Work Text:
Ghost
It was a quiet afternoon, everything in the house was done and you were sitting on the couch, your phone in one hand as you scrolled aimlessly while waiting for Simon to return home. He had ducked out to the shops to grab a few ingredients for dinner, you could tell he was planning something good from the way he had jumped around the kitchen the hour before he left, checking the cupboards and fridge to see what you had. His lips were slightly lifted, almost grinning as he planned the dinner for you both.
You could tell when he got back home, from both the sound of his car engine rumbling as he droves down the street and the heavy thuds of his boots as he made his way up the stairs to your home, the soft jingle of keys at the door and the way he dropped the groceries on the kitchen counter before making his way directly towards you. “M’home luv,” he mumbles, instantly flopping onto the couch next to you and wrapping his strong arms around your waist, adorning your neck with soft kisses. He was really just a big puppy, but just for you.
He cherishes the way you giggle and drop your phone onto the couch next to you, wrapping your arms around him as you both end up as a cuddle pile on the couch. He ends it with one last kiss, deep and loving to your lips before standing up and giving your ass a playful slap as he makes his way back to the kitchen to begin cooking for the both of you.
As the smell of the homecooked meal starts to waft through the house, you follow the smell to find him stirring a pot over the stove. He grins as he sees you enter, not saying anything as he takes a spoonful of what he is cooking, blowing on it before lifting it to your lips. He chuckles as you let out a moan of delight as the flavours hit your tongue. “Alright love, how was work today?” he asks, continuing to stir the food as he waits for your reply.
“Ah… it was okay, my boss cut the deadline again for my next report,” you reply softly, the stress seeping through your voice as you lean against the counter, your brow furrowed as you think of the recent conversation you had with your boss. His cold and stern look sent shivers down your spine, even as you just thought about it.
“Oh dear luv… how much did he cut it back by?”
“Another week. I have three days to complete it now,” you reply again, your hands finding each other as you speak, your body trying to deal with the nerves and stress.
Simon turns around with a slight frown, looking over you with concern. “He shouldn’t be allowed to do that… M’sorry luv,” he murmurs, crossing his arms over his chest until he notices your hands, picking at each other like you always did when you were stressed or nervous, even worse when you were both. His movements were quick, almost instant as he reached for your hands, pulling them up to study them with a pout. “Darl… no more of this. Look- it’s all red,” he mutters as his fingers softly touch the reddened skin.
“I didn’t mean to…” you murmur back, watching as he shakes his head with a small ‘tsk’.
He shakes his head, patting your hand. “Let me go get the cream… can’t have it getting sore now can we?”
You nod, and he makes his way out of the room, shortly after returning with a small tube of antiseptic cream. He guides you into one of the dining room chairs, sitting beside you and gently taking your hand in his, applying the cream with the other with the utmost care. “We gotta’ find something to help with this,” he mutters, still holding your hands in his and his thumb gently rubbing along your knuckles in a soothing manner. “Promise, yeah luv?”
“I’ll try.”
He nods, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “That’s my girl/boy. Now, let's get ready for dinner, yeah?”
Roach
It was a nice afternoon on the couch, the plush yet worn-out fabric holding both you and Roach snug, winding down after a stressful week. He was snuggled up against you, head against your chest, listening to your heartbeat as his eyes remained trained on the television. His strong arms were wrapped snuggly around your waist, humming along with the music in the show as it came on. It was his heaven really, being with the one he loved most in such a simple situation. No guns, no violence.
It was just you.
The week had been stressful for both of you. It was a long wait until Roach had come back home from his mission, and people at your workplace were just never the best. Stack that up with a heavy work loud, and it made your whole week just endless hours of stressing and wanting to pull your hair out.
You let out a long sigh, making Roach stir, hugging you a little closer as his eyes remain on the television, too engrossed in the show. Your arms find their way around his back, not even thinking as your fingers play with each other for a moment, before finding a bit of skin on your finger, using your nails to pick at it, not even thinking about it. Just your body trying to find its way to relieve all the pent-up stress.
Roach mumbles something to himself, feeling your hands move against his back until he realises what you are doing. He was quick to act, playfully slapping your hands off his back, before grabbing both of them and putting them underneath him, pressed up against his chest. Laying on them so you couldn't move them.
You go to complain, your lips parting before he beats you to it, cutting you off with a small ‘nuh uh!’. “I know what you’re doing baby. No picking!” he scolds, booping your nose with a small grin.
“It doesn’t hurt-”
He cuts you off again, shaking his head and pressing his chest against your hands more, making sure they are secure. “Don’t matter. You’re not allowed to.”
You huff softly, laying back against the couch as you try to break free from the hold he has on your hands. “Gary- you can let go now.”
He shakes his head, looking up at you with adoring eyes. “Not unless you promise you won’t do it again. I will lay here all night like this to make sure you don’t.”
You let out a soft groan, but couldn’t help the smile that sneaks itself onto your lips. His loving and protective nature was something you just couldn’t fight against. You try once more to pull your hands back from his prison, but it quickly ends with you giving up once more. “Fine, I won’t,” He raises a brow at you, tilting his head as he waits for you to continue.
“I promise.”
He nods, letting your hands slip free from the grasp he had on them. Now, instead if being imprisoned under his chest, he held them firmly in his hands, calloused thumb gently rubbing against your knuckles. “Good, no more of that. We gotta’ find other ways to help you with your stress, huh?”
At your nod he grins, letting out a content sigh before lifting your hand to his lips, softly pressing kisses along your knuckles.