Archive of Our Own ^beta

Despite being born and raised in a predominantly cold climate up north, you could feel the cold air biting against your bare cheeks. God, being deployed all over the world was messing with your cold resistance, you were ashamed of yourself. You blamed the wind chill for making everything worse. God, why did your time off have to line up with when your area was having the worst weather of the year? You took solace in seeing the local kids running around, making snowmen and having snowball fights, clearly having the time of their lives. At least some people were enjoying the weather. 

You set your snow shovel against the side of the building as you adjusted your scarf around your face, then stretched out your back with a groan. A few of the kids waved as they ran by, looking at you curiously and with a hint of awe, and you waved back with an amused expression. You couldn’t blame them for staring, you were a bit of an oddity in your apartment building, seeing as how you were gone almost 11 months out of the year, and you carried a certain presence that was only gained after seeing and causing more death in your lifetime than the average person could ever possibly imagine. The kids also made sure to avoid catching you in the crossfire of their snowball fight, knowing better than to try and target you. They’d learned the hard way that you were not to be messed with. 

They also learned you had impeccable aim, and after one particularly bad argument between all the kids, it was decided that you weren’t allowed to play on anyone’s team. They would still knock on your door and ask you to come out and play, which usually meant they wanted you to do all the heavy lifting, like putting the heads on their snowmen, pulling them around on sleds, helping to make their snow forts, making sure none of them were getting hurt, and so on. You didn’t mind, hanging around the kids reminded you of your team when you were all messing around, cracking jokes like you didn’t have a care in the world. Except now, you felt a bit like Prince having to make sure no one got themselves killed. 

As you went to put the snow shovel away, you noticed a familiar figure slowly walking down the sidewalk, their steps short and careful. 

“Oh, Babushka,” you greeted in Russian, nodding your head to your little old lady neighbor. “How are you today?”

“Good, just got back from the supermarket, got good deal on pork,” she said as she hobbled up the walkway, watching out carefully for any ice that may be lingering. 

“I just finished shoveling, but be careful, it’s slippery,” you reminded in English, making her wave you off. 

“You come tonight for dinner, you too thin,” she ignored your warning, making you laugh to yourself. You didn’t consider yourself thin or skinny, you had to have lots of strength in your line of work. You weren’t as dense as the others (maybe Gaz) but you weren’t thin by any means. Still, you knew she was just looking out for you and didn’t mean anything by it. 

“Sorry, Babushka, not tonight,” you said with a shake of your head, making her give you a funny look, her wrinkly lips pursed like she’d eaten something sour. “I’m expecting company,” you explained, hoping she wouldn’t think you were brushing her off. 

“Invite them too, you all come,” she pestered, always the stubborn one. You liked that about her, though.

“He’s not really comfortable around strangers, maybe another time,” you declined apologetically. “But let me know if you need anything.”

“Fine, I make zefir for you and friend,” she decided, to which you nodded excitedly. “I come by seven.”

“Thank you, Babushka,” you smiled, holding open the door for her as she walked inside, following behind her. You continued to chat with her as you took the elevator up to your floor, you both lived on almost opposite ends of the fifth floor, and the little Russian woman made you promise that you’d come over for dinner sometime soon.

You finally returned to your apartment, shooting a quick text to your landlord as you began to take off your wet clothes. You were pleased that you had the forethought to set out warm, dry clothes for yourself before you went outside, but what you needed now was a warm shower. You checked your phone for messages, smiling as you scrolled through the photos sent in the 141 group chat. Even though it had only been a couple days, everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, which made you smile. You were definitely sad to be apart from them, but knowing they were all well was comforting. You were the only one living outside the United Kingdom, and you were, admittedly, a little jealous that the others were so close to each other.

But you didn’t have time to be looking at your phone, you had to finish preparing your apartment for a special arrival. Your apartment was already decently clean, save for the mess you’d made that day, and you had plenty of blankets, towels, and other necessities ready. You’d even gone shopping the day before to stock up your fridge and your pantry with your favorite foods and snacks, hopefully you wouldn’t have to go out shopping again for a while. With nothing left on your to-do list, you could only wait around for a few hours then get started on dinner so it’d be hot and fresh for when your guest arrived. 

Babushka came at seven, as she said she would, and handed you a container of fluffy white treats and asked about your guest. You lied and said he was tired from jet lag, but in actuality, he hadn’t arrived yet, with the promise that you’d return the container soon before closing the door. You had just finished making dinner, some fresh garlic bread and spaghetti with meat sauce, which you hoped didn’t taste too terrible. It’s not like you had the chance to regularly practice your culinary skills, and while you weren’t likely to get any complaints, you still wanted it to be good.

You set up two plates of food on your table and, unable to ignore the rumbling of your stomach, dug into the food you made, deciding that, yes, your food had turned out pretty great. You practically scarfed down the garlic bread as you checked our phone repeatedly, tapping your foot anxiously on the ground as you waited for a message. An hour had gone by, and you’d eaten your full, so you wrapped up the second plate of food in plastic wrap and went to lay on the couch in wait.

-

You were roused from your sleep by a heavy knock at the door, and you were so confused when you realized you were on the couch that you almost started to panic. Suddenly, you were leaping onto your feet and heading towards your door, so fast that you almost slipped. On instinct, you reached for your nearest weapon, a knife you kept behind the shoe rack, and looked into the peephole. You smiled as you set your knife down and unlocked the door, throwing it open and wincing slightly at the frigid air.

“Simon!” you exclaimed, wrapping your arms around him and rubbing your face against his broad chest. You could feel how cold his clothes were against your skin and through your own clothing, but you didn’t particularly care at that moment, especially when he placed his large hand on your back. 

“Made it in one piece,” he said, patting your back as he towered over you. You finally stepped back to look at him properly, even though he was still wearing his ever present mask. However, he didn’t seem to be injured anywhere, had all his limbs, and he was actually here, so you couldn’t complain. Even in the darkness, you could see him furrow his brows behind the mask, his eyes crinkling slightly. 

“What’s that look for?” you asked, rubbing your eye. You were a sleepy baby, after all, and he was really fucking late. 

“What are you wearin’?” he practically choked out, his voice near a low growl. 

“Uh, clothes, duh,” you drawled, making him growl in annoyance. 

“Where the fuck are your trousers?” he clarified, making you look down. Right, you weren’t wearing pants, but you really couldn’t give less of a fuck about that. You were too tired, in all honesty. 

“Uh, it’s my apartment, I don’t have to wear pants,” you asserted with a shrug. “Plus, I’ve got enough insulation,” you joked, referencing your thick thighs. 

“You’re out in the hallway,” he scolded with a hiss, practically pushing you inside and closing the door behind both of you.

“I’m not out in the hallway, I’m in my door,” you corrected as he locked the door. “ ‘sides, it’s so late, no one’s out to see,” you shrugged before smiling and hugging him again. “I really did miss you, big guy. I’m really happy you’re here.” He didn’t say anything, but he did embrace you back, rubbing a hand up and down your back and using the other to cup the base of your neck. You two stayed like that for a few more moments, just enjoying the hug, enjoying the security you felt while in his arms, before you finally pulled away. You were surprised he’d hugged you at all, even more that he’d hugged you twice, and you didn’t want to push it too much. At least, not on the first night. 

“Let’s get you sorted, eh?” you said as you gestured for him to follow you into your apartment. He bent over to pick up his duffle bag, filled with god knows what, and followed you inside. “Babushka came earlier with some zefir, so you’re in for a treat,” you revealed, excited to share the delicious treats with him.

“Huh,” he said, looking around your place. 

“Huh what?” you asked as you approached the table with a single plate on it. “Sorry, I had dinner ready for you, but it’s definitely cold by now,” you lamented.

“My fault for being late,” he shrugged, lumbering over to your dining table and sitting down in front of the plate you’d left out. “And I meant your flat; I expected it to ‘ave more weird shit in it. Lots o’ plants, though.”

“I don’t know if I should be offended by that,” you laughed tiredly as you shuffled into the kitchen, pulling out two mugs for you and Simon, and began to make you both a cup of hot chocolate. Having a warm drink in your belly always makes you fall asleep easier, not that you would have any problem on that front. Maybe it was the cold that made you crave the warm drink. 

“Just, you talked about all the things you liked t’collect,” he murmured, taking a bite into the pizza. “I only see a few plants. Fake, I assume.”

“You assume correctly,” you nodded as you set a pot on the stove and filled it with milk. “Just dusted them all the other day, might get a new one next time I go out to the store. I was thinking of a hanging plant,” you mused aloud, waiting for him to comment, but he only hummed. You didn’t try and push him for more, figuring he was exhausted from traveling and just wanted to eat in silence. You waited for the milk to heat up, and when it looked good, you grabbed a ladle and began to prepare your drinks. You mixed in a little bit of cream, mixed it with the cocoa powder, and topped it with mini marshmallows, then grabbed the Tupperware of zefir before walking over to your guest.

“Here y’go,” you said, setting the steaming mug and Tupperware in front of him. You pulled out the chair closest to him, but you weren’t sure you really wanted to sit down at the moment, somehow too hyper to really sit still. His gaze wasn’t focused on your face, however, instead trained on your hips. 

“Pink?” he asked, making you glare at him challengingly. 

“Hey, I’m allowed,” you defended yourself with a sassy little shake of your hips. You liked these panties, they were cute as hell and made your butt look fantastic. “I’m sure I could find a pair in your size, since you’re so interested,” you then offered, making him look at you like he wanted to throw you out a window, which he probably did. You didn’t feel embarrassed about being half naked in front of Simon, you trusted him not to do anything, even if you wanted him too. You tried not to stare as you saw him take a sip of his drink, hoping to glean whether or not he liked it. You figured he would have preferred tea, but you didn’t really know what he liked, so you went with something that was more familiar to you. Who could object to a nice cup of hot cocoa in the wintertime? Not even Simon Riley could. 

The man before you didn’t seem intent on making conversation, you didn’t read too much into the reason why, but decided that you did have stuff you wanted to talk about. 

“By the way, some ground rules,” you said, immediately grabbing his attention, his eyes darting to yours. “You aren’t allowed to smoke in my apartment. Not even on the balcony, keep that shit far away from me, got it?”

“Yes ma’am,” he relaxed as he nodded sarcastically, making you level him with a pointed glare. 

“Right, you also better not piss on the toilet seat, I deal with that enough while we’re deployed,” you went on with a scowl, causing Simon to nod.

“I’ll try my best,” he drawled, making you hum in response. 

“You’re also not allowed to terrorize the neighbors, or make a huge mess of everything, or try and booby-trap any part of the apartment,” you listed on your fingers.

“What, you think I’m gonna set a tripwire at the slidin’ door?” he asked, to which you merely cocked a brow at him. “…I’ll try and refrain.”

“Good, now, let’s go to sleep,” you yawned once more, standing up and taking your mug with you. “We can talk about more stuff in the mornin’.”

“Right, I’ll take the couch,” he cleared his throat, eyeing your couch and probably imagining how he’d sleep on it. 

“Oh, no, we’ll just share my bed,” you shrugged, making him turn back to you. “I mean, I’m not gonna make you sleep on the couch or on the floor. Besides! It’s pretty cold out, we need to share body heat and all that,” you babbled, smiling impishly and winking at Simon. He stared at you for a moment before sighing and getting up from his seat, empty plate in hand. 

“I’ve lived through worse,” he relented, making you grin even wider. 

“Great. Lemme show you the bathroom. Oh! I call big spoon!” you shouted quickly, your hand shot straight up in the air. 

“Why do you wanna be big spoon?” he asked, cocking a brow at you as you both made your way to the bathroom. 

“Because I called it,” you shrugged as you began your nighttime skin routine. Simon just watched you dumbly before he left the room, probably to go grab his toiletries. He’d have to unpack in the morning, but there was no rush. His skull balaclava in the mirror nearly made you punch him because he was so goddamn silent that it was like he was an actual ghost. 

“I’m gonna put a fuckin’ bell on you,” you threatened before you began to wash your face. Simon merely kicked the back of your leg, not enough to hurt in any way, just to annoy you, before he began to brush his teeth. Once you dried your face off, you brushed your teeth as well, eyeing Simon to see if he’d wash his face, and to your horror, all he did was use your bar soap, lathered up his hand and washed the skin that the mask didn’t cover. It made you want to smack him, but you just finished brushing your teeth because you were too tired to have this argument with him. 

“We’ll work on the skin routine,” you nodded to yourself before taking his hand and leading him to your bedroom. “C’mon, the bed should be plenty big for both of us, and I got a surprise for you!” you revealed, trying to hurry him along when you remembered the gift you’d gotten him. You stopped him at the door and told him to wait before you went inside and tried to locate the gift. You found it on your bed, underneath a blanket, and hid it behind your back as you approached Simon, who was looming like a phantom in the doorway. 

“Well?” he asked, looking down at you impatiently. 

“Ta-da! It’s a kitty!” you said, holding up the mint coloured cat stuffed animal. Simon took it in his hands, staring at it with wide eyes. “When I got it, it was white, but I thought that was boring, so I looked up a tutorial on how to dye things to make it mint coloured. I had to remove all the stuffing, so it wouldn’t get soaked and gross, and I decided to make the incision at the jaw! So you match!” you rambled, excited to tell him all about the adventure you went on with the stuffed animal. “It’s super soft, I’ve been sleeping with it since I got it, because it’s nice to hold something, y’know? Do you like it?”

Simon stared at the kitty with an indecipherable look in his eyes, not saying a word as he took in the stuffed animal, to the point where you were getting a little nervous. You weren’t sure how he would react, but this one definitely hadn’t crossed your mind. 

“Yeah, I… I like it,” he said stiffly after a little while, making you grin in relief and delight. 

“Great! You can spoon that while I spoon you,” you declared, ushering the massive man towards your messy bed. You aimed to have him against the wall, but instead he pushed you onto the bed before climbing in after you. You were sure he had a reason, so you didn’t question it, and instead just started to settle down. Simon did as well, simply turning on his side so that his back was towards you, and you quickly inched closer to him. You threw your leg over his side and wrapped an arm around his ribs, feeling the heat radiate through his shirt. You found his hand laying near his chest on the bed and took it in your own, wrapping your fingers around his. They were so big, just like the rest of him, but that just meant there was more for him to cuddle. 

“Comfy?” you asked, adjusting how you had your leg thrown over his thighs. “Need another blanket? ‘nother pillow?”

“I’ve slept fine with less,” he answered, making you frown. 

“Yeah, but you don’t have to be fine with less, you’re not on duty,” you reminded him as you geared up to hop out of bed. “Hang on, I know I’ve got plenty of—” you cut yourself off when Simon tightened his hold on your hand, pulling you close once more. 

“Don’t go, idiot, it’ll take you ages t’get comfortable again,” he complained, both of you knowing full well that that was a bold faced lie. You could fall asleep in pretty much any setting under any conditions, especially if you were tired enough, but you decided not to say anything. 

“You’re right, better just stay like this,” you yawned, getting comfy once again. “I feel like a little jet pack,” you joked. “I also figured this would help us avoid waking up with your morning wood against my ass,” you added, making Simon immediately attempt to elbow you, which connected with your thigh. “Ow! You jerk!” you scolded, though your grin was still in place. “Here I am, trying to be a considerate host, and you repay me with violence? What were you, raised in a barn?”

“Wish I ‘ad it that good,” he replied flatly, making you let out a laugh mixed with a wince. 

“That’s playin’ dirty, Riley,” you said with a shake of your head. “Anyways, stop talking, it’s time to sleep.”

“Aye aye, ma’am,” he called back sarcastically, making you smile. Still, in retaliation, you bit him on the shoulder, making him grunt at you in annoyance. “You’re a damn menace.”

“Mm-hmm,” you hummed in agreement, your cheek pressed up against his back as you tucked yourself against him. “Goodnight, Simon,” you yawned, squeezing his fingers.

“Night.”

.

You made sure to show him where you kept all your weapons in the house; your knives, your guns, your baseball bats and crowbars, as well as your wood-ax and bear mace. You didn’t mind if he used them, and asked that he not leave his own guns lying around everywhere. He agreed, and decided to hide his own weapons around, mostly guns, and a few knives, alongside your own. He was impressed with your ax, but complained that it needed sharpening, which you agreed with. You hadn’t bought it, just sort of ended up accidentally keeping it from someone you did a favor for, and it was pretty old. 

“They say that the best dynamic is a gun nut and a knife girl,” you joked once you’d both finished arming the apartment, setting the ax on the table. He rolled his eyes at you and didn’t say anything, but you didn’t mind. “Anyways, what do you want for breakfast? I went shopping recently, so there’s plenty of options,” you explained as you opened up your fridge. The first you spotted were the eggs, so you made a snap decision to have eggs for breakfast. 

“Where’s your kettle?” Simon asked as he riffled through your cabinets.

“Don’t got one,” you said as you pulled out some eggs, making Simon slowly turn towards you, aghast.

“Then… ‘ow do you make your tea?” he questioned, as if his brain was having a hard time comprehending what you were saying. 

“I don’t drink tea,” you shrugged, making him quietly but audibly gasp. “What? It’s not my thing. Neither is coffee,” you added.

”But, I’ve seen you drink coffee ‘fore,” he said.

”Well, yeah, but that’s only for the caffeine,” you revealed. “And that’s only when I’m working.”

“What do you drink, then?” he asked incredulously, staring at you like you’d grown a second head.

“Uh, I prefer cold drinks, or hot chocolate! I just pour milk in the mug and nuke it in the microwave,” you explained, making Simon recoil as if you’d physically struck him. 

“I’m gettin’ you a fuckin’ kettle, you bloody soddin’ American,” he finally scoffed, shouldering past you and heading for the door.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” you called after him as you followed him to where the shoes were. “It gets the job done either way!”

“Shutup, I’m goin’,” he snapped at you as he tugged on his boots. 

“Fine, be that way,” you shrugged as he took off, leaving you alone once again. “What a drama queen,” you said aloud, smiling despite yourself. You looked at the eggs you’d taken out of the fridge, and decided you might as well get started on making breakfast for yourself. 

As you were making your food, you checked the group chat for Task Force 141 and were appalled by the bullying you were seeing when you opened it. 

Boo 👻: this motherfucking American doesn't have a kettle

This was followed by a very unflattering picture of you in the middle of eating something (when the hell had he even taken that? You were wearing fatigues in the picture, why did he have that on his phone?), and that was followed by the rest of the team roasting you to hell and back.

You: I won’t tolerate this bullying from a bunch of Queenless brits 🖕🖕🖕

Goo: dude 😂😂😂

Brother John: HELL YEAH TELL EM LASS

You: fuck you

You shook your head fondly as you pocketed your phone and played your eggs, sitting at the table to eat and absently stare at the interior of your apartment. Outside, you could hear Christmas music playing from somewhere close by, and it started to make you think. 

You honestly didn’t have much in way of decorations, seeing as how you lived in a pretty small apartment that you were almost never actually living in. You were almost always gone during the holidays, so it made sense that your decor would be sparse, and you only had a few ornaments that you’d collected in your adult life. About a year into your military career, you decided you wanted to get an ornament from every place you visited, just to have something to bring back. You worked out a deal with your neighbor that she’d hold onto any packages for you until you returned, so you’d managed to build a small but steady amount. As a result, you had a few small boxes worth of ornaments, which you’d never had a chance to display, before now. You were actually really excited. It’d been so long since you actually got everything out that you forgot what you had in your closet, which only made you more excited to see what was inside. 

You headed towards the closet in the spare room, which had pretty much turned into your storage/workout room, and began to look around. You found an old Amazon box underneath an expired bag of Halloween candy (which you, with a heavy heart, threw away) and looked inside the box. It was pretty big, and inside were a bunch of ornaments wrapped in bubble wrap. Perfect. 

“I’m back,” Simon called out as he entered, the sound of rustling bags reaching your ears.

“In here,” you called as you began to try and sort your boxes, bringing them into the living room. 

“What’s ‘at?” Simon asked you as he walked into the living room. 

“My ornaments,” you said, peeking into one box before returning to the closet to pull out the scrungly little Christmas tree you found one year near a dumpster behind a Walmart. It wasn’t much, it wasn’t even four feet tall, but you loved the ugly little thing. “And, my tree,” you added, waving the folded up tree in your hand. 

“You’re decoratin’?” he wondered in confusion as he fished out the kettle, beginning to unbox it.

“Yeah! Wanna help?” you asked, going back to fetch the tangled string of lights you had shoved in the closet. 

“I don’ really do Christmas,” he said slowly and flatly, making you shrug. 

“I’m not gonna force you, but I’m definitely doing Christmas,” you retorted with a smile. “I’ve never really had a fun Christmas, always out on a mission, no one to spend it with, family didn’t really do holidays, so I’m excited to do it this year,” you admitted. 

“Figured you’d at least be spendin’ time with ‘em, your family,” he said as he puttered around your kitchen, helping himself to the eggs and skillet you’d used. 

“Yeah, I’m not really on speaking terms with any of my family,” you shrugged. “Bunch of assholes, honestly, I’m better off without them.”

“You don’ miss ‘em?” Simon asked, surprising you. He normally wasn’t one to ask about that sort of thing, but you were happy to tell him.

“Hmm, well, I miss what I could have had,” you answered as you pulled out more ornaments. “I went no-contact with them at like, 16? 17? Never looked back. I mean, I had to grow up quick to survive, but I wish I didn’t have to. They themselves were shit, but, I miss the childhood I should have had, if that makes sense.”

“Yeah, makes plenty o’ sense,” he said slowly, returning to his food. The air had become tense, so you tried to think of something to lighten the mood. 

“I always loved walking around my neighborhood during Christmas time as a kid, seeing all the decorations the other houses had up, it was always really nice,” you reminisced. “I mean, it’d be inconvenient now, especially since I live in an apartment, but there are plenty of houses and stores nearby that have crazy lights. Did you see any on your way over last night?”

“I did,” he nodded. 

“I’ve always loved seeing them, it just really brings out the holiday cheer in me, y’know? Especially when there’s snow everywhere, it all just feels so magical! I know it sounds silly, but still, I really just, it’s really great,” you said, pausing and blinking a few times. “I feel like I just had a stroke.”

“Feel like I just watched one,” he said gruffly.

“Listen, what I’m trying to say is, there’s something indescribable about this time of year, and neither of us got to experience that as kids,” you went on. “And, honestly? That’s not fair. No one should have gone through what we did, whatever we went through, so, let’s give ourselves the Christmas we deserve! It’ll help heal our inner child,” you said, returning to decorating with renewed vigor. 

“You think ‘avin’ a tree up and some lights ‘ll make everythin’ okay?” he asked, his voice hard as he looked at you across the apartment, his tone almost accusatory. 

“No,” you answered honestly, meeting his gaze unwaveringly. “But I want to put up decorations, and I think it’ll make me happy, and that’s better than nothing,” you smiled before turning back to the task at hand. You made sure the tree was set up in the corner, away from the front window, and began to untangle the lights. It was more of a hassle than you anticipated, and you spent almost an entire half hour getting everything sorted. 

“You tested ‘em to make sure ‘ey work?” Simon asked, making your head shoot up at the sound of his voice. You let out a groan, your neck muscles protesting from your hunched over position, and looked down at the untangled mess of lights. You looked around for the nearest outlet and internally pleaded for them to work. You located the plug and waited with baited breath as you plugged them in. 

“Yes!” you cheered victoriously as the entire string lit up, making you let out a sigh of relief. “Thank fuck, okay,” you muttered to yourself, trying to figure out the best way to go about putting the lights on the tree. It wasn’t a very big tree, and you figured the string was long enough, so you started at the bottom and worked your way up. Either you were really bad at this, or the string of lights was longer than you anticipated, because you ended up winding them up and down the tree a few times, almost face planting when you caught your foot on the wire. Once you finally ran out of lights, you stood back and smiled at the sight, a warm feeling blooming in your chest. 

“Hey, wanna help me put on the ornaments?” you asked Simon, who seemed to have finished his breakfast and was sharpening your wood-ax. He looked up at you for a moment, glanced at the tree, and went back to sharpening. “I’ll take that as a no then,” you drawled flatly, rifling through your ornaments and setting them all out for you to see. With no rhyme or reason, you picked up ornaments and began to hang them on the tree, doing your best to maintain some semblance of balance and order. You had to admit, it looked a little ugly, and could use a few more nice looking ornaments, but it was yours.

“There, doesn’t it look nice?” you called out to Simon as you put away the packaging. 

“Nice isn’t the word I’d use,” he commented as you walked past him to put the box away, which made you want to punch him in the face. You probably would have, but you heard a knock come from your front door, and you went over to answer it without much thought. Simon, on the other hand, seemed much more on edge, and immediately got up to follow you, hugging the wall as he tried to stay out of sight, a weapon already in hand.

“Down boy,” you joked when you saw him with his gun drawn, though you reached for your bat, just in case. You looked through the peephole and immediately relaxed, turning to Simon with a smile. “Just the kids.”

“Kids?” he repeated as you unlocked your deadbolt and opened the door, smiling at the group that was on your step. 

“Hey guys,” you smiled as they all began to greet you, loudly talking over one another, excitement gleaming in their eyes. Pretty much every child in the apartment building was gathered around your door, and that was no small amount. The kids ranged in age from five to seventeen, as far as you knew, and there were over twenty of them, all bundled up in their winter gear.

“Can you come’an make a snowmam with us?” one of the boys asked, his cheeks already red and blotchy. 

“Sure kiddo, lemme just grab my coat,” you waved, turning to get dressed when you nearly ran into Simon. “Move already.”

“Woah! Who’re you?” another kid asked as they all stared at the strange man in your apartment. You forgot they hadn’t met him before and hung back a moment, not sure if you needed to intervene, looking between Simon and the group of kids. 

“Simon,” he introduced with a nod. “We’re… partners,” he decided, making you smile at how awkward he sounded. You guessed he was never around kids very much, which didn’t surprise you. 

“Don’t interrogate him too much,” you cautioned the kids as you headed to your room, grabbing your heavy coat and pants, making sure to grab your gloves and hat before going back out to the door. “Alright, you ready kids?”

“Can Mr. Simon come play too?” a kid asked, making you smile.

“Wanna play with us, Si?” you asked him as you zipped up your jacket and slipped on your boots. You two shared a look, and you could tell he was hesitant about it, but sighed and walked away, making all the kids groan and complain. “Don’t worry, he’s just getting his coat,” you explained, making them cheer. “You all head down to the courtyard, we’ll be there in a few.”

“Kay!” they called, and they began to race down the hall, at which point you closed the door. Once you couldn’t hear their footsteps anymore, you turned to the lieutenant as he walked back over to you.

“Didn’t expect you to say yes,” you admitted truthfully as he adjusted his jacket and gloves. 

“Got a problem with ‘at?” he asked as he knelt down and pulled on his boots, lacing them up without looking at you.

“Not at all,” you smiled, making sure you had your keys and phone on you. “Ready to head down?” you asked as you pulled on your scarf. He nodded, and with that, you two headed down the stairs and to the back where the courtyard was, and already the kids were running around. 

“Let’s make a big snowman!” one kid you nicknamed Connors said as you arrived. His name wasn’t Connor, first or last, but he looked like a Connor to you, hence the nickname. 

“Sure kid, why don’t you all get into three groups and work on different parts of the body. Simon and I’ll help if you need it,” you said, eyes landing on your friend. He was subtly (not so much to you) scanning the courtyard for any and all vantage points, taking note of every door, balcony and window. You left him to it and went to one of the groups as they began rolling up a ball of snow. It took a little while to grow in size, but soon enough it was up to your knees and only growing more and more. The teenagers seemed particularly gung-ho about making the base as big as possible, and the little kids were going nuts about it. You had to, a few times, remind the older kids to not spill the beans about Santa not being real, because like hell you were gonna be the reason someone’s Christmas was ruined. Of course, with the little ones’ short attention spans, it only took a few comments to get them going on a different tangent, keeping the secret safe. For now.

Eventually, the littles developed a serious case of FOMO, and pushed you away so they could push the massive snowball in your stead. You smiled and let them take charge, deciding to chat with some of the teenagers while you waited for your services to be needed once more. You spoke a little bit about school, what they wanted to go to college for, relationship troubles, and so on. The teens had a lot of respect and admiration for you, mostly owing to how ‘mysterious’ you were, being gone most of the year. You liked to think of yourself as amiable and good natured, able to adapt to any group you needed to, and did your best to be approachable to your neighbors. Plus, with teenagers, they were always a little lost, needing someone to look up to that wasn’t their parents as they made their way through life. You were able to be straight with them, let them know when they’re being little shits, trying to steer them in the right direction without treating them like babies.

Let’s not forget that you’re pretty badass, and not nearly as intimidating as someone like Simon, so you were much more approachable. You talked to a few of them about the gifts they’d gotten for their high school sweethearts, their friends, their parents, and so on. Most of the teenagers had little siblings that were out playing, so they eventually wandered off, leaving you to make your way back to Simon. You reached down and grabbed his hand, staring at him for a few minutes as you slowly brought his hand to your face. 

“If you bite me, I’ll knock you on your ass,” he threatened, holding your gaze. 

“D.I.L.L.I.G.A.F,” you shrugged. 

“D.I.L.L.I.G.A.F?” he repeated, nose scrunched up in confusion. 

“D-I-L-L-I-G-A-F, D.I.L.L.I.G.A.F! And it means,” you paused, pretending to strum an imaginary guitar, his hand still in your own, “do I look like I give a fuck,” you sang, a wide, shit-eating grin on your face. You maintained eye contact as you opened your mouth and brought it closer to his hand, ignoring his confused warning look, and bit his gloved finger. You laughed as he pushed you into the snow, spitting out the fibers of his gloves that stuck to your tongue and teeth. 

“You dick,” you laughed, getting to your feet and brushing off the snow that clung to your pants and side. 

Suddenly, the sound you dreaded most filled the air: a crying child.

One of the little ones, a five year old girl you’d taken to calling Mash (she couldn’t pronounce Miss correctly, saying it as Mass, which somehow evolved into Mash) ran up to you and Simon, making you kneel down to be on her level.

“What’s the matter, Mash?” you asked, opening your arms to allow her in. The little girl was so upset, she couldn’t get the words out, and only continued to cry. You were about to tell Simon to watch the others as you took her to her mother’s apartment, when your lieutenant squatted down beside you. 

“C’mon, pet, take a deep breath,” he said, putting a hand on top of her head. Mash looked up at him, still crying, but he continued to stroke her hair. “C’mon, deep breath in, deep breath out,” he instructed, holding eye contact with her. Slowly, Mash began to copy him and start to calm down, trailing off into sniffles and hiccups, looking to Simon for further direction. “There y’go, good girl. What’s wrong?” he repeated, using the soft part of his glove to wipe her tears off her face. 

“I-I was,” she sniffed, “I was r-runnin’, a-an’ I f-fell,” she explained, to which Simon nodded.

“Hurt anywhere?” he followed up, making Mash shake her head. “Tough girl,” he praised, rubbing her head again. 

“Feeling better now, Mash?” you asked the girl, who nodded, sitting herself down on your thigh. “Wanna play with the other kids, or hang out with me and Uncle Simon for a little while?” you asked, smiling gently at her.

“I’ll stay,” she said, seemingly content to stay put, which you didn’t object to. The little girl remained silent for all of twenty seconds before she asked you a question that came waaaaaay out of left field.

“Are you married?” Mash asked, making you laugh in surprise. Kids asked the darndest things. 

“No, we’re not,” you answered easily once you’d stopped laughing. 

“Will you get married?” she followed up, which made you pause.

“Mm, maybe, for the tax benefits,” you joked, hoping to ease some of Simon’s tension that you could feel radiating off of him. “Anyways, why don’t you go join your brother,” you suggested, ushering her back towards the group. At that point, her attention had gone elsewhere, and she hopped to her feet, running off without protest. “And don’t run!” you reminded her as you finally got to your feet. 

“Tax benefits, aye?” Simon asked once Mash was out of earshot, making you huff out a laugh as you brushed snow off your knees.

“Yeah, I dunno how they do it across the pond, but here, getting married comes with certain benefits,” you said, making sure to be extra dry at the end of your sentence. “Anyways, I like t’tell’em little white lies, just to fuck with them. I’ve had, like, five different kids ask me why you had the skull mask, and I always make up different answers.”

“Like what?” he asked. 

“Like that you’ve glued it permanently to your face, that you’re secretly a vampire, that you have really bad facial hair, stuff like that,” you listed on your fingers, smiling to yourself as you spoke. You weren’t much of a liar, often being called honest to a fault by your teammates, but with something as harmless as this, you felt it was fine. Plus, it wasn’t like you could tell them the real reason, and this was entertaining. 

“ ‘at so?” he scoffed, making you lazily elbow him. 

“Yeah, you should see their faces,” you snickered. He hummed in response, and that was that, you two continued to watch over the kids in mostly silence. While they’d been somewhat hesitant around him at first, the kids gradually warmed up to Simon, dragging him off to show him something or help them make their forts. Eventually, they started getting soaked through and began heading back to the respective apartments, and you began herding the smaller kids back to their own homes. Once you had seen off the last child, you and Simon made your way back to your place. 

“Kids are always more energetic than I anticipate,” you laughed as you shucked off your winter boots after kicking off the snow that stuck to the bottoms. “God I’m glad I’m not a parent, can you imagine?” you said with dramatic horror, laughing a second later. “I never expected you to be so good with them,” you said, “the kids, I mean,” you clarified. 

“Yeah,” he nodded as he took off his gloves, revealing his chilled red hands. You assumed that was all the answer you were going to get, but he continued, “I… used to babysit my nephew when I was on leave,” he said slowly as he pulled off his jacket, his back towards you. 

“I didn’t know you had a nephew, guess Uncle Simon was pretty spot on,” you commented, trying to hide your surprise as you pulled off your hat and shook the snow off of it. He nodded somberly, and you could tell you were edging on a sensitive subject. “Well, I’m sure the kids’ll come and ask to play with us again, hope you don’t mind too much.”

“Don’t mind,” he said gruffly, making you smile. 

“Whaddya say I make us some hot chocolate? And you grab a warm shower?” you suggested, giving him a friendly punch in the shoulder. He looked at you, his eyes a little less bright than usual, and nodded. You watched him march off, shoulders hunched just a bit too far, and it made you press your lips together. Something must have brought up a memory from his past, something unpleasant, and you hoped it wasn’t your fault. You did what you could without being overbearing, and held him close as you went to bed that night.

-

Simon jerked in your arms that night, his breathing heavy and laborious, like he was struggling for air. You shot straight up, fully awake in seconds and trying to calm down your friend and bedmate. You weren’t sure what to do, not sure if contact would ground him or just make him combative, and you weren’t sure how to proceed. You’d never seen Simon this way, didn’t know what he needed, and you felt pretty helpless… so you just did what came naturally. 

You placed your hand on his arm, making him jerk as he turned his wide eyes to you, his chest shuddering as if his throat was closing up, his open-mouth panting turning into strained, uneven breathing through his nose. He seemed to recognize you, relaxing ever so slightly, and you moved again, running your hand up to his shoulders. Slowly, you pulled him into your arms, hugging him gently, trying not to hold him too tight and make him feel constricted, even though you wanted nothing more than to hold him tight and never let go. 

“C’mon big guy, I’ve got you, it’s okay,” you gently soothed, rubbing at the bundle of muscles that connected his neck to his shoulders, fingers slipping under the mask every so often. He was absolutely drenched in sweat, coating even the tangled sheets and blankets that had enveloped him. That couldn’t be comfortable. After he got his breathing somewhat under control, his heart pounding less and less in his chest, you moved. Carefully, you pulled him until he was sitting up, climbed around him to get off the bed, then pulled him to his feet. He went with little resistance, like he wasn’t fully present, even though he was always acutely, painfully aware of everything that was around him. You guided him to the carpet-covered floor, beside your nightstand, and began to move around your room, gathering new bedding and such. 

You opened up Simon’s duffel bag, seeing as he still had yet to unpack everything, and looked for some clean clothes for him. While grabbing him a new pair of underwear, you dislodged something that gently fluttered back into the bag. You automatically looked down to see what it was, surprised when you saw it was a picture of… you. It was you petting a dog, looking back at the camera with a big smile on your face. Wasn’t that the photo Soap had taken of you in South Africa? Why was it printed out like this?

You’d think about that later. Now was not the time, and you didn’t want to snoop. 

“Here, you get changed, I’ll put on fresh sheets,” you said gently, handing him the clean clothes and grabbing the cat stuffie at the last second. He deftly took the clothes and you turned your back to him as you began to strip your bed of all the stuff on it, giving him some privacy. You moved as quietly as you could, working without speaking as you put on fresh bedding. Once you finished fluffing up the pillows, double checking that you had a satisfactory amount of blankets available, you turned to the man seated on your bedroom floor. 

“Fuckin’ pathetic,” he muttered softly under his breath, which immediately left a bad taste in your mouth.

“Don’t talk about yourself like that,” you gently but sternly admonished, holding out a hand for him to take. You wanted to tell him that this was nothing to be ashamed of, that it was okay for him to have bad days, maybe be angry at how unforgiving he was with himself, but you weren’t sure if it would be helpful. He definitely didn’t need you yelling at him, no matter how badly you wanted to shake him for being such an idiot. You’d have to start telling him that after this, to combat the negative voice in his head. 

“Now, you wanna be big spoon or little spoon?” you asked, which seemed to startle a noise out of him, though it wasn’t quite a laugh.

“We’re just gonna ignore what happened?” he asked with slight disbelief, making you shrug.

“Simon, you could have pissed and shit all over the bed, and I’d still be here,” you clarified, unable to help the grin from spreading on your face as he rolled his eyes at you. 

“I’m no’ that old,” he joked dryly, making you let out a little huff of laughter. 

“No, you aren’t,” you agreed, rubbing a hand up and down his arm, applying a little pressure as you did. “Wanna go back to bed? Or watch a movie, maybe? I can make you some tea, even use that kettle you got me, though I don’t know how to make it the way you like. You’ll have to teach me someday,” you joked, giving him a gentle smile. “Whatever you want, big guy, I’m here.”

“You don’t ‘ave to,” he asserted, making you shrug again.

“I want to,” you explained, rubbing along his shoulders. “I’m not gonna leave you alone, Simon, not unless you want me to leave.”

“Don’t,” he said quickly, the subtle desperation in his quiet voice making your heart ache. 

“Alright then, back in bed with you,” you said, taking charge and guiding him back into the bed. You sat down, your back against the headboard as you pulled his head towards your lap. Once he was laid down, you tucked the blanket up around his shoulders and did your best to get comfortable. “This okay?” you asked him. He nodded, though his body was stiff and guarded. “Are you comfortable?”

“Are you?” he asked instead, making you smile as you began to pet his head. 

“Mm, I’m good,” you assured him, gently scraping your fingernails against his skull through the balaclava. “You wanna try and get some sleep? Or we can stay up and talk?” you suggested, keeping your voice soft. 

“Let’s just… stay like this,” he murmured, his voice almost too faint to hear, but you nodded and smiled. 

“Okay, Simon,” you agreed. You shifted your legs a bit to better accommodate his bulky frame, your thighs pressed against him on either side. His head was pillowed on your thigh as he faced the door, the plushie held firmly between his massive arms. Slowly, he got more comfortable, wrapping an arm around your leg and holding it close to him, his breath warm against you.

“You’re not curious?” he asked. 

“It’s hard not to be curious about a guy like you, Simon,” you chuckled. “But I know you like your privacy, and I don’t wanna bother you. You’ll tell me, if and/or when you’re ready, about yourself, your past and all that. To be honest… it doesn’t matter to me. Wait, that came out wrong, that’s not what I meant,” you laughed at yourself. 

“I just, I can guess you’ve been through it more than most, and I can only imagine how traumatic your past is, but knowing or not knowing isn’t going to change how I see you. You’re my friend, my teammate, my family, and I’ve got your back, okay?” you asked, hoping that your words put him at ease. You brought your hand to his face and gently stroked his jawline, specifically over the spot you had sewn that heart into on his balaclava. 

You cared for Simon, a lot. You cared for all your teammates, of course, but Simon was different from the others. You loved them all like family, that’s true, but that familial feeling didn’t extend to him, even if you did consider him family. It was different. You wanted to take care of him, to be there with him when life got hard, and to be able to take his mind off of that hard shit. He was more than just a teammate or friend to you. You were hesitant to dig deeper on what the feeling was, but you wanted to be there for him, whatever he needed, whenever he needed. 

.

The next day, Simon was quiet and a little distant, but you weren’t surprised by that; you both hadn’t gotten much, if any, sleep after his nightmare. You were no stranger to nightmares, and you knew that everyone reacted differently to them. Even your usually bright mood could be dampened when you had particularly bad nightmares. You just wanted to do whatever you could to make the day easier for him. 

“Hey, Simon,” you called out gently as you stepped out of the bathroom, toweling your wet hair dry. “I’m gonna pop over to the store real quick, pick up a few things, want me t’get anything?” 

He didn’t respond.

“Alright,” you nodded at the silence, unbothered by the lack of response. “Well, if you change your mind, text me, okay,” you said as you grabbed your things. You hid your wet hair up in a hat, not bothering to dry it for this short trip, and headed out the door, wondering what you could do to make him feel better. You stopped for a moment before crossing the threshold, a thought coming to your head. “Hey, while I’m gone, think you could vacuum and mop the floors for me? And clean the bathroom if you have the time? No pressure,” you called out, “I’ll see you soon! Bye!”

That’s how you ended up loitering around the small, family owned novelty shop, deciding on what you should get. A lot of the options they had were a little too kitschy or ugly for your tastes, but some were quite cute, but not quite something you think Simon would care about. What could you get that would fit in your apartment, and also make Simon smile? Or at least interested enough to talk about it…

And then you saw them, hanging there, perfect. 

You grabbed two of them, one red and one green, and went to the counter to have them embroidered. You gave them the names to embroider, paid, and booked it back to your place, your grin taking up your entire face. 

“Simon! I’m home!” you called out, kicking the door shut behind you as you looked for him, fishing out your purchase from the plastic bag they gave you. You found him at the kitchen table, a set of knives laid out in front of him that he was meticulously cleaning, and he looked up. You smiled as you pulled out the surprise.

“I don’t exactly have a fireplace, but we can hang these up,” you smiled, holding up both stockings. Simon’s eyes widened slightly as he saw them, his eyes tracing over his name written in cursive on the green stocking. You handed his over to him, and set yours out on the table as he inspected it. They were both made of something akin to faux leather, sturdy but pliable, and the trim was made of a quilt-like material, even had snowflake-like patterns woven underneath your embroidered names. They were clearly hand made, and the materials were high quality, so they cost you a pretty penny, but you were honestly in love with them.

“Aren’t we a bit old for that?” he asked, his eyes still trained on the green stocking.

“Are we too old for this?” you parotted, rolling your eyes. “That hasn’t stopped me so far. What, do you not like it?” you asked, cocking a challenging brow at him, but he didn’t say anything. “Have any idea where we should hang them? I was thinking on either side of the tree could be cute, what do you think?” you went on, tapping your feet impatiently. 

“… under the TV would make more sense,” he uttered, making you smile. 

“You’re right, wanna hang’em with me?” you asked, getting up to look for your tool kit. He didn’t say anything, but you heard the drag of his chair as he got up. 

Hanging the stockings up took no time at all, although Simon did end up accidentally putting a hole in the wall. You laughed about it, then promised it was an easy fix when he stared at you. After you’d hung them up, he stared at them for a good while, clearly lost in his own head, when you spoke. 

“Thanks a bunch for cleaning while I was gone, I really appreciate it, you did a good job,” you smiled, reaching a hand out to press a finger to his chin. “What do you say we make some cookies? As a reward for us,” you prompted, making him look up. “I mean, what’s Christmas without cookies? I was considering getting a gingerbread house, but honestly I don’t have the patience for those,” you laughed as you began to set up your kitchen, getting out the supplies for the cookies. 

“What the hell kind of cookies are these?” he asked as you pulled out the boxes.

“Simon, I dunno about you, but Pillsbury Dough Boy cookies are absolutely essential to Christmas,” you dictated to him with a wave of your finger. “These mother fuckers are like crack,” you said matter-of-factly as you began to open up the packaging, making him give you a look. 

“Really?” he answered, sounding like he was already done with your bullshit, which was honestly so offensive. 

“You sound like you doubt the power of the cookies,” you said in a faux ominous manner, trying to suppress your smile. “I mean, if you wanna make’em the old fashioned way, we can, but I promise these are soooo fucking good.” He rolled his eyes and moved around behind you, getting the kettle out from the self designated place he’d stored it in. You preheated the oven as he made the tea, and decided to play some music, dancing around like an idiot as you belted out songs you hadn’t heard in what felt like years.

“You wanna watch a movie as we eat the cookies?” you asked, sliding over to him as you danced, grabbing his arm and swinging it as you moved.

“I… had some ideas for today,” he said, catching your interest. 

“Oh?”

So that’s how you ended up cuddled up in bed, Simon’s head in your lap as you ate the warm cookies and watched some animal ASMR videos together. Oh, and Simon had taken a few THC gummies earlier, leaving him mellow and pliant. You stroked his head as you watched videos on your laptop, on which a video of a fluffy black rabbit eating all types of crunchy foods was playing. He held his cat plushie in his arms as you watched, his head on a pillow that rested in your lap. His breathing was deep and relatively even, and he’d occasionally reach out to grab a cookie or reach out for his tea. 

You were surprised when Simon had shown you the gummies, telling you that he used it to manage pain and anxiety; his eyes were downcast as he spoke, like he was ashamed. You were definitely surprised, but like hell you were going to judge him for it. Hell, you’d also used weed to take the edge off, and you were sure others in your Task Force, the military at large, even, had similar practices. And it was totally legal, so all you were concerned about was making sure he felt safe and comfortable. Honestly, you were really honored that he felt comfortable enough to let you see this side of him, something that was clearly private for him. 

You let him lie on your lap without any complaints, enjoying his weight and warmth as he relaxed. You scrolled through your phone as Simon watched the YouTube videos, looking down at him to check on him occasionally, to make sure he was alright. He hadn’t said a word, but as you predicted, he steadily worked on the cookies, quietly nibbling on one before he reached for the next one. He was probably getting crumbs everywhere, but you didn’t care, he looked so comfortable. And cute. 

Suddenly, his weight seemed to increase against you, and his head lolled slightly on your thigh as his arm went lax.

Oh, he’d fallen asleep. 

You smiled at the realization and did your best to not move a muscle. Simon was a very light sleeper, this was common knowledge, but the gummies were probably making him less alert. That was probably part of the reason he took them, to make his hyper aware mind finally relax. You slowly, carefully, moved his mug to your bedside table, closed and moved the laptop, and finished off the cookies before setting the plate aside. You continued to stroke his head, listening to the sound of his breathing as you leaned your head back against the bed frame. His breathing was even and deep, almost hypnotic to you, acting as white noise for you. You knew how rare it was for him to sleep, the ghosts of his past haunting his mind and making him paranoid. You could understand that; despite your carefree and jovial attitude, you had your moments where everything just seemed too much, but you took great solace in his company, silent and strong.

He was normally so strong, but Simon Riley was still only human. You wanted to be his strength, too, to be someone he could rely on and trust to keep him safe. 

You feel like he’s starting to do that.

.

He seemed to be doing better as a few days passed. He cleaned his guns a lot, most likely to keep his mind off things, and you kept him company. You even started to slightly boss him around, asking him to help you with household tasks, like going through old clothes, shoveling the snow off your balcony (and your neighbors’ balconies) helping clean your windows, and so on. He went about all the tasks with the dutifulness of a proper soldier, tackling everything with precision and efficiency. Honestly, you were fine to just stay with him, not saying a word as you did your own thing together, but you were getting just a tad bit stir crazy. You decided that this was nothing some good old fashioned exercise couldn’t fix, so you dressed in your workout clothes; yoga pants under sweatpants, a sports bra under one of your old military shirts and one of Simon’s hoodies that you’d swiped. You’d definitely have to take it off at the gym, given the hem hung closer to your knees than it should, but it’d definitely keep you warm. 

“Get your ass up! Let’s go to the gym,” you said as you walked into the living area. Simon, who had been at the table and cleaning one of his guns, again, looked up.

“The gym?” he repeated, not looking as he began to put his gun back together. 

“Yeah! Figured we needed to get out, and we need to keep in shape! All those Christmas cookies are gonna catch up to us,” you teased. “Anyways, the local gym is pretty good! Not too expensive and has a lot of variety in their equipment, there’s even a place to spar,” you told him, already excited by the prospect. You hadn’t been able to have a good fight with anyone since you went on leave, and you weren’t about to ask anyone else to spar with you. You trusted Simon, and you really wanted to kick his ass. 

“Fine,” he grunted, getting up and heading to the bedroom. 

“Great! I wanna scare the absolute shit out of the gym-bro assholes there,” you said, eyes gleaming with excitement as you cracked your knuckles. You personally weren’t around enough to be a regular there, and didn’t really have any creepy guys dogging you, but you knew they existed. The couple days you’d been there, you had some guys try and talk to you like you had no idea what you were doing. They were the minority, of course, but they still pissed you off royally, and you never missed an opportunity to put toxic gym-bros in their place. 

“Arseholes bother you a lot?” Simon asked, brows furrowing behind his mask.

“Nothing I can’t deal with,” you clarified, “but I shouldn’t have to deal with it, y’know? Thankfully it’s usually just guys who think they’re entitled to any and all equipment at any time they want it, just condescending dickwads. Still not okay, of course, but it’s not the worst case scenario.” But with Simon with you, you were sure to be left alone.

As you expected, you could feel everyone’s eyes on you as you walked into the gym, and you tried to suppress your smile. You probably wouldn’t ever stop finding it funny how much attention Simon would get just from his mere presence, maybe because you knew how awkward he could be in private. He didn’t seem to mind. He easily ignored all the stares and gaping looks that people were giving him, like he didn’t even see them. He did, of course, he never missed any detail in his surroundings, but he didn’t let it show. 

You paid for a month-long membership for him, since you dragged him all this way, and then walked into the gym proper, deciding on what to do. 

“How often do you stretch, by the way?” you asked Simon as you walked past the front desk and into a corner of the gym, leaning forward and grabbing your shoes to stretch your legs.

“No’ often enough, I’ll admit,” he muttered as he stretched his arms across his broad chest. 

“Why don’t we do legs today?” you suggested. “You’re getting up there in age, I’ll show you some tips for maintaining leg mobility,” you simpered, making him narrow his eyes at you. 

“I’m gonna ignore that,” he drawled flatly, making you laugh to yourself. You gestured for him to stand beside you and began to show him some stretches, trying not to laugh when you realized how stiff he was in some places. You weren’t a physical therapist, but you did your best to push him without hurting him. You, of course, always did your best to one-up him with your stretches, showing him that you could twist farther, stretch deeper, and hold your body for longer, just to piss him off. You also did your best to praise him as well, reminding him to not hurt himself and that you could work on things together in the future. 

“Great! You’re doin’ really well, big guy! How do you feel? Think the stretches are helping?” you asked as you handed him his metal water bottle. 

“Mm, no’ bad,” he admitted as he took the bottle, nodding his head at you in thanks.

“I used t’do gymnastics when I was a kid, since it was close enough to my house to walk, and cheap enough for my parents to pay for it,” you told him as you took a swig from your own water bottle. “I still do a lot of those stretches now, keeps me feeling mobile and in shape. A lot of people, men,” you added with a comedic cough, making him cock a brow at you, “undervalue stretching and maintaining mobility, because it’s not something that usually has a visual payoff.”

“Good thing I ‘ave you, then,” he said, making you grin. 

“Lucky you,” you agreed before looking over at the sparing corner, with an elevated ring and mats surrounding it. 

“Wanna ‘ave a go then?” Simon asked, gesturing to the area.

“Sure! Been a while since I’ve had a good spar,” you agreed, shaking out your limbs. Working out was always good, especially in your line of work, but there was really no substitute for actual sparring. It not only helped build muscle, but it improved your reaction time as well, which was, of course, invaluable, and you were already buzzing with anticipation. You decided to ditch your baggy clothes, knowing you’d probably be drenched in sweat before you were done, and began to yank off the hoodie you stole and pull down your sweatpants. 

“Don’t fuckin’ do ‘at,” he barked at you, running a hand down his face.

“What? I’m wearing yoga pants, it’s fine,” you said, kicking your sweats off your feet and folding them and your hoodie up to set them near your water bottle, neatly and out of the way, but not before you pulled out your hand wraps. “Don’t be weird.”

“Me? You’re the one strippin’,” he scoffed, making you roll your eyes. 

“You’re being dramatic,” you insisted as you walked back onto the mat, already shaking out your limbs as you watched your friend do the same.

You always admired Simon’s body. He was big, being well over six feet tall, and broad in the shoulders, he cut an imposing figure no matter what he was wearing or what situation he was in. You liked seeing him in full gear, especially with how his holster straps hugged his thighs. But seeing him in his fatigues, how his shirt hugged his muscle bound chest just right, accentuating his huge pecs, it was something you ingrained in your memory. You did your best to not blatantly stare at him, not wanting to make him uncomfortable, but god damn did he have a great body. 

“Right, don’t exactly wanna go by drawing first blood in a place like this, so normal tap outs are good,” you said as you wrapped your hands up, the motions practiced and fluid, and you saw Simon doing the same. Once you were both ready, you gave your arms a few shakes, getting rid of any unwanted sensations as you walked onto the middle of the mat, Simon following after you. You turned and held out your fist, grinning as he tapped his padded knuckles against your own, then the two of you took a few steps away from each other. 

Game on.

You two circled one another, and already you could feel excitement thrum in your blood, under your skin as you moved around him. You were a seasoned fighter, as was he, but you knew that even one slip up would mean a loss for you. Simon was big, muscular, pretty much an indomitable opponent, it would be hard for anyone to get one over him. But you were smaller, quicker, much more nimble than he was. 

You liked to jab your hands out quickly at him, imagining in your head that you were holding a knife, before dancing away out of his reach. He seemed annoyed that you were just the slightest bit faster than him, just barely unable to catch your arms to throw you around. You knew he was getting frustrated, but you felt like poking the bear, because you knew that, in most fights, he’d beat you easily. He was just too damn big, and he had a few years of experience on you, it really wasn’t a fair fight. However, that didn’t stop either of you. You never knew what type of enemy you would encounter, and it was always best to learn how to beat the odds. You’d taken down plenty of foes larger than you, but Simon was a beast.

He finally got tired and lunged at you, and you used his momentum to make him fall onto his back. He rolled onto his stomach as you looped your legs around his neck and shoulder, pulling the arm you’d grabbed to send him toppling between your legs. You pulled his arm as far as you could, your legs screaming as you squeezed his body, your lungs burning as you tried to catch your breath. Your skin was covered in sweat, and you sure you had a crazed grin on your face, but you didn’t care. 

“Gotcha!” you declared victoriously, trying to even out your breathing as you relished in your victory. You let out a yelp as Simon suddenly stood up, easily taking you with him as he rose to his full height. You blinked at him in surprise, your brain trying to catch up with what had just happened, when you saw him smile behind his mask. 

“You were sayin’?” he asked, making you groan as you relaxed your core and flopped down, hanging in the air as Simon chuckled to himself. 

“You bastard,” you grumbled as he squatted down until your back was on the mat, at which point you unwound your legs and slipped from his shoulders. “Can’t even let me have this,” you complained dramatically as you laid on the ground.

“Don’t think you’d appreciate me goin’ easy on you,” he reasoned, holding out a hand for you to take. 

“Welp, can’t argue with that,” you laughed, taking his hand and allowing him to help you up. He pulled you up with ease, as usual, and went over to grab both your water bottles. 

“Here, drink,” he commanded, pushing the water bottle into your hands. You dutifully opened it and gulped the water down, some droplets running down your chin and throat. You let out a loud, satisfied “aaah” as you finished up, using your arm to wipe the sweat from your brow, before you smiled up at Simon.

“Ready t’go again?” you asked, eager to keep going. You could see him smile under his balaclava, how his eyes squinted in amusement as he looked down at you. You felt your heart skip a beat in your chest as you looked at him, partially from the exertion, partially because he looked so damn good, even under the gym’s fluorescent lights.

-

You were panting and heaving by the time you called it quits, your muscles giving off a painful yet satisfying burn as you laid out on the mat. Simon was leaning against a nearby pillar, his mask pulled over his lips as he drank the last of his water. His shirt was plastered to his skin, sweat making his muscles glisten. 

“I’m gonna hit the showers ‘fore we go,” he panted, grabbing his duffle bag and heading to the locker rooms. 

“Ew, use the public showers? No fucking way, that’s nasty,” you complained, making a fake retching sound at the thought. “We can just shower when we get home. I’m willing to share if you are,” you teased, grinning widely at him, while he looked like he was contemplating whipping his metal water bottle at you. 

“I’m not ridin’ in your car like this,” he said dryly, to which you shrugged. 

“Suit yourself, I’ll be out here,” you said, grunting as you sat up and went over to your little pile of stuff. He quietly walked off as you pulled on your sweatpants, grimacing slightly at how gross you felt. Well, the drive back really wasn’t bad, and everything could be washed. You really hated public showers, you had to put up with it enough while deployed, so why would you willingly use them when you didn’t have to? Nope, you had a wonderful shower/bathtub combo at home, you could wait. You knew Simon was quick and efficient, it probably wouldn’t be more than five or ten minutes before he would reappear, so you were fine with waiting. 

As you scrolled on your phone, someone approached you, making you look up. A man was standing before you, wearing workout gear and looking pretty sweaty. His dark brown hair was short and spiky with sweat, his face and chest slightly flushed as he waved at you. He was shorter and less bulky than Simon was, you could easily take this guy in a fight, but he didn’t seem in poor shape. His body seemed to be sans the scars you were accustomed to seeing on your fellow soldiers, and for some reason this seemed odd to you. 

“Hey,” he greeted, his lips quirking to the side, the mannerism reminding you of how Soap smiled. “I saw you and that big guy goin’ at it earlier, you’re both absolute beasts,” he complimented, making you smile in response. 

“Thanks, we’re in the military together,” you revealed, making his eyes light up with interest. 

“Sick, what branch?” he asked conversationally, making you cock a playful brow at him.

“That’s classified,” you joked, making him let out a bark of laughter, once again reminding you of Soap. 

“Totally get it, sorry, ma’am,” he laughed, giving you a mock salute before running a hand through his sweaty hair. “Well, can you at least tell me your routine? You’re fuckin’ jacked, I’m super jealous of your back,” he praised, making you grin as you took a drink of water. 

“Thanks, you should see the other guys I work with,” you explained. You two began to idly chat about workout routines, exercises, regiments and so on, the man’s excitement never wavering. In fact, he began to loudly and excitedly ramble about his workout journey, diets he’d been on and off handed stories that seemed to pop into his head. Yeah, this guy was basically an American version of Soap, and you found yourself enjoying his company. You really missed your teammates, your family, and this man’s energy, while it wasn’t a replacement for Soap, did make you feel better. 

Over his shoulder, you could see Simon’s blue-gray eyes boring into you, which made your smile widen as you pushed off of the wall. 

“Hey, Simon! Sorry, didn’t see you there,” you laughed, brushing past the man and approaching your friend. “Didn’t mean t’keep you waiting, ready to go home?” you asked, pulling your hoodie over your head. “Sorry, we were just chatting, didn’t mean to lose track of time,” you apologized. You turned back to say bye to your new acquaintance, maybe catch his name, but found he was no longer there. You looked around the gym, and couldn’t find him, which confused and slightly disappointed you. Oh well, you were probably sure to see him again. 

“Let’s go,” Simon commanded, grabbing your hood and yanking it down over your face, making you sputter as you swung your arm out at him. 

“You dickhead,” you squawked, pulling his arm towards you and biting it in retaliation. You two fought and bickered all the way back, mostly silent save for a few smatterings of insults. 

“What’d you think of the gym?” you asked once you got home, pulling off your hoodie and stepping out of your sweats. 

“S’fine,” he muttered as he walked past you into the kitchen, making an immediate motion to grab the kettle. 

“I know it’s not exactly what you’re used to, since it’s a little frowned upon to train until you bleed,” you joked, pulling off your sweaty shirt. Your skin was cold and a little clammy now, and you really wanted to hit the shower. “But it’s nice, isn’t it? We should go back soon! I didn’t catch that guy's name.”

“I thought you didn’t like bein’ bothered,” Simon muttered, shutting the cabinets roughly after he pulled out a mug. 

“I don’t, but he just seemed so nice and innocent,” you shrugged, setting your shoes neatly on the mat. “I mean, he really reminded me of Soap, so I guess I automatically liked him, y’know? Heh, how funny would it be if his name was John?” you laughed at the thought.

“… wouldn’t be impossible,” he mumbled as he got the kettle out and filled it with water. 

“Definitely, hopefully I’ll run into him again, he was asking me about my routine and stuff, but I think you scared him off,” you joked, though you weren’t really joking. 

“Most likely,” he agreed, his eyes focused on the kettle. 

“Mm, anyways, I’m gonna grab a shower, you’re free to join me,” you winked, pulling off your socks and yoga pants as you hobbled into your room. You tossed everything into your hamper and grabbed your robe, eyeing Simon’s unpacked military duffle bag. “Actually, go ahead and unpack your shit, you’re here for at least the rest of the month, you don’t need to live out of your duffle,” you called as you slipped into the bathroom. “Use any drawer if y’ want,” you called from behind the bathroom door. 

You loved your bathroom, it was one of your favorite parts of the apartment, and the bathtub/shower combo was part of what made you choose this place to settle in. You also had a plethora of skin and hair products in your floor to ceiling shower caddy, the topmost shelf now being dominated by Simon’s products. It was depressingly little, and you could not tolerate this blatant disregard for personal care, and began brainstorming on what you should get Simon. Maybe some face wash for Christmas? No, you couldn’t wait until then…

Well, you knew what you were doing tomorrow.

As you walked back into your room to change into fresh clothes, you noticed that Simon’s duffle was no longer out, and saw his clothing in varying spots as you got dressed. It made you happy to see his clothes with your own in your drawers. Once you got changed, you walked back out to join Simon, who was reading a book on the couch and sipping his tea, so you grabbed a drink and went to join him. Your body was still sore from the workout and fighting, so you were ready to just fall asleep against him and enjoy the warmth of his body. 

“Don’t go t’the gym without me,” he said out of the blue, making you pause in the middle of lifting your glass to your lips. 

“Hmm?” you asked, confused by his sudden statement. “Oh, are you nervous to go on your own? Don’t worry big guy, it’s not like you’ll have to order food or anything,” you teased, recalling your date in South Africa as you set your drink down and settled into him, partially wedging yourself between his back and the couch cushions, finding the pressure from both sides soothing. You were asleep in moments. 

.

You excitedly ran up the stairs to your apartment, the plastic bags in your arms rustling as they jostled against one another. You weren’t sure how Simon was going to react to the items you were carrying, but you had a gut feeling that he would like it. Eventually. 

“I’m home!” you called out when you came back, making your way to the kitchen when something on top of the tree caught your attention. You set down your grocery bags and walked closer to it and saw that, while you were gone, Simon had grabbed a bar of soap, made a hole in it, and stuck it on top of the tree. You nearly fell over from laughter as it finally clicked, and your commotion drew Simon out from wherever he’d been hiding. 

“I-I like your decoration,” you laughed, pointing to the soap. 

“Was worried it’d be too heavy and tip the tree over,” he shrugged, making you laugh all over again. 

“No, this is, this is perfect,” you laughed, trying to catch your breath as you spoke. “Oh, wait, fuck, I gotta send this t’Soap,” you said, snapping a quick pic before deciding to send it to the group chat. You paused a moment to think of a caption, before deciding it’d be funnier without context, so you sent the picture as it was. 

Father John: what am I looking at?

Goo: LMAFOOOOOOO

Brother John: ???

You: someone decided to help me decorate xD reminded me of you Soap <3

Brother John: yeah bu why??

You: idk man it’s just funny 

You laughed as you made it Soap’s profile picture, replacing the selfie he’d sent everyone of him after his young nieces had given him a crazy makeover, unreasonably amused by the sight in front of you. You loved his old pfp, so you’d probably change it back soon enough, but just for the Christmas season. 

“Hey, this is actually super relevant,” you said, pulling out some of the things you’d gotten, shooting him a grin. “I got us these bad boys.”

“The fuck’s that?” he asked as he walked back over to you. 

“They’re face masks!” you said before digging back in for the exfoliating face scrub, the charcoal face wash, moisturizer, and so on. “I got us some stuff to use! Your skin-care routine could use a serious revamp, I can’t stand watching you wash your face with 3-in-1 body wash, or god forbid, bar soap,” you retched, gesturing with your head to the soap ornament on your tree. 

“ ‘nother spa day?” he clarified, making you nod. 

“I mean, you don’t have t’take off your mask and do it in front of me, but at least watch what I do so you can do it on your own,” you sighed, gathering up all your things and carrying them to the bathroom. You felt Simon move behind you, following you to the bathroom as you set everything down. You meticulously set everything out and began to go through a typical routine: exfoliating, washing, drying, moisturizing, priming, and so on. He watched you with his calculating eyes, taking in everything you were doing without uttering a word.

“Now, I got these for you to use, but one day I’d really like to use these masks,” you gushed, smiling at the cute designs. “Oh! I even got you a headband!” you revealed, reaching into a plastic bag and pulling out a fuzzy headband with a bow on top. It was super cute, though it wasn’t something you would have picked for yourself: it was gray with white polka dots. You felt like it was a nice balance between your tastes and his. You weren’t sure he’d use it, but you still wanted him to have it. “I expect you to use this stuff, no more washing your face with bar soap, got it?”

“Is ‘at a threat?” he asked, a playful lit to his voice that made you smile. 

“It’s advice,” you amended, reaching up to snap the headband around his head, which looked ridiculous around his black balaclava. “Like I said, you deserve better. Now, hurry up, I wanna watch some Christmas movies,” you said. 

“It’s still light out,” he commented, cocking a brow at you. 

“So? We can marathon them! C’mon, let’s watch something! I’ll make hot chocolate!” you persisted, bouncing on the balls of your feet. “Hurry up and meet me in the living room!” you said as you finally left the bathroom, closing the door behind you. He grumbled through the door as you walked into the kitchen, pulling out supplies from your cabinets to make you both a couple of sandwiches. “You want hot chocolate?”

“Jus’ don’t make it in the microwave,” Simon chided as he walked past you to the living room, flopping down onto the couch. You silently mocked him as you began to make your dinners, occasionally checking your phone as the others texted you. Soap was sending a ton of cat photos (cats seemed to gravitate to him for some reason) in the group chat, while Gaz was texting you privately, sending you memes he thought you’d enjoy. While you were making Simon his sandwich, you drew a big dick with the mustard and snapped a picture of it before sending it to Gaz.

Goo: LOL is that for ghost???

You: yessiree

Goo: lol

Goo: is this payback 4 the kettle ting??

You: no I just think it’s fitting don’t you?? Lol

Goo: u no what u rite u rite lmao

Goo: how’s everything going btw?? U 2 try 2 kill each other yet???

You: LOL nah it’s all been good!

You: I mean that first day was bonkers ngl

You: but it’s all gucci 

You: he’s the little spoon

Goo: LMFAO NO WAY REALLY

You: I’ll remind you that this chat is strictly confidential

Goo: yeah yeah I no

Goo: bro code

You: anyways I gtg we’re gonna watch Christmas movies! Say hi to your aunt for me! Love you <3<3<3

Goo: I will ily 2

You smiled and pocketed your phone, finishing up the sandwiches as you put everything away. Once you’d cut them down the middle (diagonally, like a regular human) you picked up the food and approached the couch, handing Simon one of the plates before taking your seat right next to him, beginning to dig into your own meal without hesitation.

“What do you wanna… watch?” you paused, eyes widening as you looked up at Simon, who was, surprisingly, not wearing his mask. You blinked a few times, wondering if you were hallucinating, before you looked down at your own plate. “Y’know what? I’ll just pick something.”

“You bothered?” he asked, making you shake your head. 

“Nope! No, just surprised,” you shrugged as you began searching for a good, heartwarming Christmas movie to start with. Maybe The Polar Express. “I didn’t see any acne, I’m surprised. Guess you’re one of those lucky fuckers then, huh? I hate you,” you rambled, making him chuckle under his breath. You smiled and relaxed into his side, looking up at him to really take in his profile. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, maybe more scars, more facial hair, definitely more acne… he had a nice nose, and long eyelashes. 

At the end of the day, Simon Riley was just a man. A very handsome man, but a man nonetheless. 

“This looks like shit,” he said, referring to the movie. 

“Hey, this came out in, like, the early 2000s, go easy,” you laughed, tucking your feet up under yourself. “You seen this one before?”

“No,” he answered before taking a big bite of his sandwich. 

“It’s a classic, just wait until we get to the hot chocolate scene,” you grinned, bouncing your leg in anticipation. You already knew you were going to get up and dance to the song, probably even climb up on the coffee table to do it, just to be obnoxious. As the movie went on, you got more and more excited, memories washing over you, and while you did dance to the hot chocolate song, you refrained from climbing onto your table to do so. You wanted to, maybe if you had a sturdier table you would. You needed to put that on your bucket list. 

“I swear, that song plays in my head every time I get or make hot chocolate,” you admitted with a laugh, flopping back onto the couch. He merely hummed in response, but once he was finished eating, he threw his arm over the back of the couch. You didn’t think anything about it, but you did lean into him more, grabbing your blanket and wrapping it around you both before getting comfortable. His arm then settled along your shoulders, and you grinned like a maniac as you realized he was reciprocating the cuddling. Maybe you were overreacting or reading too much into it, but you had always longed for a moment like this, cuddled up in a warm, dimly lit room watching a feel good movie with someone you liked. He’d held you before, hugged you and showed you affection, but those always felt like quick, fleeting moments stolen between missions. This felt relaxed, intimate and fulfilling, and you couldn’t get enough of it. 

You kept glancing at Simon as you got closer to the climax of the movie, of the special moment when the main character finally believes, an eager smile stretching across your face. You may have imagined it, but you swore you saw his chest hitch ever so slightly as he darted his tongue out to wet his lips, the light from the TV shining in his eyes. 

“So? It’s great, right?” you asked once the credits began to roll, giving him a knowing look. 

“Not bad, graphics’re still shite,” he shrugged, grabbing your plates and bringing them to the kitchen.

“I’m gonna queue up another one, hopefully the graphics in this one are up to your standards,” you teased as you scrolled through the other Christmas options. When he came back to join you, he sat right back down and threw his arm back around your shoulders, making you grin as you snuggled into him, enjoying the smell of his deodorant and natural odor. You spent the next however many hours watching movie after movie, with you often interjecting your own opinions or memories you had. 

“See, while this is a fucking classic, Rudolph’s story is just hella messed up, because they’re basically telling us that not being normal is bad, unless your abnormality is useful, it’s absolutely fucked up,” you ranted as you watched Rudolph run away from home, brows furrowed as you crossed your arms. “I mean like, even Hermey! He wants to be a dentist; perfectly normal aspiration! But nooooo, he’s the weird elf, he’s not good enough, he’s a misfit; all that bullshit, it’s fucked!”

“Relax, ‘s just a movie,” he said gently. 

“No! Millions of kids have watched this movie, and that’s the lesson!? It’s totally absurd!” you insisted, shaking your head. You felt his chest shake slightly as he laughed, before he let out a soft call of your name, making you turn your head, at which point you took the time to really look at his face head-on. He had a strong jaw and nose, his brows low from constantly being furrowed, leaving tension lines permanently etched in his skin. You didn’t mind. His eyelashes were long and blond, almost white as they curl away from his eyes. He had plenty of scars on his face, along one cheek, one cutting through his lips, one near his hairline, probably a dozen other tiny ones you couldn’t see. You wondered what his scars would feel like against your lips. 

You were pulled from your thoughts when Simon carefully slid his hand up to your face, bare fingers brushing against your jaw before he fully cupped your face. The tips of his fingers brushed into your hair, his thumb pressed against your chin, under your lips. He tilted your head up to look at him, his touch surprisingly gentle as he guided you closer. Your heart pounded in eager anticipation, before a startling thought crossed your mind.

“Wait,” you said, putting your hand up to his lips, making him stop in his tracks. “When was the last time you brushed your teeth?”

“S’cuse me?” he asked, brows furrowing. “This mornin’?” he answered after a pause, confused. 

“Go brush your teeth before you kiss me,” you stated, patting him on the shoulder with the flat of your hand. 

“Wh— are you serious?” 

“Hey, I saw what you ate today, go brush,” you commanded. 

“I’m finally ‘bout t’kiss you, and ‘at’s what you do?” he asked, shaking his head slightly, the amused and subtle quirk of his lips visible to you for once. 

“Hey, don’t complain to me! Who else is gonna wanna kiss you, huh?” you asked. 

“Accordin’ to you, loads o’ people,” he sassed back, startling a laugh out of you. 

“Okay, fair enough, you’re right,” you laughed, and to your delight, Simon was smiling at you. It was small and slight, barely more than a smirk, but you cherished it regardless. “You have a nice smile, Simon.”

“Thanks,” he replied simply, his smile turning into a smirk. It was dark in the room, but you swore his skin turned just a little bit red. “Are you gon’ta kiss me now?”

“Ugh, yeah, I guess,” you drawled, playfully exasperated. You let out a startled squeak as Simon grabbed you by the back of the neck and pulled you into a kiss, smiling into it like the idiot you were. It wasn’t much, just a brief press of your lips together, but it was fucking magnificent. He pulled away from you after just a few seconds, and turned his head, biting the inside of his cheek.

You wanted to tease him a bit for pulling away so quickly, but you didn’t want to make him think you were disappointed or upset with him, so you just pressed your finger to his jawline, making him look back down at you.

“So, do I have permission to hang some mistletoe?” you asked, giving him a cheeky grin that made him roll his eyes, but you could see the slight fond smile pulling at his lips. You really loved seeing him without his mask, and you felt incredibly happy that he’d decided to take it off. “Soooo, is that a yes? Or a no?” you prodded, making him push your face away with his hand. You angled your face so you were in an optimal position to bite him, sinking your teeth into the web of skin between his index finger and his thumb as he tried to jerk away from you.

“You weird fuckin’ bird,” he scoffed at you, digging a nail into your skin to make you let go, which you did with a laugh. Your relationship with Simon, whatever it was, was definitely unusual, but you were okay with that. You took his hand in your own and began to trace the scars you saw from his exposed skin. You pressed a few kisses to the scars that littered his hand, knowing that each scar had a story to tell, stories that weren’t pretty, but stories that brought him to where he was today. You realized his breathing was just a tad shaky, though it would almost be unnoticeable to anyone who didn’t know him. You looked up at him and smiled, smoothing your fingers across the back of his hand as you gave it a squeeze.

“Still up for more movies?”

.

Your heart was beating out of your chest as you raced up the stairs of your apartment building, hand hovering your gun as you drew closer and closer, Simon’s text haunting your mind.

“Something’s inside,” was all he’d said.

Your mind immediately went into military mode once you read that, automatically thinking the worst. You imagined all the things that could have happened, what he could mean, who could have possibly wanted to track you down and break into your apartment. Was it just a random burglary? Was it a terrorist attack? An old enemy from Simon’s past? One from your past? You had no idea, and couldn’t prepare adequately, the rest of the team were out of reach, but you weren’t about to leave your partner on his own. 

You heard a commotion coming from inside as you finally reached your door, and you could vaguely hear Simon’s voice. 

“You bastard! Give ‘at back!” he shouted, which was followed by a dull crash. You didn’t know what was going on, but you had a feeling you needed to intervene before things got worse. You made sure your gun was loaded before you quietly unlocked the door and slipped inside, being met with a white blur running across your apartment, followed by a much bigger black blur. “Come back ‘ere!”

“Simon?” you called out, not sure what was going on, before you heard another crash, out of your line of sight. “Simon!?”

“This fuckin’ cunt broke in an’as been raisin’ ‘ell!” he barked, his accent more prominent than usual. 

“What?” you asked before you saw Simon tackle a dog to the ground, doing his best to wrestle something away from him. You realized, to your horror, that the dog had his mint kitty plushie in their mouth, and Simon was desperately trying to get it back without tearing it to shreds. You holstered your gun, rushed forward and grabbed the dog’s face, then pried their jaws open so that he could free his stuffie more easily. Once the immediate problem was solved, you took a moment to properly assess what the fuck you had walked in on, when the dog pulled away, allowing you to get a better look at them. 

“Oh, hi there baby!” you exclaimed, reaching out to scratch the dog’s cheek, causing her to eagerly lean into your hand. 

“Oi, it could bite,” Simon warned, making you blow a raspberry at him. 

“No way, she’s a total sweetheart!” you insisted as you pulled her closer. “This is Tsuki!” you laughed as the husky licked your face. “I see her dads walking her almost every day!”

“Don’t do ‘at,” Simon scoffed, making you look up.

“Do what?” you asked, confused.

“Call them it’s dads. It’s not a damn kid, it’s a dog,” he clarified, making you gasp as you covered Tsuki’s fluffy ears.

“Don’t talk about her that way! She’s their fur-baby!” you insisted, making him roll his eyes. “I cannot believe you, Simon Riley, you apologize to her right now!”

“No chance in hell,” he said before marching off towards your room. “Now get it out of here!”

“Fine, I will,” you agreed as you got a hold of her collar and dialed the phone number on her tag. “How’d she even get in? Is the window broken or something?” you asked, looking around the apartment.

“It scaled the fuckin’ tree and opened the slidin’ door,” Simon revealed, which did not fucking compute in your brain. You were on the fifth floor, how in the world did that happen? You knew huskies were escape artists, but still! 

“Well, whatever, I’m sure her dads are worried about her,” you shrugged, calling the number and explaining that you, somehow, had their dog. Within ten minutes, the two men were at your door, simultaneously relieved, apologetic and exasperated with the entire situation. You spent a few more minutes chatting with them, talking about how they haven’t spoken in a while, when you got back from being away, how troublesome huskies could be, marveling about how she ended up in your apartment, and so on. You never ran out of things to talk about, and the men were always amicable people, so you probably could have continued talking for a good while longer, but you were interrupted.

“Hurry up already, you’re lettin’ the cold air in!” Simon called from behind you, his accent thick with agitation, making you turn to shout back.

“Your mom!” you belted, making the two men laugh in response, before you turned back to them. “Well, I won’t keep you two any longer.”

“Thank you so much, again,” the taller man said with a grateful smile. He mildly reminded you of Gaz, with how his nose quirked when he smiled, and you suddenly wanted to see the man you thought of as a brother. 

“You’re welcome, I’ll see you guys around!” you bid before shutting the door, shivering as you realized how cold you were. You went back inside and sought Simon out, intent on stealing some of his warmth, and found him in your room. 

“I didn’t know you hated dogs so much,” you commented as you walked into your bedroom, where Simon was still sitting. 

“Don’t hate’em, just don’t like when they’re little bastards,” he huffed, carefully cleaning the stuffie’s face with a cloth.  

“Are you mad because she went after your kitty?” you casually asked as you sat down, doing your best to keep the amusement out of your tone.

“Dogs chew shit up, didn’t want it ruined,” he shrugged, running his thumb across one of the cat’s paws. 

“Kitty seems fine,” you asserted, looking the plushie over. “If you want, we can put her through the wash.”

“Don’t call it a ‘her’, it’s just a doll,” he grumbled softly. 

“But she’s important, and important things should have names, don’t you agree?” you asked, giving him a gentle smile. “Plus, lots of languages use gendered language for inanimate objects, it’s no big deal. Also, if you don’t pick a name, I will, fair warning.”

“What, like how you picked my favorite colour?” he wondered dryly, making you snort out a laugh. “Fine… MK.”

“MK?” you repeated, surprised by the quick suggestion.

“Mint Kitty,” he said, looking as if the act of saying the words left a bad taste in his mouth. “MK for short.”

“Perfect,” you nodded in agreement with the name. “No tears anywhere?”

“Negative,” he confirmed, making you smile. 

“Well, that’s good,” you sighed, flopping back onto your bed and letting out a loud sigh. “God, that text made my fucking heart drop, dude! I thought a person had broken in and that you were in trouble,” you laughed, playfully hitting him on the arm with the back of your hand. 

“Sorry, didn’t ‘ave time to clarify, was a little preoccupied,” he shrugged, still fiddling with MK. 

“I’m just glad you’re okay,” you answered, stretching your arms over your head. “God, my mind went to the worst case scenario, I was preparing myself to find you dead!”

“I’m not that easy t’ get rid of,” he brushed off, making you smile. 

“Still, I worry,” you admitted easily, rubbing a hand up and down his arm, sighing loudly out your nose. “I don’t want to think about what I’d do if I lost ya, so don’t scare me like that anymore, got it?” You could tell he was gearing up to make some sort of pessimistic retort, about how he couldn’t make promises like that, that they both could die at any moment, but he stopped himself. 

“Sorry,” he apologized, making you smile. 

“I forgive you,” you sighed, stretching your legs out. “Ugh, I need a nap now. Join me?”

“You what?” he asked, making you let out a surprised chuckle.

“Take a nap with me,” you repeated. “I mean, unless you’re too busy, it’s fine. I know you probably won’t fall asleep, so if you say no, it’s alright,” you assured him. He looked at you for a moment, seeming to assess his options, before nodding and getting up. 

“Lemme make’a cuppa,” he said as he left.

“Cuppa? Cuppa what?” you asked, making him throw MK at you. “Hey! Don’t abuse her!” He didn’t respond to you, and didn’t say anything at all, the only sound you heard was him opening drawers and the sound of the pot whistling. He came back not too long after, steaming cup in hand, as well as a book in the other. 

“Made sure everythin’ was locked,” he grumbled as he set his things down on the bedside table. You nodded, because even though you didn’t think anything would happen, it never hurt to be prepared. With his permission, you guided him to lie down how you wanted, lying him on his back, before you snuggled into his side, his arm wrapped around you. You had your feet tucked under the covers, a blanket drawn up to your ears, and you had a gentle hold on the arm that was wrapped around you. 

“Mm, you’re perfect for cuddling, y’know that?” you sighed, absently drumming your fingers against his arm. You looked up, brushed a finger against his jaw, then settled back against him, falling asleep easily.

.

“You ever been ice skating?” you asked as Simon was making breakfast. You had found the old apron one of your neighbors had gotten you as a housewarming gift that you’d never actually used before. It was almost comically tiny on him, given how wide he was, but he insisted on wearing it. 

“Never ‘ad the chance,” he responded. 

“We should go! One of the kids was telling me about this nearby pond that always freezes over,” you explained, watching how he reacted. “I know you’re probably not jazzed by the idea of skating on a lake, but it’s super shallow and it’s been used for, like, 50 years, and no one’s died. So, wanna go?”

-

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” he complained as you laced up your boots. 

“Oh come on, you love me, of course you were gonna agree,” you laughed as you got to your feet. “You all set? I wanna get out on the ice!” you said, unable to keep still. You pulled him up from his seat and led him to the lake, passing civilians as you stepped onto the ice.

“People are starin’,” he complained, making you roll your eyes.

“Maybe it’s because you’re the only one wearing black from head to toe, a hoodie and jacket, plus the skull balaclava,” you drawled. “And since when do you care about people staring at you? I figured you’re used to it,” you mused. 

“I know what I’m doin’ most o’ the time,” he said, making you tilt your head in confusion. “I feel like a massive idiot.”

“Don’t worry, plenty of people are new to it,” you said, gesturing to a nearby couple who seemed to be struggling. “Don’t focus on anyone else, just focus on me, okay big guy?” He sighed as he looked at you, trying to keep his eyes on you before they darted down to his feet.

“This’s dead ‘ard,” he mumbled, his accent thick as he spoke. “When I fall and break my neck, I’m comin’ back to ‘aunt you,” he threatened, looking decidedly unthreatening when he was wobbling like Bambi. 

“I’ll throw myself under you to break your fall,” you volleyed back. 

“Yeah, ‘cause that’s reassurin’,” he grumbled as you laughed. 

“Hey, I’ve got your back, L.T.,” you reminded him as you slightly picked up the speed. “Keep your balance, Simon, or you really will fall,” you warned as he jerked slightly. For someone that was normally so composed, he was like a newborn giraffe on the ice. 

“I’m gonna fall and crack the fuckin’ ice,” Simon said, holding onto you so tightly that you were mildly worried he’d break one of your bones, or at least leave a sizeable bruise. That wasn’t enough of a deterrent to make you want to stop holding his hand. 

“No you won’t, I got ya, big guy,” you teased, making him glare daggers at you. “C’mon, don’t you trust me?” He snorted at you, and you almost took it personally, but then his eyes went wide as he wobbled, and you couldn’t hold it against him. Slowly but steadily, Simon seemed to gain more confidence, earning back some of the grace he normally carried while walking on land. However, if you even hinted at letting go, he’d tighten his hold on your hand into a vice-like grip.

“You’re doing a great job! I’m impressed,” you praised, lightly swinging your linked arms together as you skated around the marked off area. 

“S’not that hard,” he grumbled as you both skated slowly but steadily. “Don’t try’n get me to do any o’ those fancy tricks.”

“I wasn’t going to,” you assured him. “But I gotta admit, it’s funny to imagine you in one of those fancy, sparkly outfits that ice skaters wear in, like, the Olympics and shit.”

“I got the legs for it,” he commented, making you laugh as you nodded. 

“Oh, definitely,” you winked at him as you squeezed his hand. “Hey, where do polar bears keep their money? In snow banks,” you grinned, making him chuckle softly. 

“Hmm. What’s red and bad for your teeth?” he asked, making you shrug, not knowing the answer. “A brick.”

“Oh, come on,” you groaned, letting out a dry chuckle at the stupid not-joke. “What do you call a group of kids who enlists in the military? The infant-ry,” you laughed, grinning in self-satisfaction. “I tried to look up some army jokes, like: what do you call a military officer who goes to the bathroom a lot? A loo-tenant,” you grinned, watching as the corners of his eyes squinted in amusement. “Thought you’d like that one, ya Brit.”

“What do you call someone who’s been run over by a tank?” Simon asked. 

“What?”

“Crunchy,” he delivered in a deadpan voice, though you could tell he was tickled by the joke. 

“That was just fucking, awful,” you admitted, though you were smiling at him. “That’s like, what’s brown and sticky: a stick. That kind of shit.”

“I like those jokes,” he defended, making you fondly scoff and roll your eyes at him. You looked behind you as you heard people approaching, slightly surprised that anyone was approaching you, and moved away from Simon, lifting your arms like an arch as two kids skated between you, laughing and giggling as they went. A few more kids followed suit, even circling back around again to skate between you two, before being called away by their parents. 

“Man,” you said, watching as the children wove through the crowds, “I really don’t want kids of my own, but sometimes they’re just… really neat, y’know?” He hummed in response to your words, his thumb rubbing along the back of your hand as you casually and nonchalantly skated around the ice.

“You wanna protect ‘em,” he said quietly, making you smile. 

“That sums it up pretty succinctly,” you replied, a cold drop landing on your nose, making you look up. “Ah, it’s starting to snow,” you noted, leading Simon towards the edge. “Guess it’s time to call it a night, then,” you said as you stepped off of the ice.

Simon tripped spectacularly as you both got off the ice, and it was only his years of military training and lightning fast reflexes that kept him from face-planting on the ground. Still, watching him jerk around madly, throwing his arms out while trying to keep his balance, made you burst out laughing. You wrapped your arms around your stomach as you laughed, causing you to lose your balance and fall backwards, though you don’t stop laughing. Simon ripped your skates off and marched away from you, leaving you there on the ground as he retrieved your shoes, wobbling and cursing up a storm all the way.

“God, I love you, big guy,” you laughed once he returned, wiping a tear from your eye as you grinned up at him. He blinked down at you as you held out your arm to him, waiting for him to help you up. Eventually he helped you to your feet, and handed you your boots, which you pulled on quickly, brushing off any remaining snow that clung to you. “Guess we should head home, eh?” you said, playfully jostling him with your elbow as you began heading back to your apartment building. You were both silent, which you didn’t mind, because you were half focused on looking at the lights that decorated the lamp posts, businesses, and houses. 

“You said you loved me,” he said suddenly, making you look at him. He cut an intimidating figure, being backlit by the twinkling lights, the snow coming down in big, fat clumps. 

“Hmm? Uh, yeah,” you nodded, confused about why he was bringing it up. “It’s ‘cause it’s true,” you laughed. His eyes widened behind his mask, and you feel like you’ve said something that didn’t quite connect. 

“Dude, not all love has to be romantic,” you laughed, hoping to ease his nerves a bit. “I mean, I wouldn’t say I just have strictly platonic feelings for you,” you admitted easily, “but I said I love you more out of a familial sense than romantic. I think I definitely can love you romantically, but we’ll cross that bridge when we get to if, no rush,” you shrugged. “Does it make you uncomfortable?”

“… I don’t know,” he added, to which you nodded. 

“Is it that you feel uncomfortable or you just don’t know how to process emotions?” you asked, teetering on the edge between teasing and serious.

“I’m not drunk enough to ‘ave this conversation,” he deflected, making you nod.

“So the second one,” you confirmed to yourself, making him elbow you in the side. “We’ll table it for now,” you relented with an easy smile, deciding to just enjoy the silence and tranquility of the snowy night. It really was so pretty, you loved it when the snowflakes were big and chunky like this, and the Christmas lights only added to the beauty. The already fallen snow crunched satisfyingly under your feet as you walked, watching the cars and the occasional civilians pass by around you, though you were mostly alone.

“You really think you can love me?” he suddenly asked harshly, making you roll your eyes at how dramatic he was being. 

“Yeah dude, you’re not unlovable,” you insisted, reaching down for his hand, worming your fingers into his closed fist. He could have fought you on it, but his hand opened up to you, allowing you to worm your way inside. “I know you think that, but it’s not true. Don’t worry, I’ll prove it to you, eventually. It’ll be a Christmas miracle!” you burst out, laughing at your own statement.

“You’re a stubborn one,” Simon simply said, shaking his head at you. 

“I know,” you grinned up at him. “But, you like it,” you asserted as you continued down the sidewalk, giving his hand a little squeeze. You continued to walk back to your building, enjoying how his hand felt around your own. The snow was already starting to cling to the trees, decorating them in a new white blanket, and you adjusted your hat on your head, blinking away the tears that spring to your eyes from the wind. Amidst your teary vision and the vast amounts of white, you spotted something that made you gasp.

“Oooh, Simon, look! Wow, I didn’t know there was a park here!” you exclaimed, racing towards the playground and skidding to a halt in front of the swing set. “C’mon! You get on, I’ll push,” you said, jingling the chains of the swing in anticipation, knocking off the small amount of snow that had collected on its seat.

“I’d break ‘at thing,” he said with a shake of his head.

“Please, just give it a go! Remember what I said about healing your inner child?” you reminded him, giving him a reassuring smile. He still hesitated, so you said, “if you’re not gonna sit, I will, then you can push me.” You hopped onto the seat, looking at him and kicking your feet expectantly, before he let out a sigh and walked over to you, his boots crunching the snow beneath him. You looked upwards at him, a big, dumb smile on your face as you waited for him to push you, but he seemed to hesitate. 

“Below the shoulders, but not too hard,” you instructed, turning to face forward, “don’t wanna push me out of the seat,” you laughed. “And be careful to move when I swing back, don’t wanna knock you over.” He grunted in acknowledgment, and with a bit more hesitation, he pushed your back, sending you swinging forward. You used your legs to throw your weight around, just like how you’d done as a child, trying to gain more height. “C’mon! Keep going,” you encouraged, grinning as he pushed you again. You let out a child-like squeal of joy as you swung, feeling an emotion you haven’t felt since you were a little kid. You threw your head back as you swung forward, your hat coming loose as you stared at Simon upside down. The action made you a bit lightheaded, so you sat up and decided to end your ride.

“Okay okay, your turn,” you announced almost breathlessly, dragging your feet across the ground as you swung down, slowly stopping until you were still.

“I’ve never been on a swing set before,” he admitted, which didn’t surprise you.

“That’s okay, you just gotta sit,” you told him, gesturing to the seat. He looked at you for a moment before cautiously sitting down, seemingly a little surprised about the give of the flexible plastic seats, and grabbed onto the chains for stability. 

“I’m gonna push you now. Ready?” you asked, watching how he tightened his fists on the chains, before he nodded. “Right, hold on!” you laughed as you pushed him and sent him forward, your hands hovering over his back as he swung back towards you, pushing him when he reached the peak of his back-swing. He quickly began to go higher, and you had to jump back to make sure he didn’t knock you over. 

“That the best you can do?” he asked, making you smirk. You did your best to push him harder, but it was a little difficult with the snow, it made it hard to properly keep your footing. Still, you wanted to give him a good experience, make sure he didn’t regret trusting you with this. He wasn’t laughing loudly, like you had, and you couldn’t see his face, but he seemed to be enjoying it, as he was copying your motion to throw his weight and make the swing go higher. Once the swing structure began to groan and shift, you eased up on the pushing, not wanting to accidentally tear the structure down. Slowly he stopped, dragging his feet against the ground just as you had, until he was no longer moving.

“How was that, eh?” you asked, breathing a little heavy as you looked at him, trying to gauge his reaction. 

“Not bad,” he admitted, his eyes crinkled in the corners, and you could tell he was smiling. You smiled back at him and looked around the playground, smile widening when you spotted the slides.

“Let’s go down the slide next!” you said as you raced across the playground, jumping up the stairs to where the tallest slide began. Due to your size (and given the structure was made for children) you reached the top easily, and looked over the railings to wave at your companion.

“C’mon, Simon!” you called from the top before sliding down. You laughed as you landed on the snowy ground, looking up at the massive man looking up at you. “Don’t worry, there aren’t any spiders. Hate when that happens,” you grumbled, getting to your feet. 

“I think I’d get stuck,” he mused, looking up to the top of the slide. You shrugged and turned to climb up the slide, slipping a few times because of your snow covered boots, until you managed to escape out the top with a victorious laugh. You slid back down again, your hair clicking from the static electricity made from the plastic tubing. 

“Oh, monkey bars! I remember them being so much bigger as a kid,” you laughed as you led him to them, brushing the snow off the tops of the bars. The monkey bars weren’t high enough off the ground for you two to use normally, but you picked up your feet and kept them off the ground, your legs bent at the knees. You pushed for him to join you, even jumping onto his back as you egged him on. Unfortunately, you realized that, even with his knees bent, he was still too tall for the money bars, and his knees easily reached the ground.

“Think it’s time t’call it a night,” he said as you dropped off of him.

“God, that was fun,” you laughed, pressing yourself closer to Simon’s side as you walked. You were pretty cold, your fingertips wet and your skin chilled to the touch, so you tried to take some of his warmth. You were feeling pretty giggly, happy emotions swirling inside of you as you let out a content sigh. It had been a long time since you’d had this much fun, and you were reluctant to let the night end. It was still pretty early, even though the sky was dark and gray, so you still felt like you could get more out of him. For now, you were content to quietly walk back to your apartment, the place that, finally, was starting to feel like home. As you climbed up the stairs, doing your best not to slip on the wet stairs, an idea popped into your head.

“Hey! Let’s set up a pillow fort!” you exclaimed, your expression immediately lighting up at the thought as you frantically opened your apartment door. “Oh my god, we totally should! I’ll grab the blankets and pillows and you set everything up while I start on making some hot chocolate,” you said as you nearly tripped over your shoes on your way to the bedroom. You ripped off the blankets from your bed, and dug through your drawers for your spares. You ran to dump them in the living room, where Simon had wandered into, before going back to collect some pillows, as well as MK, and did your best to not drop anything. “Here,” you said as you dropped all the pillows, leaving Simon to put it all together. You went to the kitchen to make the hot chocolate, but stayed longer to tidy up the small mess in the kitchen. You put the dishes in the dishwasher away, cleaned some pans, and only when you were done did you realize you hadn’t turned the stove on. You groaned to yourself in annoyance and turned it on, annoyed yet amused with yourself. Hell, your day has been too good to let something like this get your mood down.

“You all done in here?” you asked as you walked into the living room. Simon was kneeling on the floor, a pillow in hand, looking a slight bit lost, a sheepish tint in his gaze as he glanced back at you. 

“I’ve never done this before,” he muttered defensively. That was such an incredibly sad revelation, but one you weren’t going to judge him on. You were damn well aware of how shit his childhood was, and you didn’t even have a lot of the details. 

“That’s okay, there’s no hard and fast rule to pillow forts, the only goal is to maximize comfort,” you enlightened him as you held out the mug you designated as his. “Thankfully, I’ve got lots of pillows and blankets to use in the fort, so we’ve got lots of leeway. But pay attention, the biggest blankets are for the tent flaps, fluffy and soft blankets are for sitting on,” you explained, mentally mapping out how you wanted everything. “I’ll be right back,” you said as you ran to where you kept your cleaning supplies, grabbed your broom, and returned.

“The hell’s ‘at for?” Simon asked, seemingly sorting the blankets into two piles. 

“It’s to pitch the tent,” you said, wedging the bristles between the cushions and the back of the couch. You grabbed a few blankets and hooked them on the handle, adjusting things here and there so that the flaps of the tent, then grabbed a chair from the table to widen the drapes. Simon watched you from the ground, not moving to help or get out of the way, but that was fine. You went back and forth a few times before you deemed the fort fit to lay in, then went about laying out blankets and pillows inside, feeling giddy as you adjusted everything to your liking. 

“There,” you nodded with a grunt, climbing out of the fort and heading back to the kitchen to tend to the hot chocolate. You served two cups, pilling them high with marshmallows, and went to rejoin Simon in the living room. He’d wormed his way into the fort, hunched over with his knees close to his chest, his arms loosely wrapped around his legs as he looked out at you from inside. He looked really cute, but also a little uncomfortable. “Here,” you said, smiling as you set down the two cups. “Want me t’grab some snacks before I join you?”

“Nah, s’fine,” he shrugged, reaching for his cup, but you gently smacked his hand away.

“We gotta get comfortable first before we bring anything in,” you laughed, reaching for the remote before sliding inside, legs first, before turning onto your stomach. You looked up at him with a grin, reaching for your cup and taking a tentative sip. He looked at you, and began to carefully move around inside until he was also on his stomach, still a little cramped but much less awkward. “Better?” you asked, bumping your shoulder with his as you grabbed the remote, turning on the tv and flipping through your streaming services for a movie to watch. 

“Why the fuck are there so many o’ them?” he asked, watching you scroll. 

“Capitalism, I dunno,” you shrugged, before clicking on the Charlie Brown Christmas special. You let the movie start, then leaned over to snap a picture of the two of you cuddled up together and sent it to the group chat. 

You: blanket fort!!! Don’t we look cute?? UwU binge watching Christmas movies

Brother John: hevn a coorie then??

Goo: gross

You: i will fucking cut your dick off

You: dont make fun of my lair

Brother John: fit ye on aboot?? No’e lair 😂😂

You: its a lair

You: an evil lair

You: i am evil

Father John: says the one with the most omega energy out of all of us. 

Goo: AHSHSHHD

Father John: did I use that right?

You: DAD NO ASRFTGHSF

Brother John: at omega verse thing reit??

Goo: YEAH CUZ U FUCKING NEST AHDJSHHSJD

Goo sent a photo 

You: DONT SEND PICS OF MY BED YOU FUCKING TRAITOR

Goo: GHOST IS THE ONE THAT SENDS THEM TO ME LOLOLOL

You: WHY THE HELL ARE YOU SENDING PICS OF MY BED YOU CREEP?!?!

Boo 👻: omega energy

Boo 👻: also I’m literally right next to you

You: I’m going to take away your tea

Boo 👻: no

You turned to Simon and glared at him, while he steadfastly ignored you.

“Don’t just say no while I’m threatening you!” you complained, leaning over to bite him on the shoulder. He merely glanced down at you, pulled up his phone, and snapped a picture, the flash blinding you briefly as he sent it to the group chat.

Boo 👻 sent a photo

Boo 👻: omega energy

You: I WILL MURDER YOU ADFHGJHKSJ

You: you’re sleeping on the couch 🖕🖕

Brother John: where he bin sleeping afore???

You: your mom

Father John: use protection, kids.

You: DAD NO STOP ASDGJFHKJ

You dropped your phone as you laughed and rolled around under the fort, accidentally knocking a blanket down and getting yourself tangled up in them. You heard the sound of Simon’s muffled laughter as you wormed your way out of the constrictive cocoon, your hair static-y and mushed up. He had, somehow, escaped the fort before you knocked it over, and was looking down at you with mirth in his eyes. Instead of helping you, he took his phone out and took a picture of you, making you scowl at him. 

“Guess I’m gettin’ the bed all t’ myself,” he joked, making you balk at his audacity. 

“How actually dare you,” you complained haughtily, though you couldn’t help your smile. “We’re not even done with our movies! You can’t abandon me now!” He let out a contemplative hum, his eyes still dancing with mischief, before he reached out and began to untangle you. 

“Bloody ‘ell, you’re a handful,” he chuckled as you were finally freed. 

“Are you complaining?” you wondered as you shuffled out of the blankets, doing your best to pat down your no doubt mushed up hair. He reached a hand out and helped flatten your hair, his hand dragging down the side of your face, his thumb gently brushing against your jaw. 

“What do you say I fix the tent, you fix us another snack, and we continue our marathon?” you asked. 

“Don’t think it’s time fer bed?” he wondered. 

“Nah, the thing about blanket and pillow forts, you can sleep in them,” you revealed, getting up to reassemble the fort. 

“I’m too old to be sleepin’ on the ground,” he mumbled as he walked into the kitchen to scrounge up a quick meal. 

“You’re no fun,” you called out as you began to put everything back together, trying to leave more room for the two of you. “Well, my neck was starting to hurt a bit from looking up so much,” you admitted, doing your best to change the set up so the fort was over the couch more. You moved the pillows onto the couch to frame your bodies, then wandered into the kitchen to see what Simon was cooking up. 

“Pasta?” you asked, confused by the seemingly random choice. 

“I’m hungry,” he explained, shrugging sheepishly. 

“Me too, it’s been a while since we last ate,” you laughed, checking your phone for the time and seeing that it was still pretty early, only around 2200 hours, so you were still good to go for a little while longer. Simon seemed to be making some type of sauce, so you decided to make a list of what movies you had watched together, so that there wouldn’t be any repeats. 

“Oh my God, we still haven’t watched The Grinch!” you exclaimed, gasping in horror. “That’s a classic! We have to watch that!” you insisted. 

“Sure,” he answered, stirring something in the pot. 

Once you both had a bowl of pasta and meat sauce in your hands, you settled back in your revised fort and you pulled up the Grinch. The original animation, not the live action one with Jim Carey. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen this movie, and you couldn’t remember even half of the words to the Mister Grinch song, but trying to do the voices was fun either way. Simon seemed to be unable to get over the Trim Up the Tree song, and stared at the subtitles as they played, utterly baffled by the nonsense words he’d never seen before. 

“Dude, have you never read a Dr. Seuss book? He always makes up words,” you explained with a laugh. 

“Doesn’t mean I should know what a bloody fuckin’ whohoo brick is,” he scoffed. 

“It’s whoboohoo bricks, you pleb,” you corrected, making him smack you with a pillow. “Hey! No violence in the pillow fort!”

“Do somethin’ about it,” he taunted, though he ceased his attack, setting the pillow against the arm of the couch, flopping down into it. You grabbed a blanket and curled it around yourself as you laid on top of him, legs caged between his own as your head rested on his chest, over his steadily beating heart. 

“This’s becoming a routine position for us,” you joked, recalling how, in South Africa, you’d sought him out after a nightmare. This was much more comfortable, especially with the end of the special playing on the screen. 

“Might have to spice it up one o’ these days,” he joked back, making you laugh into his chest. “Today was… nice,” he added, making you smile. 

“I really enjoyed it, too,” you agreed. “It was a lot of fun, thank you for spending it with me,” you said. You pressed a finger to his jaw and made a kissy noise as you did, not wanting to push your luck and try to kiss him for real. You hadn’t kissed one another since the other night, even though you really wanted to. 

“I’m thinking of getting a tattoo here,” you said, pointing to the middle of your jaw. “What do you think?”

“I think you need t’sew more hearts into my other masks, first,” he replied, making you let out a startled laugh. 

“Right, sorry about that, I’ll do that tomorrow,” you promised. “So, is that a ‘no’ to the tattoo?”

“… I ‘ave it under good authority that tellin’ a lady what to do with her body is, unwise,” he responded, making you snort in response. 

“Y’know what? Good answer, gold star,” you joked, patting him on the arm. “Still, I think it’d be nice. Not in straight black ink, but maybe something that’ll make it look like a freckle, I think that’d be cute.”

“Mm,” he hummed, hand cupping your face, a finger fondly tracing up and down your jaw. “My mother… she used t’say that freckles are kisses from angels.”

“That sounds about right,” you hummed, enjoying his touch. “I mean, I guess you could be my angel, you’ve saved my life more than once,” you reasoned. “I think it fits. I’d have a bit of you with me anywhere I went.”

“Sounds like a curse,” he huffed, unamused. 

“We have very different definitions of a curse, then,” you shrugged. “I wouldn’t call it a curse, might even be a good luck charm, and we could all use a little luck.”

“If y’say so,” he replied, voice soft and deep in his throat. 

“Don’t ever call yourself a curse again, okay?” you sighed sleepily, adjusting yourself slightly. “Or I’ll be pissed.”

“ ‘m shakin’n my boots,” he joked flatly. 

“Good,” you yawned, letting out another deep sigh. “Goodnight, Simon.”

“…goodnight.”

.

“Thank you for letting me wrap presents in here, Babushka,” you thanked your neighbor as you slipped out of her apartment, arms laden with bags, which contained the presents you’d wrapped. Simon was busy that day, deciding to take a trip down to a nearby gun range and practice. Normally you’d join him, but you really needed to wrap these gifts. 

“It’s fine, little one,” she said in Russian, making you smile. “These for your big man?”

“Yeah, Simon,” you nodded as you adjusted one of the bundles. 

“He seems nice, like a good boy,” she went on. “I see him with the children, they like him well enough.”

“Yeah, he’s surprisingly good with kids,” you agreed, smiling fondly at the thought. “In fact, they really love him, it’s so cute to watch,” you laughed. 

“He make good husband one day,” she said sagely, making you choke down a snort. “Give to you strong children.”

“I guess so, yeah,” you laughed awkwardly, deciding to not explain that you had plans to specifically not have children. She meant well, that’s what mattered. “Have a good day, Babushka, thank you again,” you said as she waved at you, closing the door and leaving you alone in the hallway. You sighed wearily and began walking back to your own apartment; with your years of military training, you managed to open the door and slip inside without dropping anything. You made a beeline for the spare bedroom and set everything down on the ground, opened the closet door and knelt down to place all the gifts inside. You did your best to stack everything nicely, heaviest things on bottom and all that, trying to optimize the space you had. Earlier in the day, you’d gotten some Christmas candy, as well as more of the Pillsbury Doughboy cookie boxes, since he seemed to like them so much the last time. 

“What’re you doing?” Simon asked, making you let out a short scream of surprise as you whirled around to see him, falling onto your ass as you stared up at him.

“Simon! Don’t look!” you panicked, using your body to hide the small mountain of presents you’d been trying to put away. 

“What?” he blinked at you, clearly confused. 

“These are your gifts, don’t even think of opening them,” you warned, shooting him a glare as you wagged your finger at him. 

“You… those’re all for me?” he asked in disbelief. 

“Yeah, and they were a bitch to wrap,” you groaned as you haphazardly pushed everything into the closet and shut the door. “I already sent out the gifts to Soap, Gaz and Price, and hopefully they’ll get to their places in time. Don’t go in the closet, these are for Christmas, okay?” you cautioned before you proceeded to literally push him out of the room. “Actually, don’t even come in here, at all, got it?”

“Got it,” he nodded, his eyes revealing his smile as he looked at you. 

“You gotta pinky promise me,” you insisted, holding out your pinky to him. He rolled his eyes but hooked his finger around your own, you both shaking once before he stepped away. 

“By the way, the kids stopped me earlier,” he said getting the kettle out, “somethin’ about carolin’.”

“Oh yeah! I heard that! Apparently, the families and kids on the street do caroling every year, going from building to building. They’re doing it tonight, and I’ll finally be able to see it! I’m really excited!” you gushed as you followed him into the kitchen. “I’ve never really gotten to experience Christmas here before,” you reminded him as you hopped up on to the counter. 

“Are you gonna make me listen with you?” he asked, looking at you out of the corner of his eye. 

“I’m not going to make you,” you scoffed with a shake of your head. “You are going to willingly listen to them perform, because it’s fun and festive and a communal activity,” you declared, making him let out a long-suffering sigh. “C’mon, it’s all a part of the Christmas experience! You’re gonna love it, promise,” you assured him, “and it’s not like you have to join in.”

“Good,” was all he said, shaking his head. “No one’d survive ‘at.”

“I dunno, I really like your voice, I bet you’d be a great singer,” you argued, making him huff in embarrassment. “Will you sing for me? One day?”

“Don’ push’it.”

-

“Hey, it’s time for the carolers,” you announced later that evening, grabbing one of Simon’s hoodies and wiggling into it as you put on your boots. “They’re out in the courtyard,” you told him as you looked around for a hat to wear. It was pretty cold out, and you weren’t sure how long this was going to take, but you wanted to watch all of it. You went into the bedroom to grab one of your blankets, and saw Simon pulling on a jacket as well as another pair of socks. He had his skull balaclava on, a black hat, and his bone patterned gloves, making him look like a massive shadow. You threw the blanket over your shoulders as you both made your way to the balcony, sliding open the glass door. 

“It’s fuckin’ cold out here,” he complained as you stepped outside, making you roll your eyes. You grabbed his arms and wrapped them around yourself, pulling him so his chest was flush with your back.

“There, isn’t that better?” you asked, tilting your head up to stare at him. 

“Shut up,” he barked, making you laugh as you snuggled into him. This really was a wonderful position to be in, having Simon’s arms wrapped around you, sheltering you from the cold and the wind. You looked down at the families in the plaza, the choir group dotted with a few faces you recognized, and the kids all waved at you eagerly once they spotted you and Simon. A few families were standing against the sides of the buildings, probably having followed the carolers as they worked their way down the street, and you saw other people on their balconies as well. Even Babushka was outside, which made you smile. 

“Look, look! They’re starting!” you exclaimed in an excited whisper as you dug your fingers into Simon’s arm, watching as the conductor raised their arms. The idle chatter that had permeated the area fell into nothingness, and only the hum of the carolers could be heard, tuning their voices as they prepared their first song. They immediately began with Carol of the Bells, then into Come All Ye Faithful, to Silent Night, Away in a Manger, and so on and so on. They were all songs you’d heard before, and you’d heard them preformed better, but you enjoyed the ambiance it created. 

“Not exactly mint are they?” Simon muttered into your ear, causing you to look up at him in confusion. “They’re shite at this,” he clarified, making you elbow him in the side. 

“Hey, don’t say that, you grinch,” you argued back softly. “You keep talking like that, and I’ll tell’em what you said,” you threatened, making him pinch you in the side, forcing you to bite back a squeal, knowing it’d be incredibly loud in the cavernous space. 

As the carolers began a few more upbeat songs, like Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree, you turned around in Simon’s arms, threading your fingers together behind his neck as you looked up at him. He peered down at you in confusion, his hands moving to your hips, not moving as he waited for some explanation from you. 

“C’mon, Simon, are you too good to dance with me?” you teased, reaching down for one of his hands, and holding it up, like you were waltzing. He looked down at you, his brow cocked as his eyes squinted slightly, partially due to the cold and partially because of amusement. With a roll of his eyes, he began to move with you, moving around in a small circle as you bobbed and danced to the music. You could see a few others following your lead, and could hear the happy squeals of some children as they jumped and danced around. It was all so stupid and silly, but god, you couldn’t stop smiling. This went on as the songs turned to Jingle Bell Rock, then Feliz Navidad, Sleigh Ride, then to I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus.

“Maybe they’ll catch me kissing Santa Claus, if you know what I mean,” you grinned, wiggling your brows at him in a playfully suggestive manner. 

“…Santa Claus isn’t real,” he said slowly, like you were dumb.

“No, Simon, I’m referencing the song? I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus?” you went on, brows rising as you tried to get him to understand. 

“ ‘at doesn’t make any sense,” he retorted, making you hang your head forward.

“Do you not get that song?” you asked. “The P-O-V is of the kid, who saw their Mommy kissing Santa, you still with me?” you checked in, earning a glare from him. “Why would Mommy kiss Santa Claus, if she’s, presumably, in a happy, healthy marriage?”

“…she’s cheatin’?” he guessed, and the suggestion was almost enough to make you fall over laughing.

“Wha— no! Simon, the Dad is dressed up as Santa Claus,” you explained, exasperated yet amused. “I was saying, if we dressed you up as Santa Claus, and the kids saw me,” you trailed off, hoping he’d piece it all together. He looked at you for a moment before you saw it all connect for him.

“That’s dumb,” he huffed as you hid your laugh in your hand as he pulled away. 

“It’s okay to say you didn’t get it,” you teased, wrapping your arms around him from the side. The happy, upbeat Christmas songs slowed down to more emotional ones, like Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas, I’ll Be Home For Christmas, The Little Drummer Boy, and Mary Did You Know. You found yourself getting emotional, burying your face against Simon’s chest as you let the music wash over you. He wrapped an arm around you, holding you close to him, making you feel safe and secure. 

“Fuck, I didn’t expect to cry,” you laughed eventually, wiping away the tear that had gathered in your eye. 

“Mm, I won’ tell anyone,” he promised, making you snort. 

“Thanks,” you answered with a roll of your eyes. Eventually, the carolers finished, and the entire pavilion erupted into applause as the performers bowed and waved to everyone, at which point everyone began to disperse. You and Simon silently stepped back into the apartment, peeling off the layers you no longer needed and pulling the blinds closed. 

“Thanks for watching with me,” you said as you took off your shoes. “I know it’s probably not how you wanted to spend your evening, but I had fun, and I’m glad we could do this together.” He just shrugged at you as he made his way to the kitchen, seeming to start on making you both dinner. “And thanks for always making dinner, I really appreciate it, and you’re not as bad as you made yourself seem,” you laughed, making him nod. 

“Jus’ puttin’ a frozen pizza in’a oven,” he mumbled as he preheated the oven.

“Still! It’s nice that you take the initiative,” you went on. “I dunno, I just appreciate you being here, and I want you t’know that,” you laughed lightly. He looked at you with widened eyes, surprise evident on his face. He then huffed and turned away, making you smile as you realized he was embarrassed. Really, he was just so damn cute. 

.

The next morning, you were outside with the kids again, half of them talking about the caroling from the other night, the others trying to get Simon to throw them into the snowbanks. You both had been tasked with shoveling the pathways again, at the request of your landlord. You were getting paid, of course, but both of you were glad for something to do. When the kids had noticed you, they’d all come running out, immediately chattering on about all sorts of random things. Simon seemed pretty distracted, trying to keep tabs on all the kids as he shoveled, bending down slightly so he could hear the little ones better. 

And then an awful idea came to you.

A wonderful, awful idea. 

You leaned down, quickly made a snowball, and aimed.

“Hey, Simon! Heads up!” you called out before lobbing a snowball at him. He had turned when he heard you call his name, and your throw was timed perfectly to hit him straight in the face. The entire yard was quiet; Simon hadn’t moved an inch, not even to wipe the snow off of his face. Everyone’s eyes were on him, and eventually, he lifted his hand up to slowly brush the snow away, making his eyes visible once more. 

“You,” he growled, and your heart skipped a beat in your chest, “are gonna get it.”

He bent down and scooped up some snow, packing it down so fast it was like he had done it instantaneously, and whipped it at you. You managed to duck in time so that it only clipped your shoulder, but that was the beginning. It was you versus Simon, war. 

The kids ran screaming as you and Simon retreated to opposite ends of the yard, ducking behind trees and bushes for cover, with the kids splitting into arbitrary groups to join you. A lot of the kids were on your side, but a few had gone to join Simon, jumping behind him to use him as a shield from any incoming snowballs. You were honestly laughing like a maniac as you began making snowballs before the other kids took over for you, handing you snowballs for you to throw. You tried aiming mostly at Simon, since he was the biggest, but suddenly he was running at you, using the snow shovel to guard his face, tossing it aside as he came upon you. 

“No no no!” you yelped before you were tackled into the snowbank, loose snow falling into your hood and sliding against your skin, making you let out a shriek at the cold temperature. His weight kept you pinned against the snowy ground, and as he straddled your thighs, he grabbed handfuls of snow and smothered you with them, making you let out an impulsive scream in response. “Simon! Get off of me, you big, British, asshole!” you cried out, trying to hit him in any place you could reach, though it wasn’t very effective. 

“It’s pronounced arsehole,” he corrected, his voice smug as he continued to bombard you with snow. You tried squirming out from under him, but the dense snow kept you walled in, and your vision was filled with nothing but Simon and snow. You were flushed and panting as he seemingly relented, hovering above you as you caught your breath, little laughs leaving you as you closed your eyes. You felt something warm press against your lips, making your eyes shoot open, in time to see Simon pulling away, a hand on the bottom of his mask. 

“Wh-what was that for?” you asked, blinking in surprise. 

“Felt like it,” he shrugged, reaching above your head and shoving your fallen hat back on your head and over your eyes, making you shriek, since it was filled with snow. “C’mon, let’s get you inside, you’re all wet.” You wanted to protest, since you were born and raised in the north, a little cold and wet never stopped you, but Simon was already dragging you away. All you could do was wave at the group of kids you left behind, all of whom were waving back before resuming the snowball fight. 

“Take off your clothes, I’m makin’ tea,” he ordered once he set you inside the apartment. 

“Damn Si, at least take me out to dinner first,” you joked, grinning like a little shit at the look he gave you. “Right right, fine,” you nodded, taking off your coat and pants, along with anything else that had gotten soaked, leaving you in only a bra and underwear. You gathered your wet clothes and quickly headed to the bathroom, dumped your clothes there, as well as took off your undergarments, and turned into the bedroom to get warm, dry clothes on. Once you were dressed, you curled up in your bed, waiting for Simon to join you. He joined you in the bedroom not too long after, holding two steaming mugs as he approached the bed. 

“The kids were asking about the mask again,” you said, smiling in appreciation as he handed you your mug. “Thank you, sir.”

“What’d’ja tell’em this time?” he asked as he tucked your blankets around you. 

“That you were born without lips, you were born with the mask on, you’re wanted for tax evasion, you’re afraid of facial recognition software, that sort of thing,” you listed off, your grin making your cheeks hurt as you hid it in your mug. He’d made you hot chocolate, much to your surprise and appreciation. 

“Where the fuck you come up with this shite?” he asked, his voice rumbling with slight laughter. 

“I have a very active imagination,” you supplied with a pleased little smile before sipping on your drink. It was nice and sweet, just the right temperature too. “I’m still mad at you for, for drowning me in the snow.”

“You started it,” he shot back, a warning glint in his eyes. You held his gaze, undaunted, before reason crept up on you.

“… we’ll call it even then,” you decided with a nod, sipping on your drink again as a way to ignore your companion. 

“Hmm, if y’ say so,” he hummed, smugness and superiority radiating off of him. 

.

“Tomorrow’s Christmas,” you eagerly said at breakfast, as if he’d somehow forgotten. 

“I had no idea,” he drawled, making you scrunch your face up at him. 

“Don’t be a dickhead, we got stuff to do! We gotta make cookies to leave out for Santa!” you exclaimed, pulling out the ingredients to make cookies from scratch. 

“Why?”

“Because that’s what you do on Christmas Eve,” you told him, as if it was obvious. “And I don’t want you out here after I set all your presents under the tree.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he finally agreed as he came to join you in the kitchen. “Shouldn’t we wait ‘til later?”

“Nah, I wanna make them now!” you said, rolling up your sleeves before you washed your hands. “I wanna make a few types, like chocolate chip, sugar cookies, gingerbread cookies,” you listed as you scrolled through your phone, your smile widening at the thought. “And we’ll also need to make frosting for the sugar and gingerbread cookies! I even got some fun cookie cutters!” you revealed, digging through your drawers for the bag you’d put them in. 

“Normally people reference cookbooks, not they phones,” he complained, giving you a heavy side-eye as you set the bag on the counter. 

“Don’t be an old man,” you shot back, giving him the middle finger. “You’re not the only one with a shit childhood, I don’t have any family cook books.”

“You can just get’em at a bookstore,” he argued, shaking his head at you. “Are you an idiot?”

“Fuck off you damn British bastard,” you huffed in annoyance. “Anyways, the phone is fine, so stop complaining, asshole.”

“It’s arsehole,” he muttered, making you grab the wooden spoon to threaten him with. 

“I’m gonna banish you from the kitchen!” you declared, watching how his smile showed in his eyes. The situation was pretty ridiculous, and you couldn’t suppress your own smile as you set your weapon down. “Wash your hands, big guy.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he nodded. 

You two spent the rest of the day making cookies and frosting from scratch, then decorated the cookies you made. You made the sugar cookies and gingerbread cookies a bunch of different shapes, like the stereotypical gingerbread-man shape, some Christmas trees, snowflakes, candy canes, and so on. Simon seemed intent on making nice, aesthetically pleasing cookies that never strayed from the typical Christmas theme. You, however, did a bunch of dumb shit, like giving your gingerbread men crazy drag outfits, drawing dicks on your snowflakes, and drew the stripes on your candy canes the wrong way, all of which scandalized your friend. 

“Santa’s gon’ put you on the naughty list,” he tutted at you as you gave him a shit eating grin.

Making the chocolate chip cookies was less chaotic, seeing as you opted to just make them in the traditional little ball shape, and they didn’t need any icing. You declared that these ones would be the ones you left out for Santa, which Simon agreed to with a not-so-subtle roll of his eyes. By the time you were all done, it had gotten dark out, so you both cleaned up the kitchen, made a quick dinner, then went to bed. 

“Wait! I have to put your presents under the tree!” you gasped while you were doing your skin routine, your face mask still on as you ran into the other room. “Don’t look!” you called as you dug through the closet. He didn’t respond as you gathered as many gifts as you could, resigning yourself to the fact that you’d need to make a few trips, then peeked into the bathroom to make sure he was still there. He stared at you, looking like he hadn’t moved, and you stared back as you closed the door to the bathroom, then dashed into the living room. As you approached your little tree, you noticed a few little bundles under there already. They were wrapped in twine and brown paper, very simple and practical, and you knew they were from Simon. You smiled at the sigh as you began to arrange all the gifts, trying your best to get everything to fit as you made the couple trips from the closet to the corner where the tree was. Finally, you tucked a few things into Simon’s stocking, like a few smaller presents and some candy, then set out the cookies for Santa, before standing back and taking in your handiwork with a smile. 

You finished your nighttime routine, praising Simon for finally embracing doing skincare, before you both climbed into bed. 

“Normally you’re out like a light,” he mused as you tossed and turned, his eyes half lidded in the dark. 

“I know, guess I’m just excited,” you admitted, unable to help the smile that spread across your face. 

“For Santa t’come?” he asked sarcastically. 

“I just can’t wait to open gifts tomorrow,” you told him. “I wanna see how you react to what I got you.”

“We can just open ‘em now,” he offered, making you gasp in horror. 

“No way! You can’t open gifts before Christmas, it’s against the rules,” you reprimanded him with an over exaggerated scowl. 

“Sorry, dunno what I was thinkin’,” he joked as he rolled his eyes, your scowl slipping into a smile. 

“I forgive you,” you shrugged, making him smile. He was smiling a lot more lately, and they weren’t big, open mouthed smiles, but they were smiles nonetheless. “We might end up staying awake all night,” you admitted with a whisper. 

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” he commented. 

“Least we can watch the snow fall,” you hummed, looking over at your window. The blinds were mostly drawn, but a sliver of the outside world could be seen through the glass, showing the white flakes fluttering down from the sky. Simon looked over his shoulder at the window, seeming to notice the weather. “Here, roll over,” you coached, helping him turn so you were spooning the large man. “There, that’s better,” you sighed. 

“This feels,” he started, before quickly trailing off into silence. You didn’t try to force him to speak, but you could feel him about to say something else. “…it feels like somethin’ out o’ a movie.”

“Mm, it’s pretty perfect,” you agreed, giving him a gentle squeeze. “Merry Christmas Eve,” you smiled, pressing a kiss to his back. 

“Merry Christmas Eve,” he replied, his low, rumbling voice making you smile.

.

You stared at Simon once you woke up, for once awake before he was, silently willing him to wake up. Honestly, it would just take a slight movement for you to wake him up, but you didn’t have the heart to do it intentionally. It was Christmas, he was allowed to sleep in. He so rarely got to sleep for more than a few hours, his mind and body refusing to let him relax, so you didn’t want to disturb him. However, it seemed like he could feel your stare in his sleep, and he began to stir, waking up and letting his eyes slide over to you. 

“It’s Christmas morning,” you whispered, unable to suppress the massive smile that spread across your face. He blinked at you slowly before the corner of his mouth quirked slightly upward, in a ghost (hah) of a smile. “Ready to get up?” you asked, your voice still hushed. 

“No’ sure, it’s so comfy here,” he joked flatly, making you pout playfully at him. 

“Well, I guess we’ve got all day,” you relented, making him chuckle under his breath. 

“How gracious o’ you,” he teased, closing his eyes as he sank into the pillow. He let out a sigh through his nose, his brows slightly furrowed. “Feel like I coul’ go back t’sleep,” he admitted, his accent coming in thick. 

“So go back to sleep,” you encouraged, reaching a hand up to pet his hair, your touch making him peek his eyes open for just a moment. “Like I said, we’ve got all day, and it’s still early,” you explained. He remained silent, but you could tell he wasn’t back asleep just yet, seeming to just silently enjoy your touch. 

“I can feel you starin’,” he mumbled, making you smile. 

“You’re very handsome, it pisses me off sometimes,” you admitted, causing the man to smirk. 

“Sorry,” he simply replied, which made you let out another small laugh. 

“I’ll forgive you, but only ‘cause it’s Christmas,” you joked, making him finally open his eye to peek up at you. 

“Guess we should ge’ up then,” he grunted, slowly sitting up and stretching his limbs. You energetically hopped out of bed, barely remembering to slip on your slippers to protect your feet from the cold floor, and ran to the kitchen, where you began to make a hot chocolate for yourself and a cup of tea for Simon. As the kettle whistled, the burly man lumbered out, a zip-up hoodie pulled on as he shuffled into the kitchen with you.

“I hope you like it,” you said as you poured the hot water into the cup. “I mean, I never get to make you tea, but I really should do it more often,” you laughed as you prepared the cup for him, aware of how he leaned against the counter beside you. 

“Thanks,” he rumbled, voice rough from sleep. You couldn’t help but drink Simon in like this, so unused to seeing him sleepy in the morning, his eyes tired, hair mushed and enjoying the aroma of his tea. It was so painfully domestic, but you loved it. 

“Wanna make some breakfast? I was thinking biscuits,” you suggested, making him give you a sleepily confused look. “No, not your British biscuits,” you said with a roll of your eyes, “actual, bread dough biscuits,” you corrected. You weren’t making them from scratch, you had neither the knowledge nor the patience, so you just put premade ones in the oven. They were fluffy and golden brown, a perfect simple breakfast for your Christmas morning. Thanks to Simon, you had a series of small jam jars, all from fancy or local places, all different flavors, so you took the opportunity to try them all that morning. 

You checked your phone, and smiled at all the Merry Christmas wishes you got from the guys, along with plenty of photos from Soap and Gaz about what their Christmas morning plans entailed. You grinned at how chaotic Soap’s home looked, with countless little ones and more adults than you could count on both fingers. There was wrapping paper and bows littering the pictures as the adults drank eggnog and other beverages. While the people you guessed were parents looked particularly exhausted, everyone seemed to be happy and content, clearly enjoying themselves. Gaz’s photos were more subdued, mainly made up of him and his aunt, both in the kitchen with a few other family members helping out. It looked chaotic in it’s own right, but still like a happy, warm environment that made you smile. 

“Right, come one, I can’t wait any longer,” you finally said, standing up from the table and beckoning him to follow you into the living room. He got up to put everything away, making you both appreciative and annoyed, before he finally came to join you in front of the tree, where you had grabbed one of the smaller packages. 

“Here, open it,” you smiled, handing him the wrapped gifts. He stared down in surprise before looking at all the gifts under the tree, then looking back at you, like he couldn’t believe this was all real. “Oh! I almost forgot!” you exclaimed, getting up to grab his stocking, turning on some Christmas music on your phone to play in the background. “I got you some stocking stuffers,” you grinned, holding it out for him. 

“I got you some stuff too,” he said, gesturing with his head to your remaining stocking. You tried to hide your surprise as you eagerly got back up, curious about what he possibly could have gotten you. You had seen the little gifts under the tree, but you hadn’t even bothered to check your own stocking. He looked into the stocking and pulled out the few gifts in there, setting the stocking aside as he contemplated what to open first.

“Open your stocking stuffers, first,” you directed, making him nod as he did as you said. You hugged a pillow to your chest as he carefully unwrapped the gifts, like he was savoring the moment, which he probably was. He let out a little huffed laugh through his nose as he saw what was inside, a pair of warm, fuzzy socks. The other small gifts you’d stuffed in there were also fuzzy socks, which he set to the side after he unwrapped them, but the gift at the very bottom was… a little different.

“The hell?” he asked as he opened the final gift, clearly confused. 

“Open them up!” you encouraged, eager for him to see the socks as a whole. He did so, and his brows creased at the image he saw printed on the almost knee-high socks. “They’re chicken leg socks! I got one for each of you,” you revealed, an eager grin on your face. “It was a bitch trying to find ones that would fit you all, with your big man feet and giant calves,” you complained, smile still in place. “Oh, there should still be something left,” you guided him. He reached down into the very bottom and pulled out the vial that was inside.

“This is?” he asked, turning the little glass vial so he could read the label. 

“Just some essential oils,” you brushed off, earning you a funny look. “Look, aromatherapy is a real thing! I didn’t really know what smells you liked, they didn’t have any that smelled like your favorite tea, so I just went with lavender. It’s supposed to help with sleep, y’know? You just put a bit on your pillow, you could even put it on the inside of your mask, probably,” you explained with a grin. 

“Right, now under the tree gifts!” you declared, clapping your hands eagerly. 

“What ‘bout you?” he said, gesturing with his head to the stocking beside you. You had almost completely forgotten about it, but you picked it up and looked through it. There was mostly candy inside, but a few little gifts as well, including a new pair of gloves, a compass, and a new knife, which you couldn’t help but laugh at. 

“Thanks, Simon, these are great,” you thanked, unsheathing the knife and admiring it. To your surprise, you saw something engraved in the blade. Upon closer inspection, you realized it was a little cartoon ghost and a tiny cartoon flower. You understood the ghost part, but the flower? “Why the flower?” you asked, voice soft. He was intently adjusting the socks he’d placed beside himself, not looking at you.

“Just, I ‘ad it as your picture on my phone f’r a while,” he said, his voice a low mumble. “Reminds me of you,” he added, his voice even softer in volume. The comment made your heart swell, and you looked down at the knife with a fond smile, carefully tracing the engravings with your finger.

“It’s beautiful, Simon, thank you,” you beamed at him as you sheathed the knife once more and carefully set it to the side, on top of your stocking before you shuffled closer to the tree and pulled out another gift to give him. “Here, open your next gift,” you pressed, handing him the next one. He took it and, again, carefully opened the paper, hooking his fingers under the overlap of the wrapping paper and carefully peeling the tape off, unfolding the gift from the paper. Once he opened it, he let out a slightly confused noise, and looked up at your smiling face. 

“It’s an eye mask that you can freeze or heat up in the microwave!” you explained excitedly. “You seem to have your brows furrowed a lot, and that can cause headaches. Applying heat or cold can help relax the muscles, plus the cold helps with puffiness! Not to mention, the fabric that goes against your eyes is really soft, and it keeps out all light, which honestly is super hard to find. It’s so multifunctional!” you said, probably a little more excited than you should be. “I honestly might get one for myself, just to keep here. Ah hell, I’d probably bring it with me.”

“It’s got a cat face on it,” he said dryly, making you grin. 

“Yeah! Isn’t it cute?” you asked. He didn’t respond verbally, just set the gift aside with a nod and waited for you to present the next gift, at which point you clapped your hands in excitement. 

“Next! Okay, I got you a few of these, and I think you’re really gonna like them,” you revealed, carefully pushing the presents closer. You wrapped them all in the same wrapping paper, you didn’t really have a lot at your disposal, but gave them different bows for fun. He looked up at you, probably confused by the sheer number of gifts that were all roughly the same shape, though they varied in size. You watched him with wide, excited eyes as he began to unravel each of the cubes. 

“Mugs?” he asked. 

“Yeah! I tried to get some fun ones in a few different sizes, aren’t they awesome?” you gushed, getting excited seeing them once again. You tried to pick ones that Simon would use, doing your best to not let your personal tastes and biases dictate what you bought… though, you definitely got ones he normally would proabably never think to get. 

“Why so many? You’ve got plenty of mugs already,” he said, picking one up and turning it over in his hands. 

“Well, yeah, but those are all my mugs, and I wanted you to have some of your own!” you explained, reaching for one of the mugs that was in the shape of a white pumpkin, the stem acting as the handle. “If you want, you can take them back to your place, or keep them here! They’re yours, you can do whatever you want with them.” Simon was holding one of cups that had a dad joke on it, the corners of his mouth pulled up in a slight smile as he read the text. 

“They’re… great,” he said, glancing up at you, a warm look in his eyes. 

“We’ll have to run ‘em through the wash, they’re all dishwasher and microwave safe, by the way,” you revealed to him with a pleased smile. 

“We’re not puttin’ these in the damn microwave,” he asserted firmly, making you snort. 

“Fair enough, next one then,” you said, reaching back for one of the larger presents to push his way.

“It’s heavy,” he commented, trying to weigh it in his arms. You nodded and took a sip of your hot chocolate, which was now lukewarm in your mug (it still tasted fine) and watched as he unwrapped the present.

“A weighted blanket,” he said, a subtle hint of surprise in his voice. “I used to have one’a these when I first joined the military… didn’t bring it with me cause it was too heavy, then lost it in the fire.”

“I figured I’d get you the 15 pound one, since that’d be easy for you to carry. Obviously, you can get another one if you want something heavier,” you rambled. “There are apparently lots of studies that say a weighted blanket can help with anxiety and PTSD, so I thought it’d be perfect! I mean, I dunno if you’d wanna take it with you, but you can if you want! These are pretty sturdy,” you said, stroking the top of it to feel the fabric. 

“Thank you… it’s, nice,” he said slowly, his words awkward but genuine. 

“I’m glad you like them,” you beamed. “Okay, those were all the serious, useful, adult gifts,” you announced, clapping your hands as you pulled out the last few presents. “Now, the fun ones!”

“The fun ones?” he repeated, voice accusatory and expression cautious. 

“Yes! The fun ones!” you laughed, shoving a gift into his arms. It was bigger than the last gift, but lighter, which seemed to confuse the Brit. “Go on! Open it, the suspense is killing me!” He rolled his eyes as he began to unwrap it, his motions careful and precise, as usual, and you could see the confusion on his face deepening the more he revealed. 

“What?” he asked, looking up at you for explaination. 

“It’s a nerf gun! Pretty much every kid had some of these,” you laughed, gesturing to the accompanying present. “Those two go together, spare bullets, different types. Some have a soft plastic tip and others have a suction tip, so they stick to things. Figure you’d enjoy that,” you grinned. You had gotten two of them, so you could chase each other around the apartment and have a nerf battle, but that would be for another day. 

“What gun is it modeled after?” he asked, his voice slightly annoyed. 

“I dunno, they’re for kids,” you shrugged. “I mean, there are ones that are like handguns, and ones that’re like rifles, stuff like that, but they’re not supposed to look exactly like any guns. There’d probably be copyright issues,” you added, though you were unsure, and it didn’t really matter to you. “Anyways! Next one,” you said, reaching out for the last present you’d gotten him. He took it as carefully as the others, and opened it with just as much efficiency. 

“…what is this?” he wondered, looking up at you for an answer. You weren’t sure if he actually didn’t know what they were, or if he was just so baffled about what he was looking at that he needed you to spell it out for him. 

“It’s a lightsaber!” you revealed with an exasperated laugh. “Guess what colour it is.”

“Red?”

“What?! No, red is for the bad guys,” you admonished him, making him roll his eyes. “I got green, since it’s your favorite colour,” you revealed, feeling quite pleased with yourself. “It was either that or get blue, ‘cuz of your eyes,” you smiled as you turned away, your face warming a little at the thought. “Oh, shoot, I completely forgot about these!” you exclaimed, noticing the thin present that had been hidden under the other ones. “Here, this is the last one,” you laughed, shoving it into his chest. 

“Colouring books?” he said, his nose scrunching up a little. “I’m not five.”

“So? Adults can have colouring books,” you argued. “And you’re not a marine, so I’m not worried about you eating any crayons we get,” you joked, making him snort. “It’s supposed to be relaxing! I mean, for me, I get bored with them, but a lot of the reviews talked about how they helped manage someone’s stress, which I thought would be perfect,” you illustrated your thought process with your hands. 

“Hmm,” he hummed, looking through the few you had gotten for him. 

“You don’t have to like them,” you said, putting a hand on his arm. “Give’ em a try, or don’t, they weren’t too expensive. Worst case scenario, I give it to one of the kids,” you shrugged, trying to assure him that there was no pressure for him to pretend to like it. 

“I appreciate it,” he said, his eyes insistent as he looked at you, and you believed him. 

“I know you do,” you replied with a wink. 

“We still got your presents,” he reminded you, reaching over, past his unwrapped gifts, and gathered them up. He handed one to you, it being just a bit bigger than both your hands, and immediately you tore into it with an eagerness that seemed to catch him off guard. 

“Oh shit,” you exclaimed, looking down at the candle you held in your hands. You opened up the top and smelled it, humming appreciatively at the scent. “Shit, that smells good! It’s kinda familiar,” you mumbled, giving it another sniff to try and discern where you knew it from.

“It’s the same scent as my favorite deodorant,” he revealed, looking a little embarrassed by the admission. “Thought, maybe you’d like it.”

“Mm, you thought right,” you grinned, smelling it again. The scent of most men’s deodorant, body washes, shampoos and so on was really pleasant to you, and while you weren’t much of a candle person, you appreciated it. “Thanks, Simon, I love it,” you smiled at him before setting it aside and eagerly making grabby hands for the next one. The other gifts Simon had gotten you were: a wooden ornament of a fox, a tiny fake plant, a tactical flashlight, and a black scarf with little white hearts sewn into the ends. 

“This is so cute!” you gushed over the scarf, marveling at how soft it was in your hands, your fingers brushing over the little hand-sewn hearts. “Did you make this?” you asked. 

“I bought the scarf, sewed the hearts myself,” he corrected, which made you want to audibly coo in response to how cute that was. 

“I can’t wait to wear it,” you gushed, smiling at your friend. “Thank you for doing this with me, Simon, I really enjoyed today.”

“We still got dinner t’make, don’ we?” he asked, which made you smirk. 

“Yeah, you’re right,” you agreed with a laugh. “I don’t think we can get our hands on a Christmas turkey, so maybe we’ll do the timeless Jewish tradition of ordering Chinese food, sound good?”

“Seriously?” he asked, eyes slightly wide like he had been caught off guard. 

“Why not?” you shrugged. “Unless you had other ideas?”

That night saw you two seated on the couch, a veritable buffet of Chinese food in front of you, and another Christmas movie playing on the TV. The room was dark, save for the tree lights and the TV, bathing you both in a nice, ambiantic glow. It was almost romantic. 

“I kinda wish I had a fireplace, it’d really bring the Christmas-ness together,” you sighed, setting your carton down before tucking yourself into his side. “Guess you’ll have to do then, hmm?” you asked, smiling up at him. He looked down at you, a smile in his eyes as he adjusted his arm for you to get more comfortable. You were comfortable and content, full of yummy food and in good company, and you were fucking happy. 

“Open your eyes,” Simon goaded in a whisper, which made you scrunch your face in irritation and defiance. “C’mon, got’a surprise,” he told you, making you let out a closed mouth groan as you finally opened your eyes, which snapped open when you stared at the ceiling. 

“You got mistletoe?” you asked, sighting up more as you realized what he’d done. 

“I did,” he nodded, his eyes dancing in the light of the Christmas tree. “Is ‘at an issue?”

“I’m just wondering when you got it,” you grinned at him, making him roll his eyes. 

“Does it matter?”

“No, not really,” you laughed, reaching a hand up to cup his jaw as you smiled at him. You leaned up slowly and pressed a kiss to his chin, grinning as he ducked down and caught your lips in a proper kiss. Again, it was closed mouth and gentle, unhurried, just enjoyable. He pulled away for a moment, hesitant, and then pressed another kiss to your lips, just as soft and sweet as the first. When he pulled away again, his eyes were half lidded and warm, his skin ever so slightly flushed around his cheeks and nose. 

“I can taste the egg rolls,” you giggled as you licked your lips, which seemed to make his blush darken, just a bit. 

“ ‘cause that’s what I wan’t you t’ remember,” he complained with a slight scowl. 

“Sorry,” you said, your gaze soft as you looked at him, “so, did you enjoy our first Christmas together?”

“I did,” he nodded, his eyes warm. 

“Did we do everything you wanted?” you asked, popping a piece of candy into your mouth. 

“Mm, mostly,” he shrugged, which surprised you. You’d done everything that came to mind, even things he didn’t seem keen on doing, so you were a bit disappointed with yourself. “I wanna make a gingerbread house… go on a sleigh ride, get a real tree,” he listed, his voice slow and soft as he held your gaze. “But, we can save those for next year.”

“Oh? Oh,” you said, eyes widening in realization as a smile spread across your face. “Oh yeah, of course, can’t have all the fun in just one season, huh? We still gotta visit Santa Claus, go to a reindeer farm, maybe take a winter hike? It’s so beautiful up here, when the mountains are covered in snow.”

“I’d love t’ see it, with you,” he murmured. 

“Guess it’s a promise then, huh?” you asked, softly and hopefully. 

“It’s a promise,” he whispered.