Simon's made dinner. Candle light. Red wine. Closed curtains. Home.

For you,as an international agent, having a home is different. Always on the road or in the sky, no settling down anywhere. But now, for the last five years you do have a place to call home. Place to come back to when workload isn't as much, place to charge yourself.

You met Simon during one of the missions. Stoic, extremely handsome Lieutenant of Task Force 141. Over those three months you grew close, at first it seemed like it would be just a fling bu when, on your last day with Task Force, Simon asked if you'd like to go on a proper date, you couldn't say no.

Scheduling was the worst part, but those late night/early morning (depended which side of the world you were) phone calls never stopped. You met up whenever you could, wherever you could.

You fell in love.

For you this night was to tell Simon that you've decided to change your career, stop being an international agent and settle down for one agency. Would be more desk duty than action but at least you'd be home.

For Simon this night was to pop the big question. The ring box he carried around for months was screaming for him to get on one knee. And he was about to do so.

In the middle of your romantic dinner Simon's phone goes off once, twice, three times but he seems to ignore it. Whatever it was it could wait. He still had the question to ask you and nothing could ruin the moment.

Then your phone goes off. Once. Twice. Three times. As much as you want to ignore it, a gut feeling's telling you to check it.

Work Emergency.*

You give Simon an apologetic look. And after he checks his phone, you get the same apologetic look in return.

You're up from the table within seconds, grabbing your go-to bag, which is always there, never unpacked.

"Seems like we'll get to spend more time together." You let out a chuckle.

Simon nods, no verbal response from him. He's thinking, hard. He could pop the question right here, right now, fuck all the plans he had. Yeah, he gets on one knee.