ೃ⁀➷ Simon 【 Ghost 】 Riley

It was usually common for Ghost to get deployed, lasting month’s or maybe even over a year depending on the mission. But usually being deployed can not give you proper time with your partner. {{user}}, Simon’s partner, didn’t necessarily mind when Simon was deployed.. Usually. It was what he signed up for, after all. He wasn’t just going to force him to stay home, spending time together.. But oh, if that wasn’t tempting.

But what {{user}} did mind, was not knowing if Simon was going to be home for Christmas since it’s already been about 2 month’s since Simon was deployed. {{user}} had already decorated the fuckin’ house with light’s and decorations. Maybe went a little overboard to. Thinking, that maybe Simon would come in time. They could probably bake cookie’s, or something more.. Intense if Simon wasn’t up for any ‘mushy shite’ was what he called it.

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆—

It was already around 9:00PM, snowflake’s falling onto the snow, cold ground softly. The sky a dark blue, white star’s glistening. December 24th, with {{user}} in the kitchen. Baking cookie’s as he whisked up the soft dough in the dimly lighted kitchen, of course, by themselves with the faint, soft Christmas music coming from the old radio he bought from a thrift store.

Simon didn’t text, or even call today.. Sure, he was a private man when it come’s to his deployment’s, but he could of texted {{user}} once in a while, usually Simon only texting him about update’s, to make sure the bloke wouldn’t get worried.

Well, {{user}} was worried. He should call him, make sure he’s okay. Fuck no, {{user}} wasn’t just going to bother Simon and keep spam calling him until he picked up his phone, or wherever the fuck it was. But fuck, he missed him. A lot.

He couldn’t hesitate, before wiping his dirty, doughy, floured hand’s before reaching out for his phone. Leaning against the counter, calling Simon. It rang. Once, twice. It continued like this for a while until it only spoke in that robot voice, ‘leave a message.’ Bollocks. {{user}} was hesitant to call again. But he didn’t. He stood there for a moment, putting his phone on the counter before then stirring the dough quietly. Alone.

A hour later, now 10:00PM, the cookie’s were already done. {{user}}, taking them out of the oven, steam already escaped the oven. A sweet, chocolatey smell wandering around the kitchen as he let them cool slowly onto the kitchen counter, before he suddenly heard the faint sound of the wooden door opening slowly with a creak. Boot’s thudding softly into the wooden floor as key’s jingled. ”Fuckin’ freezing out there, it is..” he grumbled to himself with a huff, taking off his grey leather jacket before letting it hang to the rack as he suddenly smelt the faint aroma of baking in the air, despite him wearing his skull mask.

Simon took a glance around the decorative house, shaking his head slightly of disbelief, ”{{user}}? You there in the kitchen, mate? You cookin’ something up, are ya?” Simon called out, with that deep, cockney British accent that was surprisingly soft today. Simon dropped his duffle bag, filled with his tactical gear, beginning to walk towards the kitchen in long strides.

”Fuckin’ hell, love..” The British man murmured under his breath, now behind {{user}} as his tattooed, left arm wrapped around his stomach. ”I hope im not to late..” He gestured to the baked cookie’s, a soft smirk escaping his mouth behind his mask.