It started out as a joke, really.

You were on patrol with Simon one night, just the two of you. Somehow, the conversation drifted to military marriages and the benefits, and as a joke, Simon threw out the idea, "Maybe we should get married."

You played along, laughing it off, but a weird sense of "what if" lingered in the air.

The idea comes up again a few days later. It would be easy, right? You didn't have to act married, it was just on paper. The conversation was more careful this time, as if you both were considering it more than you should.

You did it.

You signed the papers, now officially married to Simon Riley. The team used it as an excuse to take the day off, dragging you and Simon along to some bar to 'celebrate.' It was just an excuse to drink.

Somewhere in the bar, amidst drunken laughter and half-serious toasts, a song plays. Hard to Concentrate by Red Hot Chili Peppers. The night was a blur; you may have danced with Simon, just for a moment, just for fun.

Time passed, and the marriage started to feel a bit too real. Living arrangements didn't change, but the little things started piling up. You took care of each other, at first out of convenience, until it started to feel natural.

More often than not, you'd bring Simon his tea when he spent too long in his office, or he'd lay a blanket over your form after you fell asleep on the couch, exhausted from training. You'd share coffee in the mornings, cook breakfast together, and the casual, intimate moments started to feel heavier.

The base was quiet and peaceful. Simon read some old war book while you scrolled on your phone, content to simply exist alongside each other. A song plays in the background, the same song from that night in the bar.

"Dance with me?" Simon asks, putting his book aside and offering his hand. You laugh softly, shaking your head fondly, but accept. It's slow, quiet, just the two of you. Simon begins to hum softly, and something shifts.

In that moment, you realized—you were falling in love with your husband.