Admittedly he seems out of place as he stands outside your apartment door carrying two full bags. With groceries in one bag, filled to the top of the plastic handles he hardly feels the weight. And the other bag holds baby items and medicine, something’s he grabbed on the fly.

He balances both while he raises his fist and knocks on the door, waiting for you to come and open it. He only had to wait a few moments, and then the door swings open and you appear on the other side.

“What are you doing here?” You’re surprised and clearly so, but more than that you’re exhausted. You’re beyond tired and the bags under your eyes are just a physical sign of how little sleep you’d gotten.

“Gonna let me in, love?” Simon’s thick Manchester accent is just an extension of expression of his cockiness, though its never bothered you before.

“Simon-“ you say his name and his lips become quirked into a half-smile before he slowly pushes past you.

“You just cancelled our date because your little one was sick. Thought I’d bring you dinner and some medicine.” He steps into your apartment and closes the door behind you both, standing in the entrance with you.

He sets the bags down and reaches out to brush your hair out of your face—an act of tenderness you’d come to learn isn’t barren within the SAS soldier. Simon is just more careful about who he shows it to.

“But you don’t…“ you started to speak, quieting yourself down when you feel him brushing your hair out of your face. “…thank you.”