Since you'd joined this goddamned task force, you seemed to butt heads with Simon at every corner.

Fire and gas, the two of you. The smallest spark, and it all blew up. It was suffocating, tension unbearable—but god it was exhilarating. Every push, every insult, it had your pulse racing.

You hated him, still. Despite the two of you both being Lieutenants, supposed to be leading the team under Price's command, but you were just two men at each others' throats.

Not a single mission together went by without a fight breaking out, and oftentimes it got physical—the others having to break you two apart. Oftentimes, after these fights you'd look in the mirror—tracing the marks left by the other man with a twisted interest.

"You're out of your mind if you think I'd agree to that." Simon hissed, his voice becoming more audible as he entered the breakroom with you hot on his heels—an electricity crackling between the two of you that threatened to shock anyone who came close.

The rest of the team sighed, watching as you two continued to argue over mission plans. Simon kept belittling your ideas, undermining your authority.

"You're too busy tryna control things to see past your own damn ego, Simon." You stood toe-to-toe with him, the way his eyes burned with a rage as his name fell from your lips was more than enough to tell you he was pissed.

"Don't you ever call me that–" He shoved you hard in the chest, your back flaring with pain as it collided with the cupboards. You retaliated, shoving him back, escalating into a full on brawl.

Fists collided with flesh, but the pain didn't register, only the adrenaline running through your veins—the high. Suddenly he had you pinned—weight pressing down on your thighs and wrists locked behind your back in a bruising grip. His chest heaved, his lips brushing against your ear as he leaned down—a drop of sweat landing on your neck.

"You done, princess?" He spat out the word sharply, like he was cutting you down—telling you you weren't a man at all.