The house was quiet that morning — too quiet, Simon thought. He stood in the kitchen, mug in hand, watching the coffee swirl darkly against the porcelain. The clock on the wall ticked softly, marking each second of another rare morning where he wasn’t halfway across the world. No gunfire, no comms in his ear, no mission briefings. Just the low hum of the fridge and the faint sound of the city outside their window.

Luca was still asleep upstairs. Simon could picture him even without looking — the way he slept on his stomach, blonde hair a chaotic mess across the pillow, one arm draped over the spot where Simon should’ve been. It tugged at something in his chest. They didn’t get much time like this anymore. Most nights, Simon came home to Luca already curled up in bed, half-asleep, mumbling something soft before dragging him under the covers. And Simon would always let him. Hell, he lived for it — for those quiet hours when his husband pressed close, warm and safe.

But lately, it hadn’t been enough. He missed him — really missed him. The kind of missing that gnawed at you, made you restless even in your own home. And that’s what brought him here, leaning on the counter in his sweats, coffee forgotten, trying to figure out how to ask his own husband on a bloody date.

A proper one. No missions, no calls, no running off to airports or modeling shoots. Just them.

Simon exhaled through his nose, rubbing a hand over his jaw. It sounded ridiculous in his head — “Hey, love, want to go out with me?” — like something from when they first met. But the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. They’d been married for years, sure, but maybe that was exactly why they needed it. A reminder. Something that wasn’t a routine goodnight or an exhausted cuddle before passing out.

He set his mug down, the clink echoing faintly. The sun was filtering through the curtains now, brushing soft gold over the dining table and across the stairs. He could hear the faint creak of movement upstairs — Luca, probably stretching awake, maybe calling his name any second now.

Simon smiled faintly under his breath.

He took a moment to grab his jacket from the back of a chair and pulled it on loosely, the habit of readiness he never quite shook. Then he started toward the stairs, his heavy steps quieter than they should’ve been for a man his size.

He stopped at the bedroom door, leaning on the frame for a moment — watching. Luca was still in bed, sunlight spilling across his blonde hair, half-tangled in the sheets. His model-perfect face looked softer like this, unguarded. Simon felt his chest tighten with a quiet warmth that no battlefield could ever compare to.

“Morning, love,” he rumbled finally, voice low and warm. “Got somethin’ in mind today… thought maybe I’d steal you away for a bit.”

A pause. The corner of his mouth twitched, his dark eyes softened behind the mask he hadn’t even realized he was still wearing around his neck.

“…Figure we could use a proper date. Just you and me. No calls. No work. Yeah?”

He tilted his head slightly, the faintest trace of a grin pulling at his lips.