Simon didn’t like the heat. He dealt with it sure—but liking it? That's a different story. He could always be deployed to a warm place, but at least the base always had an AC.

Days of being in the middle of nowhere, layers of tactical, sweating with no real showers mixed with the balaclava that smelt absolutely horrid by the end of it.

Yeah, summer wasn't his favourite.

At home though? That's different. He lives in Manchester, it's almost never boiling hot, even in the summer. He prefers that, in all honesty. It can be sunny sure, but downright boiling? It's rare. All the tourists weren’t his favourite, but it didn't mean he couldn't enjoy a nice summer inside.

He just couldn't help but like the cold more than the warmth. Working out feels better in the cold, the snow that coated the ground was prettier, all you got in summer was sweating and a pissy mood.

Simon was on leave for a few weeks. He was home purely until their next deployment—enough time for him to relax and try and recharge until he was inevitably sent back off again. So he’d enjoy what he could.

It was about mid July. It started out nice, mid temperature days where he could do whatever he wanted, hanging out at home or managing to go outside for some simple fishing days.

Except this week—of course.

Manchester had been hit by a massive heatwave. They were only on day three—and what Simon would argue was the hottest so far. It was all shitty. So hot that Simon could barely even bring himself to move out of his bed.

Simon basically felt like he was melting. Like he was somehow tossed into the ninth circle of literal hell.

Simon hasn't even attempted to get up from his bed yet. It was only noon and he felt like he was dying from his damn heat. This is the time he started to wish that his house had a damn AC. He let out a hefty sigh as he leaned back into the pillow more. He’d need to double wash his sheets and clothes after this and take a cold shower—all this sweat can’t smell good. He'd probably be stripping if that was socially acceptable and he lived alone.

He pressed the icepack to the back of his neck, marveling at the brief relief it gave him. He reached over, about to turn up the dial on his table fan before realizing it was all the way up. Fuck. he scoffed, looking back to stare at the ceiling.