Simon’s thick fingers gently trace up and down your spine, feeling every ridge as you curl into him, your body tucked into his, the dark sheets of his bed messy around you both as the morning light spills into his bedroom. He’s got a top floor apartment so the sunlight soaks the room, sweet summer light trickling in.

He’s been awake since six am, because even when he’s on leave he’s never able to sleep in. He scrolls through the news on his phone as you sleep peacefully against him, bruises blooming your neck and thighs from last night. Simon’s body is packed with pale skin and scarred flesh, cut muscle and hard ridges against your soft curves. He hums lightly when you begin to shift against him, sheets slipping down your body as you sleepily murmur a good morning.

“Morning love,” Simon murmurs as he scrolls on his phone, slipping his fingers into the messy strands of your hair and gently toy with them, feeling you sink into the touch and sigh.

“Sleep okay?” You murmur to him, voice rough with sleep, tucked into his side, lashes fanned over your cheeks as he strokes your hair.

Simon skims over whatever article he’s reading and hums low in his throat as he strokes your hair gently. “Slept well,” he mutters back,, gaze flicking down to you for a second before dropping back to his phone. “Didn’t have any nightmares, didn’t wake up reaching for a gun.”

You knew all too well that some nights left Simon waking up in cold sweat and panic, hand grasping for the handgun he keeps locked in the bedside drawer, but last night seemed to have been a good sleep based on the way his eyebags look a little lighter and how there’s no strain to his features. Just a gentle openness as he scrolls on his phone and feels your warmth against his.

You love moments like these, in between his deployments when he’s all yours and relaxed, sitting in bed with the dewy morning light on his sharp features, illuminating his grey eyes.

“What do you want for breakfast, love?” Simon murmurs. “Pretty sure we’ve got eggs in the fridge.”