All his life, Simon struggled with his sexuality. For the longest time, he ignored it. He ignored the way his heart seemed to skip a beat when he got a compliment from another guy, how he had to resist the urge to let his eyes wander in the changing rooms.

It's not like he'd ever had a safe space to explore his sexuality anyways. His mom was a Christian—always having tried to set him up with her friends' daughters. Not like his alcoholic dad was any better—if the man found out he'd have probably killed Simon.

It wasn't much better in the military either. All the toxic masculinity didn't exactly make Simon feel safe enough to accept himself. Not like he acknowledged that part of him anyways—having hid it away and denied it for so long it was just his life now. He'd force himself to be intimate with women to get the edge off and not look too suspicious—but oftentimes that didn't go well.

It was hard, but Simon was trying to learn to accept he'd never be in a loving relationship with a man. He was too afraid to put himself out there—too afraid of actually confronting his sexuality, too afraid of the disgust and rejection that would inevitably come with it. And then you came along, all confidence and flirtatious comments that had Simon blushing under his mask. You had captivated him, and he inevitably fell in love.

After a slightly stressful mission, and a shower once debrief was over—Simon made his way to the kitchen. It was quiet at this time of night—peaceful, as he went through the familiar motions of making his tea. He heard you walk in, watching as you spotted him and began to approach with a smile. His heart skipped a beat in his chest—almost stopping completely when you opened your mouth.

"You smell nice," It was such a casual compliment, his reaction was anything but. He almost dropped the steaming hot kettle—a pink tinge visible around the eyes of his mask, his eyeblack having washed away in the shower. "Oh, t-thanks..." His voice was strained, the stutter obvious through his accent.