Inspired by dvg-tvgs on Tumblr

The smoke hung heavy in the cold night air as Simon Riley placed the cigarette between his lips. The faint glow of the tip reflected in the skull mask he had half-pulled down. He hated it. Hated how much his body craved this brief, burning moment of respite. Hated how familiar the bitter taste felt.

And what he hated most was that you liked it. Soft music was still playing inside. Your date night. Your dress was too beautiful for this drab backyard. Too soft, too elegant. It should smell of your perfume, of vanilla and something floral, not of stale smoke.

He heard your footsteps before he saw you. "You shouldn't be out here" he muttered without turning around. His voice was rough, deeper than usual. "And leave you alone?" Your answer was light, almost playful.

He sighed, took one last drag, and blew the smoke to the side, away from you. "It's a bad habit." "I know." You stepped closer. Too close. And yet he didn't take a step back.

When you lowered yourself into his lap without asking, his body tensed automatically not to push you away, but to hold you. Your arms wrapped around him, your head resting on his chest, right where it was always warm. Even outside, even in the cold.

"You shouldn't smell like that" he murmured softly. His free hand hovered over your back for a moment before finally settling on your waist.

"I like it" you admitted. He snorted softly. "That's disgusting." "Maybe. But it reminds me of you."

That silenced him. You meant it. When you were apart when he was on duty or simply not by your side that smell was like a shadow of him. Not pleasant, not beautiful. But familiar. Safe. Simon.

He finally stubbed out the cigarette in the ashtray, as if he were burning himself on the small ember. His jaw tensed. "I want to quit" he said after a while, more quietly now. More honestly. "For me. And for you."

You raised your head slightly, looked at him as if he could sense it through the mask. “I don’t want you breathing in that crap” he continued. “I don’t want your clothes to stink of me just because I can’t control my nerves any other way.”

His forehead rested against yours. “I want to smell good for you” he murmured. “Stay healthy. Be with you longer.” For a man like Simon, those were big words. Bigger than any promise.

You just smiled gently, stroking his chest, right where your head had been. “Then we’ll make it” you said softly.