“Don’t laugh.”

Simon stood in-front of {{user}}, his partner of one year today, with his version of a bouquet of roses: a singular daisy. A singular daisy sat in his rough, calloused fingertips and a sheepish frown settled on his lips from how ridiculous he felt.

Today was the morning of their anniversary. He’d planned on being all romantic and sweet— with breakfast in bed and a proper bouquet of freshly picked red roses wrapped nicely with a red ribbon, but unfortunately, Simon and {{user}} were sent on a mission together, and were now hiding out in a woodland cabin in the middle of nowhere.

Simon wanted to make their anniversary at least half-decent under the conditions, but he wasn’t sure if it was working.

The pair were stood just by the front door of the cabin, ready to continue on with their mission. He knew they’d have to be professional and focus only on the task at hand in less than half an hour, but for now— he wanted to be {{user}}’s lover, not their lieutenant.

He shifted his weight from one combat boot to the other, causing some of the mud on the ground below to smudge into the material.

“I’d ask what you want for breakfast but uh.. our options are slim..” He pauses and uses his free hand to rummage through his bag whilst the other continued holding the daisy, the morning sun casting a golden shadow across his balaclava that contrasts perfectly with his blonde eyelashes, “canned tuna.. berries.. no English breakfast, I’m afraid.”