Chapter Text
This was stupid. This was fucking stupid, Simon thinks to himself, making his way through the busy and cold London streets in search of breakfast.
He readjusts the collar of his leather jacket as he passes yet another street, hoping that at least one of them will have something to warm his aching bones. He promptly puts his scarred and calloused hands back into his pockets to warm them up after letting out a disgruntled sigh.
He forgot his gloves at home, it seems.
It's been so long since Simon has returned to London that he completely forgot to stock the fridge the day he returned to his flat, but then again, he was so exhausted from the flight and collapsed onto his bed the moment he stepped foot into his unwelcoming home. He even left his luggage in the living room, only to almost trip over it the next morning when searching for a bite to eat.
Why did he have to get put on military leave in the middle of winter, much less the holidays? He has no one to return home to anyways.
Johnny offered to take the 141 to his cottage in Scotland, and Price wanted to have a nice and quiet holiday trip with everyone while serving as tourists, but Simon politely declined, hoping to spend this year by himself.
Just this once, he wanted to spend the new year simply taking care of himself and the flat he never got to furnish and decorate. Maybe now would be the perfect time to restock that bar in the corner of his kitchen.
A man almost bumps into Simon and breaks him out of his thoughts, his deep brown eyes scanning over the man that immediately apologized and went about his day.
Simon knew that while his signature trademark was his skull balaclava, he knew better than to wear it while he was out and about in the middle of the day. Instead, he was donning a simple black face mask, and a hood was over his head to keep the cold away, alongside keeping his identity a secret.
This was the only good thing about London's godawful weather in the winter.
No one in the general public would dare to give him a passing glance anyways, especially with his stature and threatening appearance.
Being 193 centimeters and all muscle, Simon would get more than enough space to walk on the sidewalk.
His stomach grumbles as he walks, his eyes scanning the buildings ahead for a sign of something.
The only problem was finding a cafe to eat and drink something to get his strength up and make the exhaustion go away, then he would be on his way to buy some groceries.
That's when it finally manages to find one, conveniently enough. A nice and comfortable cafe called "Willow Tree", circa 2001, is close by.
Painted in golds, browns, and whites, the entire coffee shop was decorated with holiday flair, the chilly weather not putting a damper on anyone entering or exiting this establishment.
His stomach grumbles again, and he makes up his mind.
Simon is immediately greeted with a comforting warmth and smell emanating from the coffee shop as he makes his way inside, a deep and low sigh escaping his lips once he finally gets out of the freezing cold.
He scans the coffee shop, taking note of the families, couples, and single people enjoying the atmosphere, and holiday-themed smooth jazz was playing through the speakers on the ceiling.
A nicely decorated Christmas tree was housed in the corner with the lights twinkling in a wide array of colors. Fake presents were displayed underneath, but the "Willow Tree" trademark food and drinks were made into little ornaments and displayed on the twigs of the tree.
"Oh! Welcome in, sir, I'll be with you shortly!" You blurt out of nowhere, still in the middle of making someone else a steaming caramel macchiato when you heard the bell chime above the door.
Simon continues to make his way towards the counter, his eyes immediately landing on you as you move with swift precision.
Were you the only poor soul working in a crowded coffee shop so close to the holiday season? Especially with how cold it is outside?
His eyes and the mannerisms of his body betrays his usually cool, calm, and collected demeanor that he never dared to question, and he almost finds himself getting angry for you, knowing that you had to take care of all these people by yourself.
"Take your time." He replies coolly, his deep and grumbling British accent almost echoing in the shop as he surveys the desserts housed in the display case. "I'm in no rush."
As expected with how busy you are, you almost completely ignore him, still taking the time and effort to stir the caramel macchiato together with a fancy cocktail spoon so the flavors could mesh together nicely.
Choosing to pick up one of the laminated menus to read off whatever this cafe has in store, he's secretly eavesdropping on your conversation with the customer while also keeping an eye out for drinks and desserts he might want to try, but he's never really had a sweet tooth.
All he wanted to do was get some breakfast and hightail it to the grocery store for some much needed refrigerator restocking, but what he hadn't expected was too see a cute little thing like you be bogged down with so much at once.
It honestly irked him knowing that you, with your prominent eyebags and messy hair from working for who knows how long now, was still stuck getting patrons because he walked through the door.
Taking a picture of the drink before you hand it the customer, you give the customer a conscientious smile and hand it to them over the counter. "Would you like anything else? An extra straw or some napkins?"
"No, I'm fine, thank you."
"Okay, thank you for your patronage, come again soon and thank you for choosing, Willow Tree Cafe! Happy holidays!" You reply back, and the customer gives you a simple wave of their hand in the middle of walking away.
Maybe Simon deserves to splurge a little bit. It is the holiday season after all.
Simon has a very unfortunate way of drawing attention without really wanting to, but a man of his size and stature isn't normally found in a cozy little coffee shop, especially since he was dressed entirely in black.
"Hello, sorry for the wait! Welcome to Willow Tree Cafe! Are you a new or returning customer to our establishment?" You ask, customary questions for you and memorized since you started working in this coffee shop.
"I'm, uh... I'm new. Why?" Simon asks, not expecting to hear something like that instead of a simple "Can I take your order?".
He places the menu off to the side and maintains eye contact with you for a bit longer than you would have liked.
With a concerning amount of joy in your eyes, you hand him a piece of paper which he just barely glances at, but you begin to explain yourself and the importance of being new.
Instead, he has his entire focus on you and your appearance. It's not everyday that he gets to provide you a momentary break from fixing drinks and putting together pastries.
It's also not everyday that he gets to meet someone like you, almost akin to an angel in human form.
"Well, it just so happens that Willow Tree cafe is doing a promotional holiday sale to attract new customers such as yourself. With every order you make, you fill out this piece of paper with stamps. You get a free Willow Tree mug on us, complete with a voucher for any size drink of your choosing. It's a good deal, if you're interested, sir!"
Simon is listening; he is most definitely listening to every word you say, especially since it's not common for someone that's exactly his type to magically appear one random morning in a coffee shop.
He can feel his body getting hotter, and it's not just because the heater is on full blast in this coffee shop, but there's something about you he just can't deny.
The way you nonchalantly smile as you speak to him as if he's just a regular man, the way you lean against the counter with those hips he can't help but want to wrap his arms around, and the perfume you're wearing almost makes him want to ask you out right then and there.
He begins to imagine you wearing that apron and nothing else as you stand in his kitchen, making a meal for the two of you. Simon wraps his arms around you from behind, leaving a trail of kisses down the back of your neck and your shoulders while you let out that heavenly chuckle he could listen to time and time again.
Healing bruises and bite marks won't do; they need to be visible at all times when it comes to Simon Riley.
He wants other people to know who you belong to, so you're no longer allowed to think for yourself when he's around.
Hoping, needing, and yearning for a chance at something better than loneliness, he even begins to imagine a big ring on your finger in this fantasy of his. You whisper his name, Simon, not Ghost, and your smaller frame is perfectly encapsulated by his large chest.
Completely forgetting about anything but him, you would let him run his hands down your body to squeeze any flesh they could find, your breath hitching in your throat.
He would press his knee between your legs, his hands trailing further and further down your body until he reaches your sweet spot-
"...Interested?" You ask once more, slightly tilting your head to the side to get his attention.
"Oh, I'm certainly interested in something." Simon thinks to himself, but he doesn't dare say it out loud.
He involuntarily gulps once you give him a once over, your eyes looking his taller form up and down. If he didn't know any better, you swiftly ran your tongue over your chapped lips to wet them, but it could have been for a different reason.
"Why not." All he does is nod to himself, gratefully accepting the paper and giving the menu a once-over again while you patiently awaited his order. "I'm not familiar with sweets, actually, so just... throw something together and stamp the paper, miss...?"
He looks down at your name tag, memorizing the words printed across the pin so swiftly that you might have missed it.
Simon had your name memorized down to a T the very second he made eye contact with you again, despite how tired he was. He couldn't forget who you were, and he didn't even know your hours yet.
Simon's blonde eyebrows raise upwards, "Miss (Name)? Hm."
"Ooh, anything? Will that be all?" You ask politely, something you ask the customers each and every time, but surprisingly, Simon finds himself at a slight loss for words. "I can do that for you."
Despite your exhaustion, you sported a small smile as you continued to look through the menu for something that would fit this man's preferences, your eyes a radiant contrast to his own.
Try as he might, Simon could not keep his mind off the way your eyes crinkle as you continued searching through the options.
He wants to stay, gods above does he want to stay, just to stare at you work. Seconds, minutes, hours, he wants to just stay here in the comforting warmth of this coffee shop and spend a little bit more time with you.
But he doesn't like removing his privacy mask in public, especially not when there's so many people around like this. Maybe another time, when the coffee shop isn't so crowded, he can sit in the back and perform his stake-out there.
Moving to-and-fro and never given the opportunity to stop for a break while making drinks and baking desserts for these customers who probably don't even bother giving tips for all your hard work and dedication to your craft makes him a bit unnerved.
You're a simple barista, sure, but you're someone he can't help but to be drawn to.
"How about a... chocolate cake with cookies and cream frosting, with a latte on the side to warm you up? You looked like you were freezing when you came in." You chuckle out the last sentence, already setting the menu off to the side to prepare his breakfast. "Your total comes to about eight pounds."
"Sounds fine, thank you." Simon is strangely quiet, especially since he rarely ever is with the 141, what with slowly but surely coming out of his shell with every mission they go on, but he found himself unable to find the right words to say to you.
Simon fishes out a ten pound note and hands it to you, careful to hide the calloused palms of his hands on the off-chance you make a comment about it. Quickly making change, you slide whatever was left over across the counter and he picks up the money with a simple nod of his head.
Does he even like chocolate cake? Or cookies and cream frosting?
He rarely ever drinks anything other than alcohol, water, tea, and black coffee in different intervals throughout the day. A latte contrasts with black coffee or americanos.
He's never really experimented with his food, and yet, all because you requested that he try something new, he accepted without a second thought.
"For here or to go, sir?"
A barista. A civilian. You were taking control of his likes and dislikes all because he was at a loss for words.
"Sir, for here or to go?" You repeat once more, obviously catching on to the fact that Simon was staring a bit too long.
"Ah... to go, I'm afraid. I have places to be."
"Not a problem, I'll have your order ready soon. Go ahead and stand by the order pick-up counter, please." Giving him a quick nod, you begin making the latte and put the cake in the to-go box in the meantime.
Making his way to the counter, he noticed quite a few people staring at him, but it's no surprise. Simon was jacked, tall, and dressed like he would much rather be robbing this establishment instead ordering something like chocolate cake and a latte.
He glances at the customers out of the corner of his eyes, and they immediately look back down at their phone, book, or newspaper to stay on his good side.
Simon tilts his head to the side as he watches you work both swiftly and diligently, as you are never offered the opportunity to rest and it's only the morning.
He silently hopes that some of your coworkers will show up later, there's no way in hell you'll be able to keep up with all these orders and tend to the kitchen all on your own.
And this coffee shop company apparently prides itself in taking care of employees.
If, when, he returns to this coffee shop, he better see coworkers, otherwise he might just apply to this establishment to save you the stress of tending to all these people.
He watches you continue to make the latte, pouring the espresso, steamed milk, and milk foam in the correct order, and priding yourself in your handiwork.
Short, sweet, and to the point. No mistakes whatsoever.
If only some of the soldiers he commandeers could be as hard-working as you.
Carefully putting the lid on the to-go cup and putting the cake into a bag, you place everything onto the counter. "Here you are, sir! Enjoy, and we hope to see you again soon! Remember, if you're interested, you can get a free mug with every visit! Happy holidays!"
Simon knows you're only stating what you've been told to memorize. Simon knows you're being kind to him because "the customer is always right" and you aren't allowed to be negative because it's bad for business, but he knows he's quite the looker.
He knows he's tall, and he knows he's muscular.
If it wasn't for his leather jacket you'd be able to see his arm tattoos in all their glory, and if it wasn't for his black privacy mask and the fact his face isn't what it used to be due to the scars, he still had pretty high self esteem to know that you weren't just being polite due to your job.
Maybe he was delusional, maybe he was wrong and you weren't interested at all, but the second he walked up to the counter, he began sizing you up, his head tilted to the side as he brought his hands out of his pockets as you stood there, thinking you had nothing more than a regular, run-of-the-mill customer who was just as cold (both literally and figuratively) as everyone else in this coffee shop.
Simon knows this is a bad idea, but he makes sure his fingers brush against your own as he takes his order, feeling your soft skin on your smaller hands, his brown eyes locked directly on your own.
He knows this isn't like him, and that what he's doing right now is completely out of line and invading your personal space, especially since he had no real reason to brush his fingers against yours, but he takes it upon himself to clear his throat and take a step back as you stare up at him.
"Thank you for the hospitality, Miss (Name). I'll keep that free mug in mind. Happy holidays." He politely says, hoping he didn't scare you too much.
Before you could reply, Simon gives you another quick once over and exits the coffee shop, then proceeds to walk down the street with his coffee and the bag in his hand.
In the bag keeping the cake box safe, he finds a business card promoting the cafe and gives it a read as he continues to make his way down the street and back to his flat for some much needed food.
The business card reads out, "If you enjoyed your beverage and/or dessert, be sure to post any photos on social media! We'd love to hear your thoughts and criticisms! We are @Willow_Tree_Cafe on most social media platforms. Posts are made by the baristas of our establishment, please take care when reviewing the shop."
He could care less about posting his meal onto the internet, but what really catches his eye are the words, "posts are made by the baristas of our establishment", which means all he would need to do is look up this coffee shop's socials and he would get to see you work throughout the day. He would get to know your work hours with a simple click of a button.
A perfect opportunity for a chance encounter.
His skills in the military often allowed him to piece together little puzzles of protected data, and simply posting pictures of drinks and desserts to your cafe's social media account normally wouldn't have anything to go on.
Simon wanted to find an excuse to see you again, he wanted to find a way to find your personal and private social media accounts, if you would be so kind as to tell them what they are.
His fridge is restocked with all the necessities required of a single man living by himself, but he's not one to shy away from good food.
He gets a text from Johnny. "Hey, how's it going? Happy holidays, L.T., the squad and I are hoping you're doing well. We know you declined to join us on this trip, but just know that if you ever need people, you know we're here for you. Just say the word and I'll pick you up at the London airport if you ever change your mind, yeah?"
Simon reads it, and he's grateful they care, but why would he want to leave when he just found someone interesting?
He replies back with a simple, "Thanks, Johnny. Maybe next year."
He does not bother to mention you, already knowing what Johnny is going to say if Simon even hints at the fact he met a girl, but he's not thrilled for yet another plane ride after just restocking his fridge, so he declines the offer altogether and goes back to checking the coffee shop's social media profile.
Maybe he could butter you up a bit, a stoic and intimidating military man covered in battle scars falling for the cute and innocent barista?
It's almost fiction incarnate.
Simon finds himself cracking a small smile, and he looks over at the promotional paper you handed him earlier, stating that with every visit you make, you would be one step closer to receiving a prize.
This would be the perfect excuse to come see you again, and slowly but surely, he could get to know everything about you because you're just so friendly.
A little too friendly, though, this was sure to give you some secret admirers that weren't just a stone-cold killer such as himself.
Johnny texts him again. "Don't mention it. Take care of yourself before we see you again."
Simon knew this was batshit crazy, and he's never been one to stalk a simple civilian such as yourself, but he couldn't let you slip away so easily.
Was he being too pushy in the coffee shop earlier? He didn't speak much, he just stood and stared like he always does.
But he hasn't felt this good in years.
He wants to know your hours. What time you clock in. What time you clock out.
He wants to know what model of car you drive.
If he thinks it's too rundown, he could offer to take you to work himself once he gets to know you better. Maybe he could even buy you a new car, he has more than enough money in his bank account to buy one for you.
Or several; whichever one you want to drive on a certain day of the week.
He wants to know the route you take to and from work, and whether or not it was safe enough to drive/walk through. It would take some time to figure this one out without drawing attention, but he can't have you stalked by someone else with bad intentions.
Simon was different.
He wanted to keep you safe and free from harm, especially since certain parts of London are not safe for a young woman such as yourself.
This would take some time to figure out, but Simon wanted to know your place of residence.
Was it in a good part of town? Was it clean? Was it well kept? Will he have to threaten your landlord to keep the place up to date?
Or maybe you already own your own home?
Although, in this economy, the most you could do is be inherited one. If you lived in Simon's flat, you wouldn't have to worry about living alone or being robbed.
Not when he has eyes and ears like a hawk. Not when he can and will kill for you. Knives or guns, it doesn't matter, he has you covered in case someone tries to hurt you.
Simon especially wants to know the layout of your home.
The easiest entrances. The easiest exits.
The safest hiding spots for if he gets bored and he just wants to stare.
Just to see what you're up to, that's all.
He wants to know how you furnish your living room. Do you happen to collect things?
He wants to know what you keep in your kitchen, baking supplies are the most likely option considering you work as a barista, and you need to practice outside and inside of work to keep up with your impeccable cooking skills.
And what about your bedroom? What kinds of clothes do you wear? What kinds of delicates do you own? Surely you won't miss some of them if they just so happened to get lost.
"Oh, your only pair of pajamas disappeared out of nowhere? That's a shame. Have a new set courtesy of Simon "Ghost" Riley. How do I know your size? Don't worry about it. Happy holidays."
One of these days, Simon wants to know the kinds of secrets you keep. What kinds of things are you hiding in your bedroom? He knows that a sweet and innocent girl such as yourself must have some guilty pleasures and kinks. You might even be no better than him, and Simon wants to carve those guilty pleasures out of you every single second he can, and make you succumb to your filthy desires with no more than a single kiss or touch. Surely you must have some dark thoughts you'd much rather keep in that sweet little brain of yours, but Simon wants to see the side of you that you hide away. He wants to make you lose yourself to the pleasure, and he wants to help you open up.
And if you were untouched? If you've never felt the touch and caress of a man like Simon Riley, god forbid you would ever leave his bed once he's finally got a taste of you. He already finds himself getting hard at the thought.
This might be a bit later into your currently nonexistent friendship stage, but Simon wants to know that kinds of things you do on your day off.
Do you go shopping at clothing stores? Do you go grocery shopping? Do you go to bookstores? Do you experiment with recipes?
What would a girl such as yourself do when she finally has time to relax and unwind in the comfort of her own little world?
A little world that Simon Riley wants to insert himself into; badly.
Have too many bags to carry at once? Simon can hold them for you, he's strong.
What kinds of books are you into? Or maybe you'd much rather play a videogame while he watches.
If you just happened to notice a sexy, black see-through cocktail dress on one of the mannequins of a boutique? Simon would let you try it on, completely ignoring the high price, and rip off the price tag the second you're wearing it so he could take you somewhere nice.
Want him to help you bake? He's not good at it, but he can try.
His brows furrow once he realizes that not only will he have to stalk you, but he'll need to find out what kind of friends you spend time with. He genuinely, genuinely, wants to keep your friends safe, as not to scare you away if he's stupid and threatens them.
If they're no good for you, he can make them skip town and you'd be none the wiser, thinking they're going on a long, long trip away.
If they're not nice to you, maybe they could show up in a dumpster somewhere, completely battered, broken, and beaten to a pulp. Simon has tortured before, and he can and will torture again if it is for your sake.
To make things even better, if your awful friends just so happened to disappear, you would cling to him like a kitten out in the rain, begging and pleading with him to keep you safe from a deranged murderer who killed your friends and disappeared without a trace. Then you would have all the time in the world for him.
But that's an idea for another time, he has to meet your friends first. He can't risk wasting valuable time stalking them too when you're the one he has to worry about.
The biggest issue for him is meeting the family you're related to.
He can't exactly show up to a family gathering with you and tell your poor grandma that he's a cold-blooded killer in the army, constantly hidden behind his call-sign "Ghost" so that his enemies and terrorists don't know who he is. Simon can't exactly walk up to your parents and tell them that he wants to date their daughter and the lengths he would go to make sure you're safe and taken care of while he's off on missions.
And that's the other issue.
Simon Riley is on temporary holiday leave from the military because of a job well done, and he's set to return home in about a month or two. If he wants to get to know you better, and if he wants to insert himself into your daily life like a ghost haunting a house, he'll have to be quick about this. He'll need to be smart, he can't let you know about the finer details just yet.
He'll invite you to dinner once he's actually established a friendly relationship with you. Simon will tell you everything once you trust him enough to listen to the horrible things he's done overseas. He can't do that just yet, but he'll make time for it once he gets to know you better.
He'll ask if you're truly comfortable being around a dangerous man such as himself. He can't lie, PTSD is a hell of a thing, and he can't risk the chance of not telling you things he's bottled up over the years.
The amount of people he's killed, the amount of times he or the entire world could have been turned upside down if a mission failed, the secret genocides and raids, he knows it all, and he's not a stranger to bloodshed.
But you are.
Simon is covered in scars, each one deeper and harsher than the rest, his skin and hands are calloused from wielding weaponry the likes of which he hopes you'd never have to see him using on someone else, and his mind is so clouded with death and destruction it's almost a miracle he didn't take the easy way out sooner.
Simon knows you're too good to be true.
You're his light in the darkness.
His angel in human form.
A person he never would have expected to randomly appear into his life, but he is grateful nonetheless.
And you were a simple barista no less.
You were probably sitting at home right this very moment not even slightly concerned with the man you met today, unbeknownst to the fact you had opened up Pandora's Box and you've gained yourself a not so secret admirer.
He hopes that maybe you'll accept all his flaws with open arms, always ready and willing to listen to him when the going got tough, and pity him when he knows that his life is not the most glamorous in the world.
Simon has stories he wants to tell eventually, but he can't risk it just yet. Even if you ask, he has to keep you in the dark for just a little while longer.
The Willow Tree Cafe's social media page suddenly refreshes in the amount of time it took Simon to think about all this, ultimately dragging him out of his bout of dissociation to see what was newly posted by the barista currently working at this time.
His dark brown eyes, slightly lidded downwards from the angle he was holding his phone at, all but widened once he realized you posted his order.
"Sorry for not posting this earlier, everyone! A classic beverage and dessert combo that will warm you up and bring a smile to your face this holiday season was ordered by one of my lovely patrons in the to-go pack! Enjoy a nice and filling slice of warm and fresh chocolate cake frosted with cookies and cream. To wash it down, enjoy a delicious, steaming latte brewed with only the finest coffee beans we provide! Dine in or dine out ~ Willow Tree Cafe, circa 2001."
The picture was plain and simple, but it was his order from earlier, exactly how it looked when you handed it to him in the to-go box and to-go coffee cup rather than an on-brand plate and glass cup that would normally be served to those who dined in. Your hand was holding the cup to display the company's logo, a Willow Tree with a steaming cup of coffee overlapping the tree, even though the name and logo of the cafe was already situated on the to-go box his cake was in.
Simon's eyes hovered over the word "lovely", and quickly realized that while he was one of your lovely patrons, he was still apart of the mix, but he wants to be the lovely patron.
He didn't scare you off simply by being too intimidating in your presence.
Even if the picture was a little late, he could tell you put a lot of effort and care into writing this post.
Knowing that he was a small part of your life was enough for him at the moment.
Perhaps getting to know you better was easier than he thought, and next time, he'll need to dine-in to get the special treatment.