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It’s not entirely uncommon for the overeager Sargent to suddenly invade Ghosts room. It took him a while to get comfortable doing so at first, but not even Ghost, let alone anyone else, can deny he and Soap formed a bond during that perilous night in Las Almas. It was an unshakeable type of thing, born from joint trauma, the formation of trust and more than anything, the realisation they were compatible as people.
It’s rare for Simon to find anyone he actually gets a long with past tolerating, the last person being Price who he met nearly ten years ago. He doesn’t mind Gaz, hasn’t really worked with him much to get to know him well, still he’s definitely one of his closer colleagues, the same with Laswell.
But Johnny? The over confident, borderline cheeky Sargent is something entirely different, entirely new. Even if Ghost were one to make friends or get along with other people, Soap would still be an outlier. Simon finds himself actually wanting to be around the other man as often as he possibly can, seeking him out during work outings to the bar or constantly choosing to sit next to him in a meetings, then learning his on base routine so they can have meals together and go to the gym at same time.
It takes Simon longer than he would like to admit for him to realise why he’s so obsessed with this man. He’s never had this feeling before, something completely foreign he’s not sure if he even realised what he was feeling at first. Now he understands, knows he’s in to deep with Johnny, feels to much for his bloody subordinate.
At least Johnny seems to enjoy Ghosts presence, actively seeking him out, slipping into Ghosts barracks randomly, under the guise of ‘hanging out’. He thinks maybe, just maybe, Johnny feels the same. His Sargent follows him around, looks up at him with those pretty blue eyes that fill with so much fondness when turned his way.
He’s the only one Simons ever wanted and since he realised his feelings a few months ago, Simons actually scared for the first time in his life. He’s terrified of fucking this up because Johnnys his best friend, the best Sargent he’s ever worked with. Being honest with Soap could push the other man away, ruin everything they built if Simons wrong and Johnny doesn’t feel anything in return.
“Not looking, I swear.” Soap announces as soon as Simon steps out of his bathroom door.
It should probably worry Johnny has some how snuck in his room while Simon was showering but he doesn’t mind, wouldn’t mind the man slipping in to join him. Simon shakes those thoughts from his mind, those are the types of things he only lets his mind conjure when Soaps not in the same room.
“Can see that.” Simon’s scan over Johnny whose laying on his front on Simons bed. He’s in his usual comfortable clothing, joggers and a loose t-shirt, Simon always thinks they make him look softer, cosier than the usual fatigues. He’s sketching to, Simon can hear the pencil against the paper but can’t tell if it’s his sketch book or art tablet from where he’s stood though.
He’s not concerned about Soap turning around looking as Simon pulls off the towel from around his waist, honestly, he wouldn’t mind if Soap did look. But he knows his Sargent wouldn’t invade his privacy like that, at least without permission. He’s got his own joggers one when he realises the t-shirt he was planning on wearing was on his bed, likely being lead on and Simon doesn’t give a shit about the wrinkles knowing he might be able to smell Johnny on it for the rest of the day.
“Think your lead on my shirt, Sargent.” Ghost pretends to exasperated as he comes to stand at the side of his bed, enjoying the way Johnnys eyes go wide as he looks up at him, clearly trying not to stare. It strokes Simons ego a little when Johnny seems torn between looking at his bare chest and face, god, he wants to jump him so bad.
“Uh - oh sorry, LT.” Soap grins as he sits up on his knees, plucking Simons shirt off the bed as he goes, holding it out to him, though his eyes clearly catch onto something.
“What?”
“That one didn’t heal so well, probably me shite stitches.” Soap points to the only recent scar he’s got, it’s across his ribs from a grazing bullet wound he let Soap patch up because he kept complaining Ghost shouldn’t do it himself. Ghost was used to treating himself in the field but it was actually quite nice having someone else care for him for once, well, so long as that someone’s Johnny.
“They were fine, it was gonna scar anyways, part of the job.”
“Suppose.” Soap shrugs, probably still blaming himself a little anyway, the Sargents always been like that , “I gotta know, which one o’ these scars hurt the most, ye know, at the time?”
He’s also always been a nosey bugger. Simon could always tell, all the comments about getting Simon to take off his mask, all the unspoken questions, he’d knows the glint Johnny gets in his eye’s when he’s deciding if he’s safe to ask something. He hasn’t done that for a while now, quite happy to spout questions which Simon finds himself sometimes answering despite himself.
Now though, he’s not quite sure how to answer, eyes flicking down to look at his own chest. He knows he won’t find the answer there. The scar that hurt him isn’t on his own body, it’s wether he should answer truthfully.
When Simon shifts his eyes back to Johnny, he’s still up on his knees on the bed, actually putting him closer to Simons height like this. Still bit shorter though, given he’s got over half a foot on him which he’s always quite liked, particularly at times like now, when he’s got Soap close, blinking up at him. Those pretty eyes look wider from above, the ocean that seems to swirl in his irises always threatening to drown him, perhaps it does, drowning out so many of his senses.
That’s the excuse he’ll give himself later for why he decides push up the left corner of Johnnys shirt, thumb immediately coming to rest over the large scar he knows is a few inches above Soaps hip bone, doesn’t even have to look at it to find it. He spent what felt like hours putting pressure on it, desperately fighting panic and tears as he had tried to hold in all of Johnnys blood, begging his unconscious Sargent not to fucking die on him, screaming in his radio for the god damn exfil heilo.
That op felt like yesterday and an eternity ago all at once. It’s the closest either of them have come to dying since working together, he’s supposes it was the closest they both came to dying. He knows he wouldn’t have walked out the building alive if he’d lost Johnnys pulse on that concrete floor.
“This one.” Simon admits to air around that that feels so thick he’s not sure he’s even breathing right.
“Simon.” His name is no more than a breath, sounding fond and desperate all at the same time.
“Almost killed you.” Simon own voice doesn’t sound any better to his own ears, straining with the effort of finally admitting this out loud, “Almost killed me.”
“We made it.” Johnny smiles, it’s not got his normal brightness to it, but it’s sincere, a little sad but full of so much affection it makes Simons gut flip like he isn’t a bloody hardened soldier. He supposes he’s not that here, not with Johnny, there’s no more Ghost, just a man with his heart in the hands of the only man he’s ever loved.
“You can’t do that to me again.” Simon means for it to be a warning but it’s more of a plea as his thumb unconsciously presses a little firmer on that scar.
“Wasn't like I did it in purpose.” Soap smile turns a little bit brighter this time, a little teasing as he cocks his head to the side, looking up at Simon, Christ, this pretty man really is everything to him.
“I know.” Simon smiles back, retreating his hand from beneath Johnnys t-shirt, moving to take a step back because having him so close always makes his head a bit foggy.
“Hey.” Johnny doesn’t let him, reaching out to wrap his hand around Simons wrist, tugging him even closer now, Simon goes without thinking. “I cannae promise anything, but so long as we’re out there together, I think we’ll be alright.”
“And when we’re here?” Simon asks knowing nothing will be quite the same after this, not now they’re finally being honest with each other.
“Aye, when we’re here too.” Johnny’s smile turns almost sheepish with the admission, it’s a sight to behold from the normally cocky man. It has his heart catching in his throat that he, of all people, gets to see it. “So long as we’re together.”
“Yeah?” He needs to be sure, needs to be told they’ll never be a part, Simon can’t do anything less when it comes Johnny.
“Aye.”
It may not be ‘I love you’ but it’s damn close, for Simon, it might mean even more.