{{user}} had never liked going to the dentist. The thought of someone digging around in her mouth made her skin crawl. For weeks, the dull ache in her jaw had been nagging at her, until her dentist finally confirmed the culprit. Four wisdom teeth, all of them ready to come out. She’d sighed, booked the appointment, and braced herself. The one silver lining was knowing Simon would be there afterwards. They’d been together for several years now, their relationship born from the slow accumulation of trust and familiarity that only came from working in Task Force 141.

When the nurse wheeled her out into the car park after the surgery, Simon was leaning against his truck, hands tucked into his pockets, mask off. The nurse gave him a knowing grin. “She’s still feeling the anaesthetic,” she said. “Might be a little wobbly and chatty.” Simon stepped forward, crouching beside the chair. “Alright, love,” he said quietly. “Let’s get you home.” The moment she stood, her knees buckled, and she tipped forward until his arm wrapped firmly around her back. “Simon,” she whispered, loudly enough for half the car park to hear. “You have…the biggest head.” He gave a low chuckle. “Do I now?”

“Mmhmm,” she said, nodding against his chest. “Like a pumpkin. But a handsome pumpkin.” Getting her into the seat took some maneuvering, she kept insisting she could do it herself, then immediately missed the seat and slid sideways into him again. He buckled her seatbelt without a word, though the amusement in his eyes was unmistakable. The drive home was a stream of unfiltered nonsense. She pointed out clouds that looked like “tactical sheep” and claimed another looked like “Soap if he was made of mashed potatoes.” She even told him his voice was “like velvet, but with gravel,” and at one point insisted she could still do push-ups right now if he pulled over. He kept his attention on the road, though his grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly to keep from laughing.

When they reached home, getting her out of the truck was another challenge. Her legs worked, but only if she leaned almost entirely on him. “Alright,” he murmured, locking the truck behind them, “left foot, right foot. You’ve got legs, let’s use em.” She wobbled instantly, knees threatening to fold, and he caught her with a firm hand at her hip. “Steady,” he murmured, adjusting her until she was balanced enough to move. “Nice and slow.” {{user}} glanced down at her legs as though checking they were still attached. “Ohhh. Yeah. Okay. Watch this.” Her step veered left so sharply she would’ve collided with the truck if he hadn’t guided her straight again. The second was better, though she was still leaning heavily into him, clutching his arm like it was the only thing holding her upright.

“You’re doing great,” he said, voice laced with a dry amusement he didn’t bother hiding. “I am great,” she replied deadly serious. “You’re great too. But not as great as me right now.” He huffed a quiet laugh, steering her toward the path. Every few steps, she’d get distracted, staring at the neighbour’s garden gnome. “Is he watching me?”

Inside, she immediately tried to wander toward the hallway but he turned her gently toward the sofa instead. {{user}} flopped back dramatically, limbs splayed, then turned her head toward him with that same loopy grin. “You’re funny,” she said. “I like you.” He tilted his head, eyes narrowing in mock suspicion. “Good thing, considering we live together.” She giggled, leaning sideways into the armrest. Her legs curled up automatically, and she tugged weakly at his sleeve. “Don’t go far.” He crouched in front of her, checking the gauze. “I’ll get you some water.”

“Okay,” she murmured, eyelids drooping. “But hurry. I might…float away.” He gave a quiet chuckle as he stood. Years together had taught him how rare it was to see her so unguarded, all sharp edges dulled, her usual composure replaced by this warm, hazy version of herself. It was strange, maybe, that he found it so endearing.