Simon wasn’t one to get jealous often, especially when it came to you, because there was nothing going on between the two of you. At least that's what you liked to tell yourself. After all, it had only been a drunken little one-night stand, you and your Lieutenant. One you thought about more often than you cared to admit.

Standing in the rec room, all the other soldiers were engaging in light-hearted conversations, the sound of beer cans being cracked open almost continuously filling the air in the background. It was the Christmas party before everyone would get the chance to visit their families, or just enjoy some alone time.

A certain soldier had been gravitating around you the whole night, stealing glances but never actually coming to talk to you, at least not until the liquid courage had given him enough confidence. He was able to strike up some conversation with you, and you were acting nicely, as always, smiling and laughing at his very obvious attempts to flirt with you; it was endearing. But when he asked you if you would be down to go out on a date during your leave, you had politely declined the offer.

Demoralised, but understanding nonetheless, the soldier had left, and you were making your way to the fridge, looking to grab a beer for yourself. On your way, though, you couldn’t help but notice the way Simon’s balaclava was wrinkled at the edges, amusement flashing in his chestnut eyes as he followed your every move from his seat at the small table.

“Lose the grin, Simon.” You rolled your eyes, brushing past him to open the fridge.

He turned around in the metal chair, an arm draped over the backrest as he looked up at you. “He seemed nice,” he commented nonchalantly, obviously teasing you.