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There was a corner of the library that usually remained untouched and Johnny couldn't for the life of him fathom why.
Light shone through the window like a spotlight and there was a perfect view of the courtyard. The surrounding shelves were like a cozy cave and the table was smaller than most in the library, just enough space for a single person, maybe two.
It was paradise.
Yet Simon was the only person he ever saw sitting there.
It was no surprise that Simon would be there now with a book and a spread of stationery supplies littering the table. The scene looked similar to when he graded papers.
"Haven’t you read that book a thousand times already?” Johnny said as he took a seat in front of him.
Simon was so wrapped up in his reading that he jumped at the sound of his voice. He lifted a brow up at him.
“You notice what I read, MacTavish?”
Jonny huffed. He doesn't notice, mostly, but this book was attached to Simon's hip, of course he'd pay attention.
"Only 'cause I never see ya without it."
"I never see you without that silly grin." Simon retorted.
Without much thought, Johnny let himself smile, only to realize he just proved his point. Johnny wished Simon's silent chuckle had made a sound. Maybe it was for the better. Otherwise, it's all Johnny would be able to think about for forever.
"What's so special 'bout it?" Johnny asked in an attempt to get the attention off himself.
"It's my favorite."
"That all?"
Even Simon's frowns were beautiful. His brows scrunched so perfectly and a small pout that Johnny couldn't rip his eyes away from. He swallowed and hoped Simon didn't notice his gaze.
"Isn't that all it needs to be?" Simon said like it was obvious. Johnny leaned back, putting on an exaggerated show of confidence to regain some personal dignity.
"Well, when I look at mah favorite art piece, it's not just mah favorite, it's special."
Simon smiled like he'd heard an inside joke and he was trying to hide it. Johnny knew that smile was going to find its way into his dreams.
"I love imagining you in a gallery silently staring at a picture on the wall for hours." The implications were there, but Johnny didn't want to jump to any conclusions. That didn't mean he wouldn't have fun with it.
"You fantasize about me, Riley?"
Simon was completely stunned. Like something whacked him across the face and he had to keep it together.
Johnny couldn't help but laugh. That only furthered Simon's bewilderment, which fueled Johnny's laughter even more. It was a cycle that kept feeding on itself.
When Johnny quieted down, Simon's attention was already back on his book. Johnny would have felt it hurt if it wasn't so endearing to watch him read. To see his eyes scanning back and forth, knowing that he was in another world.
The sun was hitting his face just right and reflected in his glasses like crystal. His fingers held the pages like it was the most delicate thing in the world. There was a small crease in his brows from concentration.
It was a sight that Johnny itched to draw.
He tapped his fingers on the table light enough to not make a sound, not wanting to distract Simon. He knew he would regret not bringing his sketchbook with him.
Instead, he'd commit this moment to memory. He traced over every detail worth noting and the way the shadows contoured over his face. The tint of red in his cheeks and the rich brown of his eyes.
The longer he stared, the more restless he became. Nervous at the idea of not being able to recall all this information for later and the possibility of being caught.
The anxiety in his chest spiked when Simon looked up at him. That strong gaze was one he knew Simon reserved for scolding students. Johnny resisted the urge to look away. He'd only look more guilty.
"Johnny." His voice was low, monotone, and nearly frightening. It didn't matter, Johnny still melted at the way his name fell from his lips.
"Simon?" Johnny kept his voice just as level, but a slip of uncertainty was easy to pick out.
"Do I have something on my face?" It sounded serious and teasing at the same time. It infuriated him more than he expected.
"Just that bush on your chin ya call facial hair."
Simon instinctively stroked his beard with a scowl, like he was protecting it. Carefully he rubbed his jaw back and forth. Johnny wanted to feel the texture of it against his skin. Feel the roughness clash with his own beard when they kiss.
"You're one to talk with that ridiculous mop of hair on your head."
Johnny placed a hand on his chest in sarcastic shock. Mouth agape and eyebrows high on his face.
Simon rolled his eyes.
"Now yer just bein' rude."
"You were the one starin' at me. Don't you have some picture to stare at instead?" Simon returned his attention to his book, signaling that he wasn't going to engage further. Johnny was afraid he hit a nerve.
"Art," Johnny mumbled, "Someone's grumpy today."
"Not just today." Simon tensed, having regretted what he said. Johnny wasn't going to let that go.
"Somethin' wrong?"
"No." His response was concerningly quick, revealing itself as a lie.
"Simon." Johnny spoke softly. Inviting him to open up if he wanted.
Seconds silently passed, then a minute. Simon carefully placed a bookmark in the book and closed it with a sign. Johnny always liked watching Simon be so gentle with his possessions.
"I'm," He chewed on his lip as if reconsidering, "I'm having trouble with my novel."
"The romance one?"
"Most of them are romance." Simon deadpanned.
"The one where they meet at a museum?" Johnny tried again.
"Yes."
Johnny smiled. He wasn't any good with words, but he was good at being a welcoming presence. Kyle always tells him that he can light up any room. Johnny was going to use that to his full potential.
"Maybe I can help."
Simon gave him an unwavering look of doubt. Normally Johnny would be offended by the lack of trust, but he couldn't possibly be mad at Simon.
"Do you write?" Simon asked. Johnny fidgeted before he answered.
"I wrote essays in school." He felt like he was bargaining. He wasn't sure what for.
"Were you good at it?"
"Fuck no," Johnny chuckled, "I can be emotional support."
"Like a dog?"
"No!" Johnny screeched before he realized he was in a library. Simon didn't seem to care.
This time, Simon let out a proper laugh that had Johnny nearly swooning. He couldn't hide his open fascination at the joy on Simon's face. Johnny's chest ached and ached and he didn't know when it would stop.
"Like a cheerleader then?" Simon said with a smirk once he calmed down.
"Don't ask me to wear a skirt."
Simon lifted a brow and Johnny was already rolling his eyes.
"I thought the Scottish liked skirts."
"It's ah kilt ya bastard."
Simon chuckled again, his shoulders bouncing with the sound. Johnny couldn't get enough. He could feel an addiction to it forming.
Johnny sat forward, leaning on the table to keep proper eye contact.
"I'm serious, I want to be there for ya."
Simon suddenly shrunk under his gaze and looked out the window. Eyes frantically looking for something to focus on. Johnny leaned off the table, giving him space.
Almost too quiet for Johnny to hear, Simon said, "You're far kinder than you should be."
"What do you mean?"
Johnny let Simon take his time. He could see the cogs turning in his head. For a writer, there's never a moment without attempting to craft the perfect sentence, Johnny assumed. He couldn't blame him, he was the same way about art. Always looking for the perfect picture.
"How do you give away kindness like it's nothing? Aren't you afraid you'll give it to the wrong person?" The hidden meaning of his words was concerning, but Johnny wouldn't pry.
"I trust you." Johnny didn't hesitate.
He could be imagining it, but he could swear Simon's cheeks were turning red. He was so vulnerable like this, it almost hurt to look at.
Johnny gazed out into the courtyard, looking for what had a hold of Simon's attention. He didn't see anything in particular, but maybe it was just the idea of the trees and the flowers that had Simon staring.
"Want to have a walk?"
Simon snapped out of it and turned to Johnny, innocent confusion evident on his face. Jonny bit back a smile.
"Around campus." Johnny clarified. The tension in Simon's shoulders started to melt away and Johnny could feel himself relax as well.
"Okay." Simon nearly tripped over his chair as he quickly stood up. Johnny had to bite his cheek so he didn't make a joke.
Simon hastily, but carefully, put his book and stationary away into his messenger bag. Johnny had an urge to help, but he didn't want to intrude on Simon's belongings, knowing that he had a particular way of organizing his things.
There was an air of uneasiness as they walked to the courtyard, but as soon as they stepped out, Johnny could see that this is exactly what Simon needed.
Simon was breathing in the fresh air like he hadn't had any in years. The breeze brushed his face like a gentle hand and ruffled his hair just enough that maybe you wouldn't notice any wind at all.
Johnny, on the other hand, was cursing his long hair. It covered his eyes and he was constantly pushing it back.
Simon glanced over and there was that laugh again. So bright and overwhelmingly sweet.
Johnny nearly jumped as a hand reached out towards his face, and brushed the hair from his eyes, tucking it behind his ear. The touch so soft and the hand so warm. Johnny mourned the loss of it as it retreated.
He stared up at Simon, completely baffled. Simon seemed just as surprised. Johnny's heart was beating so loud his brain might have stopped forming new thoughts.
Johnny desperately wanted to soak up the moment, but instead, he cleared his throat and gestured down the path, inviting Simon to lead the way.
As they made their way down the pathways Johnny shoved his hands into his pockets and looked absolutely anywhere but in Simon's direction.
So he gazed out at the grassy areas, students sitting together, reading textbooks or having lunch. It made Johnny realize he was getting hungry.
Suddenly he thought about what Simon liked to eat. If he liked spicy or savory food. Then, self indulgently, he imagined Simon eating cookies or cake. He seemed like the type to have a secret sweet tooth.
When Johnny finally let himself look at him, he noticed Simon gripping his bag tightly, like it was going to run away at any moment. Johnny felt some ease at the idea that he wasn't the only one nervous, but he wanted to help Simon relax.
An idea popped into his mind, but he hesitated before offering it.
"Have you seen the tree?"
Simon's face twisted into a mixture of confusion and possible annoyance, but a smile was trying to push its way through.
"Johnny, there's hundreds of trees here."
"No, the tree." Johnny chuckled.
Simon thought it over, like maybe he has seen it, despite having no clue what Johnny was talking about.
"I don't think so."
Johnny lit up and course corrected them down a different path, Simon nearly getting whiplash from the change.
"Why is there a specific tree that's worth looking at?"
Johnny glanced over his shoulder, a pout forming on his face.
"It's not just the tree, it's what's around it. The way the light shines through it. It would make a beautiful painting."
"Of course."
It was brief, but Johnny saw that smile. The one Simon wore when he thought no one was looking. Like seeing a double rainbow, you awe at its rarity but it's always gone before you could really appreciate it.
He chose to ignore it in favor of keeping his sanity.
On their journey, Johnny pointed out every part of the courtyard he had wanted to make a painting out of. Every flower patch and every bench the bushes tried to over take.
Simon listened to it all. Laughed at every joke and answered every question. Usually people would get tired of Johnny by now, but Simon was still here, still listening. He still cared.
"There it is, the beauty." Johnny said as they came up on a tree. The nearby flowers and plants grew around it like nature was inherently drawn to it. Like it was a life source. Or everything was just that desperate to be close. The light hit the leaves so fiercely you could see right through them. The tree was sunlight itself.
"I've never seen this before. How did I miss it?" He sounded breathless, like just being in such close proximity to the tree knocked the wind of him.
"Yer nose was probably stuck in a book."
Simon's smile was much sweeter than Johnny had seen in a long time. He wanted to catch that smile and keep it in a jar like a firefly. To gaze at it every night and marvel at its beauty, wondering how something could ever look so impossible.
"Probably." Simon said. Johnny saw Simon's grip on his bag loosen and the worry in his brow was gone. Mission accomplished.
They walked closer, Simon never taking his eyes off the complex weaving branches. The soft wind making the tree sway. But Johnny couldn't take his eyes off of Simon.
The childlike excitement in his eyes and the curious posture, like he might be considering ways he could climb it.
Johnny almost laughed at the mental image of Simon climbing a tree. Those arms going from branch to branch, pulling himself up until he reached the top. Simon looking down at him like he just won the world's most important competition.
Johnny shook away the thoughts to enjoy Simon right here, right now, staring at a tree like he's never seen one before.
He wanted more. Wanted those eyes on him. Even just a scrap of that devoted attention would be satisfying. A laugh escaped Johnny at the realization that he was jealous of a tree.
Simon snapped his head towards him almost like he forgot he wasn't alone. Maybe he did forget.
"What?"
"Nothing." Johnny was quick to answer.
"Johnny." Simon's voice shifted, causing a shiver to go through him.
"It's nothing, really," Johnny smiled and tried to redirect by saying the first thing that came to mind, "You're beautiful." Backfiring horribly.
Johnny hadn't meant to be so unbearably honest, but the damage was done and Simon stared in astonishment.
"Oh." Simon's face turned impossibly red and Johnny was ready to melt into a puddle on the ground.
They stayed there, unapologetically looking. Gazing and taking in as much information as they could. Eyes tracing over every detail in each other's faces, searching for something to hold onto like a tether.
Johnny became consciously aware of their closeness. If he moved his hand just enough, they'd touch. It took everything in him not to move.
It didn't go unnoticed by Simon. He gazed down at their hands inches away. Johnny could feel the warmth radiating. It wasn't enough, he needed that heat on his skin.
Simon pressed his hand onto his, the touch electrifying, but soft. This must be the gentleness he used with his books. Johnny felt special being cared for the same way.
Cautiously, Johnny slipped his fingers between Simon's and sighed into the weight of their hands interlocked. He's waited a lifetime for this.
All in the same motion, Simon tugged on their joined hands and pressed their lips together.
Johnny had spent a frightening amount of time imagining a moment like this, how soft he would be, how warm. Now, all he could think about was his own heart. The overwhelming rhythm banging in his head.
When Simon rested a hand on his neck, feather-light fingers curling around his hair, Johnny's far too busy mind finally went quiet.
He pressed his hand against Simon's jaw, feeling the scratchy beard and loving the sensation prickling at his palm.
His thumb found its way up to a scar and traced it. Felt the dip like a valley etched into his cheek. His brain was already trying to form a question about it.
When they pulled apart, Simon's glasses had slipped down his nose. With how professional he usually looked, just this small change made him look almost disheveled.
With an exasperated private smile to himself like he should have expected this to happen, Simon took them off and folded them neatly into his shirt pocket. Johnny adored how gentle he was with everything.
It was a rare thing to see him without his glasses. Johnny wondered how well he could see without them. Simon leaned in again before Johnny could let himself think.
Although it was only their second kiss, their lips moved like muscle memory as if it was the hundredth. Knowing exactly how to exist in each other's space. Perfect synchronization.
Johnny tried to resist a smile as Simon's bread pressed into his chin, tickling him.
"Something funny, MacTavish?" Simon said as they parted. Lips still close enough to feel.
"Yer beard is bushy."
"Not shavin' it."
"Good. I like it." Johnny grazed his fingers over Simon's jaw and chin, disturbing the hair then smoothing it back into place.
Simon glanced down at their feet, noticing Johnny on his tiptoes. An unexpected chuckle left him before he could stop it.
"What are you snickering about?" Johnny said with a raised brow.
Simon gave the smallest smirk before he said, "Short."
"Oi!" Johnny leaned back and tried to hide the blush spreading across his face. Despite the teasing, a smile remained. Simon felt his heart swell at the idea that he had someone to tease.
Their hands were still attached, like their life depended on it. In this moment, it felt like it did.
Simon rested his fingertips under Johnny's chin and lifted it so their eyes met. Johnny moved with the motion so obediently that Simon almost laughed again.
"Are you free this Friday?" Simon's fingers left his face and traveled down his arm until they grabbed a hold of Johnny's other hand.
"Teachin' a class." Johnny was dazed as he spoke.
"After class." Simon rolled his eyes.
Something snapped Johnny out of his awe and he grinned ear to ear.
"Or you could join me? Learn somethin' 'bout art." Johnny swayed their hands, just enough to feel movement. It felt a little childish, but Johnny was too giddy to care.
"I don't think you want our first date to be in your class." Simon was rubbing his thumbs on the backs of Johnny's hands, over and over, fingers exploring as much as they could while still holding tight.
"First? Ye expecting more than one?" Johnny cocked his head like a puppy.
"I'd hope so."
Johnny pushed out his lips in a pout, eyebrows tight like he was thinking. A smile peeking through his faux consideration gave him away. Simon desperately wanted to kiss him again.
"Yeah, after." He finally said.
A bell ringing out across the courtyard made them both jump. Johnny took a deep breath and pushed it out dramatically, the air brushing Simon's face like a breeze. Only Johnny could manage to make something quiet like a sigh louder than it was meant to be.
"Duty calls," Johnny smiled, "See ya, Simon."
Before their hands could fall apart, Simon leaned down for one last peck.
Johnny blinked up at him and Simon wanted to keep the sight in his memory forever. To admire it and care for it. Write a thousand poems about the way the sun lit up his eyes like sapphires.
Their hands were reluctant to drift back to their sides, refusing to let go. Even as they parted, they tried to hold on till the last second. Fingertips brushed against each other and Johnny wondered if Simon's touch was naturally this soft or he's compensating for being tall and intimidating. Gentleness or not, Johnny could never be scared of him.
Simon pulled his glasses from his pocket and slipped them back on, a smile growing every second of the movement.
"Bye, Johnny."