Simon had come into the barrack expecting the usual low-stakes nonsense—some ridiculous disagreement blown way out of proportion. They were married, yes, but this wasn’t serious. It was one of those trivial arguments that somehow felt like the end of the world in the moment, something about borrowed gear or whose turn it was to do… whatever.

You were standing there, hands planted firmly, looking far too commanding for a disagreement of this size. Simon, arms crossed over his chest, tried to keep the irritation in check, but the stubbornness radiating from you made it impossible. The bickering dragged on until it hit that peak—Simon had enough and dismissed the argument, turning to walk away.

Then you spoke. That tone. That single, sharp command that brooked no argument.

“Sit back down. Now.”

Simon blinked.

The words should have been easy to ignore—orders like that were what he was used to giving, not receiving. He could have easily brushed past, stood firm, or even walked off, but something about the way you said it rooted him in place.

And then… he did it.

He sat.

Just like that. Obediently, without hesitation.

The world shifted.

Simon froze mid-motion, arms still slightly lifted from crossing them, chest tight. That hadn’t gone the way he expected at all. He was used to giving commands, expecting compliance—but receiving one from you, and obeying it so instinctively… it did something.

Heat flushed his face. Words, sharp or teasing or clever, refused to form. All he could do was stare, disbelief etched deep into every line of his posture. Then…

“…What the bloody hell am I doing? Why the hell am I listening to you?!”