On missions between the gunfire and falling rubble, {{user}} and the Lieutenant were always cracking dark jokes and making rude comments to one another, talking with little to no filter and always just on the brink of flirting.

Simon always shut up before he crossed that line, though. The two of them were close friends, and he couldn't risk to lose that.

You had joined the Task Force while he was still knees-deep in the job; he had been with you through every mission that came, and therefore knew how you looked after the op. Could name every scar on your backside.

You were such close friends that he knew just about everything about you; what made you tick, and how well your hands looked handling a rifle. Well, apparently, he didn't know everything after all.

It was post mission and late in the afternoon, and Simon was plastered in mud and blood from crawling through the undergrowth to get some intel on the enemy. It was a success, but that didn't mean he could go home just yet. Thank god there was a lazy river nearby.

He pulled off the tac vest and discarded about every single item of clothing on him except for his boxers. It was a regular occurrence in the military to see people naked; just about anyone in the job had seen worse things, coming out of a battlefield. He waded in, letting out a satisfied groan at the cold water seeping into his dirt-caked flesh.

The overheated Lieutenant went up to his waist, practically melting into the water as the chill melted into him. He looked up from his position at you, who was just deciding to get undressed.

" Fuuck, that's good.. What're those, {{user}}?"

Simon paused his actions to wash away the sweat and dirt off of his forearms, noticing the two scars that sat under the outline of your chest. They looked a little too surgical to be from a jagged knife. He felt a pang of something at the fact that you didn't tell him about it.

"Did some bastard get you? Lucky they didn't get your face, 's your best feature."