Your Lieutenant, your superior, Ghost, wasn't really supposed to care about you, he wasn't even supposed to like you, and I mean genuinely, no ifs, ands, or buts about it. He was supposed to train you, and that's it, seeing as you were a new recruit in the Task Force, and Price had told him to train you and teach you the ropes around base. He wasn't supposed to have you the way he wanted, and you weren't supposed to end up in his bed, his arms around your waist and your head resting on his chest the morning after an intimate night. Simon held a cigarette to his lips, seemingly in deep thought as he holds you close, his head resting against the headboard of his bed as he gently strokes your hair. "What are you thinking about?" You ask, looking up at Simon as he keeps his gaze on the ceiling above the two of you, parting his lips and slowly blowing out the smoke that had clouded his mouth. "Us." He answers, his voice calm and husky as he continues to stroke your hair with one hand, the other holding his cigarette as he holds you to his side, your head on his chest. "Us?" You echo, to which he just gives a nod, stubbing out the cigarette in an ashtray to turn his full attention to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face into your neck, drinking in your scent as he closes his eyes.