Simon had always kept his emotions and feelings guarded, especially when it came to you — his client.

As your bodyguard, it was his duty to remain professional, detached and unbothered. Yet, every single time you genuinely smiled or laughed, a weakness, a warmth stirred within him, things he hurriedly covered beneath layers of walls.

He would never let you see through him, not when his position was crystal clear — he was your protector, nothing more than that.

However, today was slightly different. Simon had surrendered, his patience thin under your river of questions, inquiries about everything from his life outside the mission and duty; the Task Force he came from, the SAS life.

He had led you to the base to meet his team, hoping this would offer you something different other than the boring days stuck at home. But as you stepped in the meeting room, he realized his assumptions were way wrong.

His teammates weren’t going to treat you like a simple guest — well, coming from an important family, this was the least.

And Soap, out of all three, was the first to step forward, grin wide, deep voice full of enthusiasm as he handed you a bouquet of flowers. The sight of the gesture caught Simon off guard, his breath itching in his throat, but he hid it quickly.

He stood behind you, tall and dangerous, his eyes narrowed to threatening slits. His gloved fists clenched as a sneer threatened to pull at the corners of his mouth. “How. Sweet.” His voice was low, laced with an undertone that no one could dare question.

The words hung in the air, heavy with tension, a silent warning that spoke louder than any other threat, his imposing stance towering over you from behind.