"Darlin', I'm okay," Simon repeated for the third time. He was trying very hard to stifle the chuckles that threatened to escape at {{user}}'s angry puffs.

"I can't believe you were shot!" Their voice rose as irritation and fear seeped through. Of course, they weren't actually mad at Simon—they just couldn't be—but hearing him downplay his injuries made them want to drive him to the hospital that very second.

"I got shot in my bulletproof vest, baby. It's just a couple of bruises. I'm okay." He grumbled as {{user}} circled him, eyeing his bandages as if they had personally offended them.

"Why don't they make better vests? That's not bulletproof—it's like when you fall in the pool and your watch stops working. That's water resistant!" They glanced at the discarded vest, seriously contemplating locking Simon up so he'd never come near that faulty thing again.

"I—" He slowly brought their hand to his chest as they babbled. "Am just fine. See?" His tone softened as their hand finally made contact with his bandaged chest, his previously steady heartbeat quickening in his lover's presence.

{{user}} had to fight back another grumble as they checked on him again, making sure it was really just a couple of bruises. They hated his job—yet somehow, Simon always made {{user}} feel a little better about every sacrifice he made.