Call of Desire

35. Repose

re·pose
/rəˈpōz/
noun
a state of rest, sleep, or tranquillity

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Content Warning: Injury Detail

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John could barely hold his head up by the time they returned to the hotel. Simon carried him up the numerous flights of stairs and laid him gently on the bed in their shared room. 

"Sleep, Johnny." Ghost cooed, placing a soft hand on his lover's shoulder. "I'll patch you up, just get some sleep, okay, my love?"

Closing his eyes, the Scotsman hummed, "Don't leave," 

Gazing down at him, Simon ran his fingers through the younger man's mohawk, soothing him. "I'm staying by your side, Johnny, don't worry." Leaning down, Ghost placed a soft kiss on the Sergeant's forehead. "I'm not going anywhere." 

"Good..." Jonny mumbled, dozing off.

Quietly knocking at the door, Sergei peeked in. "Do- do you want some help?"

Simon considered, staring at the young Russian. "Come here, then." he sighed. 

Simon carefully removed the bloodied bandages, and Sergei cleaned the wounds and replaced the plasters. 

"Have- have you known him long?" Sergei asked, trying to fill the silence. Ghost slowly turned to the younger man, staring at him. He silently made it very clear he isn't a man for small talk. "S-so not long then..." he chuckled nervously. 

"Don't mind him, Sergei," Kyle smiled from the doorframe. "He's all talk." Kyle thought for a moment before speaking again. "And all bite." 

"I would much rather not risk my physical well-being," Sergei scampered over to Gaz, hiding behind him. 

"Ah, c'mon, let's leave these two alone." Kyle smiled, wrapping an arm around Sergei's shoulders as he closed the door to the room, leaving Simon and John to themselves. 

Sighing, Simon sat on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. Pulling off his mask, he threw it aside, irritated, before rubbing his face. His body was exhausted, he could feel his legs begging him for rest, his gut throbbing from the bullet that had torn through it.

Despite all of this, he stood, stumbling over to his duffel bag, digging around until he found his favourite black hoodie. 

"Johnny," Whispering, he gently squeezed the Scotsman's shoulder. "Put this on. You'll freeze to death."

Yawning, John looked up. "Mm... won't you hold me?"

"Of course, my love, I just don't want you to get cold." Simon smiled softly. 

"Fine. Take off your bloodstained clothes though." John returned the smile, taking the hoodie from Ghost.

"Your jeans aren't any better." Pulling off his shirt, Simon playfully gestured to Soap's lower half. 

Pulling the hoodie over his head, the Sergeant smiled. "Wipe yer face off too, ya got blood everywhere." 

John's beautiful Scottish accent became more prominent, sending a warm feeling through the Brit's body. Simon obeyed, wiping his face with his shirt before pushing his trousers off his hips, leaving him in just his boxers and his dog tags. 

"C'mere...." John smirked, leaning forward, offering his hand for Simon to take. 

"What about my clothes? Gotta keep warm, Johnny." Taking his hand, Simon was pulled onto the bed, wrapping his arms around the shorter man. 

Content, John cuddled into Ghost's chest, sighing. "I'll keep you warm, Simon."

"I love you," the Brit whispered, hardly audible. He feared those words would make him weak, but they gave him such a warm feeling in his core. 

"I love you," John replied, planting a soft kiss on Simon's neck. "I really do."

Letting out a shaky breath, Simon allowed the stress of the past few weeks to flow out of him. The plane crash, all the fucking waiting, getting shot, Johnny getting tortured... The Lieutenant shuddered. 

They were done. They were finally safe. 

"I'm never letting that happen again," Stammering, Ghost pulled his partner closer, tears filling his eyes. "I'm never letting you get hurt again."

"Oh, Simon..." John sighed, "That wasn't your fault. You got shot, my love."

"You got fucking tortured, Johnny... I don't... I never wanted anyone else to have to experience pain like that."

"It was pretty tame for torture, really." John lied. He couldn't flush the pain from his mind. He could still feel the cold metal of the blade still pressed firmly against his chest. 

"Please..." Simon mumbled, trying not to let the tears leave his eyes. "Don't lie to me, Johnny. I know what it's like."

"Can I forget about it for a bit, please?" Stammering, John's voice cracked. 

Complying, Simon took a deep breath, rubbing the Scotsman's back. "What is the first thing you want to do when we get back?" 

"I want to sleep in our bed," 

"I bet. We can sleep all you want when we get back, yeah?"

John chuckled, exhausted. "I'd like that. I think we deserve a fucking break,"

"Price said he'd give us time off, I'm hoping he keeps his promise." 

"He fuckin' better..." the Scotsman sighed, yawning.

"Get some sleep, baby." Simon cooed, running his fingers through John's hair again. "We're leaving for home soon, rest up."

"Only if you hold me."

"Of course, my love." Pulling the blanket out from under them, Simon wrapped it around them. The warmth soaked into the two, lulling them into a gentle sleep.

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Short chapter with some fluff :)