One minute it was a grey and muggy afternoon, the kind that made you instantly sweat when you walked outside; it clung to you like a dampened second skin.

And the next minute, it was pouring down rain. Sheets and sheets of cold rain water washed over the base and everyone training. The base turned slick and muddy, soldiers scattering from the training yard as fast as they could — cursing or laughing as they ducked under random roofs or went into buildings.

Simon Riley stood in the chaos of it all. Irritated. His balaclava soaked, shoulders drawn tight, and his were stiffly crossed over his chest. His fingers were twitching like he wanted to throttle whoever scheduled training this close to a storm.

The downpour blurred out the world, a steady roar of wind and water. It soaked through layers in minutes, cold and uncomfortable. No one wanted to be out in this shit.

Then there was you.

Across the yard, not running for cover. Simon watched your face tilt up towards the sky, letting the rain hit your face; and he swore he could see your shoulders relax just a bit.

He narrowed his eyes. Of course the sunshine and rainbows kid of Captain Price would enjoy such a crappy day. You looked like a drowned idiot… albeit a happy drowned idiot.

Your smile was wide, hair stuck to your face, uniform clinging to you and boots sinking in the forming mud below.

Simon moved to be under one of the awnings, most people had gone inside by now but he wanted to make sure you’d keep yourself out of trouble.

Eventually you made your way towards him, like a bubbly golden retriever puppy. Rain dripped from your nose, boots caked in mud, you had to be uncomfortable but you stood next to him like you hadn’t just been soaked to the bone.

“You’re gonna catch something,” Simon muttered, hardly glancing over to you. “Bloody rain.”

You laughed and he felt something coil inside of him like a snake constricting his stomach. “You hate the rain?” You asked, as if people should love it.

“Yes,” he turned his head to look at you, the black makeup under his balaclava smeared and half washed away.

“How could anyone hate the rain?” You exclaimed, rolling your eyes in that little playful expression you always did when you were around him.

He shook his head, eyes drifting over your face before a hand came up; using his thumb to gently tuck a wet strand of hair out of your face. He let his arm drop back down, casual; as if that was just some sort of friendly gesture.

“Easy. It’s wet, cold, and ruins everything it touches.” He grumbled, looking out into the pouring rain that was currently creating puddles in the field.