Kate Laswell wasn’t a gentle woman, but you would’ve almost kissed her when she granted the team two whole weeks of leave, but you feared her wife’s wrath, and possibly receiving an arse-whooping from Kate herself.

So to celebrate, Price decided to treat you all to some drinks, a chance to let loose after the difficult months spent either between missions or locked at base, the intensive training, the sleepless nights, drowning in paperwork.

Of course, you all had some tension to let go of, so it wasn’t long before the alcohol was flowing at your table. You were sitting next to Simon, your legs brushing against each other from time to time, sharing fleeting glances and whispered jokes.

The pub was filled to the brim, laughter filling the small space, bodies littering the dance floor, fueled by the booze and the excitement of the weekend. Your fingers intertwined with Simon’s, his large frame moving surprisingly smoothly through the crowd, despite being tipsy, too.

Your body immediately started to move to the rhythm, and Simon couldn’t help but get lost in your hypnotising moves, the alcohol making his blood run hotter, his hands instinctively finding your waist, feeling the beat.

Your own intoxication made you giggle, the room spinning, the rush of your blood in your ears drowning out everything else but the feeling of Simon’s hands on you. Body pressed flush to his, you had no idea what had overcome you, to end up like this. You weren’t complaining, though.

“Do you know you’re driving me crazy?” He murmured, head dipping low, booze-laced breath fanning over the shell of your ear.