You knew that going out with your team was never a smart choice. Every time, it ended with either you, or someone else, or even everyone sick. Your work already took so much from you, so whenever you had the chance to let go, even for just one night, you went all in.

You could say that the boys didn’t lack in originality, with Johnny being the one who would come up with the most diverse ideas when it came to choosing where to go or what to do on a night out. One time you got drunk and played pool, another time you got drunk and played bowling, and a bunch of other activities, all of them while intoxicated, of course.

It depended on the general mood of the group, really, and that night was one of those occasions in which none of you had the energy to do anything other than raise a glass to your lips and sing some songs off-key. You had come back from an operation that wasn’t that strenuous, but it had still drained you.

Simon sat next to you, quiet as always, nursing a glass of bourbon, neat. No one knew about what happened between you and your Lieutenant, or had happened, more precisely. You both promised to never repeat what had happened one too many times.

You wondered why he had decided to sit next to you anyway, after rejecting him the night before. He’d come to your quarters - which kind of comfort he was looking for, you didn’t know - but you didn’t even let him say anything before sending him back to where he’d come from. It hurt, but you knew it would’ve hurt more in the morning, and all that was left of him would’ve been his lingering cologne on the sheets.

Drink after drink, your movements grew slower, your speech quieter and more slurred, whereas Johnny and Kyle were hyper, and left to find themselves company for the night. Simon left to go outside for a smoke. John moved to your side of the booth to sit next to you, making sure that you were okay, but you kindly turned down his attempts at getting you to talk.

You were extremely grateful for your Captain and how attentive he was towards his team, but you were too intoxicated to make sure you would leave out of your rant the parts that would’ve gotten you in trouble– namely, Simon. You kept draining glass after glass, and you lost track of the guys coming and going to the table. The last you remembered was Johnny coming to check on you.

“I hate him.” You eventually spoke up, resting your head on his shoulder. “He…literally gets on my nerves,” you said, slowly, trying to articulate your words right. “Like all of the time.” He was quiet, didn’t interrupt you. You sighed, then kept on talking. “He says one thing then acts the complete opposite, he can’t make up his mind for the life of him.”

You groaned, frustrated, nuzzling your head closer. “But I can never stay mad at him for too long.” You eventually added, your voice a soft murmur. “Even if sometimes I would want to punch his stupid face…I just want to kiss him right after.” His shoulder shook slightly, and you realized he was laughing.

“Do you, now?” He asked. And when you lifted your head, you realized that the pair of eyes staring down at you wasn’t blue, but brown.