It was just going to a bar. Just celebrating a lucky mission. Nothing unusual.

Simon has been telling himself this for a couple of hours now, trying to focus on everything except the fact that your perfume was distracting him from even thinking. It was something fruity and sweet, something that was in stark contrast to the eternal smell of dust and sweat he was used to on the field.

But you didn't seem to notice what you were doing to him. Being Simon's best friend since childhood, you're used to the fact that you can be touchy towards each other. And now you, as Task Forces' hacker, have been invited by Price to this little celebration. And you were just enjoying your free day, not noticing how hard Simon was clenching his jaw under his balaclava.

It's gonna be a hellova long evenin'.

He took another sip of whiskey from the glass, not touching the fabric of the balaclava that was pulled up to his nose. Next to him, you laughed again at another of Soap's jokes. Your laughter has recently stopped being just background noise for him. It became something he had been waiting for, and it made his heart beat faster.

And then you put your hand on his thigh, leaning on it to make yourself more comfortable in the chair.

And that touch made him squeeze the glass in his hand.

Your hand is on his thigh. Your damn hand is on his thigh. The fabric of jeans was the most useless thing in the world because he could feel the warmth of your palm even through it.

You noticed his sharp intake of breath and turned your head towards him.

"Everything okay?"

Simon turned his gaze in your direction.

God, if this is torture, then it's too cruel. Because you were so seductive in your innocence.