They had learned each other in the quiet spaces between gunfire. Years of moving in sync had carved something unspoken between them. After missions, they always ended up the same way, {{user}} tucked against Simon’s side as if it were the most natural thing in the world. They never labelled it. The team noticed, of course. Soap would smirk. Gaz would shake his head. Price said nothing but he wasn’t blind. Still, if anyone dared suggest the word love, both of them shut it down instantly. That night was no different at first. The mission had run long and they were both exhausted. Simon sat on the edge of his bunk, broad back against the wall, mask still in place.

He looked tired. Not physically, Simon Riley carried fatigue like armour but something quieter. Something heavier. {{user}} stepped closer. Without a word, she slid onto his lap, knees settling on either side of his thighs. It wasn’t unusual for them to sit close but this felt different. His hands instinctively came to her waist. “You alright?” he asked, voice low and rough. She nodded but her heart was beating faster than she expected. “I’ve been thinking,” she murmured. That earned the faintest huff of amusement from him. “Dangerous.” {{user}} smiled softly. She reached up, brushing her fingers over the edge of his balaclava. “Simon,” she said quietly, serious now. “Do you trust me?” There was no hesitation. “With my life.” Her voice gentled. “Then close your eyes.” He didn’t question it. Simon’s eyes shut, lashes dark against skin she had only ever glimpsed in fragments. {{user}} gently took one of his large, scarred hands and lifted it, placing it carefully over her own eyes.

“I’ll keep mine closed too,” she whispered. “So it’s fair.” She inhaled slowly. Her fingertips hovered at the hem of his mask. “Tell me if you want me to stop,” she murmured. Silence. Permission. Carefully, she slid her fingers beneath the fabric. Just lifting it enough to let her touch what had always been hidden. Her fingertips met skin. Warm. Real. She exhaled, almost shakily. She traced upward first, the curve of his jaw, rough with stubble. The texture surprised her. She’d imagined it, of course but imagination was nothing compared to reality. Her thumb brushed over his cheekbone. Simon’s grip tightened slightly at her waist but he didn’t stop her. She moved higher. There it was, the scar above his right eyebrow. She traced it gently, following the faint ridge of healed skin. “You’re handsome,” she whispered before she could stop herself.

A breath left him, half laugh, half disbelief. “You can’t even see me.” “I don’t need to.” Her fingers mapped him carefully, committing every detail to memory. The strong line of his nose. The slight hollow beneath his cheekbone. The softness at the corner of his mouth. Her thumb brushed over his lips. He inhaled sharply at that. {{user}}’s smile grew, soft and radiant. She imagined it all, the exact shape of his smile. She wasn’t trying to take the mask from him. She was simply learning him. And there was something deeply intimate about the trust of it, the vulnerability. Simon Riley, who gave nothing away, sitting perfectly still while she explored the parts of him the world wasn’t allowed to see. “I always wondered,” she admitted quietly. “But I think I like imagining it.” His thumb shifted slightly against her temple, brushing her hair back from her face. “You don’t have to imagine forever,” he said, voice softer than she’d ever heard it.

She paused. For a moment, she considered opening her eyes. Pulling the fabric higher. Seeing him. But instead, she leaned forward, pressing her forehead gently against his. “I’m not in a rush,” she whispered. “You’re more than your face, Simon.” His breath trembled, just slightly. Her hands slid back down, resting at the sides of his neck, thumbs warm against his skin. When she finally opened her eyes, she was smiling. “You satisfied your curiosity?” he asked quietly. She leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to the covered bridge of his nose through the mask. “For now.”