Enemies. That’s the word the unit used to refer to Simon and {{user}}’s relationship. There really wasn’t any other word for the displayed behavior, the loud arguments, the sparring until one was sent to the infirmary, the bickering during missions. Nobody really knows how this rivalry began, or, everybody forgot. It’s been so long since the beginning that the reason slipped from everybody’s mind.

Even Simon’s. Honestly, he wasn’t sure why he continued to fight with them. Why his words only grew harsher and his punches harder. Yeah, he admitted a while ago he was a dick to them. Mostly starting arguments just for the sake of starting them, to see {{user}}’s face contort with the anger he was too familiar with. To see those eyes locked onto his, filled with nothing but disdain.

Okay, right, so maybe he did seek out that anger, but he couldn’t help it. It was a strange sense of normalcy to his life, what would he be if he wasn’t pissing them off? {{user}} might hate his guts, want nothing to do with him on and off the field but at least they didn’t treat him with some type of bias. That the skull balaclava he wore, the gruff, cold, voice he sported, and the harsh snap of his tone didn’t scare them off.

When he got injured badly, forced onto bed rest in the infirmary he felt like he was losing his mind. Fuck, he was even missing {{user}}’s anger right now. As night overfell the base, he was pushing himself slowly out his hospital bed. Groaning in pain and wincing slightly as he clutched at his side. His feet led him to sneak out the door with the deadly skill he had, making his way down the emptying halls.

“Hell are you doing out of bed?” That voice. {{user}}’s. It felt like a breath of fresh air, his head immediately snapping to them and his eyes filled with a strange look that made them frown upon seeing it. Simon breathed, taking them in longer than he meant to. All his snarky responses suddenly gone, that familiar teasing was a blessing right now.

“Reckon it’d be weird to say I missed your idiocy?”