#guess who didnt forgor the taglist this time pookies :)!!!

[marsontherocks]

And They Were Roommates Ch 8

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Trans!Hispanic! Male Reader

Summary (ao3 link): You've come to a conclusion that has you changing the way you act around Simon, and he notices.

A/N: Oh man, I was so confident I would finish this earlier, and then I got an awful cold. Sowwy :( Take this as an end-of-year gift :3 I feel much more confident in writing this now, and I hope you enjoy the chapter :)

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It’s approximately 8 PM when you get home. Not your latest, but also not your earliest. Your neck hurts from the odd angles you were using while working on the mural. “Simon! I’m back!” You call out while re-locking the door to the studio.

There’s a bark and then Riley is bounding down the stairs, tail wagging furiously. “I see someone has the zoomies,” You chuckle as Riley jumps onto your legs.

“They both do,” Simon sighs as he comes down the stairs. As if sensing Simon’s displeasure, there is a loud crash upstairs, followed by Willy hissing. Both of you give each other a long look of dread before heading upstairs, Riley trailing behind you.

A once was vase lies shattered on the ground near the coffee table, and a couple of feet away, flicking his tail on top of his cat tree, is Willy. “Must you be so destructive?” You sigh.

“I’ll clean it up,” Simon says.

“Thanks, Si.” You hum.

After taking your shoes off and a quick trip to your room to retrieve some clothes, you beeline for the shower, giving a pointed stern look to Willy on the way, who gives you a rather sassy look back. By the time You come out of the shower, the mess is cleaned up and Simon is lying on the couch, watching Riley attempt to initiate play with Willy.

You approached the couch and Simon moved his legs back, allowing you to sit in the spot his legs were occupying. After plopping down into the seat, Simon laid his legs onto your lap. The two of you watch as Willy hisses at Riley, which sends the dog scampering away into Simon’s room.

After sitting silently for a bit, basking in the domesticity, Simon speaks up, “How's your mural going?”

“Good! How was home?” You settle into the couch, looking over at Simon.

“I’ve only been here a couple hours now.”

“Really, where have you been?”

“I went to lunch with Johnny.”

You try to ignore the heat of jealousy in your gut. Soap's nice, great even. He's told you more about Simon in a week than Simon himself has in five years. And it's clear the two get along well. “Awesome, what did you two get?”

“Sandwiches.”

“Were they good?”

Simon shrugs nonchalantly, something you learned a few years after meeting that meant ‘it wasn't awful but not going again’, staring at you with tired eyes.

You nod, “Want to watch something?”

“Yeah.”

You scroll through YouTube before finding a video you’ll both like. A couple minutes into the video, Simon sits up and turns around so he can rest his head in your lap instead. You mindlessly go to play with Simon’s hair but quickly stop yourself, instead choosing to cross your arms and mostly keep to yourself.

Simon frowns but tries not to think much of it.

Halfway through the video, Simon hears your stomach growl. “Did you eat?”

You try to think, but can't remember eating recently.  “Fuck, I don't think I did.”

Simon sits up, “Want anything specific?”

“No, no. It's fine, I got it.” You reassure, standing up quickly and heading to the kitchen.

Two. Two days, five hours, and going on 36 minutes, Simon had counted. Two days, five hours, and 36 minutes of you avoiding physical contact with him. It was a nightmare. Hugs, high-fives, cuddling, knocking their feet together under the dining table, it was ingrained into Simon’s at-home schedule and you were practically avoiding him now.

It was making Simon feel like shit, but he wasn’t going to force you to interact with him. His weighted blanket wasn't doing its job to combat this new change in his norm. Simon needed to feel like his bones were being crushed, but he knew that wasn't possible at the moment or safe, so he whistled for the next option.

Riley practically barreled into the bedroom, tail wagging furiously when he spotted Simon’s head peeking from under the blankets. Simon stuck a hand out and patted his soft blanket over his weighted one. The dog jumped onto the bed and settled on his torso, Simon grunted.

“Do you think I did something wrong?” Simon impulsively asks out loud.

Funnily enough, Riley tilted his head in what the man can only assume is intrigue. Simon questioned if he was really about to complain to his dog.

Yes.

“I thought everything was going good,” Simon sighs. “Johnny said it was going good on his end. He started asking me questions about stuff Johnny told him, even joked about it with me…”

Riley rested his head on Simon’s chest. The angle made the dog's face look funny from Simon’s point of view, but he was too tired to laugh. Instead, Riley let out one of those sad dog sighs and Simon can't help but agree. “Maybe he’s not interested… or heard something he didn’t like?”

Simon sat in silence, thinking about all the situations where he could have fucked it up with you when Willy started to meow very loudly from the living room. Groaning, Simon sat up, gently pushing Riley off, causing the dog to jump off the bed and run into the living room. Shuffling across the floor, Simon entered the living room and the second he was in Willy’s sight, the cat stopped screaming. “What?”

Willy flicked his tail and Simon finally registered that he was sitting next to his food bowl. It was full, but Willy had eaten the center of it. “It’s full.” Willy meowed back, almost like a bratty child.

Simon sighed deeply, walking up to the bowl and shaking it, leveling it out. Willy rubbed his head into Simon’s knuckles before continuing to chow down on his food. After giving the spoiled cat a few scratches behind the ear, Simon started to head back to his room when Riley whined, pacing by the stairs.

One distressed groan and a harrowing mission to find a pair of socks later, and Simon was miserably basking in the cold air and sunlight while Riley violated a patch of dying grass. “Maybe he realized what was going on, and just… doesn’t feel the same,” Simon thought out loud. Riley glanced back at him, judgment in his eyes for talking to him while mid-business.

“You’re right, I should have been upfront from the beginning,” Simon concluded. Riley finished his business, and Simon glanced around lazily for any witnesses before kicking some dirt over the pile.

Halfway back, Riley barked and jumped as they approached someone. “Oh, Simon!” Your voice calls out.

Simon froze up and looked up to see you approaching, car keys in one hand and a bucket of paint in the other. “I thought you were at the doctor's office?”

“I was, but I ran out of green. Need a lot of that for dinosaurs and prehistoric plants, it turns out.” You explain, petting Riley with your hand with the keys.

“Yeah…” Simon trailed off, not sure if he should say something about the situation.

You nodded, and the two of you stood there awkwardly until someone on their phone pushed past, bumping into you. Simon tried not to think of all the violent acts he now wanted to commit against this passerby. “Right, I should probably get back to the office.”

“Yeah, see you at home.”

You gave him another quick smile before walking past him and to your shared car. Simon watched you get in the car and sit for a bit before, giving a quick wave and driving off. Not even a shoulder bump. Simon felt miserable again.

As soon he opened the door to the studio and unclipped the leash, Riley sprinted upstairs. After trudging up the stairs himself and passing by Riley practically attacking the water in his bowl and Willy making use of the litter box, Simon locked himself in his room. Finally, back under the safety of his blankets, Simon closed his eyes, half determined to sleep through this nightmare.

Old man is calling. The robotic voice of his phone chirped.

Simon managed to not toss the phone across the room, instead answering the phone with a growly ‘What?’

“Bad time?” Price huffed

“Always is.” Simon groaned.

“Well stay in a bad mood, we’ll need it.”

“When?”

“Now.”

“Be there soon… might need a ride.”

“I’ll send Garrick.”

You steady yourself as you hop off the step ladder. “Fucking finally,” You mumble.

It was late, and the only person left in the building was a janitor and your friend who needed a ride since his car broke down. You start to clean up, closing up paints and cleaning off brushes. “Finishing up?” Your friend asks, coming down the hall from his office.

“Yeah, I think I’ll be done with this tomorrow by the way.”

“I’ll let Samantha know.” He hums, stopping next to you, gazing up at the almost-finished cartoon dinosaur mural. “This is pretty fucking cool, by the way.”

“Thanks, bit different from my normal work, but I love stuff like this.”

“How's your guard dog?”

You made a distressed sound and sat on the floor. “Not good.”

“What happened?” He asked, leaning on the non-painted wall.

“Remember that friend of his I told you about?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m like 99.9% sure they are… together.”

He stared at you like you had officially lost it. “Well, I’m 99.9% sure you might have lost some screws on the way here.”

You rolled your eyes, “C’mon, I’m being serious.”

“Yeah, me too. You expect me to believe the guy who looks at you like you made the fucking universe, is into someone who isn't you?”

“Yeah, and he does not look at me like that.”

Your friend pinched the bridge of his nose, “I should hit you for saying that.”

You groan, “Why do I talk to you about this stuff? You’re not even seeing anyone.”

“Actually…”

You snapped your head in Barry’s direction. “Shut the fuck up, no you’re not.”

“Hey! What’s so unbelievable about that!?”

“Literally everything.”

“Well, for your information, I am seeing someone, and just for that, you’re not getting any information about it out of me.”

“I’m telling our only other friend, this is breaking news.”

“Oh absolutely not, I’m still getting messages from them from when I broke my arm six years ago .”

“Skill iss…” You trail off as you look at your message notifications. “Oh.”

“What?”

“Simon texted me he’s off leave.”

“Oh, that sucks.”

You sheepishly rub your neck, “Yeah, it won't make much of a difference though as of late.”

He raises a brow, “What does that mean?”

“I may have been avoiding him…”

“You’re going to single-handedly raise my blood pressure, just so you are aware.”

“Well, I figured it was best to give him some distance since he’s clearly already with someone.” You shrug.

“Take me home before I commit two acts of violence.” Your friend sighs at your defiance to believe him.

“I know the first act, but what’s the second?”

“Making sure there are no witnesses left.”

The janitor passing by with her mop bucket nods, “Very smart.”

-

A/N: I'm sure most of you knew what the misunderstanding was from the beginning lol Reader: Wow, these two are close. Clearly, they are dating, and there is no other reasonable explanation. I will never emotionally recover from this. Simon, shaking: I should have never eaten the last slice of pizza, now he'll never love me. Soap and Reader's friend: Do you see this shit, Riley?

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