December 11th, two weeks before Christmas Day. The base was bustling with activity, many soldiers packing their bags and getting ready to go home to their families. Everyone in the 141 was as well, all except for Simon.

He always seemed... tense around this time of year, more-so as Christmas got closer. You never asked about it, knowing the man had a less than fortunate past—and you had grown so close you trusted he'd come to you when he was ready. If, he was ready. You were content not being privy to the secrets of his past—understanding how painful it can be to re-open old wounds.

You had decided to join Simon for a walk around the base, snow falling gently, the cold air biting your cheeks pink. The two of you had shared a cigarette, bantering lightly and easily in the peaceful quiet of winter. You were glad he found some laughter and joy in your presence, feeling honoured to be the person Simon could trust enough to let his guard down around.

He took the last drag of the cigarette, flicking it away into the snow covered grass—his gloved hands immediately finding their way back into the pockets of his jacket. It was quite chilly, the both of you wearing just the military issued cargos, and a heavier winter jacket. The casual banter had turned into more teasing—and you eventually shoved Simon by the shoulder.

It was light, but he stumbled slightly , slipping on the icy pavement and falling into the cold—but soft—snow. Simon was stunned for a moment, amusement bubbling up in his chest as he watched you devolve into laughter instead of offering him a hand up, your warm breath visible in the cold air.

"Oh, you're going to regret that." He glared at you playfully, taking advantage of your distracted laughter, and before you could react he was lunging at you—arms wrapped tightly around your waist as he dragged you down into the snow with him. His own low, gruff chuckles vibrating through his chest at the startled noise you made. 'Cute...'