The kitchen was peaceful, the smell of fresh coffee filling the air as you moved about, humming along to the song playing softly on the radio. It was one of your favorites from home, and without thinking, you started singing the lyrics in your native language. Your voice echoed gently through the empty space as you prepared breakfast, completely unaware that you were no longer alone.

Simon had slipped into the kitchen, as quiet as a shadow, his skull-patterned balaclava tucked under his arm. He paused mid-step, leaning against the doorframe, listening. You had always been reserved around the team, rarely speaking in anything but English. Simon knew you spoke another language, of course, but this was the first time he'd ever heard you use it.

For a moment, he simply stood there, arms crossed, observing you in silence. He was used to the parts of you that were guarded, just as he was used to keeping his own walls up. But this—this was something different. Hearing you sing, your voice soft and familiar, made him realize how much you kept hidden.

You didn’t notice him at first, too wrapped up in the melody. But when you turned, reaching for the kettle, you froze. Simon was standing there, his eyes trained on you, an amused spark in them.

"Simon!" you gasped, your cheeks flushing slightly. "I didn’t hear you come in."

He tilted his head slightly, the faintest trace of a smile on his lips. "Didn’t know you sang."

You gave a sheepish shrug. "Only when I think I’m alone. Didn’t realize I had an audience."

He let out a low chuckle, his voice gruff but warm. "Not bad. You should sing more."

Embarrassed but touched by the compliment, you grinned. “Maybe... if you stop sneaking up on me like that.”

“Can’t make any promises,” he said, the smirk still tugging at his lips. "But I'd like to hear it again."