#i couldn't get the image of simon driving over and panicking out of my head

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Price and Simon stand either side of the kitchen counter and stare at the bouquet of flowers between them. They're in identical poses; palms flat on the surface, spread wide as they lean forward.

"You panicked, didn't ya?" Price asks, eyebrow rising.

"Yeah," Simon responds. "Thought if I turned up wiv nothin', you'd be offended. S'the done thing, innit?"

"An' your go to was daisies?"

"They're chrysanthemums."

"Wot?"

"Chrysanthemums," Simon repeats. "Says it on the label."

"Huh. Right, yeah." Price's fingers tap on the countertop. "Guess I, uh... should put 'em in some water."

Simon watches his captain - and date for that evening - rummage through his kitchen cupboards, eventually coming up with a pint glass that he fills with water. He grabs the bouquet and slides it inside, tugging gingerly at the plastic wrapping.

"There," Price says, presenting the still-wrapped chrysanthemums with open palms. They stand in silence for a moment longer, both with an itching anxiety under their skin.

Eventually, Price sighs, rubbing a hand down his face. He looks at Simon, who appears to be paralysed by uncertainty. In the field, Simon's looming figure is suitably intimidating for his role; he understands every part of it, and holds himself confidently.

Surrounded by domesticity, he looks every bit the awkward, introverted man he actually is at heart, unsure how to navigate the social requirements of a damned date he wants so desperately to go well. This is difficult for him. He's doing his best.

"Hey Simon. What do you call a flower that runs on electricity?"

Simon looks up, blond eyebrows tilting up and out.

"A power plant."

Simon snorts and Price watches the corners of his eyes crinkle with a smile. "You're pollen my leg."

Price chuckles, resting his hand over the top of Simon's on the countertop. "C'mon, s'just a pint and a curry. We've done it a hundred times before."

"Yeah." Simon rises to his full height and follows Price to the door. "I'd... uh, appreciate it if ya didn' mention the flowers t' anyone." He meant Johnny.

"S'olrigh', I'll tell 'em you rose to the occasion."

"Fuckin' 'ell..." Price can hear the grin in Simon's tone, and brushes the backs of their fingers together as he locks his front door behind them.

Before Price can walk away, Simon hooks a forefinger around his and pulls him back, tugging down the scarf around his chin. He kisses Price tenderly, lingering against his lower lip and bumping their foreheads together before he draws back.

"Kiss is meant to be at the end of night as ya walk me t' my door, an' only if you woo me well enough," Price says, smiling softly.

Simon shrugs. "I'll woo ya. Reckon we should try it our way rather 'an anyone else's from now on."

"Reckon you might be right."

The date goes well. Price doesn't mention the flowers to anyone, but he keeps them watered 'til they die a few days later.