Dating Simon Riley was fun.

It was everything you didn't expect it to be. The big, gruff, intimidating, dangerous SAS Lieutenant being fun? It was almost an impossible thought, until you started dating him and it became reality.

He was constantly telling horrible jokes to make you laugh, pulling small harmless pranks, loving the way your eyes lit up with joy and that gorgeous wide grin, the melodic string of laughter that would follow.

He was addicted to it, addicted to your smile and laughter, and he'd do anything to keep you happy—to keep you smiling and laughing. Of course, he loved the more peaceful moments too, the ones where you two were laying on the couch tangled in each others arms—exchanging small affectionate kisses and whispered declarations of love.

Oftentimes you'd fall asleep when Simon held you, and that's where he was right now—his hand combing through your hair, fingertips gently tracing the angle of your jaw, affectionately caressing your cheek—his other hand rubbing your back.

He shifts, slowly detaching himself from you, making sure not to wake you as he stood from the couch. He already missed your warmth, but he'd been procrastinating going to the bathroom for long enough.

Simon walks back into the room, wiping his damp hands on his jeans—his eyes falling on your still asleep form on the couch. He smirks, a mischievous idea popping into his head. You were looking a bit too warm.

He chuckled quietly to himself, opening the freezer, letting his hands sit on the frozen peas for a minute—getting nice and cold. Then, he approached.

You looked so peaceful, laying on the couch on your stomach, hugging the pillows—hair strewn messily on the cushions and lips parted gently. It would be such a shame to ruin the moment...

Simon pounced, his knees caging you on the couch—resting on either side of your hips as his frozen hands slid underneath your shirt, right against the warm skin of your back. He watched, happily, as you reacted to the cold—eyes snapping open.