Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

John’s breath puffs in the air, and the damp December chill nips at his exposed skin as he stands outside on the sidewalk of the Manchester International Airport. He adjusts the duffle bag strap over his shoulder again; it keeps sliding down.

He hasn't been keeping track of how long he’s been waiting…maybe, twenty minutes or so? He’s been outside for most of it, heading right out to the exterior arrivals area as soon as he had grabbed his suitcase, to go and meet Simon.

When he got off his flight, he saw a text sent an hour ago from the man, saying he'd be leaving with Joseph soon to go pick him up from the airport, as it had become second nature to them. It was always a habit for Simon and Jo to greet him once he’d landed. Smiling, John had pocketed his phone, and made his way down the escalator to the baggage claim area, half expecting to see them already there waiting for him.

But as he descended the escalator and looked out into the crowd of families and friends all also likely here to pick up their loved ones for the holidays, he didn't spot his boyfriend, or his wee nephew. They weren't there yet. Even after John waited to grab his bag, and then made his way out to the arrivals area, they still weren’t here yet.

Simon is late.

He is never late.

It's not that John minds waiting. He is a patient man. Lord knows how many days even he’s waited in silence on overwatch duties while staking out an area on a deployment. No, John doesn’t mind waiting at all.

Just, Simon, ever tactful and efficient to an almost obnoxious degree, as John knows all too well, who is always exactly on time, is late. Simon is always the one giving him shit for being tardy, every time, not letting him off the hook.

It leaves John with an uneasy feeling. Is it rational? John isn’t sure. He has been a mess of uncomfortable feelings ever since he got off his last deployment. And after that conversation with his parents… A tension and distant anger in his chest that no matter the breathing exercise, wasn't going away, which made him all the more impatient to see his boyfriend.

For all his anxieties and worries to be soothed by being wrapped in his big hug.

Simon has always understood him, and what he needed. Just his presence alone brings him so much comfort and always makes everything seem so much clearer.

He really couldn't wait to see him again.

He was down so bad for him.

A grin forms at his lips as he thinks about it. About them, seeing Simon and Jo. They were hopefully on their way to pick him up, and he would see them soon.

John takes a deep breath through his smile to calm his excitement, kicking at a stray rock on the pavement below him, scuffing up the small layer of snow that had been starting to fall the past little while.

He is probably being a fool for being worried. Simon has a kid, unpredictable things happen when you have a kid. Probably it’s something as simple as Jo couldn't find his winter boot and they spent a decent chunk of time looking for it before they left.

Simon hadn't mentioned anything was wrong in his text. And they’d spoken on the phone that morning too, before Simon’s work, long before John’s flight, and he seemed okay then.

But still, there's a tightness in his chest as he waits for Simon to arrive. And he isn't sure if it's from the mess of a week he just had, a bundle of excited nerves at the idea of seeing Simon again, just some intuition about something, or a mix of all these concurrent feelings.

He glances down the roadway of incoming cars. Still no sign of Simon’s ten year old black Volvo.

He thinks about calling him. But he doesn’t want to rush the man. Or for him to seem impatient. Really, he's fine waiting.

Glancing off to his side, he notices a small empty bench some yards away that sits underneath the large glass overhang, shielding it from the falling snow that was now beginning to pick up. John takes his bags and goes to sit.

It is getting later in the afternoon now, the sun just starting to edge towards the horizon and the sky turning the most distant shades of pink and orange. The drive from the Manchester airport to Simon’s home always offered quite the skyline view. John hopes for a beautiful view of the sunset at least, and to be able to take some photos.

As he waits, he watches the snowflakes fall one by one and land on his dark jeans. His mind idly drifts back to that conversation with his parents, which he’d been trying to shove out of his mind ever since they hung up.

He bounces his leg. What he had hoped to be a comforting call home with his parents, something to get his mind off his last mission, talk with his family whom he hadn't seen in months, had instead left him exhausted and bewildered. The conversation bringing all the most frustrating traits out of his parents onto centre stage.

He was tired, didn't wanna be questioned and feel judged by them over things that were his own business. Or his own life choices.

Struck by a moment of self-awareness feeling his gorge rise, John sucks in a deep breath and unclenches his fists. They weren’t worth his time or energy right now. It’s just, after the rough mission he was on, he was hoping to have a nice phone home with his parents to help sort out some of the shit in his head but they were worse than usual today, and it just left him angry and sour. He just needed some time to cool off.

He loved his parents, but what was this?

He and Simon had discussed potentially going to Scotland sometime after Christmas for a few days, for the man and little Jo to finally meet his parents and other sisters. John had two weeks of leave he saved up to take off around the holidays.

They hadn’t been able to discuss many plans in detail yet, John had been meaning to, but SAS duties called a few weeks ago, before they were able to finalise everything, as often happened. He’d spent a few weeks on a mission out near Al Mazrah, then heading to the US to tie up some loose ends afterwards. He’d had barely any contact with Simon since then, actually. Not that that was out of the ordinary. Simon understands the importance of his duties and responsibilities in the army probably more than anyone ever could. It makes things so much easier that Simon just understands. He doesn’t have to explain or justify himself like he has to do so often with his parents.

But, his parent's issues aside, John knows how hard a time of year this is for Simon, and young Joseph too, and that thought weighs heavily on his mind. He wasn’t able to be around for last year’s Christmas, Simon and Jo’s first Christmas together since the… since their family…

Well, yeah.

SAS duties had called - a lead on one of Makarov’s cronies.

Although he knows his reason to be away was strong, and Simon had reassured him, John still feels some guilt. And he knew last year, last year was hard for them. But he was here now, well, almost here, whenever they arrived to pick him up, and he’d do his best to support Simon and Jo through it in any way they needed.

His phone vibrating in his pocket jolts him out of his deep thoughts.

“Christ almighty….” he curses, as he takes a glove off with his teeth, pulling his phone out. The caller ID screen lights up showing a doodle of a little ghost and bar of soap Simon did a while back in Johnny’s sketchbook. Art skills were… not his forte, but it was just so cute and so entirely Simon.

A smile forms on his lips as he answers the call, “Hey Simon.”

“Johnny.” Oh, it’s so nice to hear his voice.

Silence follows after for a few moments, as John waits for Simon to continue, but he doesn't.

It drags on so long he starts to doubt himself. Is he missing something? Is there something he's supposed to tell Simon, or ask him? Why is Simon being quiet?

“So…” John began-

Simon’s ever-gruff voice cuts him off. “You paying attention?”

“What?” John asks, voice dripping in confusion. He laughs, awkwardly., “Umm, yes? Wait, err, what are we talking about?”

“Look up.”

Furrowing his brows, utterly confused, John looks up, and to his complete surprise he is greeted with the familiar sight of said boyfriend glaring out the window of a car parked not four metres away from where he is seated on the bench, and a very excited five-year-old in the back seat waving at him vigorously.

“Oh ya bastard,” he says into the receiver before hanging up the call, moving towards their car.

As he approaches, Simon gets out, standing to his full height, greeting John. As they meet, Simon wordlessly grabs the suitcase handle from John and takes it for him.

John grins up at him. “ Just how long were you sitting there watching me, eh?”

“Not long.” Simon wraps an arm around his back as they walk to the trunk of the car. The man kisses the top of his head through his mask, and Johnny leans into the contact, feeling warm. Simon didn’t kiss him in public often. It feels nice.

“Sorry we’re late,” he mumbles.

John doesn’t like his guilty tone, and squeezes him back in response. “Ah, it's no issue,” he reassures, as Simon pops open the back of the trunk with a click. “I'm just glad to see yous’.”

“Hi Johnny!!’ a voice calls from the backseat, loud enough to draw the attention of a couple older ladies walking past with their luggage, Soap notices them smile at the interaction.

John bends down to put his duffel bag in the trunk, and looks over the backseat to little Joseph who is sitting in his car seat. He had twisted around as much as the car seat would allow, smiling.

“Hey Joseph! You're missing a tooth!” John exclaims, noticing immediately.

“Aye!” Jo calls back, pointing to the obvious gap between his teeth. “The tooth fairy paid me a visit too!”

“Did she now?” John asks, shooting a knowing smirk at Simon. The man in question just huffs, crossing his arms and averting his gaze.

“Yeah, she got me some coloured pencils.”

“Well isn't that sweet.” John smiles. Simon just whispers a ‘shut up’ back at him, leaning down himself to lift John’s suitcase into the back of the car next to his duffel bag.

Closing the trunk, Johnny goes to walk around to the passenger side of the car, before a gentle hand on his arm halts him.

He looks up to Simon, whose analytical, but warm brown eyes were gazing down at him.

“Hey,” John whispers, smiling up at him. “I missed you too.” He moves up onto his tippy toes, to fully wrap his arms around his boyfriend’s neck for a proper hug this time.

“You alright?” Simon asks quietly in his gruff voice, pressing his face into John’s shoulder.

Immediately, his heart melts at the fact that he’d barely seen Simon for a minute and the man could already tell something was off. He doesn’t know what that said about him, if anything, but he feels seen in a way he hasn’t around anyone else and it just confirms to him all the more he and Simon are a pair.

“I’ll tell you about it later, aye?” he says, throat tight. “I'm okay though, promise,” he nods into Simon’s shoulder. He hopes Simon is reassured by that.

His boyfriend just gives a nod back. One that affirms he had been acknowledged and heard, and a promise to carry on the conversation later. John smiles at him, and they part ways to each get in on their respective side of the car. Once buckled in, Simon takes off down the ramp, leaving the airport's vicinity behind.

“What's the plan for the evening?” John asks after they had exchanged a bit of small talk. Simon had asked about his flight. Jo had told him about some of his school friends and experiences. The boy had graduated from preschool to year 1 as of September, and John is relieved to hear, both from Simon and from Jo’s account of events, that it had been going really well.

Simon idly taps on the steering wheel, keeping his gaze on the road. “I figured we’d pick up dinner first,” he explains. “I need to do groceries, don't have a ton of food back home.”

“That's fine. What place do ya fancy?”

“Whatever you fancy, Johnny.”

“Aww that's cute.” Soap shoots a teasing grin his way, and squeezes Simon’s hand. “Somewhere easy, some place close to the flat?”

Simon seems to ponder for a second.

He leans over then, eyes leaving the road flicking to John’s own. “Mexican?”

“Sounds great.”

Simon looks up into the rearview mirror then, seeking out his nephew. “Jo, you want tacos?”

“Sure!”

“Affirmative,” Simon says. “There’s a place not far from us we can swing by.”

The drive back to Simon’s neighbourhood, as it lucked out, is really beautiful. The timing is perfect for the sunset, as John had hoped, and he manages to snag a few photos of the bright oranges, yellows and pinks painted across the sky as the sun sinks below the horizon.

Simon is pretty quiet, as per usual John supposed, but still.

Joseph is also fairly quiet. Odd for most five-year-olds. Growing up, John babysat his young cousins and they would talk his ear off.

Instead, Jo is idly tapping away at a beat on his lap as he glances out the window. He seems to be just as enthralled by watching the scenery pass by through the window as John is, which is sweet.

Being with the two of them feels so different from his own family, who were often so loud. Someone was always talking, growing up in a home with three sisters.

Their up-in-the-air holiday plans weigh heavily on his mind though. Would they go to Scotland for New Year’s? Anxiety tears at his heart knowing he’d have to have a chat with Simon about it later and be forced to make up his mind about it all, most likely.

He doesn’t feel like dealing with it. Or feeling like he was letting anyone down either which way he chooses.

And he isn’t exactly happy with his parents right now, doesn’t want to be feeling these expectations they have projected onto him. But he misses his sisters and some of his extended family. He rarely gets to see them. This would be one of his only chances.

But what he does depends on Simon too, what he and Jo could do, what they feel up to.

It is a heavy and emotional time of year for them. John wouldn't let his parents pressure him or rush him into anything to do with Simon and Jo and make this part of the year any more stressful. Simon had seemed open to going to Scotland for New year's when they had talked about it those weeks ago, but there was an unspoken understanding that it was up in the air.

He fists his hair and leans his head against the window pane.

He shouldn’t have mentioned it to his parents yet, really.

They had tried planning a trip to Scotland a few times for the two to finally meet his parents, and sisters. Well, the two had met John's sister Daphne for an afternoon on a work trip when she was in Manchester.

Simon and Jo’s birthdays had been a few weeks previous, and John didn't know when he’d be able to properly see them again next, so he’d asked his sister if she'd be willing to drop off his gifts for them. Simon was comfortable with it too, and the three of them ended up meeting for dinner.

John had such unconditional love and trust in his sister, so he was happy, and not surprised their meeting went well. And he knew how fiercely protective Simon was around Jo, so he would obviously never would suggest anything he thought would remotely put the two in an uncomfortable position.

But it was also part of the reason why they had struggled to arrange a time so far for Simon to meet his family.

The first year especially when Simon took over custody of the boy had its ups and downs, and both of them knew that taking the boy and throwing him into an environment full of new people in that time, aka the MacTavish family, would not have been kind. Especially with both of them adjusting to their new routine together, still grieving, the boy’s trauma, and Simon’s too…

Simon and Jo have been doing a lot better the past year now, and so opportunities since then had presented themselves for making the trip up to Scotland, but something had always come up. Something with Jo’s school, the boy getting sick, John’s own parents having to go out of town. It was never anything personal. Life just gets fast the older you get, especially with a kid.

They wouldn't make the journey without John either, who so rarely had time off, and so they had finally resolved to try to make the trip this New Year’s.

He’d have the conversation with Simon later to figure out their plans, it would be fine. It will all be fine.

John couldn't help but smile. He’d only just gotten here, and look at him, getting caught up in these stressful thoughts already. What a treat he’s going to be to be around this holiday season.

As if having a magical sensor attuned to picking up John’s mental negative self-talk, or just divine timing, Simon grabs his hand then, rubbing his thumb on the back and the contact, as always, works wonders to soothe John’s nerves.

He hopes he has the same effect on Simon, as he does for him. He thinks he does.

John lets out a long sigh, readjusting his position to sit up, and resting his head back against the headrest.

The roads are smooth and the vibration of the car too, did some to settle his nerves.

Squeezing Simon's hand back, and putting his anxieties aside, John focuses his attention back to the sunset.

He's beginning to recognize more of the scenery as belonging to Simon’s neighbourhood on the northside of Manchester. Although he had visited in the winter season before, there had never been snow like there was now. A light blanket of white laid itself over all the buildings and streets, doing wonders to reflect the little sunlight that was left now that the sun had really set. It is beautiful.

He misses Scotland, though. It had also been a while since he'd gone back home. But he had come to like Manchester. Or well, Simon’s little corner of it.

Eventually Simon pulls into the parking lot of what looks like a small strip mall.

Soap stands up out of the car, stretching his sore limbs dramatically. Simon gets up and rounds his way to the back of the car, unbuckling his nephew from his car seat, who when released immediately makes a B-line for Johnny, colliding into his legs and wrapping his arms around them in a big hug.

“Aww I missed you too, Jo,” Soap says, bending down because of the height difference to hug the boy back with one arm. Simon watches them fondly from the side, hands in the pockets of his light leather jacket.

He lifts the boy into his arms and the three of them make their way inside.

As they made entry, Soap takes in the ambiance of the little Mexican restaurant.

Eyes eventually drift towards his tall boyfriend who stands to his right.

John blushes. Simon looks good. He was too flustered to really take in the man’s appearance back when he surprised him at the airport. But now, he could see he cut a strong lean figure.

When his eyes next flick up to Simon’s face, he sees the man’s gaze piercing back at him. Simon blinks, and looks away then too, back up to the menu that was handwritten above the cashier.

Maybe they were both thinking the same things about each other.

A slow Spanish tune plays over the speakers as the two adults ponder the food choices deciding what to get. There are already diners seated at some tables eating together, but a couple other customers are waiting around too, likely for a takeout order like they were planning to do.

“Do you remember,” John begins, readjusting Jo on his hip, ”the name of those, they were like little sweet bread cookies we had in Mexico? Alejandro and Rudy made us try ‘em on base. They were so good.”

“Conchas?” Simon supplies.

“Yes!” John beams. “That's it! My god I've been trying to remember the name for ages.”

Simon just gives him a sly smile from behind the mask.

“Do they have them here?” he squints to make out some of the small writing in the desserts section on the opposite end.

“They do.”

“Simon, this has made my whole trip.”

“You are easy to please, Johnny.”

“Ah, that’s why you keep me around eh? I'm easy?”

“Course it is,” he grumbles sarcastically, and John can’t help but chuckle.

Neither of them notice they were next up in line, and the cashier who is waiting to take their order is just watching their interaction.

Driving a plough through any potential awkwardness that could come out of that scenario, Simon just goes ahead with their orders, getting tacos from the kids menu for Jo, before asking John what he’d like. After placing their orders, Simon takes out his wallet to pay. John can’t help but notice he hadn't ordered anything for himself.

“Aren’t ya hungry?”

“Not really.” Simon shrugs, not making eye contact.

That’s strange. “You sure?” John knocks him on the shoulder. “Go’on and get yourself something,” he frowns.

“Uh,” Simon pauses for a moment, seemingly catching himself, “make it two of the last one.” he says to the cashier.

Well, at least he was getting something.

“You’re a big boy Simon, you need to eat,” John jokes in a low voice, smile not quite reaching his eyes when he sees the sort of distant look in Simon’s. He tries not to pay it too much mind right now. The man seems okay. If something is bothering Simon, he’d tell him.

“Oh, by the way,” John says, before feeling around in his own pocket for something. “On me.” He pulls out his wallet, slipping out his debit card. “My treat.”

“Aren’t you a gentleman,” Simon says, standing aside. The two of them always take turns paying for things, truthfully. But John figures it was the least he could do right now considering he’d be staying with the Riley's the next week and a bit at least.

With their orders placed, the three of them make their way to a little table in the corner as they wait for their food to be prepped. Near the front counter, there is a little station with some kids colouring book pages and crayons. Simon fetches a few for Joseph and the boy scribbles away at his drawings while they wait, sitting on Simon’s lap so he is tall enough to reach over the table.

Once their food is ready, the three of them bid the quaint cozy restaurant goodbye and drive the five minutes back to Simon’s place, finally.

Simon has no decorations or anything on the front of their home, John notices, as they pull into the driveway. Their flat is quite plain for this time of year, in comparison to some of the more decorated homes that line the same street.

Not that John cares either which way, it was just an observation. And it’s not like Simon decorated for Halloween either. Which is ironic, considering the man’s affiliation for skull memorabilia.

The snowfall has stopped and it is now dusk. Light from the street lamps shines upon the thickened blanket of snow covering the ground and it is really quite pretty. Little Joseph runs ahead to the door the moment Simon parks, while the two adults hang back to grab the luggage out of the car.

Joseph bounces back and forth on his feet at the doorstep, he looks so cute with some of his curls peeking out from under his hat, clearly burning off some pent-up energy or just using the movement to keep warm. “Scooch,” Simon says softly to the boy when they approach, and goes to unlock the door. John smiles, watching them interact. The five-year-old moves to the side, still bouncing on his feet watching as Simon turns the key in the lock.

John follows behind the two of them entering into the foyer of their flat, and they kick off their boots.

"The place is uh, kind of a mess. I didn't mean for it to get like this, but I've just…" Simon shrugs, averting his gaze, at a loss for words. “Sorry. I'll get to it,” he finishes.

“It’s alright,” John smiles, rubbing Simon’s arm. He doesn’t like Simon apologising for something as trivial as this, but… John did notice the mess as soon as he stepped in.

Despite being prone to leaving his clothes strewn on the bathroom floor after a shower, something John constantly called him out on, the rest of Simon’s cleaning habits could be quite meticulous so it just feels different for there to be stray sweaters, takeout containers, Joseph’s video game cases, and several dishes lying around. However, the kids toys strewn about the floor were very normal.

It looks like he’d begun unpacking a couple of old boxes too and never got around to finishing it, just leaving them half open. He wonders, what had Simon been working on unpacking? He’d have to have a look after.

“Jo, put your boots away,” Simon says, taking John out of his train of thought before Joseph could run off past them to the living room. The five-year-old skids to a stop on the hardwood floor before turning back, pulling off his little red winter boots and placing them on the shoe rack next to his runners.

Simon continues, turning down to Jo. “And no games yet, we’re going to eat first yeah?”

“Yes, Si. Can I show Johnny my new pencils after dinner?”

“Of course you can, love. How about you help set the table first, you remember where the napkins are?”

“Yep!”

“Good lad,” Simon praises, before little Joseph sprints off into the kitchen, sliding back and forth across the smooth hardwood floor on his socked feet as he goes.

John smiles. He is such a cute kid.

Eventually, the table is ready and the three of them sit down. Simon gathers their takeout boxes, serving Jo his portion and leaving his own and John’s boxes out for them to take what they’d need.

The sound of cutlery clanking accompanies their voices as they talk over dinner, discussing their plans for the next few days.

“Yeah, Jo’s got a Christmas fair at his school this Saturday.” Simon smiles over at his nephew, reaching out an arm to ruffle his hair. “He painted some holiday greeting cards for his class and one of the teachers is selling ‘em.”

Joseph looks to Simon then, pausing with his half eaten taco halfway to his mouth, blue eyes wide and pleading, “Is Johnny coming with us?”

“I was thinking he would,” Simon says, gaze lifting to meet John’s eyes across the table.

John covers his mouth as he swallows the bite he was chewing, before speaking. “Of course,” he replies with a grin. “I'd love to go, and I'd love to see your art, kiddo.”

Joseph smiles back, kicking his feet back and forth on his chair in excitement. “Simon said we could bring cookies too for the…the…” the boy’s brow furrows in deep concentration as he tries to remember the name. “What was it called again?” He turns to his uncle.

“Bake sale.”

“Yeah, for the bake sale!”

“Was gonna pick up some cookies or something, drop em’ off at his school when I pick him up on Friday.” Simon explains, patting around the food on his plate with his fork.

John notices he hadn’t eaten much.

“We could bake ‘em if you want,” he offers, smiling. “Tomorrow night, or something. Have ‘em ready for Friday?”

John wonders something though, and leans over to Simon. “*Has* he baked cookies before?”

Simon frowns then, looking down at his plate in thought. “Not with me.” he shrugs. There is a heavy pause, before he continues. “I have an old recipe book somewhere that was my mum’s. I know she had a good chocolate chip recipe he liked, I'll find it for you-” Simon’s voice cuts off with a big yawn he covers.

“You wanna bake cookies tomorrow after school Jo?” John asks, turning to the boy.

As it turns out Jo has been eagerly following their conversation, and is nodding vigorously to Johnny’s question, kicking his feet in excitement already.

John feels warm inside, it feels nice to be happy and excited considering how low his mood had dropped earlier.

Everything is gonna be okay.

The three of them finish their meals before Simon takes their empty dishes into the kitchen, leaving them in the sink. They had agreed to throw a movie on after they tidy up from dinner.

It doesn’t get past John that Simon ate shockingly little throughout dinner. It's not something he is going to press the man on.

But he notices.

As his partner takes care of the dishes, John takes the chance to move his suitcase and duffel bag into Simon’s bedroom, closing the door behind him.

Their bedroom, as Simon would say. But Soap still feels shy sometimes like he is intruding…even though, by this point, after being together for nearly two years, it’s probably quite a silly feeling.

John opens the door, and much like the rest of his house he’s seen so far his room is also in slight disarray.

It makes John feel a bit, odd. It's just, so unlike Simon to let things become a mess…? Were this anyone else John may not have thought much of it but it’s Simon.

Clothes were left half hanging out of the dresser drawers, blankets in a pile in the corner, likely to be folded and put back into the closet, books, tea mugs, loose change, all sort of little things left out on his bedside table and the desk near the window. It wasn't a disaster area or anything hung, but just unlike Simon.

Simon’s room underneath it all though, is quite barebones. It always has been, even his room on base usually only had the bare minimum necessities. That was something Soap had tried to change, always bringing back Simon some decorations, or books, or something to help make his living quarters feel a little more lively. Not that he had an issue with it either way, but Simon seemed to like his little gifts too.

One thing he doesn’t expect, though, is for a small painting to be hung up on the wall above his dresser.

One of his own paintings he remembered doing in his early 20s, when he had a couple weeks of leave he spent with his family at their family cottage in the highlands. Gosh, he had forgotten all about doing that.

How the hell did Simon get it? What? John didn’t even consider it particularly good, it was an ugly thing he did a decade ago… but Simon liked it enough to display it?

John just stands there, slack jawed. Probably for the better part of a minute. Kind of in awe, and shockingly honoured that Simon took the time to hang up an old painting he did. Other partners, or flings John had in his past, hadn’t even given any attention to any of his artistic endeavors. It was something he tended to keep quiet about for the most part when he’s on active duty.

Simon, on the other hand, had always been very impressed by Johnny’s artwork, but to see it displayed up on the wall, all of his own volition, was just a confirmation of the fact it left him feeling just a little bit overwhelmed.

He is so overcome with emotion, he debates on leaving the room right then and there to ask Simon about it, before taking a deep breath, and figuring he may as well finish up with what he came in here to do first, unpack his bags.

So he did. There was a smaller dresser next to Simon’s where John kept some of his things. The past year, he had been staying more with the Rileys than his own family, and he and Simon had figured it made sense for John to start keeping some of his things here.

He leaves his suitcase to the side of his dresser once he’s put everything away. Resigned now to go check in on Simon, and ask about the painting, John goes to open the door to leave their room, and abruptly catches himself with a “Woahh!”

The resident five year old stands waist high right at the foot of the door. Had John not caught himself a second earlier he would have bumped into him!

“Hey there Jo! Almost ran into ya!” He couldn't stop himself from laughing.

Jo’s big blue eyes stare up into John’s own. “Can I show you some of my coloured pencils, Johnny?”

“Of course ye can lad,” and with that, Joseph grabs John’s hand and tugs him down the hall to his room, marching excitedly, thoughts of his painting in the back of his mind, for now.

After a short while, John and Joseph take all the boys’ art supplies to the living room, setting themselves up on the carpeted floor, getting ready to start the movie. Which movie? John wasn’t sure yet. He figured Joseph would be choosing.

“Are you gonna colour too Soap?” Joseph asks as he spreads out all his coloured pencils across the floor in front of him so they’re on display. He sits on his knees, next to John.

“Of course lad, I'll join you.” He says, grabbing one of Joseph's big storybooks off the kitchen table and putting it in his lap, before grabbing some loose-leaf paper and putting it on top of the book so he has a hard surface to draw on.

“Can we start the movie yet?” Joseph asks.

John pauses, “We can wait for Simon to be ready first, I think.”

“Simon!” Joseph calls out towards the kitchen, and Soap winces at the high pitch, covering his ear for a moment before shaking his head at the kid’s antics. “Movie!”

“I’m sure he’ll be ready soon, Joseph,” Soap tried, with a laugh, waving his hand in a down motion imploring the boy to lower this volume.

“Sorry,” Joseph mumbles, turning back to his sketchbook and assortment of pencils.

“Do you know what page you're gonna colour yet?” Soap asks.

“No,” Joseph responds, before quickly adding, “Or well, maybe this page.” he holds up his dinosaur colouring book, and it’s a page with a spinosaurus. “This one is my favourite!” he says with a grin, Soap again really noticing the boy's missing tooth. He was so cute!

“Ah, very good choice. That one is one of my favourites too- oh?”

John feels a tap on his head then that cuts him off. Tilting his head back, straining his neck, he looks at what’s above him.

An arm hooks around down in front of his chin then, holding a little box, the scent of baked goods coming from it, and John realizes it's the Mexican sweet bread cookies. He grins.

“Ohhh how could I forget?!” He says, excited, lifting his arms to grab the box from Simon’s outstretched hand, and opening it. “Thank you, dear.”

“Of course, hun,” Simon says back cheekily, making himself comfortable in the corner of the couch, extending his long legs out by Johnny’s head and laying back into the cushion. Soap leans over, resting his forehead affectionately on Simon’s outstretched legs. His pants material is soft.

“So, what are we watching?” John lifts the cookie box as an offer to Simon if he'd like one, but Simon shakes his head, so he turns to offer some to Joseph instead, who takes a few, before leaving the box on the floor next to him for easier access.

Simon hums, for a moment, before reaching forward to grab the TV remote, switching away from the last input which seems to have been the Nintendo Switch, and reaching for the laptop he has hooked up to the television. “Was a toss-up between a few, when we talked about it earlier,” Simon explains, as he types away on the laptop, pulling up the movie website. “Between Scooby-Doo and the Loch Ness Monster,-”

That earns a snort from Soap, and he looks back over towards Ghost, who winks back at him, before continuing, “How to Train your Dragon, and Brother Bear. Does anyone have any preference?” Simon asks to the room.

At that, John turns to Joseph. He is more than happy with any of the options, he’s seen them all, although it’s been a while for each of them.

“Jo?” John asks, after silence from the five-year-old.

“Hmm?”

“What movie do you want to watch?” John laughs.

“How to Train Your Dragon!” he shouts, before turning back to his colouring for the moment. John laughs again, turning back to look at Simon. “Did he even hear you ask?"  he whispers.

Simon just shrugs his broad shoulders, “It’s his favourite movie, currently, regardless.”

“‘s a good choice,” John has to agree. It was one of the animated films he himself enjoyed. Good for Scottish accents too, ironically enough. “Scooby-Doo for tomorrow, then.” he adds on, settling back against the couch, with his head still laying against Simon’s legs and drawing paper propped up on his knees. He could hear Simon typing away on the computer, pulling up the film.

Eventually, once he had started the movie, the three of them fell into silence as they watched, munching away on their concha bread cookies. 

Joseph was mostly entranced by the film, even reciting much of the dialogue and humming along to the music at times too. Simon wasn’t kidding, the boy really did know the movie through and through. And so did he himself, clearly. John caught Simon humming along to some of the musical cues at times too.

On John’s own paper, he managed a few doodles of Joseph hard away at working at his own colouring. He figured he’d just give the drawings to Simon as a small gift.

Which reminded him too! He was going to talk to Simon about his old painting that was up in Simon’s room…

Eventually, though, the movie finished, but John and Joseph still just continued working on their respective artworks. Joseph managed to finish colouring in his Spinosaurs too and was very excitedly showing Soap, and Soap figured Simon outta see as well.

“Hey Simon, what do you think?” John holds up Joseph’s colouring book over his head, not quite turning around to look backwards to where his boyfriend is on the couch.

“Simon?”

Twisting his neck so he can look behind him, John notices Simon’s eyes are closed, and his head is reclined back into the soft cousins of the couch.

He’d fallen asleep.

He looks so at peace. So many of the tension lines in his face are now soft. His chest rises and falls slowly under the soft black hoodie he almost always wore.

John really doesn’t want to disturb him.

“Simon look at my-”

“Shhhh, keep your voice down.” John shushes in a gentle whisper, bringing a finger over his lips to symbolize silence before gesturing over his shoulder, “He fell asleep.”

Joseph mouths a big ‘Oh' back, as he gets up on his knees to peer over top of Soap to see his uncle, who is indeed passed out on the couch.

A dejected expression crosses the boy’s face. “But I want to show him my art.”

“Would you like to be woken up during a good night’s sleep?” John reasons.

“No…”

“Then we should let him sleep, aye? We can show him in the morning.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” The boy sinks down to his feet, with another big yawn. Seems like someone else is getting tired too.

Soap smirks as an idea crosses his mind. He dropped his voice into an even lower whisper, leaning in close to Joseph. “How about we make it a mission? Let's do our best to keep quiet as we get ready for bed, so we don’t wake up Simon, aye?”

“Sounds good!”

“So you have to be as quiet as you can. If Simon wakes up, it’s mission failed.” John gestures dramatically to emphasize the drastic nature of this mission to the boy.

Joseph gets a determined glint in his eye, and Soap knows the idea of making it a little game worked. “So, we’re gonna gather up the pencils, go put them in your room, quietly mind ye, then brush our teeth. Clear?”

“Yes!”

“You’re supposed to say clear back, Jo.”

“Oh, okay, clear!”

“Good lad!” John explains, before gesturing to the boy to help them clean up their little mess of pencils.

It had gone well, and the two of them together had worked to clean up the remnants from their little art session, and make it to Jo’s room without disturbing Simon. Shortly after they went into the bathroom to brush their teeth, John pulled out the little stool for Joseph to stand on so he could properly reach the sink, and they stood side by side brushing their teeth.

“He’s been really sleepy lately.”

“Hmm?” John answers, looking down at the boy. “Simon?”

“Aye.”

“Oh.” he pauses, unsure how to answer, or take that. Maybe he could ask a little bit further, see what Jo says? “What makes you say that?”

The little boy just shrugs, continuing to brush his teeth like he hasn't spoken at all.

John doesn’t push it, but he isn’t about to forget it either. The fact Joseph picked up that fact, that Simon has been very tired lately, probably means it's pretty significant.

Is Simon doing okay?

Jo lowers the toothbrush he’d been holding to look up at Johnny from below his brown curly bangs.

“I think he was excited that you were visiting, though.”

“Aye?”

“He was talking about it a lot. And was smiling. I think you make him happy Johnny,”

John’s throat swelled up. “Well, he makes me happy. And so do you, kiddo.” John ruffles his hair, earning a small laugh from the boy.

“And I think you make him happy too, lad.”

By the time John had come back to the living room, the television’s automatic power down feature had been enabled, leaving a peaceful silence hanging over the Riley residence. The only sound to be heard were Simon’s quiet breaths from where he still laid fast asleep tucked in the corner of the couch.

John sighs, gazing down at him with his hands on his hips.

Simon seems really at peace now. His blonde eyelashes lay shut against the pale skin of his cheeks, but stood out against the dark circles under his eyes. His chest slowly rises and falls. There was some tension in his brow, but Simon’s relationship with sleep on the best of days was sometimes rocky, so he counted it a win.

The man must be exhausted though. He rarely slept around others.

John supposes it's a sign Simon was comfortable around him that he'd let his guard down like this, but still. 

Carefully, John moves the TV remote and sits down a few feet away from Simon, careful not to jolt the whole couch and accidentally wake him.

He puts the remote down softly on the coffee table, not daring to turn the TV back on, and slips his phone out from his pocket, content to enjoy the down time.

Fortunately, he has no missed calls or messages from his family or anything, but a minute gasp escapes him when he remembers he told his sister Daphne he’d let her know when he landed.

He writes her a message quickly, saying he made it there safely and promising he’d see her next week after Christmas too. Not a few minutes later did his phone buzz again from an incoming text.

D: See you soon little brother. Tell your man I say hi. 😉

John smiles. He’d always been closest with his sister Daphne. He is excited to see her again, it'd been a while.

She has a little one close to Joseph’s age as well, he wonders if the two of them will get along when they meet next week. 

He supposes…if they did. So long as everything went to plan. He needs to talk to Simon about it all still.

John releases a huge sigh, sinking back into the soft couch cushions.

What a shite week it’s been.

He hopes Gaz is holding up alright after their mission, he was there as well after all.

He should send him a text, too.

John knows his teammate is going to be spending the Holidays in London with his family. So, really, all things considered, not too far away from where he is now in Manchester. He doesn’t think Gaz and Simon had seen each other for a while either. Maybe…maybe if the timing worked out, a quick meeting halfway between their cities could be something fun? Kyle may get a kick out of seeing Joseph too. Last time they saw each other was when Simon came up to visit them at their London base on a weekend trip. Price had been there too. Was their first reunion with all the 141 together since Simon’s family had first passed on and he’d adopted the boy.

It was bittersweet.

Maybe it was time to try to get all the gang back together. John has no idea in hell where Price was going to be spending the holidays this year, though. He knows the Captain was staying in the States a little while longer to help sort out the fallout of said dreadful mission, as the 141 were technically involved even though he wasn't there himself, Soap and Gaz electing to get out and enjoy their holidays away from that shit show as fast as they could.

Price must be going back to the UK at some point though, right? He’s pretty sure the man was also from around London. John knows, and not from a lack of trying, very little about his Captain's private life. He’s pretty sure he heard something down the grape vine about a sister, maybe? Not sure…

Oh well, he’d have to see if Price would be around then too.

John opens his text window to Gaz, shooting him a text before he forgets. He hopes his brother in arms is holding up alright, and made it to London safely.

J: Just checking in, how’re ya holding up mate?

He will inquire as to his availability around the holidays another night. He is too tired to worry about the logistics tonight.

Not expecting a reply right away, he swipes off and checks the time. It's getting late. Still a little earlier than when he usually goes to bed. It felt much earlier in the day for him still though, considering the time difference coming from the States, but the mental exhaustion was ever present regardless of timezone.

A small groan from his right pulls him from his musing, and he glances over.

“Hey sleepy head,” John whispers, head resting in the palm of his hand that’s braced against the back of the couch, as he watches his boyfriend slowly wake up.

Simon groans softly as he opens his tired brown eyes. His blonde eyelashes flutter as he blinks a few times sleepily, before his gaze flicks up at John.

John smiles softly as he saw the recognition in Simon’s eyes as the man became more awake. He moved his hand down to rub soothing circles into Simon’s knee overtop of his soft sweatpants, feeling his strong thigh muscle underneath.

“Johnny?” His voice is rough with exhaustion.

John smirks. “Aye,”

Simon is so cute when he is sleepy.

He wants to crowd him then immediatly, jump him and just lay in his arms the rest of the night, but Simon's eyes go wide suddenly as they move down away from John, then dart about the room, clearly searching for something not there. John feels a slight pang of concern, and opens his mouth to give probably some sort of other sly remark, before Simon interrupts with slight panic to his voice.

“Where’s Joseph?” his voice still sounds heavy with sleep but not at the sacrifice of urgency. Simon swiftly sits up, throwing his legs over the side of the couch-

“I just put him to bed,” John cuts him off before his panic could amount, moving his hand away from Simon cautiously because he knew sometimes the man didn’t want physical contact when he was worked up. “He’s alright, he’s sleeping in his room.” he assured.

John knows his words worked to calm the man when he sees Simon’s shoulders sag in relief. “Shit,” Simon curses, body collapsing back into the couch cushions, covering his face with his hands. ”Sorry, Johnny.”

“Bad dream?” John inquires softly, wincing.

“Nah, it’s just…” Simon shrugs, shaking his head. “I’m good. thank you for putting him to sleep.”

“Was no trouble. He passed right out pretty quickly.”

“He woke up early today. He’s been really excited to see you. Kept talking about Johnny coming to visit.”

“Awww.” John blushes, feeling warm. He averts eye contact before feeling Simon’s hand touching his shoulder, pulling him towards him and John happily obliges.

“Missed you Simon,” John says, curling on top of him, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend, both their long legs awkwardly strung out off the couch.

“Mmmmh,” he hums, eyes closed.

John pokes his nose then, inspecting his face up close. “You gonnae use your words?” he laughs.

Simon looks down at him with lidded eyes, his blonde eyelashes standing out in the low light of the living room.“You’ve gotten bigger.”

“‘scuse me?” John gave a half laugh, pulling back slightly, gawking, playing offended, “I'm big?”

“Muscle, Johnny,” John flinches when Simon demonstrates by pinching his bicep.

“Aye, been hittin’ the gym more,” he says, blushing. He supposes it was no surprise Simon noticed, but it made him feel good for his progress to be acknowledged. “You like it?”

“Maybe.”

“I’ll take that as a yes, then.” he teases, voice husky.

“I’d like you in any way, Johnny.”

“Any way?”

“Cheeky, Sargent,” Simon huffs, rolling his head back in exasperation. “You have a dirty mind.”

“Only for you,” Johnny says, planting a kiss along Simon’s now exposed neck.

“Keep it tactical, Johnny,”

“Oy, ye canny say that when I'm sittin’ in your lap kissin’ ya.”

“Fair point, that.” Simon laughs back, a genuine smile crossing his features that made John’s heart soar.

“But really, you look good,”

“So do you.”

“I look like right shit now Johnny,” Simon huffs a laugh, mirth not quite reaching his eyes, clearly not believing John’s statement.

“Not to me.” Soap pouts, poking Simon’s cheek, above one of his thicker scars. “You look…cute.”

“Cute?” Simon deadpans, voice showcasing a great amount of disbelief.

“Yes, you. Cute,” John grins, taking Simon’s face, and tilting it forward so he can connect their lips. He feels overcome with emotion again, and feels really grateful to just be here. “I really missed you Simon.”

Simon sits up a bit, jostling Johnny on his lap to be able to fully wrap his long arms back around him. Johnny ends up manoeuvring off of Simon’s legs so he can give him a proper hug back, and the two of them stay linked for a long moment, just happy and comfortable to be in each other's presence. So much of the stress Johnny had been feeling soothed immensely at just a simple hug with his boyfriend.

“How have you been?” he asks simply, sitting back, gazing into Simon’s eyes.

He seems tired.

“It's been alright,” Simon shrugs, gaze drifting off to the side in thought, or, something. John takes one of his hands in his own and holds it tenderly. “Works been…steady. Joseph's been doing well in after school daycare now too. Been getting along with his classmates, and teachers at school. Been trying to figure out some fun things to do around the holidays that he’s comfortable with.” Simon explains, some stress lines returning to his face. “we also want to make sure you have a nice visit.” he ends, with a smile on his face, squeezing John’s hand.

“Hey,” John says, urgently, sitting up so he could face Simon, “All of that, it’s okay. We’ll figure it out. We’ll do what we can at your and Jo’s pace. Whatever you both are comfortable with. I'm here to support that.”

“I know.” Simon sighs, running a hand through his short hair. “It’s been hard…for him.”

“Has anything happened?”

Simon gives a terse nod. “Anxiety attack at school last week. We think it was because they had a Christmas tree up in the foyer? Last year, with Dr. Shelley, we had suspected that was a potential trigger for him.”

“What about for you?” John hesitantly asks.

Simon is quiet for a heavy moment. “I can manage,” was the sort of cryptic answer Simon gives him. John knows Simon doesnt like to be pushed to elaborate further so he left it there, but knew to keep it in the back of his mind.

“Did you talk to the school about it, about the tree thing?”

“I did. Kept Jo at home for a couple of days after, till he was doing better, and they took it down too. His teachers have been made aware, and they know to call me if anything else happens.”

It seems like Simon was taking all the right steps. “Good, that’s good Simon.” John rubs his shoulder.

“Had to take him out of pre-school last year for most of December, so this year he’s doing a lot better. Biweekly appointments with Dr. Shelley have helped too.”

“She seems like a god send, honest.”

“She is. She’s been good to him. To us. I'm just…. nervous about doing anything for him that’ll make it worse. I’ve been thinking of putting up some decorations, if Jo wants to. Suppose with Christmas only a few days away it’s a bit late now, but…”

“Do you want to?”

Simon snorts, “Do I look like the decorating type, Johnny?”

“Absolutely not,” he couldn't help but laugh.

“But I just want to give him a good Christmas. And you, too. Sorry it's so… plain around here.”

“Simon.” John reaches out to grab his hands, and Simon lets him. He starts rubbing circles with his thumbs on Simon's knuckles. “You don’t have to put on a show. That stuff doesn’t matter to me.”

“Really, though?” Simon almost sounds bitter.

“What do you mean?”

Simon seems to deflate a bit. “I know you have a big family. Christmas is a big deal for you. I uh, want you to have a nice holiday, being here, with us.”

The mention of his family instantly brings back some of those more negative feelings he’s been trying to keep below the surface all evening, but he tries not to let it show. John squeezes Simon’s scarred hands, his thumb tracing circles over his knuckles. “Just being here with you is enough for me, Simon.”

Simon gives a half smile that pulls at his facial scars. “We’ll see then.” his adam's apple bobbs as he swallows. “What is it, though?”

John hums, letting go of Simon’s hands. “What?”

John blinks as Simon leaned forward, tapping his head twice with an outstretched finger, before lowering it along the side of his face to cup his jaw, tenderly. Soap melted from the contact. “What’s been bothering you Johnny?” he asks in a low, concerned voice, brown eyes seeking out his own.

“Am I that obvious?” Soap can't help but smile sheepishly.

“To me.”

Soap almost wanted to laugh. He should just get into it, shouldn’t he? All these feelings that he’s been keeping at bay these past several days since his mission, and especially in the hours since he got off the phone with his parents

Simon’s lip purses, “You wanna talk about it?”

Johnny just sighs, shrugging hopelessly. “I don’t even really know what to say.”

“Was it over your last deployment?”

“Aye.” He says, running his fingers through his mohawk. His hand was already shaking, great. “Didnae go too well.”

He knows Simon knew the bare bones of the mission he was sent on.

Simon was a military advisor now, who at times Price was able to recruit in on matters of the 141, so he sometimes has ideas on what they were currently up to even if John hadn't filled him in. He supposes, as Simon was asking, he hadn’t been filled in on this particular escapade.

It wasn’t surprising they were trying to keep it on the down low. It was certainly going to become a legal shitstorm.

John’s mouth opens uselessly as he struggles to figure out how to start, before shrugging, turning to Simon. “Want me to just… get right into it?”

“Whatever you’d like, Johnny,” his boyfriend says. “At your own pace.”

“Maybe,” John says, risking a glance back to Joseph’s room, the door is still closed, “maybe it’s best we talk in your room?”

Simon nods in understanding, and the two of them get up, Simon leading the way into their shared bedroom. Johnny goes to sit down on the bed after turning on the bedside lamp, and Simon closes the door behind them.

Johnny pulls up his knees on the bed, sitting cross legged with his back against the wooden headboard. The extra time in delaying this conversation allowed for some more doubt, and anxiety to creep up into him. Was it even worth telling Simon? Was it worth his time? Could or should he keep it to himself, and probably be more okay in a couple of days time? Save himself the embarrassment of telling Simon all about what's gotten him worked up...

The bed dips when Simon sits down in front of him, warm brown eyes looking for Johnny’s own. He rests one of his big, scarred hands on Johnny’s knee, rubbing it soothingly, and nodding to Johnny, giving him the go ahead. It's comforting enough, that anxiety aside, John pushes through to tell him the story.

“So…” he begins, swallowing nervously. “We were just outside Al Mazrah city, small village called Taraq.”

“I’ve been there.” Simon acknowledges, blankly, and John isn’t surprised.

“Was me, Gaz - Price was called off last minute so we had a different CO, and a squad of rookies. Tracking some AQ stolen shipments, ironically enough,”

“I’m familiar.”

“Right, so, we had been stationed a few weeks already. It was common enough on some days, when we passed through the village going to and from base, for kids to come out on the road, crowding the trucks and asking us for food. Sometimes we’d throw them what we had, if we could, or had any. They were all really sweet, Simon.” He shrugs. Simon knows the drill. In a lot of poorer regions, kids would often wait on the streets on the way out of their bases in hopes the soldiers, or whoever, would throw them some food. It can be hard to resist. Children, growing up in war-torn countries and cities…honestly the least they could do was throw them some food if they had it.

“Our CO was not taking too well to the guys doing that though. Didn't want to encourage the kids. I don't know, I can understand that. Don’t want them to be hit, or become targets, I can understand. The kids are going to come out regardless of whether they keep getting food but I get it. But, there was time we were rushing back to base. Adrenaline was up, it was a rough day, we'd been out a few days. Our CO had been up our ass about everything too, and Gaz and I were about fed up with him blaming us ‘brits’ for everything. They were American.” John couldn't help but roll his eyes. Talking about this CO...he could go on for hours probably on just how much of a piece of shit this guy was. “Needless to say, I figured it was going to be nice to be back on base just to have some space from that bastard for a few seconds.”

“But, well, we were rushing back. As I was saying, tensions were high. We’d seen lots of civilian deaths, been keeping an eye out over our shoulders for snipers for days, we were all worn out. Our truck had been ambushed a couple of times over the last day too. We’ uh, we lost one of our men from it. CO was taking it hard.

“We were rounding one of the last main turns in the city before we would exit, and take the dirt road into the mountains back to base, when a bunch of the kids came running out into the street. We had to stop the cars lest we hit them. CO started screaming at them, in shite Arabic let me tell you, out the window to move, the drivers were honking their horns trying to scare them off. But nothing was working.

“Then genius CO had the idea of taking his gun out, firing off some warning shots. He was so worked up. Got some of the rookies to join in too. Gaz and I were yelling at him to put the guns away. It was so inappropriate,” John grabs the fabric of his pants in anger, he was seething on the inside at this part of the memory. “They were just kids, who wanted food. Civilians. They were manageable without fucking pulling your guns out. It had gone on for a few minutes, and I just remember this moment, one kid came out of the alley, I was looking right at him, I'd seen him a few times. Cute kid. He was holding something, and it looked like he was looking right back at me too. Everything went quiet for a second, in my mind. Like I couldn't hear the mayhem. " He swallowed, feeling a chill at the memory, "Until I looked up, and saw where the CO was pointing.”

“And well, he, he just told one of his guys to just open fire. So they did.” John trailed off. “'Teach those kids to get in our fucking way’ he said."

He takes a long moment then, trying to collect his words figure out what he was going to say next. “I don’t…uh…yeah.” He… he doesn’t need, or want to really give more details. The thought of it makes him shrivel up a bit more on the inside. He’s said what counts. Hopefully Simon can understand.

His voice becomes low, and fragile then, though.

“It was just a toy, he was just holding a toy.” Johnny simply shrugs, shaking his head and dropping his gaze. He could remember it so clearly. “He looked about Jo’s age. He uh, really reminded me of him. And the others weren't much older.” he says, voice a broken whisper, ”I held his hand when he died.”

“Johnny…” Simon began- 

“I know I’ve seen way worse," Soap cut him off, "been through way worse, I don’t know why this is affecting me so much, but it’s just been hard to get off my mind.” Johnny risks a glance up to Simon’s face only to see him gazing back, expression full of compassion, and understanding. It meant a lot to see, and emotion welled in his chest and he gripped Simon's hand tighter.

Simon inquires slowly, after a long moment, breaking the grim silence “Who was your Captain then?” 

A grimace marred John’s features before he could even control himself, “Been refusing to call him Captain. But his name was Jackson Colt.” he nearly spat out. Even saying the man’s name made his blood boil.

John feels Simon's other hand move away from running circles on his knee, and he suddenly misses the contact. Looking up, he sees Simon leaning back with an incredulous expression. “You're fucking joking.”

“What.”

Simon doesn't move, just stares at him, jaw slack, huffing out a very sarcastic laugh that makes John very intrigued.

“What? You know him?” Soap asks again.

“Yeah.” Finally, Simon seems knocked out of his trance. “One of the most incompetent, selfish bastards I ever worked under. I-” Simon stutters. “I can’t believe they put you under him,” Simon’s voice takes a bitter quality, genuinely sounding angry, as he gets up and starts pacing.

“Yeah, well,” John begins, holding up his cell phone, “Gaz tells me he’s being investigated. Hopefully will never have to hear of him ever again. But when the hell did you work with him?”

Stopping in his tracks, his big frame looming over John, he blinks. John almost laughs, it has been a while since he’s seen Simon so worked up. But his expression turns downward.

“Was before I made Lieutenant. I was assigned to his squad for a couple of different ops, in Qatar and Al Mazrah.”

“I’d love to hear the story one day,”

“It’s a damn good one,” Simon huffs. “Cunt was a real piece of work.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” he trails off slowly into silence, taking a deep breath, feeling some of the guilt creep back. John feels his eyes sting with unshed tears again.

Simon reassures him, voice going soft, “It’s not your fault, Johnny.” Simon rubs circles on his back. The repetitive pattern does wonders to keep him soothed.

“I know. It was just so needless.” his voice fell into a raspy whisper, and he hung his head low, shaking it, “They just didn’t have to die.” 

“C’mere,” Simon said, pulling him into a tight embrace. John clutched him like a lifeline, and finally, he let himself go for a few moments, eyes watering as he fisted Simon’s shirt.

“I don’t know why it's affecting me so much,” he spoke into his shoulder. “I'm sorry.” he squeaked out.

“You’re good, Johnny.”

Simon just held him for a good long while afterwards, until John finally pulled back, wiping his eyes. His chest did feel a little lighter. It was just reassuring to be with Simon, know that he’s doing okay, and Joseph too.

Simon pulled back then though, eyeing him questioningly, “What else is on your mind,” he asked, brushing a stray strand of his mohawk up and off of his forehead, “‘s not all…”

“No,” John sucked in a deep breath, and with it tried to pull back some of the more extreme emotions he was currently feeling.

What's one more thing off his chest tonight, huh? He supposed he was on a roll.

“My parents called before my flight.”

Simon was just silent, stroking his hair idly, giving Johnny the time to continue when he was ready.

He sighs. “I don't even know why this is affecting me so much either. I guess I just expected to… expected it to be a nice phone call home after this shite mission to clear my head. Catch up with my parents, I haven't talked with them in a while.”

John fiddles with a little stray string on his dark jeans.

“I don't know why Ma does this. But I talked with her and dad weeks back, and I told them I was gonna be spending Christmas with you and Joseph for the first time, but that we’d be coming up for Hogmanay- uhhh, New Year's.” Soap tried to ignore the building anxiety curling in his gut as he recounted that sequence of events, attempting to explain it, “Then, today, she’s actin’ like that conversation never happened, gettin’ upset with me for no’ coming home for Christmas. Sayin’ I don’t care. When she knew my plans, I had told her. So I don’t know why she's acting like she didn't know?”

“Do you want to go be with your family for Christmas?” Simon asks.

That makes Soap pause.

“What?”

John looks up with a confused expression, and sees Simon biting his lip, some anxiety also clearly tugging at the man. He repeats himself. “Would you rather be with them?”

That's not what John expected him to ask, and he doesn’t want Ghost thinking that for a damn second. “Simon, no, I want to be here with you and Jo.” he assures, “That's not.. not what I meant.”

“I know, I just don’t want to hold you back.”

“You're not. I want nothing more than to be here with you and Jo. Y-you guys are family too.”

“Okay, Johnny, yeah,” Ghost says, rubbing Johnny’s knee. Soap takes that as his cue to continue.

“I just wish my ma’ would make it easier. Not make it an issue whenever I do something that doesn’t involve her. She never used to be like this, and I don’t remember her being like this with my sisters, I don’t know. Maybe I should talk to them.”

Simon comments, “That’s not a bad idea,”

“Then my dad,” John begins with a heavy sigh. He opens his mouth to speak, but abruptly closes it. “I'm sorry to talk about all this Simon.”

“‘nough of that,” Simon drawls, flicking his head lightly.

John huffs a laugh, continuing, “I just think he likes to pretend I'm not gay, or, with a man, sometimes. He's not…homophobic, I don't think, he just never refers to us as partners? I don’t know how to describe it. I’m probably making more of a deal of it than I should be-”

“John, stop doing that.”

Soap’s eyebrows raise, rarely ever does Simon call him John. It stands out, sending a small pang of anxiety through him. “D-doing what?”

Simon's expression softens, “Not taking yourself seriously. You’re not just being too sensitive.” Simon holds Johnny’s chin, and tilts his face up so they are making eye contact. Were this any other situation, Johnny probably would’ve laughed at how cartoon this felt.

“I just don't like to feel like I'm letting them down.” he puts his hand over Simons, taking hold and lowering it down from where he held his chin.

“I’m sorry they can be like this.” Simon says, “but if they really feel like you’re letting them down, then they’re full of shit, kindly.”

“You’ll meet them next week for yourself then, huh?” He says, still clasping Simon’s hand in his own, inspecting his fingers. Simon nods along, idly. “We still on for that?” John hesitantly asks.

“That's the plan.” Simon confirms, “Joseph is looking forward to seeing Daphne again.”

“She’s looking forward to seeing him again too,” John grins, “she loved the little guy. He’ll probably get along well with Ailie too, her little one.”

“Does your family know about Jo?”

“Know what about him?”

Simon pauses, for a moment. “About why I'm looking after him.”

“I mean,” John starts, “you know what Daphne knows. My parents only know something happened, and that…Jo’s parents arent around anymore. Adele and Sophia know the same.” he added on, looking up into his eyes. “I would never tell them anything without your permission.”

“I know.” Simon said without hesitation.

Soap’s phone buzzing, from his pocket, breaks the silence of the room. He looks up at Simon, and Simon nods to him, so John pulls out his phone.

A small smiles comes to his lips when he checks it. “It’s Gaz,” he uncrosses his legs, and moves to sit next to Simon, leaning on him shoulder to shoulder so he can show him his phone screen.

Gaz had replied to the text he sent earlier.

G: Eh, been better. Made it safe to my sister’s place tho, been nice seeing her
Give Simon and Jo my regards :) Night mate

Shortly after, Simon and John got ready for bed, taking turns in the bathroom to brush their teeth. John figured he should shower, but he was feeling more drained than he expected, and really wanted nothing more than to just lay down with Simon and close his eyes, so he resigned for doing it in the morning. 

He and Simon discussed some plans for tomorrow, too. Simon has work, and Joseph has school. John would accompany them on their morning routing, dropping Joseph off at school, and driving with Simon to his workplace too, before taking the car  and having most of the day off to himself before he'd go to pick them up later that evening. 

Sounded like a plan. He'd have to figure out some things for him to do on the morrow during the day. But for now, he would sleep.

Eventually, the second John did lay down, all the energy seeped out of his body. He figures he will fall asleep pretty quickly. Simon though, seems slightly hesitant as he got into bed, tucking himself slowly and stiffly in next to Soap.

“Johnny, I just wanted to tell you,”

“Yeah?”

“My nightmares have been, uh, worse lately. I just don’t want you to be caught off guard, in case….”

“Okay.” John says, curled up against Simon’s back, speaking into his shoulder blades. “That’s okay, Simon.”

One thing John was well versed with, being in the military, were nightmares.

He understands.

“If it gets bad, I can go sleep in the living room-”

“No! You’re staying,” Soap doesn't want to tolerate that line of thinking for a minute, he reaches out an arm, yanking Simon back towards him, back to chest before settling into the mattress once more. “right here.”

Simon twisted his head around, and John moved up onto his elbow, looking down at Simon's, and pressed their lips together.

“Thank you for coming,” Simon whispered, pressing another kiss against his lips. John’s heart fluttered.

“Nowhere else I’d rather be.”