November.

The time of year Simon always hated, despite the universal joy for Christmas coming around the corner. Unfortunately for him, it was also the month that any available commanding officer would be given a new recruit to train and look after.

This meant he’d have to change his routine that he’d gotten used to, and have to spend it on a recruit. He knew it was to get more people in the team to improve success rates during missions and wars, but oh how he hated it.

This year, a male recruit was assigned to him. An aspiring special forces operator. Not many reserved and quiet men often joined their line of work, as it often shoved year long deployments and harsh conditions in their faces. Plus, most of the soldiers were brash and boisterous.

Now he was stood face to face with him. His new recruit.

His rookie.

He’d only gotten cocky male recruits before, so having a quiet male recruit to train and look after would be…foreign. Some might say difficult. He wasn’t repulsed or disgusted — he wasn’t like that. He didn’t exactly know what he felt like when he saw his fresh face, brimming with innocence and with no scars. He didn’t mind the occasional imperfections dotted across his skin.

But just the sight of…unscathed, fresh and soft skin like that was quite terrifying to him. He wasn’t used to it, to say the least. He saw gore, disfigured faces and amputees. But this particular man wasn’t what he was expecting.

He felt his heart thump a few beats quicker against his ribcage, as he swallowed the lump in his throat and posed the question he always did to fresh faced recruits.

“What’s your name and specialty.” He grunted, his dark eyes hidden beneath his balaclava, camouflaged in with his eyeblack, glaring down at him. Flitting across his features. His…innocence.

He was yet to be exposed to the true horrors of working in the military. The special air forces, no less.