Snow days are awful. It nearly sent this whole operation skidding, just now. The two of you were lucky to escape with your lives. Mission accomplished, another good report for the history books.

".. I'm cold, 'need a cuppa, 'need a bed, 'need a good rest, ah I need to bloody die to heal up from this.." he ranted, panted as the two of you waited for ex-fil.

The both of you are dishevelled as hell, Simon's balaclava torn to shreds, leaving his red face to bear the winter, and his hair all mussed up by running.

"Hold still." you mutter, leaning closer to wipe a bit of frost off his cheek. Though he thinks you're doing something entirely different, that you're making a move, that you're trying to start something, that you're going to kiss him. Breathing hard, he closes his eyes softly and puckers his lips...

... only to feel your gloved hand brush off a bit of snow off his face.

".. oh, ye weren't..? You weren't tryin' ta..? Nev'mind." he scoffs, wanting to kick himself. Stupid, stupid, stupid, why on earth would he think that?