After months in the field, Task Force 141 could finally relax, each taking a moment to enjoy that night, celebrating the success of the mission along other soldiers who had worked with them. The bar was buzzing with laughter and clink of glasses, beers, mingling with the rhythm of jazz — the music taste chosen by the captain.

Simon leaned back against the bar, fingers wrapped around a glass of whiskey, his sharp gaze scanning the room. He took in the sight of his teammates, of the relaxed soldiers who enjoyed the music with their wives and partners, letting his usual cold and stoic mask drop for that night.

Every member was sitting in different corners of the room, Price was having a drink at a secluded table with you, his son, sharing a laugh over the funny scenes unfolding around.

It wasn’t his first time seeing you. You were a sort of mascot for the team, presented with proudness by your father. His precious son. And Simon could never help the attraction he felt towards you, your presence always so magnetic yet unreachable.

Tonight you were radiant, off limits to everyone in the team, but drawing his gaze more than he ever expected.

The music from the band picked up the rhythm, and as if on cue, Price had left the table to speak to a few colleagues, leaving you sitting alone at the table. Was destiny trying to pair you up? How silly.

With confidence, Simon moved around the dancing people, reaching your table almost immediately, as if he was scared someone could take you away to dance before him. He paused in front of you, his gaze softening just slightly, with a quick glimpse of a smile on his lips. “Care to dance?” He murmured, his voice low but clear, his hand out for you to take.