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hyperactively-me · 10 months

Text

high

He whips his head around when he hears his name, eyes half-lidded. He stumbles over towards Johnny, then leans on him, placing most of his body weight onto Johnny. You stare straight at him, slightly confused. “Oi, who’s this li’l bird then?” he slurs. Johnny stills, eyes flicking towards yours, his mouth agape. In a flash, he slams his hand over his mouth, trying to stifle a laugh.

simon is high off his ass from anesthesia and you have to deal with him. (does this count as a sick trope?? idk)

(asks are open)

happy reading

warnings: none

You didn’t know your boyfriend was coming back home tonight until you heard a hard knock on the door. The sun had already set long ago, you were settled on the couch with a good book and a cup of your favorite drink. You were forced out of your focus by a hard knock at the door. Immediately, you perk up, a little confused on who’s knocking this late in the evening. Setting your book down, you make your way to the front door. For a moment, you hesitate, and decide to peek out the window before opening the door just in case. Imagine the surprise on your face when you see Simon and Johnny standing outside the door. In a flash you’re at the door and throw it open in one swift movement.

“Johnny?” you say, bewildered. Johnny has, what you presume to be, Simon’s bag of belongings slung over his shoulder. Your eyes dart back and forth from Johnny to Simon, who’s standing a few feet behind him looking at some nonexistent thing out in the distance.

Before you can say anything, Johnny strides up to you, leaning down to whisper to you.

“Lassie, listen here, he jus’ had a medical procedure done an’–”

Your face immediately morphs into concern.

“What?”

“He was stabbed durin’ the mission. But there was a medical procedure done, stitches n’ all.

The color drained from your face. “W- what–,” you take a deep breath trying to steady your racing thoughts.

“No, no, don’t worry, he’s fine now, he’s just high off the anesthesia…”.

You nod your head at Johnny, mentally preparing to deal with this high behemoth of a man. You look over Johnny’s shoulder and simply say, “Simon.”

“Oi, who’s this li’l bird then?” he slurs.

Johnny stills, eyes flicking towards yours, his mouth agape. In a flash, he slams his hand over his mouth, trying to stifle a laugh.

Confusion washes over you, your eyebrows raised as Simon wriggles his eyebrows at you.

“I–”

Before you could say anything, Simon gives you the most goofy, silly, suave-looking grin, like he’s trying to flirt with you. You immediately regret looking back at Johnny, as his face is now contorted into something that looks like pain from trying not to laugh. That sight itself nearly makes you laugh, so much so that you have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep quiet. You try to put on your most serious face while Johnny is trying to compose himself by taking a deep breath.

“A’right, Simon, here ya are,” Johnny squeaks out. You eye Simon wearily, worried about how severe his condition is just from seeing how completely out of it he looks.

Johnny steps to the side, moving his arm to gently push Simon inside your shared apartment. Simon stumbles forward into you, nearly knocking you over because of his physique. You gasp, trying to find your footing as he leans his body weight on you.

“Oh, sorry lovie,” Simon rasps, grabbing your shoulders tightly as he stands himself up straight. Well, he looks kinda lopsided. He dusts your shoulders off as if he dirtied them, then squeezes your arms gently before pulling away. Johnny is trying not to laugh, your face flustered even more.

Johnny had followed you inside, motioning to the bag he still had slung over his shoulder, an amused expression present on his face.

“I’mma leave this here. It’s all of Simon’s belongins’.” You watch as he sets it down on the kitchen counter.

“Thank you, Johnny. I appreciate you looking out for him,” you smile warmly, grabbing his hand and squeezing it.

“Ay, it's nothin’. I’ll be in contact with ya,” Johnny nods to you, smirking playfully at you for a moment, eyes darting between you and Simon. “Alrigh’, I’m leavin’ lassie. Good luck.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you one more time before pulling the door shut.

You move to lock the door behind him, sighing as the lock clicks. You turn back to look at Simon, leaning on the front door.

“How are you feeling?”

He looks you up and down, unmoving from where he is standing. Save for the slight swaying of his body.

“‘M fine,” he grunts out quickly. “You’re very pretty, aren’t ya love?” his cheeks are flushed.

You push yourself off the door and move towards him, stopping a few feet away. You look straight into his eyes, and giggle out, “Thank you, Simon.”

He looks confused for a moment, mouth opening and closing, but tries to act suave. You think it's just the cutest thing that he’s just flirting with you like you’ve never met. You smile to yourself, knowing you’re going to have so much fun teasing him about it when the anesthesia wears off. Taking Simon’s hand in yours, you tenderly usher him further inside towards the kitchen. Dropping his hand, you go to pull out a water bottle and some painkillers that he is definitely going to need when he wakes up in the morning. He shuffles behind you on his unsteady feet, following you like a shadow. You turn around with the items in your hand, using your free hand to grab Simon’s hand once more. He immediately tenses at your touch, but he doesn’t let go.

“C’mon, big guy,” you say, guiding him through the hallway slowly enough so he can walk in a straight line. He stumbles a few times, murmuring nonsense to himself, eyes trained on the floor in front of him as he shuffles his feet.

He stumbles a few times, prompting you to resort to slinging his arm over your shoulder, carrying the brunt of his weight as you move down the hallway. He leans on you, breathy chuckling escaping, vibrating against your body.

“Yer too short for your own good, bird,” he slurs, chuckling at the sight of you trying to maneuver him.

“Ah, well, nothing I can do about it,” you giggle.

He doesn’t say anything, just lets out a small “Heh.” You assume he’s too gone to even respond properly.

You kick open your shared bedroom door, much to his surprise.

“Oi, take me out to dinner first lovie,” he looks down at you with a lopsided grin, hair tousled and wild.

“You’re a rascal, Si,” you huff, an amused smile creeping up on your face. “Let’s lay you on the bed, okay?”

He nods quickly, pushing you off him in an attempt to walk by himself. You watch him take a few steps, eyeing him carefully as you set down the water bottle and medicine on the bedside table. You turn the bedside lamp on, casting a soft golden glow in the room.

“Simon, hold on.” You turn to him, gently pushing him down to sit on the edge of your shared bed. He shifts his position until his back hits the headboard, eyes half-lidded and cloudy.

“Eh, pushy aren’t ya? Y’know, really, a dinner would be nice, love.”

You smile, shaking your head. Kneeling on the bed next to him, you take the water bottle and place it softly into his hands. “You should probably drink some of that. I’ll be right back.”

You push yourself off the bed, making your way into the bathroom to wet a warm towel to clean his face and body.

You come back through the door frame only to see him trying to get off the bed, feet planted on the floor, unsteadily pushing himself to standing. He takes a few wobbly steps towards you, smirking with his eyebrows raised.

“No, no, lay back down,” you protest, gently trying to push him back towards the edge of the bed.

“No, I just wanna say, bird, you and I, we should really go out sometime, y’know,” he looks at you with a serious expression on his face, placing his hands on his hips.

You look up at him, mouth open, the corner of your lip perking up into a bewildered smile.

“Oh my god, Si,” you laugh. “Okay, okay, but only if you sit down and drink some water,” you say firmly, crossing your arms over your chest, feigning frustration.

His smile is huge. God, it makes your heart flutter seeing him smile like this, like there's nothing else in the world that matters.

He sits back down on the bed, moving back to rest up against the headboard. He places his hands behind his head, an exaggeration of himself relaxing.

“Simon, I need to take your shirt off…” you trail off, motioning to the wet towel in your hand, already having an inkling of what he’s going to say back to you.

“D’ you now,” settling back into the bed, the biggest smirk you’ve ever seen crosses his face. “Well, bird, you've certainly got a way with words. Can't say I've met someone as bold and direct as you before.”

You look at him, open mouthed.

“If yer speechless now, wait ‘til you see what's under my shirt,” he says matter of factly, slurring the words.

You couldn't help but smile at his bold comment, finding his charm and mischievous confidence strangely attractive. His garbled statements just contributed to the situation's humor.

You try to compose yourself by raising an eyebrow and responding, “Oh, is that so? You've certainly sparked my interest now.”

“Mhmmm,” he draws out, hands fumbling with the hem of his shirt, trying his best to tug it off his frame. His smirk widens, and he leans in closer, his voice dropping to a low, teasing tone. “Darlin’', you have no idea what you're in for.”

“Simon, now is not the time,” you giggle. You reach forward, pulling him from resting on the headboard so you can help maneuver his shirt off his body. His skin is burning hot under your touch. When it finally slips off his form, with much struggle, you huff, placing it on the bedside table.

You kneel on the edge of the bed next to him, grasping the warm towel tight as you begin to rub off any grime or dirt from his rough skin. As your touch caresses his skin, he shivers at the sensation, a subtle but noticeable reaction to your careful ministrations.

A soft smile dances across your lips as you notice his reaction. You lean in closer, your voice filled with tenderness and affection, “Ticklish, are we?”

He chuckles, a deep rumble resonating across the air. “Just a bit, love.”

As you examine his hands, you notice their calloused texture, a testament to his tough being. You treat them delicately, soothing weary muscles and offering brief tranquility.

He sighs blissfully, his gaze locked on you, an unconscious expression of thanks and appreciation traveling between you. Taking care of his needs becomes a subtle gesture of love and dedication.

Finally, as you finish wiping away the last traces of dirt, you lean back slightly and examine his cleansed face. It now has a new luster to it, emphasizing the attractive elements that drew you in all that time ago.

“Thank you, bird,” he says as his fingertips brush over your cheek. You swear he’s almost cognizant, the way his fingers touch you.

You respond to his touch with a delicate kiss on his hand, your heart fluttering. “Always, Si.”

A devious light twinkles in his eyes as he looks into yours. “You know, love, I must confess that being pampered by such lovely hands has me feelin' a l'il spoiled,” he adds with a teasing grin.

You rub your hand over his shoulder, massaging it slightly as your other hand moves to stow the towel away. You turn to the lamp, hand hovering over the button before you click it off.

“Ok, it’s time to sleep now, ‘kay?” you murmur, gingerly laying him down on his pillow. “Close your eyes.”

“You don’t have t’ tell me twice,” he chuckles, dragging you down with him. You’re careful to stay away from his injury, shifting slightly in his grasp. As the fatigue sets in, his eyelids begin to droop, weighted down by the day's exhaustion. His breathing grows slower and more steady, creating a beautiful lullaby that permeates the room.

You watch, affectionately, as his features soften and his face relaxes into a serene expression. You move closer, snuggling into his good side, your hand comes to rest on his chest. He automatically draws closer to you, seeking refuge in your embrace.

His body relaxes fully as he succumbs to sleep's embrace, feeling safe and comfortable in your arms. You hug him softly yet firmly, savoring this private moment of vulnerability and trust.

You take sanctuary in the solace with each passing moment, savoring the weight of his body against yours, the rise and fall of his chest, and the softness of his breath against your skin. You gently trace your fingers through his hair, lulling him deeper into a deep slumber.

You continue to hold him until sleep takes him entirely, your love and dedication wrapping him like a warm, safe blanket. In this quiet time, you take comfort in the mere act of being together, knowing that you both greatly savor the time you spend together.

And as you begin to nod off, you take comfort in the knowledge that tomorrow will bring new moments that you'll cherish together. But for the time being, you appreciate the tranquility of the night, cradling him in your arms and savoring the calm of this shared sleep.

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