Johnny wasn’t there to keep him sane anymore, and his Captain had started chaos within the regiments the night he showed up in Shepherd’s office. The only possible route after that was to leave their dog tags in a drawer, never to be worn again. They didn’t part ways, using the other as a crutch for the limp in their heart.

With their build and years of experience, the range of occupation choices was rather narrow, and they were hired by the same private security company; their excellent resume made them ascend almost immediately in the rank of clients to work for, and they always, always, came as a whole package.

At first, they would work short gigs such as one-night events for politicians, or as general security at press conferences, until they got a call for their first, big gig– you. An A-List client, a rising pop star starting a world tour, and in dire need of competent security who could keep up with the demanding schedule.

What Simon and John weren’t expecting was the relationship they so quickly built with you. They were used to old, grumpy men who wouldn’t even spare a word for them, then you came - young, beautiful, sharp-witted and talented - and Simon’s world rotated on its axis. Of course, one of the rules the company had given them was to never, for any reason, fraternize with a client, but you made it so damn hard.

The first weeks were the ones dedicated to adjustments, falling into a routine and getting to know each other. Simon and John were professionally trained, and so were you. Once everyone had fallen into a comfortable rhythm, you also started to open up with them more. You said that you didn’t want to spend the next months in a sterile and boring environment, and since you were bound to spend a lot of time together, you might as well make it fun.

Slowly, you started to notice how both your bodyguards also started to warm up to you, and how they would go out of their way to do things for you that were way over their pay. Especially Simon, with his rugged features and his broody, closed off demeanor, caught you off guard with the kindness and softness in his gestures.

He didn’t mean to fall for you, but when you were on stage, your magnetic charm would call to him like a siren’s song; when you were off stage, your smile was bright enough to burn itself into his dreams at night.

Week after week, show after show, you finally made it to Los Angeles. You would usually spend at least two nights in the same city, so as to not over-stress yourself with traveling, and while in the City of Angels, you couldn’t not allow yourself some fun. Simon’s nose scrunched in a grimace the moment you mentioned the word “club”, while John’s did when you talked about hitting one of your famous friends up for an after party.

Over the last month, Simon and John had started to see eye to eye dangerously less: he would suddenly disagree over security measures, get snappy and order him around, give him more duties, all just to spend more time with you. So your request to spend the night out celebrating caused another quiet argument, always away from your ears.

Simon, in the end, always had to comply with his Captain’s words, even if the idea of going to the club still didn’t sit right with him– too many strangers in too little space. The after party sounded best - a smaller gathering of people you knew - but of course, John had something to counter argue.

He sat at the booth John had reserved - of course, they were going to have a private booth for you - and waited as the other took you to get drinks. Simon scanned the area, the flashing lights making it difficult to make out faces, and potential threats. His eyes fell on you and John, or more precisely, your body on John's. You were laughing, and his hand was curved around your waist.

Simon never considered himself worthy of love, no one had ever seen him as such, so he knew he was a fool for falling for someone he shouldn't have from the start, and to top it off: you were dancing with him.