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The base was quiet, the wee small hours of the morning still waiting to wake up most of the men and women in uniform. The windows of the dimly lit hallway a deep blue as Johnny made his way down the corridor, balancing two paper cups in either hand and a thick file folder under his arm. He knew it was early, but he had to discuss some details of your upcoming meeting with Price at 10am. Thankfully he knew your schedule pretty well, not wanting to rouse you from your sleep too soon.
You were an early riser; “Feels like when I sleep in I miss most of the day.” You had told him once during a mission, the pair of you tasked with keeping a watchful eye as the others slept. You also liked the quiet and calm of the morning, before the world wakes up. He remembers how beautiful and soft you looked in saying that, your eyes looking towards the moon that just just barely dipped down past the snow covered peaks of the distant mountains.
Jesus he had it bad for you. Always did. But you were teammates, co-workers, and with your track record of men he had seen you hit on at the bar he certainly wasn't your type. Your type seemed to be more like Price, or Ghost. Broad and level headed, quiet and sensible, broody even.
Which Johnny was not.
But it didn't stop him from holding out hope with every tease and flirt the two of you exchanged. ‘She's just being friendly and charming’, he would think to himself. It was your dynamic.
And it drove Johnny crazy.
He came to your door quicker than he anticipated, almost missing it as he was lost in his thoughts of you. Still clutching the cup in his hand, he raised it to knock before he stopped, hearing noise coming from your room. Johnny dipped his head down, listening intently. Soft music finally became clearer, along with the bumping and scurrying around of you getting ready for the day. He smiled to himself as he heard you singing along to the music.
One of these days and it won't be long
You're gonna look for me and I'll be gone
'Cause I believe
Ray Charles, one of your favourite. Another thing he learned about you during that night watch. You said how you loved old jazz and blues music, that there was something passionate and romantic about them in a way. It made you want to dance with a drink in one hand and a cigarette in the other. He said he didn't know you smoked, you laughed and said you didn't, but for some reason it made you feel like doing so.
“God damn it.” He cursed under his breath as he realised he was now just standing like a fool outside your door, listening. Before he could try and knock again, he stopped again at the next few words of the song, Ray Charles's voice drowned out by your own, like you were right there on the other side of the door.
Last night, you were dreamin’
and I heard you say
Oh Johnny
When you know my name is Ray
His breath caught in his throat as your sweet voice practically moaned his name, even if it was just the lyrics. He wondered what it would sound like with you in his lap, his hungry mouth pressing kisses to your neck and jaw. Sucking and biting at your skin so everyone knew that you were his. How he'd like to spend all of his early mornings with you, wrapped up in each other as the sun rose, draping you in sunlight.
That was the last nail in his coffin.
He had to tell you.