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You didn't know how many days constituted a problem, but you were pretty sure you were coming up on a problem. Simon was out on medical leave for two weeks. Why? He wouldn't tell you, simply said it was all bullshit and he was fine. You're pretty sure Johnny had tried to tell you, but going by the look of not-terror on his face, Simon had been behind you, probably making some non verbal threat like to eat his eyeballs or something if he said anything. John, at least, had been able to tell you that it wasn't anything life threatening. That Simon just needed a little R&R before coming back.
You were day three into a fourteen day stint of having your roommate husband...broski(?) back and well to say it was going poorly was probably an understatement. For the past two days you'd leave your home with Simon stationed on the couch, staring down the wall like it owed him money. Then you'd come home and he would still be sitting on the couch, still staring at the wall like it hadn't paid up. The only reason you even knew he hadn't gone into some catatonic state was because when you got home he'd at least respond to you in grunts and get up from the couch if you offered to share a meal with him. Outside of that you weren't entirely sure he moved. Which was concerning.
So now you were standing outside of your front door, almost positive you knew exactly where Simon was going to be. With a sigh you pushed open the door, took a step inside and....yup that man was still on the couch, looking like the wall still hadn't paid him.
"Simon?"
"Hn."
"Do you know what time it is?"
"Hn."
"Have you...moved from the couch? Like at all?"
"Hn."
Well still not catatonic. Though honestly you were pretty he was going to get there sooner or later. With a sigh you decided that fuck it, you were going to try one thing and if it didn't work well he could rot on the couch then, at least you tried to help. So without a word you turned and walked back out into the wilderness for a solution.
--
Med leave was bullshit. The incident that lead him to med leave was bullshit. The fact that Soap nearly told you about the incident was bullshit. So he was going to spend the two weeks of forced med leave showing that he was completely fine by sitting on his couch, protecting his god damn house. A man had to keep his fucking dignity sometimes damnit.
No he was not being dramatic, and no he was not pouting. He would even respond to you when you asked him questions. He was fine. He didn't know why you had decided to just leave and come back an hour later, dumping multiple boxes onto the couch beside him. A quick look answered that they were some kind of build kit?
"The 'ell are those?"
"Something for you to do."
Simon didn't need something to do. He already had something to do, showing that he didn't need to be on med leave.
"Don't need 'em. You're just wasting your money."
"A) Your money, and b) I'll do them if you wont. So how about you stop bitching and fucking try one okay?"
Wait-what did you mean, his money? When the hell did you get your hands on his wallet? Before Simon could decide if he was offended or impressed by your acts of theft and audacity, you seemed to decide to just plop yourself onto the floor by the couch with what appeared to be your own stash of kits.
You didn't seemed bothered by his demanding stare for answers, instead already getting into the contents of what seemed to be pieces of wooden flowers. After seven and a half minutes of silence, he counted, you looked up to see if he had started anything.
"You know you don't have to be so embarrassed to admit you can't do them."
Who the fuck said anything about him being embarrassed? Or that he couldn't put a fucking wooden toy together. Given the skeptical look on your face you were fucking saying. Simon Riley could put together a fucking toy. He still had his dignity damnit.
With a huff he inspected the kits you had gotten. If he wasn't so affronted he may have been able to appreciate that you had gotten what seemed like a good variety of things, from a puzzle box to a few cars, even a tommy gun that seemed to actually be able to shoot rubber bands. He was going to put all of it together and show you that he wasn't fucking embarrassed and he could do it.
By the end of the evening he only got the puzzle box together, having spent a long time making sure everything was sanded and waxed so it was opening and closing smoothly. Of course you had an entire vase of wooden flowers and some sort of music box together. The smug smile you gave him at the fact you had more completed didn't sit right with him.
So the next day he tackled the rest of the kits you had left him. He got his revenge that night when he shot a rubber band at your ass with his completed and functioning tommy gun. Maybe those kits weren't so terrible after all. Ignoring the way you were glaring daggers into the back of his head, he happily started yet another kit, some sort of space rover looking thing.
He didn't question that the pile of kits never seemed to get smaller, or that there were sizeable purchases coming up on his account. He'd let you enjoy the spoils of actually managing to get his card without him realizing.
And so by the end of his forced med leave, Simon had his own army of wooden creations, with a few extra kits left. If anything they were something to look forward to on his next mission. And even if he wasn't expecting the new shelves in his office when he got back, he could admit that his wooden army looked rather good on them.
Maybe he'd keep an eye out for more flower kits. For variety sake.