Chapter Text
You had this little habit of sneaking a sweet note into the lunch you packed for Simon. The first time he found one, he'd quickly stuffed it in his pocket for later; the guys would've given him grief if they saw him with it. When he finally had time to look at it, it was just a sweet scribble of have a good day, baby with an uneven, hand-drawn heart.
And it continued like that for months — every time you made him lunch, he'd find a note telling him you love him or hoping he enjoys whatever food you had cooked for him. Eventually, he didn't even bother with hiding them anymore, and anytime Soap or Gaz tried to rib him about it…
"At least I have a bird. Both pretty an' thoughtful." That usually stopped the teasing.
The notes evolved, and soon enough, he found them stuck to the fridge, written in the fog on the bathroom mirror, slowly tumbling out from the sun visor. He always kissed you extra hard when he found them, wrapped his arms tight around you until you were on your tiptoes.
Eventually, Simon wanted to surprise you for a change — wanted to see your smile brighten and eyes crinkle with happiness and love. He was never good with words, and everything he wrote down felt somehow wrong.
Darling, have a great day
Can't stop thinking of you
You make me happy
It all felt too… sappy. It wasn't like him. Yet somehow they were all not enough to describe what he wanted to say — how you had wormed yourself through the cracks of his walls, had made a home for yourself behind his ribcage, and let the sun find him for the first time in a long while.
He gave you the notebook instead, with all the crossed-out emotional sentiments. Your smile was fucking blinding. And when you crushed him in a hug, it felt like home; your love like glue to his fractures, with an ache in his heart that felt good for once.
If this was your reaction to his — in his opinion — lacklustre words, he couldn't wait to see your reaction to the ring-box he'd tucked away in his office at base.