Off Guard

     “What’s your favorite cuddling position?” Simon asked one day, unprompted, and without any context whatsoever.

     Naturally, the question took Nicholas off guard.

     It was a night of celebration, a conclusion to a long-running stakeout mission, and the first one back at the base. Their uniforms, once covered in blood, had been shed alongside their codenames and left to be worried about another day. Dinner and a fine Scotch had just settled them into the couch, with satisfied stomachs and relaxed expressions. The time for rest was seeping in closer by the minute, if lazy blinks and a couple of stray yawns were any indication. The armed forces did not provide the comfiest of bedrooms, but Nicholas had found that company would usually make them comfortable enough for an early sleep. If that company was Simon, well. He already knew he would sleep soundly for the first time in weeks.

     At least, in theory. The question had suddenly shaken off any ounce of drowsiness and sobered him awake. There was, of course, nothing wrong with inquiring about it. While Nicholas was bad with words, he was good with physicality. A clap on the back, a lean on the shoulder, a hand on the back of his head. Affection was uncharted territory for both men and with it, it usually came undisclosed. Nicholas liked the idea of cuddling in theory, the mere thought of vocalizing the word seemed out of the question. Something about masculine pride, the military standard for masculinity, or a stubborn resolve to shut down any signs of vulnerability. Whatever it was, he didn’t talk about it. And what he had always assumed, Simon found himself in a similar boat.

     And Simon– or at least, for what he had always assumed– wasn’t keen on touching the subject either. Nicholas knew Simon on a more personal level than anyone before, but even then, his reputation had affected the way Simon carried himself:  The Ghost. A mask that told you all you had to know: the personification of death itself, a pale white skull, and the shadow of defeat.

     The Ghost now, asking him such a mundane, domestic question.

     “What?” Nicholas croaked out. It was hard to be more eloquent than that when staring at his partner as he had just grown a third eye.

     Surprisingly, Simon seemed undisturbed. He swashed around his glass of Scotch, with just a couple of sips left from dinner. Either he was unaware of the question, or he was really good at pretending he was confident about it. Nicholas wasn’t sure which.

     “I’ve noticed you like touch,” he added, just as easy as talking about the weather, “Outside of bed, too. I think it’s a simple question.”

     “Does it… matter?” Nicholas asked. His voice was still tense, but it was broken down by a chuckle. It sounded ridiculous, but the more he chewed the question on, the less daunting it started to seem.

     Simon just shrugged, “Why wouldn’t it, Nick?”

     “You’re not a very… physical guy,” Nicholas pointed out.

     “You are,” Simon bounced back. Again, it was true. Even while sitting on the couch making conversation, their shoulders were touching.

     “... right.”

     “Look,” with the last sip of Scotch, Simon turned to face him directly. Nicholas always liked seeing him like this. Even when uncovered, when his mask was up, his eyes were usually frozen in a determined, calculating gaze. Here, his expression was soft, his cheeks flushed by alcohol, and his eyes lidded by sleep. It added even more sincerity to his words when saying, “You always do things for me, even without asking. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with me wanting to return the favor. If you want to feel my presence next to you, well. I don’t see anything wrong with that.”

     Nicholas let out a breath he hadn’t noticed he’d been holding. His features relaxed with it, aiming to match his partner’s soft expression. There was a pull at the corner of his lips, and he decided to indulge them both with a smile. Within these closed doors, there was no need for pride, standards, or stubborn resolve. Trust defined their relationship, both as soldiers and as lovers.

     “You can lay on my chest if you’d like,” he finally decided, “I like the weight on top of me. You’re usually warm, too.”

     “And here I thought you’d asked me to spoon you,” Simon teased with a hint of a wink, causing Nicholas to roll his eyes.

     But he was smiling.

     “Whatever you want,” he said finally, reaching forward for a quick kiss on the lips. He could taste the whiskey, making it a sweeter deal than he’d ever ask for, “Anything is comfortable when I’m around you.”