The Girl In Flat 25 (Simon "Ghost" Riley X F!Reader)

Chapter 2: Strawberry Mug

Simon rolled over, his eyes squinting at the alarm clock on his end table.

7:45 am, November 1st.

He scowled.

He slept in more than he wanted, definitely a lot more.

Grabbing his phone he squinted at the screen, multiple texts from John filled his feed.

'Why do you need a new place Lt?'

Setting his phone on the nightstand he rolled over on his back, staring at his ceiling. God, last night was shit. All he heard was loud shitty music, okay if he was being honest a few songs weren't awful, and loud talking about topics he didn't care (or want to) hear about.

When all got quiet it was the early hours of the morning and he considered just staying up all night but decided against it. His body was tired, might as well let it rest.

Sitting up he stretched his arms far above his head, sighing at the way his back gave a much-needed pop.

'Look for new mattresses for new flat', he made a mental note as he got out of bed and walked over to the glass sliding door that separated his living area from the balcony.

The outside was grey and cold, one thing he didn't miss was the weather. Mexico was sunny and warm like a vibrancy filter was placed over his vision. He could go on morning runs without a jacket. Alejandro was lucky.

A deep inhale was all he needed to forget his complaints, the smell of rain wrapped around him comfortably. A scent he desperately missed.

Home.

"Oh-!" He heard a feminine voice call, heard the noise of a shuffle back. "Sorry, you scared me."

He tossed a glance over and there you were, pajama-clad and with a cup of coffee in your hand.

He considered going back inside, given how uncomfortable you looked and how uncomfortable he was starting to feel.

"I can go back inside-" What were you? A mind reader?

He shook his head, stopping you in your tracks.

"We both paid for the balcony." Simon sat on a metal fold-out chair and looked out to the hustle below. "Might as well use it."

He watched as you relaxed and nodded, a slight smile creeping across your face.

"You're right." You placed your mug on a little side table, studying the mug closer he noted it was from some tourist shop from the states, and moved to sit down on a wicker couch. "Do you want a cup of coffee?"

You talked too much for his liking.

"Uh... No. I'm partial to tea." He leaned back and crossed his arms, a tactic that he read in a book would let you know he wasn't really interested in conversation this soon after he woke up (or conversation at all).

You stood and placed your hand on the handle of the door, "I can make you a tea! My friend gifted me some really nice tea earlier this year, I'll never get through it all."

He was half tempted to say no, truly, but he knew you had made up your mind when you slid the door open and stepped in partially.

"If you wanted to." You smiled and moved inside, pausing momentarily to stick your head out and ask how he liked his tea. "Two sugar and a milk."

He went back to staring at nothing, watching people shuffle around the street below him. People-watching wasn't as entertaining here, but it would do.

After a few minutes, you pushed your way out of your apartment, cup in hand.

"Sorry if it's not any good," You paused as you walked closer to the railing closest to him, presenting the mug in a way that made you look like you were providing him a quest item in a video game, "I don't make tea too often."

Gingerly he took the mug from you.

He was ashamed to admit he thought it was cute.

It was pink, with little strawberries and white and yellow flowers painted on the outside.

"I'm sorry about the mug. It was the only one clean." You grabbed your own cup off the table and turned a chair around to face him.

He lifted his mask and turned away, taking a small sip. It was pretty good, too much milk for his liking, but he wasn't going to complain about free tea.

"Do you like it?" When he dropped his mask back over his face and turned to you he shrugged, causing you to frown a little.

"It's okay."

"Just okay?"

"Too much milk."

You nodded firmly. "I'll keep that in mind."

His eyebrow raised under his mask as he watched you take a sip of your coffee, mumbling a small 'cold' as you wrapped both hands around the mug.

He took a long look at you, the shirt your wore was large and hung from your shoulder, some random place in the state was airbrushed on the front, different from the place on your mug, and your legs were coated in goosebumps.

"Why are you out here in shorts? It's almost freezing." You merely shrugged.

"I enjoy the cold." Your answer was simple, he understood slightly.

"I assumed."

You smiled again. He noted how your face scrunched up a little.

You leaned forward, your elbows resting on your crossed knees. "Why have I only recently met you? What do you do for work that keeps you away for so long?"

How did he answer that question?

"I just travel a lot for work." He crossed his arms again, face turning away.

"But what kind of work?" You pried further.

"Classified."

"Ooooooooooh..." You nodded comically and took a large sip from your mug, "You are a smuggler."

What a shite joke, he thought.

"Sure."

"What's your name?"

"Does it matter?" He turned to face you again, your head tilted to the side like a curious puppy.

"To me it does. We're neighbours! What if you go missing and I need to report you to the police?"

He stared at you, making you squirm in your seat a little. It felt like minutes passed as he passed judgment your way.

"Simon." His voice was oddly cautious.

Immediately you relaxed again.

"I'm-"

"(Y/n)." He finished for you.

"How did you know?"

"Your friend with dark hair is loud."

You nodded understandingly.

"Sorry about that."

"I don't care." It took him a second to realise how unintentionally harsh he sounded. "That she's loud. I hear louder people daily."

A shot at MacTavish, the man had little to no volume control but he was like a lost dog following Simon around. He had grown as fond of the Scotsman, despite the circumstances.

You nodded and stood up, finishing the coffee in your mug in a single swig.

"It was nice meeting you again, Simon." He watched as you turned around and went back inside your house.

He hates to admit it, but your little chat wasn't so bad. He hoped it happened again.

_____

Late update. Hope you enjoy.