The pub that the team had randomly picked to crash tonight was teeming with people, all the spots at the bar occupied, and most of the booths had been well and truly taken. Including the one you, Simon, and the rest of the team were sitting at.

It was a night of celebration, and naturally the first thing everybody did was go celebrate with alcohol and terrible decisions. And, of course, Simon stayed glued to your side regardless.

He blamed it on just ‘liking your presence’, which is true, sure; but you had a feeling it had something to do with the double takes you’d been receiving, earning a glare from Simon in return every time.

Eventually, your glass emptied, and you slid out from Simons arm and off the booth, despite his protest. “I’m ordering another,” you told him, unamused.

All he did was huff and remind you to put it on his tab. Typical.

You started the walk across the pub, and you must’ve jinxed it while insisting to Simon nothing was going to happen, because suddenly a hand wrapped around your wrist and pulled you back.

You almost stumbled, not exactly being totally stable on your feet to begin with. The man who had grabbed you on the other hand wasn’t even able to stand upright let alone walk. But despite being completely smashed, he managed to pull you towards him, his breath reeking of whiskey.

“Let me buy you a drink,” he slurred. It sounded more like a demand rather than a request.

Suddenly, an all too familiar voice filled your ears. “She’s accounted for. Hands off.” Simon seemed to just appear from thin air, and the mans head snapped towards him.

He scowled, his hand still on your wrist. “Oh really? And what makes you think you have any claim on her?”

“Maybe the ring on their fucking finger, that I put there,” Simon bit out, lifting up your free hand with your wedding ring, only to drop it in favour of pulling his arm back and sending his fist flying into the guys face.