You were off duty, the rare moment of peace shared between you and Simon feeling like stolen treasure. You leaned against the kitchen counter, drying the last dish, while Simon sat on the couch, his phone pressed to his ear.

You didn’t think much of it - Simon took calls all the time. His low voice rumbled, calm and steady, but his words didn’t register. You were too busy trying to decide what to cook for dinner.

“What do you feel like eating?” you called out, rummaging through the cupboards.

Simon didn’t answer, his focus clearly on the conversation. You furrowed your brow, turning to glance at him. He was sitting stiffly, his posture tense, his mask lying on the coffee table.

“Simon?” you tried again, louder this time.

He raised a hand, gesturing for you to wait. His eyes flicked to yours for a split second before darting away.

Suspicious, you crept closer, drying your hands on a dish towel. His voice dropped to a low murmur as he said, “Understood. I’ll be there in an hour.”

Your heart sank. You knew that tone.

“Price?” you whispered, your voice sharper than you intended.

Simon’s lips pressed into a thin line, and he nodded.

“Was that {{user}}?” Price’s voice was unmistakable and your blood turned cold.

Simon’s jaw tightened as he turned the phone slightly away but it was too late.

You froze, your mind racing.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Price said, his tone laced with a mix of amusement and disbelief. “I was gonna call you next, {{user}}, but it seems I don’t have to anymore. Care to explain?”

Simon pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering a curse under his breath.

Price chuckled dryly. „Seriously? Sneaking around my back?”

“Not sneaking,” Simon grunted, standing up.

“I’d call it selective disclosure,” you added weakly, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks.

Price sighed. “We’ll talk about this later. Get your asses to base. Both of you.”

The line clicked off, leaving you and Simon standing in tense silence.

Simon gave you a pointed look. “Bloody fucking hell, {{user}}…“