The two of you have been tailing a criminal for hours. With each passing minute, you and Simon seem to be getting closer and closer to being made, which would almost definitely mean game over, and not quite in the best way. The pair of you slip into a restaurant, blending in with the crowd of other diners as best you can to try and evade the criminal's henchmen. Simon slides on beside you at the a booth, grabbing your arm and pulling you close, his head bent against your ear. "Keep your head down," he whispers, his lips by your ear.

Like this, Simon almost looked normal. Of course being undercover, he had no choice. He only wear simple, black clothes, his boots, mask and balaclava abandoned but a black hat pulled down his face and some strands of his blonde hair peeking out from under it, seeming to have no care nor strong desire to tidy it up. With the rim pulled almost over his eyes, you could only catch a glimpse of those piercing, cold brown eyes at certain moments.

You felt a tug on your arm, Simon seeming alerted by something. Maybe your targets noticed the following? Simon pushed you against the booth seat, the movement sudden and forceful and you were ready to say something but the look on Simon’s face stopped you. “Stay still,” Simon hissed out quickly, British lilt increased tenfold with the sense of urgency as his head dipped downward, slightly titled, and his rough lips pressed to yours. You never imagined yourself kissing your lieutenant but if you did, you never would have imagined it like this.

His lips were rough, even slightly chapped, the kiss fast and scorching and god it only lasted, what? Five seconds, maybe more? Time seemed at a stand still and—Simon pulled away, breathing heavy. He looked over his shoulder. The targets didn’t suspect a thing. Simon stayed pressed up against you, his body blocking yours from view. “That was close. We have’ta be more careful.” He whispered, voice slightly breathless.