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It starts, he supposes, the way these things often do- too much liquor and even more brashness.
His confidence and charm often come in handy, like easily making friends with other teams they work with. On nights like these, if the team goes out to a pub, it gets him an easy lay should he be in the mood.
But they're not at a pub, and though he’s in the mood, he really shouldn’t be pursuing them.
There’s something here though. Something that’s been thrumming between them all for a while now. None of them have put a name to it, haven’t even acknowledged it out loud, but they all know it’s there. This something that makes him wander away from their table on nights out less and less, more interested in being there when the tension finally snaps than having a quick fuck.
Of course it would be up to him to make it happen.
He could blame it on the liquor they’ve been sharing. Could pass it off as pent up soldiers with too much to drink that need a little bit more warmth after a long op. He could- but it’d be a lie.
He's wanted this- they’ve all wanted this- for too long for that to be true. The touches that could be platonic, but linger far too long to be so. The poorly concealed glances when they change in a safe house or the locker room. The heated looks when they make eye contact. It’s all too telling to pretend this is a one off.
The initial kiss is far too telling.
He is drunk. Drunk enough that he can’t quite remember what finally caused them to snap. Can’t remember if it was a quip or a look, but does it really matter? He can’t bring himself to care, not when he has Kyle’s tongue down his throat.
He can taste the liquor on it. Can smell his aftershave and cologne. Can feel how soft his lips are, moisturized by the lip balm he religiously applies. He can feel his smooth skin as he cups his nape. Can feel his strong hands on his hips and the vibration of his soft moan where their chests are pressed together.
He doesn’t know how long they kiss, only knows that when they part his lips are tingling and swollen. Sees that Kyle’s pupils are blown beneath his lidded eyes.
Hears the shaky inhale to his right.
He turns and sees Simon, face bare like it has been all evening, staring at them. He watches the various emotions pass over his face as he sits frozen beside him, arm still draped over the sofa, warm where it touches his shoulders. He sees the lust, confusion, jealousy, desire.
He sees that it’s not just directed at him.
It's not the liquor. He can admit that now. Can admit it’s the something as he leans over and captures Simon’s mouth too.
Like with Kyle, he tastes the alcohol. Simon smells earthier compared to Kyle’s smooth scent. His lips are soft too, but the scars on them give them a different feel. It sends a thrill through his body, the feeling of two different lips so close in succession.
The kiss is different, not better, just different. They have a different connection than the one he has with Kyle, but he doesn’t find himself favoring one over the other. They’re just- different. Were he in a better headspace, he could probably understand it better, but it doesn’t matter. They’re both good. They’re both his.
The look in Simon’s eyes when they part is heady. As always, so much is said by just a look between the two of them. Understanding and assurance passed with a raise of a brow and a responding smile. The fate of their little group, forever changed in that one moment.
He looks to the last of the men that have captured his heart, glad to see the same want in him. He stands, suddenly aware of his own want as he shuffles to his captain seated on the battered recliner next to the sofa the three had been occupying when they started their downtime this evening.
John looks up at him expectantly and he doesn’t make him wait any longer. He climbs onto his lap, glad he didn’t have the footrest up and in the way as he straddles his thighs. John runs his hands up his sides to his shoulders before pulling him in.
The now addicting taste of liquor is accompanied by the subtle hint of spiced tobacco. The scent of it swirls around him, as if John were blowing the intoxicating smoke from one of his cigars into his mouth right now. How many times has he dreamed of that very thing? How many times has he watched his captain, mouth watering as he puffs smoke into the air, wishing he were filling his lungs?
John kisses with a confidence that rivals his own, pushing into his mouth like he owns it, and does he not? Are they not all his? His team. His men. His boys.
That’s what this something comes down to. They way they all belong to each other. Their very lives tangled together, the strings of Fate held by the men at their six. Each of them have pulled each other from the brink of death. A shot at an enemy sneaking up behind. A clipped warning stopping a bullet from finding its mark. Always knocking Fate’s hand away from the men that have stolen their hearts.
It was inevitable, the way they were always going to end up here.
He sees the understanding shining back at him as he looks down at John. The resigned relief that all these feelings are shared. It’s wrong, sure. Illegal, technically, but when have they ever cared about technicalities?
Never acknowledging this something wouldn’t change anything. Their need to risk everything for each other would still be there. Their willingness to turn away from duty to their country in favor of devotion for each other would always be there, so why deprive themselves the pleasure?
Johnny has always taken what he wants. Joined the army before he should’ve been allowed. Worked his way up to the most elite taskforce despite the many fools who tried to get in his way. He gets what he wants and he wants this. Wants them.
He knows John can see it in his eyes. Can see the fire and stubbornness set in. He won’t take no for an answer and he’s pleased to see that his captain has no intention of depriving him any longer.
The sight that greets them both back on the sofa solidifies that the feeling is mutual.
Simon is nearly laying on top of Kyle as their lips move frantically together. Their soft moans and the wet slide of tongues fill the air. He turns back to John, smiling down at him before reconnecting their lips.
It’ll be an adjustment, but as he lets out his own moans and swallows John’s, he knows it’ll be so worth it. And as they all eventually come together, flesh on flesh in the dim light of the private 141 rec room he knows, this is the beginning of something becoming everything.