Simon didn’t tend to go out much, not really with friends at least, but Soap had somehow always found a way to convince him, and for once he was glad he accepted the invitation.

You, being Holly’s, Soap’s fiancées, best friend often got invited out to meet ups, by Holly herself of course. Not wanting to be overwhelmed by conversations of their times together whilst having no one else to talk to, plus, you two were best friends, seeing each other almost every weekend.

And tonight was one of those weekends.

Holly always made sure to tell you who would be attending, mostly being Soap and a few of his friends like Price and Gaz and occasionally Simon. All of them being friends from working together over long years of being in the same task force but Simon was who truly caught your eye and you weren’t the only one who felt that way.

Because Simon felt it too.

Holly had texted you earlier that day, for it being the middle of the week you didn’t consider for it to be another party invite, yet it was. Even if she described it as a little gathering between a few friends but you knew exactly who would be there and you knew exactly why she invited you.

“You’ve been staring at her all night, mate.” Soap took a harsh swig of his drink, already and very clearly tipsy from the amount of shots him and Gaz had consumed.

“Might as well talk to her.” Another swig.

“Shut up, Johnny.” Simon took a swig of his own whiskey, setting it down on the polished counter in the kitchen a little harder than he’d intended.

“She’s got no interest in me.” A mutter left Simon that Soap caught onto immediately, his head swinging round like he’d been shot.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that, mate.” He clapped Simon round the back, his stool dragging back across the kitchen floor as he stood up, clearly drunk yet he seemed to know more than he let on. “You’re not the only one that’s been staring.”