Work Text:
Click, Click.
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Click… Click.
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Click, Click. Click, Click.
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Click, Click. Click, Click. Click, Click. Click, Click. Click, Click. Click, Click. Click, Click. Click, Click.
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Click, Click. Click, Click. Click, Click. Click, Click. Click, Click. Click, Click. Click, Click. Click, Click. Click, Click. Click, Click. Click, Click. Click, Click. Click, Click. Click, Click. Click, Click. Click, Click. Click, Click. Click, Click—
Soap eyes fluttered, something wanted his attention but sleep still had its soft hold on him and caressed his hair in a silent lullaby.
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Click, Click. Click, Click. Click, Click.
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Distantly, Soap heard a repressed shuttered inhale. On instinct he reached an arm out to his husband but was met with cold sheets. He lifted his head, the clock on his nightstand reading 03:40.
Soap quietly sat up, and tried to see what the darkness of his bedroom was shadowing.
Click, Click. Click, Click. Click, Click.
Soap’s chest ached at the sight he was met with, as if his heart didn’t know if it could keep beating while being exposed to such a scene.
Simon was sitting on the floor facing the bedroom door, in only the briefs and well loved t-shirt he had gone to bed in. His tattooed arm outstretched and clasped onto the door’s lock with a deathgrip. Simon’s knees were drawn to his chest, body warring between tension and exhaustion.
The deeply instilled military training forced Soap to scan the room for any signs of danger or abnormalities before proceeding, he found nothing amiss.
“Si?” Soap whispered, slowly getting out of bed making his way to Simon, putting an effort in making his movements audible to his tortured lover.
Click, Click. Click, Click. Simon unlocked and locked the door. Unlocked and locked the door.
“Simon, love. Do you hear me?”
Simon cowered his head fully into his knees, free hand covering his mouth in an effort to smother the sob trying to tear his body in half.
Click, Click. Click, Click.
Simon’s unsuccessful muted cry somehow lodged itself in John’s throat. Fuck this was gonna be a hard night. Soap had spent enough with the blond man to know. He took a steadying breath, trying to quell the harrowing grief he felt for his husband. It sat cold and nauseating like mud heavy in his stomach. He already felt tears pricking his eyes but willed them away and sat to the side of his Simon.
“Hiya, love. Can you tell me what's going on?” John’s voice was gentle in its prompting. He already had a good idea of what was happening, but was willing to try anything to get Simon out of his catatonic repetition.
He had watched his Lieutenant, his friend, partner, fiance, and now husband stand in front of doors, unlocking and locking more times than necessary. Watched as he tread the same weary path to each window at night and Click, Click— unlock, lock.
The compulsions didn’t happen every night anymore, it had actually been getting less frequent in the past year. The past month has been stressful though. The 141 had been on back-to-back missions, which resulted in the collective feeling of being tied to and dragged by a humvee… and Gaz being injured. The Sergeant had taken a bullet to his left flank and was still in hospital recovering, one of the reasons why Soap and Ghost were home now; having been sent on mandatory leave to wait until the 141 was useful once more.
Click, Click. Click, Click. Click, Click. Click, Click.
John reached a tentative hand to Simon and brushed a blond curl from his forehead.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Johnny, I'm sorry,” Simon gasped, his words wet and shaky.
Click, Click. Click, Click. Click, Click.
“Hey, I’m not asking you to stop. Try and take some deep breaths.” This task was a 50/50 with Simon. Sometimes the man just needed a few deep breaths to regulate himself and calm his mind. Other times, Simon reported when his head cleared, that it was like Soap had asked him to breathe in lungfulls of water. Unnatural and antithetical to Ghost fighting to keep his heart beating.
“I can’t,” Click, Click. “Johnny I can’t breathe,” Simon cried. Click, Click. Click, Click.
“Okay, okay. Can I touch you?” Johnny asked.
Click, Click.
Simon shook his head.
Click, Click. Click, Click. Click, Click.
“Okay, love. Tell me when I can touch you, okay? I’m right here, I’m safe, you’re safe.” John tried to keep the disappointment from his voice.
Simon continued to weep. Click, Click. Click, Click. Click, Click. Click, Click. Click, Click. Click, Click. Click, Click. Click, Click. Click, Click. Click, Click. Click, Click.
John knew that Simon needed to bring himself down enough to where he could reach his husband again. So he settled in to do what he vowed to Simon while they laid in bed the morning of their courthouse wedding.
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“ —I promise to give you space and patience. I promise to respect that you know your boundaries and will communicate them with me. I promise to continue loving you through the times of rest and peace, but also in the times of struggle and war. That will never change for me, Simon. I met you as we were being shipped out to take down a cartel for fucks sake, there was never a moment where I thought this relationship would be simple or easy, and similarly never a moment where I wanted it to be.”
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—Click, Click. Click, Click. Click, Click. Click, Click. Click, Click.
John realised now that the last part of his vows was a lie. He would give anything for things to be easier; not for his sake, but for Simon’s. He would give his soul in the pursuit of bringing Simon peace, lay it at his feet with his life's blood spilling out if necessary. Just to erase the weight of the past that lingered as scars on his lover’s skin.
Click, Click. Click, Click. Click, Click. Click, Click. Click, Click. Click, Click.
Soap didn’t know how long he waited next to Simon, time felt like it dragged on forever. He did know that at least a handful of minutes had to have passed when he felt one of Simon’s hands settle onto his thigh, reaching for one of John’s hands that sat on his lap. Simon’s cries had slowed and he had moved to sit crosslegged. Hand still on the lock.
Click, Click. Click, Click. Click, Click. Click, Click. Click, Click. Click, Click.
Soap immediately took Simon’s hand and the entry his husband was offering. He scooted behind Simon and wrapped his arms around him, gently rubbing up and down his torso and thighs like trying to rub life back into a corpse, placing scattered kisses to the back of his neck. All in an attempt to pull Simon back into his body.
Click, Click. Click, Click. Click, Click. Click, Click. Click, Click.
“What happened, love?” Soap tried again. He was met by a sharp inhale and quiet words.
“The nightmares Johnny. The fucking nightmares.” Soap could hear the anguish in Simon’s voice. These were far from uncommon for Simon.
Click, Click. Click, Click.
“I’m safe. I’m right here, we're home, and we’re safe. You’re safe.”
“I know, I know that,” Simon insisted.
Click, Click. Click, Click.
“What was this one about?” John asked.
Simon released a long sigh. “Our last mission. But when we rounded the corner to the southern wing of the building it wasn’t Gaz. It was—
Click, Click. Click, Click. Click, Click. Click, Click. Click, Click.
It was you who got shot… in your chest.” Simon’s voice raised at the last word and his body shook as his cries resumed in intensity. John was about to reassure when Simon continued. “But I woke up and knew that's not what happened, and I could only feel relief. I know I’m a fucking monster but you make me forget somtimes. How horrible do I have to be to only feel joy that Gaz got shot instead of you? You were right behind him. It could have been you.”
Click, Click. Click, Click. Click, Click. Click, Click. Click, Click.
“Simon, you're not a monster. You can feel scared for Gaz and relieved I wasn’t injured at the same time. Those two things don’t have to be connected, you can feel them both separately, one doesn’t outweigh the other.”
Simon nodded his head aggressively, as if the motion would make him believe John’s words.
“If the nightmare was about me being hurt, why the door, love?” John tried to keep the question benign.
“Because we abandoned the mission after Gaz got injured. We never finished the job, that trafficking ring is still going, and we don’t know where they are, they could have followed us, they could know where we live and are coming for you. Maybe they were aiming at you the whole time and Gaz was just in the way. They could be coming to kill you… and I have to make sure the door is locked when that happens.” Simon’s rapid speech slowed at the end, he knew that this thought process was illogical but couldn’t stop from following the breadcrumbs his tormented mind left.
Click, Click. Click, Click. Click, Click.
“No one is coming, Simon. Laswell has kept eyes on them since our mission in order to protect us against trails, we would be first to know if something goes wrong. We did everything right, even though we didn’t get the files we wrapped the mission up well. We didn’t leave anything to follow. That’s why we’re the best.” Johnny chucked, leaning to kiss Simon's cheek and continue rubbing up and down his body.
Click, Click. Click, Click. Click, Click.
“When you’re ready you should stop locking the door. No one is coming, the door being locked will make no difference. Only give me a broken nose when I have to get up in the middle of the night to piss and slam my pretty face into the thing. Just try holding the lock if that's a better first step.” John put more pressure into the rubbing, trying to give Simon something else to focus on in the transition.
Over the next few minutes it slowed.
Click, Click. Click, Click. Click, Click. Click, Click. Click, Click. Click, Click. Click, Click. Click, Click. Click, Click. Click, Click. Click, Click. Click, Click. Click, Click.
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Click, Click. Click, Click. Click, Click. Click, Click. Click, Click.
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Click, Click. Click, Click. Click, Click.
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Click, Click.
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Click—
Simon held onto the lock so tight his knuckles were white with the effort.
“Good, babe. You’re perfect, we’re safe, I’m safe.” John continued the comforting words, even when Simon let go of the lock and placed his hands over Soap’s moving ones, following the motion and adding pressure. Even when Simon had leaned fully into John.
John resumed the kisses to Simon’s neck, and the couple sat there in the combined effort of their rocking gentle motions.
Only when the pressure from Simon’s hands lightened and his breathing was truly back to normal, did John speak.
“Do you think you’re ready to go back to bed?” A burden of a sign was released by Simon and he nodded.
The two extracted themselves from the ground and made their way to the bed.
“Johnny?”
“Yes, love?”
“Weight?” Simon whispered, patting his chest.
“Always, love.” and John lifted himself so the majority of his weight was covering the other. They settled into the other’s body like the habit it was, breathing in the moment and taking the comfort they needed from each other.
“Johnny?”
“Yes, love?”
“Thank you,” Simon said. And Johnny took it as the declaration it was.
“I love you too. Always.”