spryndel

[spryndel]

Consequence of Hasty Deals

Summary: Simon "Ghost" Riley finds you in his- and Johnny's but mostly his- house upon his return after the apocalypse. Safe to say he isn't happy about it, but there's not much he can do considering you made a deal with Johnny.

Simon "Ghost" Riley, Single Dad!reader, post-apocalyptic AU,

CW: threats, crude language, Presence of a gun, Semi-casual mentions of death

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In all honesty, Simon had thought the apocalypse- if it ever happened- would be a lot more loud and in-your-face than it turned out to be.

The damn thing was quiet as death when it came. A pretty good comparison to make, considering death- or more accurately, undeath- is what the infection brought. Silent, slow, at first, but not invisible once it'd taken over a good portion of North America and started to spread to the rest of the world.

No one saw it coming, no one could have. It was fast after the first few infected, faster than anyone would've predicted. Simon blamed the big cities for that. Everyone was so close together and packed into boxes so graciously called apartment buildings, he was surprised the takeover wasn't faster. It took merely four months, and most of the world was overrun by infected. Little to nowhere was safe, and moving around was something that could get you killed more often than not.

The silence was one of the worst things. You'd think the apocalypse would be deafening, obvious, a surefire symbol that it's the end of the world and you might as well face it, but no. The infection took over in the shadows. Starting in the slums and working its way up until survivors were few and far between. Until fleeting hope was replaced with the instinct to do anything to survive.

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It'd been eight months since the world had declared a state of emergency. Six since the last of the world leaders went into hiding to escape the infection. Three since Simon had left the base he and the rest of 141 had holed up in with the plan to check on Johnny who had left a couple weeks before him. One since the last few of the infected- at least in the UK- had crumbled to dust.

It wasn't hard to get home to the old farmhouse that he'd bought for when he was on leave. He usually shared it with Johnny, but he doubted the Scot was there now. It was too quiet for Johnny to be there, first of all. Second of all, Simon had the make of Johnny's traps memorized and the ones he was currently side-stepping and barely avoiding were anyone but Johnny's. The porch steps groaned beneath his weight as he stepped across them, definitely loud enough to alert any close listeners, but he doesn't care. He could defend himself well enough if someone tried to attack or sneak up on him. He crosses the porch in silence and stops beneath the kitchen window, making sure to keep himself ducked at the perfect angle so as to not be seen.

Someone was in the house. He could hear you shuffling around in the kitchen- his kitchen. He didn't know who you were, but he knew one thing for certain. He was not about to let you get away with trespassing on his property and settling down to squat in his home. He lifts himself up to a semi-crouched position, stood up enough to peer through the window without the risk of getting spotted. His eyes search the kitchen for a long moment before they finally find you, who he's quick to analyze.

Male, scruffy-looking and somewhat on the short side. Somewhat on edge too, considering the efficient and sharp way you move around the kitchen. That's all Simon needs to get a read on you, his eyes narrowing as he scans for any weapons in the room. There's knives, obviously, but no signs of a gun or other weapons. Probably somewhere else in the house, you didn't look the type to be without some form of defense nearby.

"Papa, Papa!" The shrill voice of a child makes Simon's eyes snap back to the center of the kitchen. A little girl- no older than four or five by the looks of it- stands proudly, holding up a tattered piece of paper that looks to have some sort of messily colored picture on it. You cross the kitchen over to her and crouch down, smiling, giving her a pat on the head. You're her father then, Simon concludes. Though how you'd managed to survive while taking care of a child when the world when to shit, he'd never know.

"It looks good Lacey, go hang it up on the fridge eh?" Simon's snapped out of his thoughts when you speak, eyes darting to you briefly before shifting to follow the girl- Lacey- as she obediently scurries to the fridge and pins the paper up with one of the fridge magnets. He resists the urge to snort. It was almost ironic, how normal the moment looked despite the fact that the world outside was anything but. It'd be almost sweet if Simon weren't still pissed about a trespasser setting up shop in his house.

He slips away from the window, stepping backwards as he shifts across the porch and around to the back door. He tests the handle, finding it unlocked. Simon grins. This was almost too easy. He lets himself in slowly, making sure the door doesn't creak, and then slowly makes his way through the house towards the kitchen. He stays hidden when he finally gets there, staying in the shadows of the hall and watching you with your daughter.

He's gracious enough to wait until the kid leaves the room before he steps out of the shadows, gun raised and trained at your head.

"You have three minutes to tell me why the hell you're in my house before I decide to give you a permanent piercing through the skull." He spits out, his tone flat as he approaches.

You freeze, body stiff as your head swivels around so you can look at him. He resists the temptation of grinning at the shock that passes across your face. Your hands raise automatically, showing no weapons, but he only gives them a brief glance before cocking his gun. "Well then? Out with it." His voice is sharp now, laced with the annoyance still stuck in his chest. He doesn't have time for you to drag this out, he wants answers and he wants them immediately.

"We just-" You start, hesitating as your eyes drift to where Lacey went before a click of the gun gets your attention back on Simon. "We stumbled 'cross here trying to make it to Fort Maclan. Lost my travel partner on the way, had to stop somewhere to recover. Scottish bloke let us in here, told us we were free to stay-"

"Scottish bloke?" Simon tilts his head, eyes narrowing. Either you were bluffing or Johnny'd actually set up camp at the farmhouse instead of heading back to his Ma's place. Simon was more inclined to the former.

"Yeah" comes the answer, along with a shift backwards. You were trying to shift yourself away from him and towards the door. Smart, but not quick enough to complete. "You stay right where the fuck you are." Simon's finger steadies over the trigger of the gun, ready to fire a warning shot if you even twitched the wrong way. "Describe him. The Scottish guy, you apparently got the go-ahead from" You stare back, eyes more on the gun than him. He could see your jaw tense, as if you were weighing your options of bolting. After a minute, with you still not moving, he grunts. "Not waiting all day for an answer y'know." "Tall." the words fall easily out of you. Good, that gave him less trouble. "Real fucking tall. Brown hair, blue eyes, mohawk. Why, you reckon you know him?"

It's a brief description, but it's enough for him to recognize that you're pretty much describing Johnny. A frustrated sigh leaves Simon's lips, his eye twitching. "Sure, sorta. He gave you the go-ahead to stick 'round here?" "Made a deal with us, yeah." you nod

Simon's brow furrows. So you weren't just sticking around for the heck of it, you had a deal going on. Didn't do much to make the situation better, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't curious as to why the fuck Johnny let some stranger into the house. "What kind of deal."

You flinch at the harshness of his voice but it's not like he gives a shit. Good, be scared. It gave him an advantage, even if he couldn't hurt you. At least not yet. "Small one. Not much, just my helping around the place in exchange for the roof over our heads. Placing traps, cooking, basic shit like that" You grit out, trying to look intimidating despite really looking almost like a fox about to run off with its tail between its legs. "Help in exchange for lodging" Simon muses over the words, narrowing his eyes at you, then lets his gun arm lower slightly. If Johnny did make a deal with you, Simon couldn't just up and shoot you. Besides, you didn't seem like much of a threat. Too jumpy and uncertain for that, looks like Johnny'd kept you on somewhat of a tight leash around the place. "Where's he now, then?"

"Went out scavenging for supplies. Headed out this morning, took a truck." Comes your quiet- almost squeaky- reply. Your eyes stay trained on the gun in his hand, as if taking your eyes off it would mean a bullet between the eyes. "Should be back in a few hours." Simon nods. No need in checking the truth of your statement, the unlocked back door spoke enough to say Johnny'd probably left with the intent to come back quickly. Still, he wasn't about to trust you as far as he could throw you. Even if it looked like he could throw you pretty damn far.

"Right. I can wait 'till then." he muses, leaning back against the wall behind him even as his eyes stay trained on you. He's aware of Lacey peeking around the corner at him with wide eyes, but he's more focused on making sure you make no funny business. "But if you try anything, no guarantees that I'll nice and gentleman-like about it."

You nod mutely, shoulders still tense, and go back to quietly working at whatever you'd been doing before Simon had first spotted you. He stays leaning against the wall, eyes kept on you at almost all times. Not that he wanted to watch you, no, but he knew better than to blindly trust you to stay compliant until Johnny came back.

It was about to be a long few hours of waiting. Luckily, Simon's a patient man.