, and that keeps you from leaving as you should.
Braving to peek your head around the corner and take a look. You don’t know the intruder that stands over Simon. Dressed in dark jeans and a jacket he could have been any guy off the street. The only difference was the gun in his hand and the blood on the floor around him.
“Way too easy to find your dumbasses.” The man said, hatred in his voice. “It’s like you want everyone to die, I swear. Glare at me all you want, it ain’t gonna stop anything.”
Simon doesn’t say anything back, he simply glares. Even keeping his mouth shut when the man squats down in front of him. Only saying anything when the man grabs Simon’s mast, ripping it off his face non-too-gently.
“FUCKER!” Simon yells when his face is revealed.
It feels wrong but you dare a glance at Simon’s face. Allowing yourself to look for only a second. Long enough to see where his scars meet across a strong nose. You don’t look for long enough to see the details.
“When you die I want you to die knowing your family is next. Your mum, dad, kids, fucking wife…All of them are gonna be dead.” The intruder continues with his monologue. Pointing his gun toward Simon’s temple and pressing in.
It’s impossible to say what pushed you forward into the kitchen. It certainly wasn’t your own sense of self-preservation, that had left the room a hot minute ago. Maybe you could blame it on your own need to be a hero. What better way to show off your courage than to save someone from a gunman?
If only you had the skills to match your bravery. All you really did was run forward fast and slam hard. Pushing the intruder into Simon with all your weight.
Simon met your courage with some of his own. An arm around the intruder’s neck, dragging him close and refusing to let go.
Hand to hand Simon is comparable only to a mountain lion. He’s baring teeth and moving limbs trying to get and destroy anything close by. The intruder’s throat is bared and red from Simon biting down on the closest bit of skin he could reach.
With Simon grappling with the intruder you were left with little room to work. The only thing you could grab was the intruder’s gun holding hand. Just like running into this fight, you didn’t really have a plan. Only the inescapable need to do something.
In an instant, everything becomes too much. The intruder is yelling too loudly. The floor is too hard on your knees. You can smell the blood and feel the spit splattering over yourself and the kitchen. Someone is running around and banging through your living room. Simon starts shouting and you can’t understand him.
It’s no surprise that you didn’t hear the gun go off.
Without a life to control the hand, you were now in possession of the intruder’s gun. Although your ears are ringing, and the floor is still too hard, you can’t help but notice that the gun is cold. It wasn’t the one that fired and took away the threat.
That bullet came from Johnny’s gun.
There was no way you could have heard Johnny or König come back. They didn’t know what was going on either. Only that their designated partners were in trouble.
“Got you, I got you.” Is whispered over your head, and the gun is gently pulled from your hand.
König, big and strong, he’s pulling you close. Practically dragging you onto his lap, tucking your head into his shoulder.
“He’s dead?” You ask, although it comes out more as a statement.
König looks over to Johnny and Simon. They were in a similar position as you two were. Johnny is holding his man closely. It almost seems that Simon is trying to hide by pressing his face into Johnny’s neck, slowly being rocked by the same man who holds him so safely.
“He’s dead,” König whispers into your hair.
You don’t need to say anything else. Later Laswell would make sure everything gets cleaned up. Get you some accommodations and let König have a week off from missions. For now, though. You’re stuck with a body in your kitchen. A reminder tot eh world what could happen is someone tried anything.