love, simon. (simon 'ghost' riley x oc (read caption!))

(25)

we got back to the grounds and headed inside.

i fell straight onto my bed, dropping my bags to the floor beside me.

i wanted to curl up and sleep again, but i needed to wait it out and fix my sleep schedule.

fucking time zones.

i reluctantly forced myself to sit up, unpacking my stuff and putting all my dirty/ripped clothes into a bag.

i stood, heading for the laundry room but stopping my every bunk on the way.

"soap, you got washing?" i questioned, peeking in the cracked door.

"yeah but it's a lot and it's mostly underwear, i'll bring it down later." he dismissed.

i stifled a giggle and knocked next on simon's door.

"hi lovely, you got laundry?" i questioned.

"go away."

"what's wrong?" i called, now worried.

"i'm trying to sleep, go away." he sighed.

"alright, sorry." i apologised, heading for the laundry room.

i put my clothes through the washing machine, they wouldn't be ready for another hour.

i headed back up the corridor and heard noises of frustration coming from inside simon's room.

"you alright in there big fella?" i reluctantly called.

"come in here." he sighed.

i opened the door and gently crept inside.

"i can't fucking sleep, will you lay with me for a bit?" he asked, clearly exhausted.

"of course." i softened my tone, creeping under the covers with him and laying with my back against his chest.

he wrapped one arm around my waist and one leg around my knee, clutching onto me like a body pillow.

"goodnight sweetheart." i said softly, running my thumb over the back of his hand.

soon, he fell asleep.

but now i was trapped under him.

he must have really needed sleep because before i knew it he was dreaming, whining and softly grunting.

i let concern flood my brain before his hips softly bucked into my own.

he's having a sex dream while he's cuddling me.

this is so wrong on so many levels.

i carefully snaked his leg back to his side before removing his arm from my gut.

he continued softly moaning into the empty air as i crept out of the room.

he wasn't usually very noisy, especially not like this.

he sounded needy, submissive, like i usually did.

a lightbulb went off in my mind.

~~~

i sat down at the dining table with a sewing kit and my pile of clean laundry.

i went through every single item, every sock, every pair of pants, every shirt that had even the smallest tear in the fabric and sewed them up.

by the time i had finished an hour and a half had passed.

"what're you up to sarge?" soap asked, walking into the room.

"patching up my clothes from the past week." i sighed, folding a shirt into a neat square.

"you sew?"

"of course i sew, all the girls back home had to do home skills class in high school."

he made a "hmm" noise and sat down beside me.

"you think ghost is alright?" he asked after a minute or two of silence.

"why?"

"i walked past his room to do my laundry, he sounded sick or in pain."

i chuckled lightly and shook my head.

"he's fine." i assured soap, getting up and packing my sewing kit away.

"here, let me help you. that gunshot must still be giving you grief." soap insisted, picking up one pile of my clothes, my shirts and pants.

"you sure? i can take my clothes just fine."

"i insist." he nodded, walking with me to my room.

he opened the door with his free hand and let me go in first, what a gentleman.

i put my pile down on top of my bed and took the other pile from soap, reaching under my bed for my bag.

i accidentally pulled out the shoebox and sat there staring at it for a moment.

"what's that?" soap asked.

"don't worry about it." i mumbled, going to push it back.

"what's in it?" he questioned.

"see for yourself." i said, sliding it over towards his feet and pulling out my bag.

i began to pack away clothes as soap reached to open the cardboard box.

i turned to look at him, see his expression.

he lifted the lightweight lid and stared blankly in disbelief at the contents.