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It’s a little later than usual when Johnny finally manages to peel his eyes open, face smashed into one of his pillows and drool dried on his chin. His arms are curled his other pillow, a placeholder in case Simon wanted to sneak in during the night to crawl into his arms. His blanket has been abandoned at the edge of his bed, but he’s still sweating even though the only scrap of clothing on him is his boxers.
Fuck this summer heat. Miserable fucken shit.
He oughta take Simon out to the mountains. Somewhere where it’s cold, and he doesn’t feel like his skin is melting off constantly.
Simon loves the mountains just as much as he loves the beach- if not a little bit more. There aren’t any pressures to strip off the head-to-toe layers of black clothing he always wears, and no one looks at him funny for his balaclava- not that Johnny lets anyone look at him funny anywhere else, glaring back until they glance away before Simon can notice.
But there’s something about the thick blanket of snow over everything that makes Simon feel safe, and if Johnny had to bet, it’s got something to do with how much harder it is for enemies to hide in their stark white surroundings or linger in the biting cold for days.
That, and there’s fewer people there in general.
Whatever it is, the second Simon steps out of their truck, his shoulders always put down the weight he can’t seem to drop anywhere else. His hands relax, no longer curled into fists or itching for a concealed weapon, and he can finally pull in a deep breath, filling his lungs with the crisp, fresh air before sighing it out into a little cloud.
Watching his boyfriend finally let go is Johnny’s favorite thing about the mountains.
His second favorite is that Simon spends every possible moment tucked into his side or cuddled up to him.
For as large of a man as his boyfriend is, he isn’t quite a human heater like Johnny is. In fact, he’s almost always freezing; his body’s become dependent on the all-black clothing that covers every inch of his body, no matter the weather, to keep him warm on even the hottest days.
Up in the mountains, the layers aren’t enough anymore, so he clings to Johnny to steal his warmth. Johnny loves every second of it.
Maybe he should try to convince Price to give them a few days off, so they can take a trip.
They haven’t had much of a chance to just hold each other lately. Too busy with missions to have a moment alone together or too exhausted from endless nights of paperwork to crawl out of their own beds and into each other’s.
Honestly, he’s disappointed that he woke up to his bed empty and his pillow still in his arms, but at least Simon got some sleep for once.
God knows he needs it.
Johnny groans loudly as he finally slips out of bed. All of his muscles are stiff and aching, and he already immediately misses his shitty mattress, wishing nothing more than to flop back down onto it for the rest of the day.
Maybe then Simon would come track him down, and he could drag him into his bed, using his coldness to cool him down the same way Simon uses him to warm up.
Regretfully, he puts clothes on, wincing as the heat trying to escape his body is now trapped against his skin. His skin feels sticky and gross, and he curses the fact that he wasted too much time in bed to fit in a shower, too.
Trying not to look at the bed beckoning him back, he stumbles out towards the mess hall in search of Simon and Kyle. It’s late enough that there’s a chance they’ve already abandoned the table they usually sit at, meaning he’s going to have to sit with some random rookies, but he’ll press his luck.
His stomach twists oddly, and his feet stop cooperating.
It takes all he has to shuffle two feet to the right, so he can throw an arm up against the wall to keep him upright. His feet anchor him where he stands as he fights the strange sensation, fists clenched and breaths controlled.
Actually, fuck that. Maybe he’ll skip breakfast altogether.
It’d be better to leave his stomach empty, so it can work itself out.
Pushing off of the wall to give himself momentum he shouldn’t need, he changes course and stumbles towards his next destination: Price’s office. His goal is to bribe the man into giving him and Simon some time off. He’s willing to do whatever it takes at this point. He just wants some time alone with Simon.
Maybe while he’s there, he can sit down for a bit.
It feels like his legs have disconnected from his brain, working against him as he tries to walk- or it’s his eyes that are the problem because the world sways with every step.
“Oh, Jesus fucken-” he rasps hoarsely, clapping a hand over his racing heart as a door appears in front of him- oh, shit, scratch that actually. Doors don’t move. Keep it together, MacTavish. He brings up a definitely not shaking hand, curls his stubborn fingers into a fist, and raps until-
“Tav?” He blinks blearily- when did these goddamn lights get so bright?- and turns around to find Kyle standing before him, a stack of paperwork in his hands. “You broken?”
“No,” he answers, cringing at the way his vocal cords cut his throat as he pushes the word out. “Ahm solid. Jus’- jus’ here ta talk ta tha captain.”
Kyle’s brows raise, unconvinced. “You’re knocking on a closet door.”
“Away ‘n bile yer heid. Ah ken tha’.” He rubs a hand over his tired eyes and bites down the yawn that’s trying to fight its way out of him. A choked-off cough slips out instead. “Ahm no sick if tha’s what yer thinkin’. Jus’... ahm jus’ pure done in- half-asleep today.”
“Right…” He can feel Kyle’s eyes on him, the weight of them heavy enough to have him leaning against the door slightly. “Cap’s office is the door to your left. Medical’s two halls down. Take your pick, mate.”
Johnny only shakes his head- biting down a hiss as his world spins and his stomach churns- and argues, “Ahm no’ sick.”
“Alright, fine,” Kyle concedes before leaving, paperwork in hand.
He watches him go for a moment before turning back to the hallway of doors before him. Kyle said to the left, but was it his left or Johnny’s? Johnny can’t remember what direction he was facing when he said it, but he’s also not sure if he considered that in his response already. But knowing Kyle, he probably maybe did, but there’s always the chance that he didn’t but-
God, this is fucken confusing.
He’ll just find Price later and pester him then.
For now, he wants Simon. Really, really wants him. He’s barely seen him in the last few days, and aside from pressing their legs together underneath the table during meals, they haven’t had any real physical contact. Johnny feels unmoored- not sick- just like he isn’t quite himself- but he’s not sick .
He stumbles off once more, towards where he’s pretty sure the gym is, half-confident that’s where he’ll find Simon. Except, as he moves down another hallway that comes up as a dud, he finds he’s not so sure anymore. They’ve been in this base for almost a year, longer than any other base, and he’s gone to the gym as often as he can, so it’s a little odd that it’s taking him so long to find.
Must be because he’s tired. Just really tired.
Going to the mountains with Simon is going to be so nice. They’ll get to cuddle, and he can sleep good for once, tangled up into Simon, pressed close to his cold body-
A shudder runs through him, and he shakes his head. No, no, he’s cold now. No mountains or snow; he wants something warm.
Price is the only one of the four of them that runs hot, Kyle running just as cold as Simon, so maybe he should find him. He could make up some bullshit excuse that allows him to lean up against the older man to steal his heat.
Goosebumps prick his skin, and he shivers again in spite of the sweat-inducing, sweltering heat that would normally have him sweating.
Is this how Simon always feels?
He should track him down and apologize for all the times he’s brushed off the other’s request for cuddling, too tired or too busy. Those excuses feel weak now that he knows how shitty it is.
He turns and then turns again, suddenly lost in the maze that is this godforsaken base. All these hallways look the fucking same, and his vision has gone too blurry to read any of the name plates on the doors. He can’t distinguish where he is- much less decide who he oughta search out.
Worst of all, his legs are still aching, and it’s starting to spread through the rest of his body, making every muscle he has pitifully sore.
He just wants to lay down.
He just-
“Johnny? You solid?”
The familiar voice has him turning in circles again, blurry eyes squinting as he tries to track down the source of it.
“Simon,” he croaks, his voice absolutely gone to shit. A stupidly wide grin splitting across his face once his eyes finally focus on the black balaclava of his boyfriend. Legs shaking, a few stumbling steps close the distance between them.
Strong arms find his shoulders, holding him up, and he leans into them more than he should, sighing in relief as some of the weight is taken from his hurting body.
His head, suddenly too heavy for him, lulls forward.
Simon guides him to rest his sweaty forehead on his shoulder; a gloved palm on the back of his head keeps it there. An arm slinks around his waist to keep him steady.
“You sick?” he asks softly.
Johnny breaths in his comforting scent with breaths heavier than he should be taking, considering he’s done nothing but walk down a few hallways. His lungs protest the action and seize sharply, and he pulls away from Simon just far enough to cough into his elbow. It’s an ugly, hacking noise that has him breathless and panting by the time his chest finally calms down.
“Think ahm a wee bit whitey,” he mumbles hoarsely, letting Simon pull him closer once more.
“I know, love,” Simon says. There’s something slightly amused in his tone. He brings a gloved hand up to brush through Johnny’s limp hair. “Kyle told me.”
“Traitor.”
Simon laughs, his chest shaking with the sound.
Honey-thick warmth floods Johnny’s veins, and suddenly the unbearable cold clinging to his very bones is washed away. He settles deeper into Simon’s arms, slotting his face into the crook of his neck like the space was carved for him.
“C’mon, let’s get you to bed, Johnny.”