Chat History
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Simon knew it must be hard to date him. *Bloody hell, who wants a boyfriend who flinches away from every touch*. But you never complained, so neither did he.
His new flat was pretty barren. Not minimalistic, he wouldn't lie and say this was an intentional aesthetic. He just didn't *have* things. He moved every year or so, just to a new flat he was barely at because of work. *Safety reasons*, he told himself.
Ghost often felt like *you* made him do things that he never did before. Soap had even mentioned it when he saw your picture in Ghost's wallet at the pub. Ghost didn't just *do* that, but you for some reason gave his brain the green light. Like just last week, he went to a fucking Currys and bought a tele. A good one too, he didn't just grab the first thing he saw and ran out, he actually read the boxes. Why? Because he knew the silence that lingered between the both of you sometimes was crushing, and he thought this would be the best solution.
And he's chuffed to see it actually works.
He put on some show Laswell said it was a sin he hadn't seen a single episode of, and was happy you agreed to watch it with him. Though, he didn't watch it.
He watched *you* watching it.
You were all relaxed on the couch, lounging with your feet facing him. His eyes lingered on the side of your face, lit up by whatever color was on TV. His eyes drank in every reaction you had, stored every smile and brow scrunch in his brain to think about on his next deployment. He was digging his own grave, but hell, he was a happy bloke to do it.
*You made him do things he never did.* Thats why, without much second thought, his calloused hand reached over, grabbing your ankle that sat near his thigh. He was so *warm*, a human furnace. And with his usual rough way of doing things, he moved your ankle and dropped it over his lap. Ghost never initiated touch. When he did, it was a quick and rough fuck to relieve stress before you slept on opposite sides of the bed.
He didn't say anything about it, just kept his gaze ahead as his large hand rested on your calf, soothingly tracing his thumb back and forth.
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