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Johnny bolts awake with a start as a rapid flurry of harsh pounds slam against his quarter’s door, handle jiggling. He scrambles out of bed in a half asleep haze, nearly tripping on the sheet tangled between his legs to tear open the door just as a second rep of knocking begins.
He’s expecting Price or maybe some unlucky rookie that was sent to wake him for an emergency global security threat - not a maskless Simon to push into his room as soon as the door swings open.
There’s barely time for him to squeak out a Si before the man’s hand clamps over his mouth and flips them around so his back is pinned to the wall. A shiver runs down his spine and a flock of butterflies stir in his stomach at the action. He could almost wonder that Simon might be here for a different reason until the miniscule amount of moonlight leaking through the window illuminates his pale face. Tear trails streak through his smeared eye black, smudged and outlining the wild look to his eyes. Simon’s gaze isn’t even on him, but fluttering around his room, scrutinizing each dark corner and shadow. His breathing comes in ragged and short breaths, the larger man damn near hyperventilating.
Johnny takes a risk and squeezes a hand around his wrist in an attempt to ground him. Ghost levels him with a look he’s memorized a long time ago in the field - stay here - and he peels away, dipping into his bathroom. He hears the drag of the shower curtain, the click of the tiny linen closet opening and shutting. Simon’s shadow creeps out of the dark and drops to the floor to sweep under his bed. Then looking through his main closet before finally coming back to stand in front of Johnny.
The man seems marginally calmer but nowhere near his usual collected self. He’s about to try and ask what the hell happened when two massive arms wrap around him and crush him into Simon’s bulky chest. Pressed against him, he can feel the rapid pounding of his heart, the half sobs barely contained shaking through him. Whatever Simon dreamed of, it must have been… intense . Johnny reaches his own arms up and squeezes just as hard, rubbing his palms up and down his back.
“It’s okay, Simon. I’m here. We’re safe.” His low whisper feels like a shout in the heavy silence of the room but Simon heaves out a huge breath. He lets out a pinched noise in the back of his throat as he nuzzles his cheek against Johnny’s messy mohawk. The blonde stubble scrapes and tickles his scalp at the same time, soothing but also worrying. The only other time Ghost had been this touchy-feely was the last time he’d gotten absolutely sloshed at the pub. But there wasn’t even a faintest smell of liquor coming from him.
Thankfully, he’s semi-used to Simon going nonverbal, even when nothing’s wrong, words abandoning the man from time to time. He slowly pulls out of the embrace just far enough to meet his wide-pupiled, brown eyes.
“You want to lay down?” That earns him a grimace and a glare towards the pitch black corners of his room like the four walls had personally wronged him.
“Your room?” He offers, hands running up Simon’s bíceps. The other’s eyes soften and focus back on him. He slowly nods. Johnny offers a smile.
“Lead the way.”
Simon intertwines their fingers in a near crushing hold but brings them to his quarters right down the hall. Shockingly, the door was actually left wide open, light from a lamp streaming into the corridor. He’s only been allowed in Simon’s room a small handful of times, and usually only for a minute or two. Normally, his room is as tidy and efficient as the man himself, only the bare essentials and everything neatly lined up on shelves, not a crease to be found on the sheets. Now, Soap sees a toppled over cup on the side table leaking water, sheet and comforter from the bed dragged across the floor and leading towards the doorway with a pillow halfway hanging off the mattress.
Ghost gathers the bedding and fixes up the blankets for them. Thankfully since he’s an officer he has a queen size bed instead of the standard twin dished out to everybody else. Johnny busies himself with wiping up the spilled water, calming his own geared up nerves from that abrasive wakeup call.
Technically they’ve slept together before; squeezed in a tiny tent in the field, slumped together on the evac plane, their feet tangled in a pile on the couch; but never in a normal bed, on a normal night. Maybe in a spooning position? His cheeks burn at the thought. Would Simon want to be the little spoon?
He doesn’t have to wait long for his answer. Simon slips under the covers and pats the open space in front of him. It only takes one look at Simon’s vulnerable eyes for him to shove any doubts aside and climb in, settling with his back against his chest. Ghost’s large arm wraps around his middle to pull him flush against himself.
“This okay?” Simon’s raspy voice whispers, nose buried in his hair.
He lets the tension melt from his body and sinks into the warmth around him, letting the smell of the other man’s blankets fill his nose, “Perfect.”
Ghost hums and lets out a breath like he’s been holding it since they walked in the room. He doesn’t make a move to turn off the lamp, and Soap doesn’t bother asking him to either. After some time, John is nearly asleep when he feels Simon jolt from behind and a hand creeps up to wrap around his throat. He nearly pulls away until two fingers press into his skin; they dig in and don’t move. Then it clicks - he’s feeling for his pulse.
Oh.
Oh.
Everything falls into place. Checking his room, the need to keep touching him, to be so crushingly close.
Johnny twists so he’s laying on his back. Simon whines but lets himself be guided, scooting down so he’s lying with his head on his chest, ear pressed right over the steady beating of Johnny's heart. Then, arms wrap around him with a hand combing through his hair. Soap slowly feels the last of the tension leak out of the man curled on top of him.
“I’m alright, Simon.”
Simon’s hand fists in his shirt and Johnny hears the muffled sniffle against his chest, “Don’t leave me.”
The broken whisper cinches his chest. He didn’t know he mattered this much to Ghost. He knew they were as good of friends as Ghost would allow himself, but this is a new layer of Simon that he hasn’t seen before. He pulls the man tighter into his chest and presses a kiss to the top of his head.
“Never.”
They’re going to have to talk about this - them - sooner rather than later, but for now he just peppers more little kisses along his hairline and rubs his hiccuping back until his arm is sore and his other is tingling with numbness from being pinned under his weight. He keeps going anyways until he’s sure the other is fully asleep.
Gentle lips ghost over his hair as he whispers into the sleep warmed room, “Don’t you leave me either, Simon Riley.”