Work Text:
Too much
It's the same sentence that's been playing in his head like a scratched CD, stuck on the same line over and over again. Soap's been a brat, he knows he's been a brat, you don't have to tell him twice. He couldn't get the annoyed huff and eye-roll he'd gotten from Ghost the last time he teased/flirted with him out of his head. He was grateful that missions had slowed down a bit, the ones that did come up had basically been milk runs. Quite honestly, ever since that last interaction with Ghost, he'd just been off. He was still in good form, he had his head (mostly) screwed on right, he'd just been off. Like he'd just fought off a migraine; present and functioning but still a bit disoriented.
The thing he didn't like about being off of missions is that Ghost would be a bit easier to agitate. Whenever they were off missions, the universe would make it a personal mission to throw Ghost the most mind-numbing obstacles. Paperwork that needed to be looked over because someone had made a single mistake, recruits that needed extra training, anything you could think of Ghost got. Soap hadn't seen him much that day outside of the normal routine of eating breakfast with the 141 and helping train recruits. His best guess was that Ghost was in his office. He knew damn well Ghost probably hadn't gotten anything to eat or drink in a while so he wanted to grab him something. It was a risky move, Soap knew that, but if he had the opportunity to give a peace offering for being too much, he'd take it. He'd already been asking too much of Ghost as of recent, so hopefully this would balance things out at least a bit.
└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘
It had been a day for Ghost to say the least. Breakfast with the 141 had been peaceful, but something with Soap had been off. He seemed tense, almost like he was a grenade that was trying not to explode. When he'd asked if he was okay, Soap waved him off with a smile. Ghost knew it was bullshit, but another sergeant poking his head in and requesting Ghost's help to train with recruits had put a stop to him pressing for more.
"Maybe he has something planned, been a few since he's tried to get a rise out of me" As much as Ghost wanted to figure out what was going on with Soap, it went to the back of his head as he watched a recruit try to throw a knife with the worst form he'd ever seen. He knew it'd be a long day after that but Ghost did not expect to have to fill out not one, but TWO injury reports. After filling out the reports (and holding back from giving his own personal thoughts of the matter), he began scanning through the first batch of paperwork. The higher-ups had sent it back, claiming there were a few mistakes in it. Where? Hell if they knew, that was Ghost's job to figure out. He had bet Price that it was a format issue, stating if he was right, Price had to buy the first three rounds when they went to the pub again.
"Why the hell can't you lot proofread? It's not that hard to do," Ghost muttered to himself, pinching the bridge of his nose. He'd been in a debate with himself on whether he should take a break and grab some food when a knock sounded at the door.
"Enter." There was Soap, still looking tense. But it was as if Ghost had completely forgotten the weird feeling he'd had earlier when he uttered,
"Oh what do you want?" It was in a mostly teasing manner. His eyebrows lowered however when he saw Soap completely freeze.
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A cold water bottle from the fridge and Ghost's favorite crisps, this has to do it. As he walked to Ghost's office, Soap put his entire being into stomping out the voice that kept screaming TOO MUCH at him. He knew he was too much, that he always asked for too much if he wasn't careful, but he did know how to give peace offerings. And everything he'd learned about Ghost in the time that they'd worked together was helping him out. Finally getting to Ghost's office he took a deep breath before knocking. It took a moment, but Ghost allowed him in. But the first thing out of Ghost's mouth was
"Oh what do you want?" Now if Soap had been thinking completely rationally, he'd have picked up on the teasing note in Ghost's voice, but he wasn't thinking clearly at that moment. Soap. Shut. Down. He completely felt his body freeze before he could even fully come inside Ghost's office. His ears were ringing like a small explosion had gone off near him. This is it, he's been too much, he's taken too much. Ghost is annoyed with him, his needs, his being. Apologize! Run!
"I'msorry," Soap spat out. Setting down the water and crisp bag on the small couch near the door, he turned around and began to make a quick exit. And he would've been able to do that if Ghost hadn't caught his wrist.
"Johnny?" Soap didn't dare to turn around.
"Johnny what's wrong?" Get out! You've made him worry!
"Johnny... can you please look at me?" Soap wanted to disobey, he truly did. He didn't want to see the annoyance in Ghost's eyes now that he'd realized Soap needed more. But something in Ghost's tone, that heavy note of concern made him do as ordered.
"Johnny? Why are you apologizing?" Ghost asked him, genuine confusion in his eyes.
"I uh, I just wanted to drop this off for ya. Didn't think ye had eaten much today. I'm sorry for bothering ya," Soap explained. It wasn't like he was lying, he just didn't say everything. He prayed that Ghost would just take his answer and let him go. Let him fix his needs by himself. Like his teachers made him do, like some of his friends made him do, less needs means being more loveable. Ghost stared at him for a moment, it felt like he was staring into Soap's soul, and instead of letting him go, dragged him back inside to sit on the couch while he sat on the opposite side. They stared at each other for a moment before Ghost spoke first.
"Johnny, something's been off today.I want to help, but can you tell me what's wrong?" Ghost asked. Ghost wanted to reach out and grab his hand but with how Soap froze before, he wasn't sure if it was a good idea.
"I dinnae want to hold you up LT. I'm sure yer buried in paperwork so I-" Soap was cut off by what some of the recruits called "The Ghost Stare". Ghost didn't even need to say a word to tell Soap cut the shit, what's wrong? Subconsciously picking at his cuticles (it was a damned habit he couldn't kick) he tried not to look at Ghost. He looked up at the small window behind Ghost for a moment too long.
Maybe if I'm quick enough, I can get out through- a small chuckle interrupted his thoughts.
"The window's locked Johnny. The paperwork can wait, I've got some food now too, I've got all day to hear you out. Tell me what's wrong, please," Ghost asked him again, Soap could've sworn he heard pleading in his tone.
FUCK!
└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘
Soap had an interesting relationship with the concept of patience. He could be patient when the time called for it, keeping a sniping position for hours on end waiting for a target, his only sense of time being the position of the sun. But sometimes, he just wanted to get things over with. And right now, he wanted any sort of out so he didn't have to have this conversation with Ghost. Ghost wasn't staring at him directly, but Soap wasn't stupid. Ghost had fantastic peripheral vision, he had once called him an owl when a recruit had done something stupid almost directly behind him. Soap risked a peak up at the clock in Ghost's office: five minutes. Five minutes had passed since Ghost last spoke. It'd felt like an entirety to Soap. Maybe... maybe he should just let this out. It's been years since he's even told anyone the barebones of-
"I don't have time for your questions John! I need to help the other kids more!" His sixth-year English teacher had snapped at him. John couldn't help but shrink back. It was a quick question, honest! His parents weren't able to figure out the answer nor his friends, not even the tutors he visited after school. And since his teacher wouldn't help, he had to guess the answer. He got it wrong, that was the only mark off he had on paper, and it tanked his grade. The salt in the wound was the "ask me for help when you need it" note written in red.
"Does anyone else need water?" His tenth-year football coach. Technically, John had already gotten water, but one of the kids on the team had looked as though he'd pass out. It had been a strangely hot week in Scotland, and the kid clearly wasn't doing well. Soap needed water, he desperately needed water, but he didn't speak up. He'd made it through practice that day, but learned how much a dehydration headache sucked (he vowed that night that he wouldn't ignore his food and water needs).
"Jesus John! I can't always spend time with you. I have a life that isn't about you ya know!" His girlfriend of nearly two years when he was seventeen. All he had said was "Do you want to catch a movie this Saturday?", nothing more. Was he really being that needy? I mean, if his girlfriend of almost two years was snapping at him like that, he obviously was. He was obviously too needy, he couldn't read when other people needed attention more (he never got enough), he couldn't shut up about what he wanted for long enough, HE COULDN'T-
"Johnny! Johnny!" It felt like Ghost was calling to him from far away, even though he was only a foot away from him.
"Johnny, I need you to breathe for me," Ghost took his hand, his bloody hand, and put it against his chest,
"In, hold, and out just like this. Atta boy, just follow me through it." Apparently, unbeknownst to Soap, he'd been hyperventilating. No wonder he had felt so light-headed. Both men looked down at Soap's bloodied hand; Soap with slight confusion and Ghost with hurt concern. Ghost muttered something but Soap didn't catch it. So when Ghost stood with no prior context to Soap, he panicked.
"Fuck ahm sorry! I-" Soap began to apologize again when Ghost cut him off with a squeeze to his good hand and his other coming slowly to his cheek.
"There's nothing to apologize for Johnny," Soap could see the worry in those brown eyes and the gentle smile under his mask. "I wasn't leaving you. I said I was going to go get something for your fingers. I'll be right back, I won't even leave the room, promise," Ghost explained. Soap leaned into the touch for a moment, then nodded. After a moment, Ghost came back with a few wet paper towels, some neosporin, and band-aids.
"It's not the fancy stuff medical has, but I think this'll work," Ghost muttered to him as he settled back down on to the couch. Holding out his hand, Soap extended his bloodied hand to Ghost. Ghost worked meticulously, patting out the blood and gently rubbing the neosporin in. The silence was back again, and Soap didn't like it one bit.
"Didn't expect ye to have band-aids in your office," Soap commented aloud. A smile under the mask grew.
"Never know what might happen, papercuts sting like hell Johnny," Ghost hummed. Soap tilted his head and gave him a small amused grin.
"So Ghost's one weakness is papercuts?" Ghost rolled his eyes and gave Soap a small shove backward, still keeping his hand within reach though. It wasn't the same annoyed eye-roll he had gotten before, Soap could see the contentedness in his face. As Ghost began to bandage Soap's fingers, he'd always check in with him that it wasn't too tight before sealing them.
"Is it us?" Ghost spoke suddenly.
"Excuse me?"
"I mean, with," Ghost paused, making a back-and-forth gesture with his hand, "how we work. Did I do something wrong?" he asked. Christ on a cracker he thinks this is his fault, Soap thought to himself. The little voice was back in his head, screaming its lungs out. Too needy! Too much! Hide! Be less!
"Listen, I know you tease and flirt with me to get a rise out of me, but-”
"I don't do it on purpose, I promise!" Soap didn't even mean to let all of that slip out. He was going to find a way to kick his own ass later, and then drag his body to the pit in the training course.
"But, if you need something from me, please tell me! If I ever react too harshly, I need to know! I'm your..." Ghost trailed off, because they hadn't fully discussed what they were exactly. Until this point, they had been content with going label-less, but now maybe that needs to change.
"LT, I... I just wanted to check in and make sure you got some food in ye, honest. There's nothing else.. nothing else I wanted," Soap cursed himself internally for the hesitation, he knew that Ghost would notice it. But in all honesty, that's all he could give out. He couldn't force out "I wanted to give you a peace offering because I've been too much and just wanted your attention". Ghost did, in fact, notice the hesitation.
"Johnny, I know you aren't telling me everything. I want to know, what do you want?" Ghost asked him like it was the easiest question in the world. Soap floundered for a moment, truly not sure what response he should, what response he could give Ghost? What did he want? He knew exactly what he wanted yet didn't have a clue.
"Johnny, please. What's the matter?" Ghost asked again, he didn't like seeing Johnny struggle this much. He knew there was something he wanted, could practically taste it. Yet Johnny wouldn't tell him. Why? The question bounced in Ghost's head for a moment; why wouldn't Johnny tell him what he wanted? What could be stopping him? Was it Ghost himself? Did he find Ghost too unapproachable? But then he remembered a few of the times that Soap would pass pub nights when he clearly needed to be with people. The few times that he'd pass on water when he clearly needed some on the strange hot England days. He remembered the times when Soap looked like he was about to ask Ghost for something, then bit himself off. Taking what he'd offer, nothing more. It clicked.
"You don't think you deserve to be heard, to express what you want," Ghost concluded aloud. The gasp Soap let out in the quiet room might as well have been in front of a microphone, it was so loud to Soap. No one had ever put it into words like that, not even Soap himself. With that conclusion, the damn in front of Soap's mouth broke.
"No no! I don't think that I- I just dinnae want to be a bother to you is all!" Soap tried to explain it away, waving his hand. But Ghost knew his conclusion was right, and he wasn't about to let Soap slip away that easily.
"Johnny, why did you come here?" Ghost asked him softly. There was no malice, no annoyance, nothing bad. Just pure curiosity and slight concern for Soap.
"Look, it's just... Look I know ahm a brat, I know I am! You wouldn't be the first person to tell me, you'd have to get into a pretty big line for that part. And I will admit that sometimes I like being a brat to ye, have ye put me in my place. But I know how exhausting and aggravating it can get to deal with me sometimes so I wanted to come apologize. I truly did come here to give you some food, but I wanted it to be an apology to ye as well! I know I've been taking too much of yer time recently so I wanted to apologize for it. Make sure I try to even out what I've taken from ye," Soap rambled on. Ghost felt his heart clench at that moment. Being a brat every now and then was too much according to Soap? They didn't even do that much when Ghost was putting Soap in his place (in Ghost's opinion at least). When he felt his hand be pulled forward, he realized he'd been too deep in thought when he saw Soap backing away from him on the couch, motioning to get up.
"Ahm sorry Ghostie, ah know I've overstayed my welcome," Soap began to unfold his legs from the couch. He was grateful that Ghost had taken care of his fingers (and put his issues into words he could express at least), but the whole plan of evening things out was shot. He's overstayed his welcome by a long shot. But once again, Ghost wasn't going to let Soap go anywhere. When he felt a hand grip his wrist, Soap expected to be pulled down onto the couch once more. He did not expect to be pulled into Ghost's arms, specifically have his face slotted directly next to Ghost's pulse.
"What made you think this relationship was purely transactional?" Ghost damn near growled out.
"I-"
"You're not going anywhere love," Ghost stated firmly.
Love?
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Simon and Johnny had never put a name to their relationship. Never really felt a need to do that: they were Ghost and Soap, Simon and Johnny, what more needed to be said? They had also never explicitly said "I love you" to each other or majorly used terms of endearment. Johnny had felt at least a little bit of the love Simon had for him, but hearing Simon call him "love"? That was... Johnny couldn't even put it into words. Electrifying? Feeling like it jump-started his heart? Wrapping his heart and soul into safe and protective hands? None of that could describe how Johnny felt at that moment.
What made you think this relationship was purely transactional?
All of his relationships since his girlfriend at seventeen had had some air of transaction in all of them. Soap had learned after the first few failed relationships that that was what he needed to do to keep partners around a bit longer. Soap's love language had been a mix of physical touch and spending time together, but he eventually changed it to acts of service. It had never changed, his love language had stayed the same but he had tried to find fulfillment in acts of service. Some of his worse relationships would purposefully withhold physical touch from him specifically if he was too much. Thankfully, once he realized what they were doing, he'd leave. What made you think this relationship was purely transactional?
Ghost had never withheld either of his love languages. Soap barely needed to jog his memory to think of the way that Ghost would always press his thigh against his during meals, how Ghost would barely even comment when Soap would sleep on his shoulder in the helo, how-when Soap was still stressed about the aftermath of a mission- Ghost would come to his room to simply read in his bed while Soap sketched in his journal, held him in his arms when it was really bad.
What made you think this relationship was purely transactional?
What in hell's bells made him think their relationship, labeled or not, was purely transactional? He remembered the huff and the eye-roll that caused him to come here in the first place. He knew how much of a pain in the ass he could be when he was a brat. He always worried that he was forcing Ghost into putting him in his place. That's what he always felt like he was taking. But... this was Ghost. Simon Ghost Riley. His lieutenant, his... love? Whatever he was, he knew Ghost well, and he knew damn well that he could not force Ghost into doing something he did not want to do. If Ghost didn't want to put Johnny in his place, he could've easily told him to fuck off. But he never did, not once. Too much? Fuck it. He's talking; fuck the voice in his head, fuck the past, he's getting it out. Here and now.
"Lt, I-" Soap felt the reflex to shut off, to put a lid on what he was going to say, but he fought it back with a shuddered breath. He was about to continue when he suddenly felt a hand gently stroke the plane of his back repeatedly.
Oh well isn't that nice.
"I need you to listen to me completely. No interruptions or nothing, ahm gonna get this out and ahm gonna get it out now," Soap stated to him firmly. Soap felt him hum in agreement, but he needed more, he needed-
"Words Lt, I need to hear you say it," Soap stated once again, poking his head out from Ghost's neck. He saw Ghost's eyes widen slightly at his sudden appearance, but a smile quickly formed from behind the mask.
"Alright Johnny, I'm all ears," Ghost promised. Soap was already back in the comforting space of Ghost's neck, he knew that if he looked Ghost in the eyes for this, he wouldn't be able to get everything out, and he had to get everything out.
"I think you probably put it best. I... I really don't think I deserve to be heard. To express what I want. All of my fucking life, I've been shot down by people who supposedly gave a shit about whenever I've asked for something simple, at least in my opinion. So, whenever I didn't speak up about something I wanted or speak up in general, I wouldn't get the same venom people would spit at me in the past," Johnny began. From his space in Simon's neck, he didn't see the anger in Simon's eyes. He did, however, feel Simon's arm tighten around him slightly. Maybe he'd admit it one day, but it always felt nice whenever Simon held him. They hadn't done this type of thing a lot before but the few times it happened, it was very comforting.
"I guess after a while, it just became normal for me. I take care of myself, people didn't need to know anything. And hell, people even treated me nicer when I wouldn't say anything. I had a pretty good hold on things, no one ever really asked. I think Price knew somewhat and he’s been trying to find the right moment to ask for a while, but ah never really gave him the chance," Johnny paused for a moment, then smiled into Simon's neck, "And then you just had to come into my life LT."
"Me?" Simon whispered. Because Johnny's sentence could very well have two very different meanings to it. He was hoping it was for the better.
"Aye, you. Ah know it sounds cheesy, but ever since Las Almas, you made me feel like I could talk again. I truly cannae explain why it came out as me being a brat but that's how it came out. And to see you reciprocate it, to have you accept what I wanted, even if it was not in a conventional way, it felt so fucking good." Simon couldn't help but preen a bit at that. Being the one to get Johnny to express himself, while Johnny himself had helped dig him out of the mental grave he had been stuck in, it felt wonderful.
"But I pushed, I know I did. Like I said earlier, I know how exhausting and aggravating it can be to deal with me being a brat after a while," Simon wanted to cut him off so badly. Wanted to tell him that he wasn't exhausting or aggravating at all, but he had promised to stay quiet
"The other day when I teased you, I think I should've known to back off even before I did anything... but I didn't. I pushed too far and... uh well... to put this in the nicest way possible, ye definitely let me know that I pushed too much," Johnny trailed off slightly. Simon felt like he had turned to stone, he knew exactly what day he was talking about. While yes, he had had a migraine and at least three generals outside of the base had given him shit for his attitude-by attitude they meant him being quiet and standoffish that day- it wasn't an excuse to act the way he did to Johnny. It didn't give him an excuse to roll his eyes at him like a damn child.
"I think I've been overthinking damn near everything I do since then. Because damn it Simon, I don't want to lose you because of my own actions. I hope this makes sense, but you're my safehouse Simon. You're the one person that I've always felt most comfortable with, the one I've felt like could be myself around. Steaming Jesus, ah sound so fucking cheesy but I really hope you understand what I mean. You're my safehouse, and I don't want to destroy it." Johnny finished. It felt like a weight lifted off of him but a different one replaced it. It felt fantastic to finally get everything out, but the ball was in Simon's court. And Johnny had no idea how he would respond to all of this.
"Johnny?" Simon's voice was small, even next to his throat.
"Aye?"
"Can I respond now?" His voice still small.
"Go ahead Si-" Johnny was not expecting to be squeezed so tightly by Simon.
"Fuck Johnny, I never should have responded the way I did to you the other day. I had my own shit going on but that's not an excuse for how I acted towards you. I'll say it until I can't anymore, whenever I 've-Christ it sounds wrong to say it like this when you're talking about something so serious- but whenever I've put you in your place, it has never not once been exhausting or aggravating. Johnny, being with you has never been exhausting or aggravating. You say that I'm your safehouse, then you're a fucking light in the darkest storm love. You think you sound cheesy? Johnny, even on the worst days here, even when getting up and working on base is an absolute chore to me, seeing you around base makes things a bit easier." Simon felt his shoulder become damp and felt small shakes in his arms but he continued.
"Seeing the passion that you have for demolitions, seeing the crazed smile you get when something blows up the way you want it to, I can't help but smile too. You're infectious love. Listening to you talk about your sisters and their lives, watching you try to help anyone and everyone you can, even if they’re dicks, Christ Johnny I learn things from you that I didn't even know myself all the time. Why wouldn't I fall in love with you?" Simon didn't mean to let that part slip out. Because yes, Simon Riley did love John MacTavish, he had for quite a while. But he had wanted a better moment to tell him that he loved him. He wanted it to at least be somewhere other than his office, though considering things, this may have been the right moment. The office was quiet, even Johnny's small sobs from earlier were gone.
"J-Johnny?" Johnny always filled the silence between them, to have him be the quiet one felt stifling. Johnny slowly rose from Simon's neck and became face-to-face with Simon, causing Simon to squeeze his eyes shut. Although he normally loved looking at Johnny's baby blue eyes, he couldn't bear to look at him right now. The possibility of Johnny's eyes holding disgust towards Simon, he couldn't bear it.
"Simon, please look at me," Johnny asked him. His tone wasn't disgusted, but that didn't automatically mean that he wasn't hiding it.
"Si, please look at me," But damn it, Simon couldn't deny Johnny what he wanted, he rarely could. Slowly, he opened his eyes just barely. Johnny's eyes held awe and... was that hope?
"Ye love me?" Johnny whispered aloud.
"And if I do?" Simon whispered back.
"Then would I be able to tell you that I love you too?" Johnny asked him. Simon couldn't even reply, Johnny had so quickly taken away his ability to speak.
He loves me?
He fucking loves me!
Simon just looked back at Johnny with wide eyes and nodded. And, for the first time in days, Simon saw Johnny's smile return in full force. They both needed this, they both needed to cement what they were to each other.
"Then, can ah kiss you?" Johnny asked him. Simon reached up and pulled his mask completely off of his head, something he had never done before in front of Johnny when they were alone together. Johnny's eyes widened as Simon reached a hand up to cradle Johnny's face.
"Love, you never need to ask," Now, they had kissed before. Most times, it had been rough and pretty passionate, and there had been a few times of quick small kisses in passing. But they never had had a kiss that had been this soft, that had been this sweet, that had held so much love. Simon slipped his tongue out to lick at Johnny's lips, asking him to let him in. When he did, neither man tried to shove their tongue into the other's mouth. It could be called a slow dance instead of a fight for control. It felt like an eternity passed between them and no time at all, they were just in their own little bubble of time. When they did have to break contact, neither man pulled back far.
"Johnny, if you ever feel like you're being too much, please come to me. I don't want you to feel like you can't ask for things that you want. Please, promise me you'll speak up to me, I don't ever want it to get this bad again," Simon begged him.
"I'll do my best Si, I promise I will. But I'm serious, I don't want to disturb you when you're having a bad day," Johnny replied. As much as Simon wanted to argue, he knew Johnny was right. They wouldn't get anywhere if both of them felt like they had to hide something.
"Maybe we could figure out some kind of signal for when one of us is having a bad day," Simon mused to himself.
"You could wear a different mask on your bad days," Johnny supplied.
"Johnny, all of my masks are the same,"
"Exactly, which is why you could add some change to your wardrobe," Johnny smiled, snickering when Simon lightly pushed his forehead backward. But Johnny did have a small point, if he couldn't vocalize it, maybe an article of different clothing would help describe it.
"The sweater with my last name on the back," Simon said suddenly.
"Hm?"
"I've always put that one on whenever I've felt like hell. Maybe that can be my signal," Simon explained, feeling Soap nod into his chest.
"The thing always looked super comfortable," Johnny added. Simon chuckled a bit, running his fingers through Johnny's mohawk. He would always huff whenever someone messed with his mohawk, but Simon couldn't help but damn near pet him. He looked down at Johnny, who was deep in thought.
"Dreich!" He exclaimed suddenly.
"Excuse you?" Simon could tell it was Scottish slang, but he hadn't the foggiest idea of what it meant.
"It's Scottish. People use it when the weather is terrible, miserable to be specific. So if I said 'it's a dreich day', it would mean I'm not doing well," Johnny explained to him.
"You lot could always just say that the weather is terrible, instead you just come up with the strangest things I've ever heard," Simon smiled down at him. Johnny grinned back, and nipped at Simon's chest in retaliation. For a moment, the two men just stared at each other with utter love and admiration in their eyes-Simon continuing to run his fingers through Johnny's hair.
"Uh Si? Those reports you were working on earlier, when are they due?" Johnny asked him suddenly. Simon had quite honestly forgotten about the reports, his focus directly on Johnny.
"9am tomorrow," Simon replied. Both of them looked up at the clock at the same time- the time was 9:30pm already.
"Aw shit, you'd better get working then," Johnny stated, beginning to raise from Simon's arms.
"Johnny," Simon warned, not ready to let go yet.
"Don't worry yourself Si, I'm just moving so you can get up. I could stay here if you'd like," Johnny reassured him. And yes, Simon would like it if Johnny stayed with him. But he wanted him to stay closer than the couch across from his desk.
"I would like that Johnny, but you need to be closer," Simon stated definitively. And hell if that didn't spark a light blush to travel across Johnny's face.
"Si, I don't think I'd be able to sit in your lap while you work," he laughed lightly. Though, knowing Simon, he wouldn't be surprised if he had Johnny try at least once. Simon stood suddenly, grabbing one of the pillows from the couch with him. He walked over to his desk quietly, bent down to adjust something near the floor and sat down. He motioned for Johnny to approach him, who walked over to him utterly confused on what his plans could have been. When he reached Simon, he saw the pillow he had grabbed between both of Simon's legs on the floor. It was a bit of a tight fit under the desk, but Johnny wasn't stupid. The gears in his head began to spin faster than ever before.
Fuck, he's asking me to-
"Would you like to kneel for me Johnny?" Simon asked him, as though it wasn't one of the most intimate things in the world in Johnny's humble opinion. Robbed of words as Simon had been earlier, Johnny nodded.
"I need words love," Simon asked him softly, reaching a hand to his cheek once more.
"Aye, I would," Johnny replied to him just as softly. How he was able to get those three words out was something he wouldn't be able to answer if his life depended on it.
"Go on then, I want you nice and close to me," Simon smiled up at him. The blush that had previously dusted his cheeks before had turned into a damn inferno. He slowly sank down to his knees, being as mindful as he could about his ACL. He hadn't kneeled for someone in a damn long time, to have it happen with the man he loved made him soar. The pillow under his knees wasn't anything fancy, but Soap's scarred ACL wouldn't be screaming at him later. Johnny had tried kneeling for people in past relationships, but it never worked out well. He could never get his mind to settle, something always bouncing in his head whenever he would finally relax. But something about kneeling for Simon, something about being caged in between two thighs that could kill him as easily as they could protect him? It felt nice, it felt safe. The best way he could describe it was it felt like he was under his dad's old heavy quilt in front of the fireplace when he had come in from a snowy day with his sisters. It was safe, he was so warm, and he felt comforted enough to fall asleep. And in Ghost's office, under his desk kneeling in front of him, Soap almost did fall asleep, until he heard humming. It didn't bring him completely out of his peaceful reverie, but he swore he could recognize what Ghost was humming. He strained his ears a bit until he recognized,
"Guns And Roses?" he looked up at Simon. Simon looked back down at him with a blush dusting his cheeks as well.
"Something about blue sky eyes seemed appropriate right now," Simon replied. The smile on Johnny's face felt like it was going to tear his cheeks apart. He had never felt this cared for, had never felt this heard, had never felt this loved in his entire life. Being on his knees for someone who held him so close to his heart, that felt the same love for him? Johnny could die happy, kneeling in front of the man he's held a torch for for months.
"Thank you Simon, for everything," he spoke quietly. Turning his head into Simon's thigh, he muttered out a small 'I love you'. The waters were still unsure for both of them. Neither of them had strictly said 'I love you' to each other during their time together. So Johnny was really hoping that he hadn't-
"I love you too Johnny. I won't be long, just rest for me," Simon replied. Feeling a hand come down to slowly card through his hair, resting seemed like a pretty good idea. He had Simon's six, and without a doubt, Simon had his. With that in mind, Johnny sunk completely into the legs of the man he loved, the man who loved him just as much.