Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Simon was nervous.

So unbelievably nervous.

Today was New Years Eve and he couldn't help but stare at Johnny who was on the deck, trying to string up lights for their guests to come later tonight. Simon took a moment to really stare at the love of his life, basking in the way the sun hit his tan skin perfectly, smile on his face as he talked to Alec about what he was doing. The young boy stared up at his father in wonder, bouncing excitedly on his toes.

Simon smiled. All of his anxiety disappeared all at once, dissipating into a nothingness as if it was never there to begin with. Why was he so worried? Him and Johnny worked hard to get to where they are right now, promising through every sleepless night and every hardship that they would get through all of this together. With the proposal, nothing will change. They will still be them and he has nothing to worry about.

"Daddy," A tiny voice says, breaking him out of his stupor. He looks down to see Leah's smiling face, freckles dotting across her nose and blue eyes shiny brightly up at him. "You're staring again," She giggles.

Sophie looks up from where she was scribbling in her coloring book on the floor before staring down at the paper once more and aggressively running the crayon on the paper, borderline ripping it. He bends down at the knees to the eldest daughters height, plastering a smile on his face.

"I'm allowed to stare, love," He chuckles.

She scrunches up her features in mock disgust at his response, as if it actually bothers her and she's not constantly asking them about their love life or when they'll get married or what it's like to have a boyfriend. He thinks maybe it's time they wean her off of the Disney princess love stories before she becomes a hopeless romantic much like Johnny. In all seriousness, Simon finds it incredibly sweet that she looks up to them and sees a love so pure rather than filled with an evilness like he had grown up with. When he was younger, he never understood the concept of love. Even as a young adult, he struggled immensely with it. He didn't believe that it truly existed or that there was a possibility of something like the movies coming into his life, brightening his world in ways he couldn't imagine.

Then, there was Johnny. Someone who was the definition of brightness, lighting up a room like no other. And somehow, he was chosen by him.

The door slides open, sending Tiley barreling into the house and running right into Simon, almost knocking him over until he caught himself with a curse under his breath. Leah's eyes widened. Then, she exclaims, pointing at her father, "Daddy cursed!"

Johnny shakes his head, laughing and pushing Alec inside the house gently, "I heard. Why don't you two go start getting ready for everyone to come over and I'll take care of him?"

"Yes, sir!" Alec answers back with an attempt at a salute before turning on his heel and clambering up the stairs with his older sister chasing after him. Simon stands up straight now, watching the two with anxiety as they seem to battle over who reaches the top first. He expects Soap to yell at them to be careful but it doesn't come. He looks at his boyfriend.

The man had his eyes closed, face fallen into one of barely concealed annoyance as a puff of air exhales through his nostrils. Amusement fills up in Simon's chest at that. He nudges him, whispering, "No 'careful?'"

"They'll learn when one of them falls head first down the stairs," His boyfriend sighs in return.

Johnny moves closer to him, wrapping his arms around his neck and bringing their foreheads together, causing the taller man's hands to go to his hips. His hold is gentle. Loving. That wonderful feeling of his heart being nothing but full returns just as it always does when they're like this, in each others space and appreciating being around one another. It swells in a delightful way.

He smiles, breathing out, "Then we'll have to deal with the consequences too and each have a minor heart attack of their own."

"Still, they'll learn."

Simon lets out a a quiet chuckle, pulling him impossibly closer as a hand comes up to scratch at the back of his head. The action has chills going down his spine. He's aware of Sophie now watching them in curiosity. So, he keeps it in his mind that it's probably not best to kiss your partner senseless with your almost one year old daughter staring at you, no matter how badly he wants to.

Luckily, the front door opens, pulling them away from one another. Gaz, followed by Callie holding a very giggly Adeline, gets a mischievous look on his face as he stumbles back dramatically at the sight of them.

"Woah!" He teases, "In front of the baby? I thought you two were better than that!"

Simon snorts at how red Soap's face gets from the jest before placing a quick peck on his cheek and walking over to greet the guests. "Careful, Garrick. I only tolerate you for Addie," He responds.

"After everything we've been through?"

He hums back, exaggerating an excited look on his face towards their friends' daughter. The little girl squeals in delight, throwing herself backwards causing everyone in the room to have a minor heart attack just as Callie catches her.

The mother breathes out in relief, passing Adeline over to Simon easily. "How are you doing, hun?" She asks, pressing a kiss on his cheek.

That type of stuff doesn't freak him out much anymore due to his therapy sessions with Frank. It's still a work in progress but being part of the MacTavish family, the most tactical group of people alive, you get used to it. And fast. It's nothing he can actually complain about. He inwardly hated it at first. But now, it's growing on him.

He smiles at Callie, answering, "I'm alright. How are you?"

"Excited to dress this baby," She says, stepping forwards and clapping her hands, "Where is she?"

Johnny stomps in from the dining room, Sophie in his arms. His eyebrows are pinched together and his mouth is in a sneer that doesn't actually hold any heat. Now she's done it.

If there's one thing that has started happening as their youngest gets older; it's the Scot getting more and more possessive over doing the things that he won't get to do for much longer. Things being, right now, picking out her clothes and dressing her as if she's some sort of baby doll. Simon, admittedly, finds it endearing. There's moments where he'll try to be the one that gets her ready for whenever they have company or decide to go out and he'll get shooed away like he himself is a misbehaving child. Not that he minds. He's not quite the best when it comes to fashion.

Callie tries to step forwards, arms outstretched but Soap steps back with his eyebrows basically formed together as one now. He swivels his upper body away from her. The action causes Sophie to giggle loudly, "Da!"

Johnny kisses her forehead and pokes around to look at Adeline in Simon's arms. "Your baby is dressed."

"Soap," Callie huffs, "Come on."

She tries to reach again but he steps back, cradling their daughter's head and pressing it against his chest with a dramatic pout. Gaz comes up to stand besides the taller man, watching each other of their respective partners stepping around each other in attempts of battling on who gets to do it. Sophie is howling with laughter at this point, causing Adeline to scream and hit her hands onto the man that was holding her.

"Don't you start now," Gaz mumbles. Simon lets out a tiny scoff. Meanwhile, Soap is continuously side stepping away from Callie in a practiced perfection, probably from his days being a football player. The woman groans.

"You always get to dress her," She whines, stomping her foot.

He shoots back almost immediately, "Because she's my daughter!"

"You have two!"

"It doesn't matter!"

"Yes it does!"

"Leah dresses herself!"

The two men not involve bare witness to the events, not knowing how to step in or if they even should. Who knows, if they do, they might somehow get caught in the crossfire. Company will be coming soon and they probably really should settle this before then otherwise Isla will be the deciding factor. She will end up being the one that wins the argument without even being in it to begin with.

Simon can't help the smile that forms on his face. He thinks about how it's nice that these children are so genuinely loved. They're literally fighting over who gets to do something as mundane as putting clothes on her and doing her hair. All because they want that bonding time. It's nice. His childhood was filled with the opposite of this. His mother always had to be the one that got them ready for events because his dad couldn't care less about it, leaving her tired and viewing it as more of a task than anything else. Does he wish that it could've been different for her? Absolutely. Does he hold any resentment towards her? His therapist had made him realize that he does.

It doesn't mean he loves her any less or views her as some sort of villain in the situation. She was a victim too. It was more based around the fact that she had brought him and Tommy into the world with an unloving man and continued to stay with them, watching as he tortured them all. It's not her fault. He knows that. He's worked through this, deciding that while his feelings towards what happened are valid, so was her situation. Being a child of abuse is complicated. Its not black and white. Good or bad. It's all types of feelings that will suddenly arise in adulthood. Maybe some of it repressed. He'll sometimes do things and pause for a moment, looking deeply into himself to consider why he had done it until a memory he didn't even know he had would resurface.

Simon's glad his kids will never know what that's like.

They've suffered a lot. They've been to hell and back again with losing their biological mother and father at such a young age. But he's at least confident that they'll always understand what it's like to be loved.

"Soap, I never get to do it," Callie complains.

The man looks around the room, turning around to look at nothing before facing her once more. "Excuse me but from what I can see, there are two parents here. Me and my beloved Simon," He states, motioning towards his partner, "Both who are fully capable of getting our daughter ready for a party that she's going to pass out halfway through anyways."

"Ha, 'fully capable!' Look at how your boy dresses!" She scoffs.

And Simon is... a little offended. He looks down at his black sweater, picking it up between his two pinched fingers with confusion. He opens his mouth, turning to Gaz. "What's wrong with how I dress?" He mumbles.

The former sergeant pulls a face and shakes his head, signaling him not to take it too harshly. He grunts, looking at Adeline and sighing dramatically which earns him a gummy grin in response. Her little dark curls are pulled back into a into two tiny buns with bows that match her purple shirt. A white skirt to compliment it. He does admit, she looks adorable. But still, he'd be a bad potential future husband if he stepped in and told Johnny to let Callie do it instead. So, he keeps his mouth shut.

Johnny, the love of his life, however has not learned that skill. He looks offended for Simon. Thats when he knows it's all over. "That's my boyfriend you're talking about," He gasps.

"Tell him to dress better and then I'll let you dress Sophie!" She argues.

"Let? Let?! This is my child," He counters, "Besides, I know you're not saying that about him when you've got Mr.Baseball cap over there. The hell is this? Fishing club? When him and Price stand side by side they look like a tinder red flag."

Gaz lets out a choked noise. He throws his hands out in disbelief. Simon wonders, distantly, how this became about the boyfriends rather than the actual issue at hand. Poor Price is involved now and the man isn't even here to defend his own name.

Callie sputters, freezing in her spot from where she was chasing Soap around. Her brown eyes were so wide, it would put golfballs to shame in all honesty. They remain like that, one glaring, one shocked, Simon bored, and Gaz taking off his hat before putting it back on with a grumble of something under his breath. Adeline's eyes flick between the adults as if she senses something that the other ones don't and maybe she does. Maybe they're about to start full out brawling in the middle of the entryway like two siblings who were fighting over who got to get on the Switch first (something that Simon himself has witnessed and let him tell you, it was almost a bloodbath).

Then, both of them burst out into laughter. Full on from their belly. "Callie!" Gaz yells, eyes shining with something close to hurt.

"I'm sorry, love," She pants, dabbing away the stray tear from her eye with her finger, "But that was funny."

Simon lets out his own quiet chuckle as he hands his friend his daughter once again, hoping that it'll help sooth him. He grunts, taking Adeline further into the house to sit on the couch while saying something by how she at least likes his hat.

Once the blond reaches the two, he places a hand on one of their shoulders each. "Here's how it's going to go. Johnny, you're going to get Soph dressed before your parents get here and start to do it for you. Callie, you're going to do her hair," He instructs, tone falling more into his lieutenant one than the softer one he's learnt to use in order to not scare the children. Well, except for when they're in deep trouble. Sophie stares at her two fathers, knowing that voice all too well but also being aware that it wasn't directed at her because he had made sure not to glance at her while using it. He doesn't want her thinking she's the one that's done something wrong. It's Callie's first time hearing it so she blinks harshly at him in surprise.

"Yes, sir," Soap responds back, his face serious as he nods.

They're about halfway to the stairs when he watches his boyfriend freeze, turning to him with narrowed eyes. It finally set in, then. Gaz has a hand over his mouth from where he sits in vain to try and hide his own laughter. "Damn you, Lt."

Then he's gone.

But as they head to the staircase, he hears a hushed hiss from the other room, "Does he use that tone in bed?!"

Simon smirks to himself, the phrase 'still got it' ringing in his mind as he makes his way over to the other couch to sit down himself. They're silent, listening to the footsteps bounding up the stairs to wait for their cue of when it's safe to talk.

He already knows what's coming. The reason why Gaz and Soap are best friends is because they're very similar in a lot of ways. Being nosy is one of them. Back on the field, listening to them whisper gossips to one another in the safe house gave some peace of mind despite where they were. It was worse on their nights out at the bar. It's okay, though. He has to ask him for a favor anyways. He wants to make tomorrow romantic in the best way that he possibly can despite there not being a romantic bone in his body. But he'll try. He'll always try for Johnny.

The door closes upstairs and Gaz is immediately placing Adeline on the couch while handing her one of Sophie's toys to distract her with. They tend to share diapers and toys whenever they're at each others houses, not seeing the point of lugging around the diaper bag. It takes a village they say. It's the truth.

The younger man claps his hands before rubbing them together as his smile turns devious. Then, inches closer as he prods, "So when are you doing it?"

Simon chuckles, "Tomorrow. Which, about that, can I ask you to do something for me?"

"Anything, mate."

It sounds genuine. Like Gaz really would do anything for him and he wonders what he's done to deserve this. The friends he has. His family. Soap. Their kids. He quickly shuts down that thinking, knowing it'll only put him in a downwards spiral if he continues.

"Can you take Johnny out tomorrow? Distract him while I set everything up?"

"Of course."

—

They had already figured the adults would get drunk and would have to spend the night. It's New Years. So, they had taken keys and hid them in a place where no one would find them. It was late and Leah was dedicated to staying up, despite the fact that she was practically falling asleep on the couch surrounded by drunk adults who didn't know what the word "quiet" means anymore.

"Ma!" Johnny slurs, leaning his head on his mother's shoulder, "I love you."

The older woman laughs, reaching around to stroke at her son's hair with a soft smile on her features while Clara slowly pulls out her phone to record this. Simon chuckles to himself, shaking his head. He takes a moment to really admire the man with his blushing cheeks from the alcohol and his tousled hair that was more like a mullet than a mohawk at this point. He was beautiful. How did he get so lucky to have him?

Price and Gaz were arguing in the corner about some board game that they both played as young lads, flailing their arms about. Adeline watches, eyes wide. The living room is packed with people that they consider family, the same ones from all of their parties before. It warms his heart. He sips at his beer casually.

"Daddy," Alec mutters from behind him. He turns around, looking down at the boy before crouching in front of him to get down to his level. His brown hair was starting to get longer and he makes note of that for a moment where they're not at hosting some event.

"Everything alright?" He asks.

"Aye," He chirps, "Want to see my animal crossing island?"

Ah yes. That game that has taken over his family at this point. Sometimes, he'll find Johnny trying to hide in their room and play it while the kids are doing homework. He'll stay on it all night if Simon doesn't take the damn thing from him and hide it. He'll even prioritize it over sex. Which, isn't a big deal. He just finds it funny when he thinks about how often he's the one initiating whenever the game isn't involved.

The kids are horrible with the video game. They'll throw fits when it's time to get off, sometimes even full temper tantrums where they'll throw themselves on the ground and go completely limp so that they're dead weight. Alec especially.

But still, he smiles and says, "Of course."

So he sits there on the floor with his son, getting the grand tour of the shared island that he's seen hundreds upon thousands of times at this point. He doesn't complain. Not once. He likes that the kids feel like they can express their interests with him. The drunk adults blabber in the background over the music playing on the tv and he tunes it out to bond with Alec. He asks questions about things like, "How's the fishin' in this area?" to listen to the way he giggles and tells him that there's not really any areas where fishing is necessarily better. It hits him that he sounds so much like a stereotypical dad. Ones on television that read the newspaper every morning (yes he does that too) and grunt in response to most questions (....). He ponders himself for a moment. Damn, he's really getting old.

He's so invested in what he's being shown and his own wandering thought that he doesn't even realize that Johnny has officially spotted him. You see, drunk people are very simple creatures, actually. They're a lot like toddlers. They don't have much object permanence until they see something and then they get very excited about it.

He lets out a quiet "oof" when he feels something clumsily crash into him before his back hits the floor with a thump. Alec gasps. He just barely sees the mop of brunet before quick kisses are peppered all over his masked face, causing their son to make an exaggerated yell of, "Ew!"

"Simon," Soap hums happily from where he lays on top of him and then buries his face into the crook of his neck.

Simon feels the tension ease from his muscles at the sound of his voice and starts carding his hand through his hair now, similar to how Soap's mother did earlier. Usually, they're really good with PDA... mostly. But apparently a drunk Johnny could not give a fuck about who else is in the room to witness.

The shorter man sits up and what he sees when he does results in his breath fully stopping as the sound of ringing forms in his ears. The blond is being stared at like he's the best thing in the whole world. Blue eyes shine at him that reflect only love and adoration; so soft. So enthralling. And if he tried to describe it, he doesn't think he really could. He feels like the way his heart physically aches at it dies the trick anyways. In all of their time together, Soap has never looked at him like that and he doesn't know whether it's the alcohol making him more brave to openly fully expressive or if it's a new constant. He wants to have the same skill that Johnny has with a pen and a piece of paper so that he could commit to memory, drawing it so that it will remain fresh forever.

Leah is now peaking over the couch at them, Sophie and Addie following her lead. She's the oldest of the children after all. The oldest girl at that. Every day he sees how much Sophie looks up to her older sister, mimicking her movements. Calling her "Lele." Sometimes even asking for her when she's in pain after tripping. She loves Alec just as much. She'll go out of her way to play with him when he's on the floor trying to practice his guitar. Even if he doesn't pay her any mind.

When he asked Soap about it, the former sergeant only rolled his eyes playfully and said, "Alec is just like me. Just you wait. There might come a day where Sophie starts stealing her clothes and he's watching bloodshed occur over it. When that happens, do not get involved. Trust me, they'll turn on you so fast to defend each other you'll wonder where the hell you went wrong. The best thing we can do is teach them early that sharing is caring."

He's never had sisters but he knows that Johnny has experience in that department. But he has faith in their conflict resolution.

He's pulled from his thoughts once more as a kiss is pressed to his lips, the taste of alcohol following. It's sloppy but it's still everything to him.

"Get a room!" Callie yells, throwing a pillow at them and almost falling off the couch from the action before Clara catches her.

He pulls away, face hot and surely he's redder than a tomato at this point. Simon turns his head to look at their guests, sending Leah into a giggling fit as she tackles the two younger girls onto the couch to avoid being caught. The older man chuckles, swiveling his head to look at hid inebriated boyfriend just as his fingers come up to trace along the lines of his scars gently. As if they're something to be cherished. Worshipped.

"Behave yourself, love," He whispers, a smile forming on his face.

Johnny lets out an exaggerated groan before sitting up to let Simon sit once more and flopping his arms down. Part of him wonders if it's time for him to go to bed. Once he's sitting, he feels Price touch his shoulder.

"Come outside with me while I smoke?" He asks.

What could that be about? Simon furrows his brows, anxiety beginning to build in his chest but relaxing when he sees the now retired Captain's face twitch into a smirk. He nods once at him. "I'll be back, Johnny," He states.

"Price no," Johnny scoffs, wrapping his arms around him and pulling Simon close to him now, "Ye cannae just take him. Yer not the boss o' us anymore..."

It's cute how his accent seems to thicken whenever he's tired or drunk.

All that needs to happen is the raise of a bushy brow and Soap tenses up, swallowing harshly. Slowly, he detangles himself from his partner along with a huff to signal that he's not happy about it. It warms Simon's heart.

He leans over slightly, mumbling an, "Don't break anything while I'm gone." It's followed by a quick peck before he's standing and grabbing his coat off the wrack, Price doing the same. They wound their way through the quiet dining room in silence. Then the kitchen. Once to the door, the older of the two slides it open with a gesture for him to go out first. Simon obliges.

The cold air hits him like a god damn brick. He lets out a hiss of a curse as he struggles to get on his coat. Its an action so mundane it hardly feels like him. There was a point in his life where he would've ignored the bite of the frigid air to push forwards in the mission he was on. A hardened soldier. Now all he is is a simple man. A family man. He thinks he likes both versions of him.

He steps further onto the deck, allowing for Price to stand outside also. He was smart. The man had put on his coat before he even walked outside.

The door shuts with a protested squeal. They'll have to put something on that to make it run on its tracks a bit better. All sounds from the party fade into a muffled sound, the quietness of the Scottish countryside being the only thing around them. He looks at the lights that Johnny had been stringing up earlier, internally laughing at the fact that no one's even out here. He had tried to tell him multiple times that would happen. It's too bloody cold out to be sitting outside. Maybe he could get a fire pit. He's sure the kids would appreciate that when they're older too. Leave the lights up. Make it a cool place for rebellious teens to hang out so they're not on the streets causing trouble.

He turns to Price, confusion snuffing out all of the feelings of coldness at the point that he is in fact not lighting a cigar. Instead, he shuffles on his feet. The man lets out a breath, a cloud forming from it.

Anxiety begins to crawl into his chest cavity once more. This feels serious. There's no way he'd make the two of them freeze their asses off all alone if it wasn't. They may both be former military men who've lived through hellish conditions but it was never them particularly seeking it out like this. He frowns.

"You don't wear the mask much these days," He begins.

Simon is even more confused. He doesn't, no. When out in big public spaces he will but typically, he goes without it. To the kids school and daycare, he doesn't wear it. To restaurants if it's not super busy. Lately, he's been trying to make the disconnect from Ghost to Simon. So, he simply responds:

"I'm not Ghost anymore."

Price doesn't say anything back. All he does is take a couple steps forwards so they're standing directly next to each other. He stares off into the forest in the night. A loud cheer is faintly heard from inside, mixed in with joyful squeals from the little ones to solidify his point.

The sentence was heavy. A finality to it. To say those words out loud to Price, who he once snapped at and told that there was no such thing as a Simon Riley anymore but rather Ghost, felt like the final nail in the coffin to the legend of a man. It's mixed feelings. Part of him will always feel a linger of that darkness over him, wanting to grab him and tell him that this is all wishful thinking. Men like him don't get fairytale ending like this. But the part of him that's Simon? That's a father? He thinks he'd kill that version of him in a heartbeat if he tried to win. Maybe he already has.

Realistically, the death of who he used to be wasn't due to his own calloused and scarred hands, though. It wasn't even Johnny's. Ghost died the moment he laid his eyes on those children, taking off the mask when it had seemed to scare them. So easily. As if it was nothing. Soap had been bewildered by the moment. He could see it on his face.

Simon licks his dry lips, regretting it immediately as the winter air bit them in response. Still, he speaks, "When I first came here, my mask scared the kids. I took it off then and the only other time I put it back on was when they were in danger. I don't want them to know the things I've done... The people I've hurt in the name of good. How I earned that callsign that became more of an identity, tied into who I was. I don't want to hold on anymore. I want to finally be free of the burdens that made me become what I was and have stupid normal life with the man I love. Kids. A dog. I don't care if that whole bloody base sees me as weak because of it. It was the strongest thing I've ever done."

A shaky breath is exhaled next to him. When he flicks his gaze over to Price, he could swore there was maybe a glassiness to his eyes reflected from the lights above them.

"I'm proud of you, son. I say it a whole lot but I am," He trails off, thinking to himself before continuing, "I have something for you."

Simon faces him fully as he digs into his coat pocket on the inside of his jacket. The rustling is loud. Daunting. He pulls out a folder, red in color, and holds it out to him. Somehow, with steady hands he slowly takes it. What the hell could this possibly be?

He opens it, blinking in puzzlement at the contents inside. A birth certificate, identifications, drivers license with a picture of it on him from when he was about a decade younger and a lot less scars. Blue eyes meet brown once more.

"Price, what the fuck is this?"

"As you know, I was a Captain for quite a while. I have friends in high places. When I announced my retirement, they had wanted to give me a parting gift so I asked for you to have a new identity. Last name isn't the same, figured that probably wouldn't have been a good idea considering Simon Riley is still to blame for the murder of his family and I'm sure you would've been arrested in a month if I had done that. But it's not going to stay that way for long. You're going to be a MacTavish soon, right?"

Simon's breath catches in his throat as a huge ball forms within it. His emotions are going haywire. If anyone asked for him to place exactly what he's feeling right now, even Dr. Gerber, he wouldn't be able to place it. It's overwhelming.

He thought when him and Johnny got married, it wouldn't technically be official or legal. They were both okay with that. Loving him meant that. There was no possibility of anything official or legitimate in the eyes of the government when it came to him. No will. No marriage certificate. No estate or properties or cars in his name. Nothing. He was quite literally a ghost walking the earth for so long. How Price managed this? He had no idea. When Simon talked about his rebirth after creating this life for himself, it was always figurative. But now? Well now he's holding actual physical proof of it and it feels so fucking good to finally be normal. A civilian. There's so much he can do now. He can leave his kids with something one day when he goes. He could buy Johnny a new car. In fact, that's the first thing he's going to do with it.

It'll be so much easier on them all. They won't have to rush around with only one driver once Soap starts working again. If Leah has a sleepover with her friends while his hopefully future husband is busy with therapy or something, he could drive her. He can pick up things from the store on the way home.

And Price had given that to him. All held together in one little folder. A new life. A new chance.

Part of him is still anxious about it. What if this is what gets him locked up? Sure, the people who knew what really happened, all tucked away under wraps in a pretty bow, would probably come to his defense but he would still get charged for faking his death. But he won't worry until that actually happens. If it does, that is.

"Sir- Price," He chokes up, "Why—"

"Because you deserve all of the little things everyone else has. You're a good man. I don't want your past holding you back from your future anymore."

"I can't accept this—"

"It's already done. If anyone asks, your middle name is Riley, as per said on the birth certificate. You go by that as a last name because your father left you as a baby."

What's one more secret upon the list that he already has?

He doesn't second guess it. Doesn't allow himself to. He tackles Price in the tightest hug that he's ever given the man. It's warm. It's peaceful. He thinks that this is the way that a father's hug is supposed to feel. Like safety.

Two arms come up and envelope him in a tight embrace, with a pat every once in a while. He doesn't let go. There's so much to say but the words won't come out. Johnny's going to be so excited to hear this. So many possibilities come from this. They'll be better off this way in the future, especially once it gets to the point where he won't be able to do the physical labor of the mechanics shop anymore due to his arm. It hurts more often than not now and he knows it's going to get worse as his body ages, not able to handle all of the work like it used to be able to.

The one who steps back is Price yet he keeps a firm grip on the former lieutenant's shoulder, squeezing it. "So, where's the wedding going to be?"

Simon chuckles wetly, "Well, if he say's yes—"

"When he says yes," Price corrects. And how he wishes he could have that same confidence.

”If” He pointedly continues, "I think in the backyard. We probably can't afford all of that big wedding stuff. Sure, Johnny's dad has already blatantly told me he's willing to help pay for it— something about it being his job?— But I don't want to do that to him. There's only one half of a family to help with the funds after all. Doesn't seem quite fair to the MacTavish's."

Price looks offended at the suggestion. The blond can't place what exactly he said that was wrong and caused that annoyed expression. It's the truth. There's no family for Simon except this one and the the 141. Plus the kids. None of them should dig into their pockets for him. It's fine. They'll still have a beautiful day and it'll be just for them, as it was before all of this identity stuff had occurred. It's doesn't need to be big and fancy for them to enjoy it. This was perfectly fine. All he needs is Johnny.

But Price doesn't seem satisfied with the idea. Not at all. If anyone would understand, he always thought it would be him. Yet, the man pinches the bridge of his nose.

"You know I don't have any kids, right?" The older finally says.

Now Simon is the one that was lost. Why does that matter? This conversation has been going in all kinds of directions tonight and he's not sure how it got to this topic. "Yeah... So?"

"So," Price drawls out the "o" sound, "I have been setting aside money for the three of you boys for this exact reason. There's plenty for you to have a proper wedding with caterers and a big fancy banquet hall with flowers littering the damn tables that you'll have no idea what to do with when all is said and done."

The second bomb was dropped on him. He's been what? How come this is his first time hearing about this? Why would he do that? He would've expected it for Gaz because they've always been so close but for him and Johnny? Simon wasn't necessarily ever marriage material and the Scot already had two fairly well off parents. So why would he do that?

Also, it seems unfair that they accept that much when Gaz probably has less than the two of them combined. This he really can't accept. That was too much to ask of him. Price is a grown man, capable of making his own decision but he deserves that money. He's worked hard for it. It feel like robbing the man blind, for fucks sake. He shakes his head in a hurried motion, saying, "No. No." as he does so.

"Let me do this for you-"

Simon cuts him off, "Price, absolutely not."

"Come on. One half will go to the wedding and the other half the honeymoon. Soap's a spoiled little fucker, all your fault by the way with how you've always broken your back to give him exactly what he wants, and he would accept the backyard wedding but wish there was a way for there to be more. I know you'll want more too," Price explains.

Simon sighs. He does not spoil Johnny. Maybe. No, he doesn't. Sure, he may shower him with all the love and affection he could muster, plan some huge proposal just for him, break away from his trauma around Christmas just to make wrapping presents a little less taxing on him, will fold every time he sees those blue eyes, and buy him the best damn ring he could but that doesn't equate to spoiling. Does it?

That's not the important part. That would be the fact that Price isn't taking no for an answer. He wants to cry. In fact, he's about two seconds away from crying. All of this has been so much. So emotionally heavy for him.

"Price—"

"It's too late, Simon. It's done. I knew you would protest it so Clyde and I already discussed it."

Clyde the sneaky bastard.

He does end up crying. Once more hugging Price. When they go back inside, Simon hides the identifications on top of the cupboards where he knows his boyfriend won't find them. He'll show him tomorrow.

When Johnny sees him, he immediately rushes over and wipes at the corner of his red, puffy eyes. All the taller man can do is nod in a form of an answer, telling him that he's okay without actually doing it. The brunet then shoots an angry look at Price before grabbing Simon by the wrist to pull him back towards where all the adults were hanging out, kids not too far off playing. The sound of the captain chuckling behind them is drowned out by all of the noise.

Once the clock strikes twelve, pots and pans banging in the background, the kiss that they share tastes a bit like hope.

———

"Gaz, this has been your worst idea yet," Johnny groans.

The two men walk through the crowded mall, both embarrassingly wearing sunglasses to protect themselves from the harsh white lighting from above. Why in the hell had he offered to go shopping today? Soap has no idea. He has even less of an idea of why he agreed. They had been in the kitchen, enjoying Simon's breakfast happily when it was suggested.

Callie had decided to stay back, watching their girls playing together with a lovesick look in her eyes. Alec and Leah were still fast asleep since they had managed to somehow stay up when the clock had struck midnight.

All he could really tell you for sure was his head was pounding like a motherfucker, even with the dark film over his eyes. Well, other than the fact that the two men for sure look like total bawbags that that one old song would apply to. They've been to so many different stores, without finding anything actually worth buying might he add, and it's quickly starting to darken outside. All Soap wants to do is go home and crawl into his partner's arms. However, each time he asks if they can leave soon, Gaz will physically begin to sweat buckets at the suggestion before running ahead into a store with interest in an item that he doesn't even get.

It's getting quite annoying. He loves his best friend but he would definitely shake him until his brain hits against his skull right now if he could do so without Callie beating the hell out of him for it.

"Oh, come on, Soap," Gaz urges, "How often do we get to do this anymore? We always have our partners with us or our kids. This is our time."

Johnny almost scoffs at that but manages not to only by biting the inside of his cheek. The tinge of blood on his tongue does nothing to kill off the nausea that's starting to bubble in his stomach.

"I get that but shopping? When have we ever gone shopping together? We haven't even bought anything."

The other man rolls his eyes, answering with a slightly bothered tone, "I wanted to spend the whole day with you. Is that too much to ask?"

Yes. It is. At least when he's hungover. Any other time he would've jumped at the thought but today was not any other time. He turns his head away and for the first time since they've gotten there, a store catches his eye.

"Hold on a second," He mumbles. The two slow to a stop in front of a jewelry store and he swears that his friend tenses up upon seeing it. He's acting awfully weird today. Maybe him and Callie got into it or something so he's using this as an excuse to get out of the house, leaving the jewelry store to bother him due to it.

He shakes his head, walking into it. The clerk looks up from where she was counting the money in the drawer, sending them a polite smile in the process and a greeting. Soap nods back, turning to the engagement rings to look them over. Gaz is now hurdling questions at him like what was he doing and why are they in the ring sections, all of which he ignores after sending a strange look his way. Okay. Really weird. He should know that at this point, there is no future that he doesn't see his boyfriend in. They've been through hell and back together. Sure, it's a little fast. However, he feels like they've wasted so much time already, first in the military and then when they were "platonically" raising three children together as Simon got on his own two feet outside of being a lieutenant.

It's not that outlandish for him to be doing this. He's wanted to propose for a while now, even going as far to measure the key rings that Simon will sometimes swing around his finger and calculate the sizing of the ring he'd have to buy.

They were serious. They both agreed that they were going to get married and Soap had already decided that he was going to propose after the holidays, something Gaz knows. So he doesn't understand the confusion. "Gaz," He sighs without taking his eyes off of the display for even a moment, "You're acting really off today."

"No, I'm not," He responds, a little quickly.

Soap raises an eyebrow at his friend who looks as if he's sweating buckets at this point. He takes off his sunglasses, crossing his arms and giving him his signature "talk, now" expression. It may have been something that he had actually learned from his beloved boyfriend but Gaz doesn't have to know that.

He watches the other man groan, ripping off his own shades. "I'm just—" He pauses, thinking over his words carefully, "Are you sure he's ready for this? It's the Ghost."

Soap, ever the patient father of three kids, answers gently, "The Ghost is gone, Gaz. He goes by Simon fully now. We don't need to be those men anymore and he's actually been doing really well in therapy."

"Maybe, yeah. But I don't want you rushing into something and getting your heart broken..."

It's a good reasoning. Anyone outside of their relationship thinking this way makes sense but he's the one in it. He knows Simon. They've talked about this. Plus, some part of him still feels as if he's not getting the full truth out of him. Call it a gut feeling.

But he won't make him talk about what's actually going on. He's not sure he really wants to know. Yet, he does. Johnny can't bear the thought that maybe there's something that Gaz knows that he doesn't about their relationship; something that is making him act so strangely and try to get him not to propose. "What? Did he tell you something that I'm not supposed to know?"

"No."

The tone is rushed once more, teeth clacking shut. It's a lie. His heart drops and his blood rushes to his ears. "Spit it out, Garrick," He grumbles, "What did he say? Does he not love me anymore?"

Wouldn't that just be a kick in the ass? It's something that he always feared would happen and if that's the case, he's not sure how he'd survive. They've built a life together, one that he thought was shatter proof and resistent to anything that could come between them. He feels the fear building, a cold grip around his heart that squeezes tightly.

Gaz's face softens at that. He sighs, shaking his head, "Soap, he loves you more than anything."

"He's not cheating on me right?"

"No! God, no, mate. Jesus."

"Then I'm not understanding," The Scot whispers, almost brokenly. He hates how this is getting in his head. He hates even more that Gaz looks so torn right now, seeming like he's in the middle of a tough decision. Which, that isn't what he wants for his best friend either. He's so confused by this whole interaction. Never mind that, this whole day.

The making him come out a night after partying without buying anything. The sudden sweat budding on his forehead. All of it. It was really making him feel worse and now, out of spite, he's going to buy that damn engagement ring. Gaz doesn't reply immediately, instead looking at the jewelry and stepping forwards with awe clear on his face. Johnny takes that as his cue to drop the questioning for now, not wanting to pick a fight. Plus, it's in his best interest to actually enjoy this moment.

"I don't want you to impulsively jump into anything, is all," He finally says, a finality to it.

Soap can't help but smile, feeling a warmth spread in his chest like no other. Both at the fact that his friend was trying to look out for him and the knowledge that he isn't jumping into anything. This is all he's dreamed of for a long time. Late nights with Simon and him dancing along to no actual music, holding each other tightly, open-lipped smiles planted against each other as hands cradled faces and carded through hair. Afternoons filled with laughter as he spun Alec around on his shoulders, Soap anxiously asking him to be careful while Leah and Sophie laughed. Soft mornings when he'd wake up before Simon on the weekends, admiring the way the light bounced off his naked back.

Nights when they would argue back and forth, outside so the kids don't witness it. The moments when he lost his boyfriend to the memories that would haunt him and he'd hold the blond, waiting for him to come back patiently. Soap waking up screaming and breathing as if someone's choking him, still feeling the bullet pierce into his arm or the way the Chicago wind hit against his back. Leah crying in their arms after a particular bad dream about the accident. Alec's panic attacks, calmed by them singing to the boy. Sophie throwing temper tantrums, choosing to torture Simon with them for some reason.

All of the good. All of the bad. It's what he wants. So as the rings glimmer at him, he admires them. They've come such a long way. They deserve this.

"I love him, Gaz," Soap wistfully mumbles, "More than I've ever loved anyone else. I want him to be permanent."

When he looks over at his the former sergeant, his eyes brown eyes are glassy and his lip wobbles ever so slightly. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

———

Johnny's pocket feels way heavier than it just had a couple miles down the road. The front porch light of their big, two story house, so obviously lived in by a happy family with a little football net and tiny big wheeled bikes, illuminates the otherwise dark house. Which, in itself is strange. It's barely just gotten dark. Maybe the kids had an early bed time. Instead of wondering too much about that, however, he focuses on the little things. The ash tray on the porch railing, filled with stubbed out cigars. The car in the driveway.

Everything that screams "them." The box is haunting him, begging to be opened and allow for the ring within to be presented to Simon. It feels as if butterflies flutter around his stomach, making his heart rate stumble over itself. He can do this.

Soap inhales deeply, allowing for the feelings to go away. Nothing really changes with this decision, technically. It's not like the can actually legally get married with Simon's past and everything but to them it's real. It'll always be real. They'll be husbands. They're going to raise up their children in this big ol' house, watch them grow into the people that they will become with a guiding light and doors always open just in case they stumble a bit through life. Their dog will grow old some day and be buried in the backyard. It'll be perfect. It'll be them.

"You alright?" Gaz asks gently.

Soap turns to him, smiling softly. "Aye," He sighs, "Working up the courage to go in."

With that, he earns all too knowing beam back, white teeth flashing in the night. The other leans in, stating in a voice that's so unbelievably soft, "I think you should."

For the millionth time that day, confusion hits him like a brick but he snuffs it out as laughter comes from Gaz with a grounding pat to the shoulder. Johnny nods once, jerkily, sure. Then he fixes his jacket and his hair, hoping to seem more presentable for his boyfriend on the other side of that front door— hopefully soon his fiancé. Then, he gets out of the car, closing the door and making his way up to his home, the pesky butterflies back once more.

He shakily grabs his keys out of his pocket, shocked to find the door already unlocked. The brunet turns back to his friend's car that was still sitting out front of the house, earning an enthusiastic thumbs up back.

When he walks into the door, everything stops.

The house is dark, well it should be if not for the soft yellow candlelight littering the space along with many bouquets of roses along the floor. But none of that's what gets him. No, what does it in for him is Simon in the middle of the floor, all dressed up in a tux, on one knee with papers littered in front of him, and an open box with a ring in it in his hands. His blond hair is slicked back with one unruly wave hanging from it on his forehead. Those beautiful, brown eyes are soft. But really, it's the cheeky grin on his face that's so bright, so radiant, it punches the breath right out of Soap's lungs.

"You wanted it to be romantic, right?" He starts with a breathy chuckle. Johnny forgets all about the his own ring that he has packed away, letting out all of the air he's been holding in a choked out sound before shuffling forwards over to his partner with an extended hand. Simon reaches out, grabbing it. The warmth from their conjoined fingers sends warmth all the way up to his already racing heart.

He hardly feels it. All he can think about, all he can see, is Simon. So soft. So gentle. So loving, Simon. The man who is currently asking for his hand in marriage. Johnny feels dizzy with the feel of it all. He's sure that he would've passed out if not for the sheer stubbornness of him wanting to get that damned jewelry on his finger.

Simon continues, swallowing thickly and rubbing a comforting thumb on his knuckle, "I know you're probably upset that I beat you to the punch, but that's what I said would happen, right?"

Johnny laughs wetly, wiping at his eye that is currently stinging with his free hand, shocked to already feel the wetness of forming tears. At one point in his life, he would've probably been embarrassed about crying but not now. Not with him. Especially not with the way those brown orbs are seeing into him, as he was everything in the world. He believes that maybe, just maybe, to Simon, he is.

The former lieutenant speaks again, voice shaking, "I'm horrible at speeches, you know this. However, I'm going to try. For you. When you came into my life, you were like this massive title wave of everything I never knew I wanted. From that little quip on the tarmac and a punch to the shoulder, I was yours. When we got betrayed by Graves, I thought that was it. I lost you. But I still stayed, hoping to any God that may be up there that I was wrong. I've never been so glad to be wrong in my whole life..."

It's true. The stupid man, gorgeous stupid man, hates being wrong. Stubborn as a mule. But he's Johnny's.

"You fought like hell to get back to me and I've never thanked you for being so strong. There's so many things in my life that you have given me, in fact you brought me back to life," Simon shudders, his own eyes getting glassy now and voice thickening as he fights against the rawness of his emotions, "Before you, I was a dead man walking. Only one purpose. To be a machine. But you found me and gave my life a whole new meaning, first with your smile, then with your laughter. Soon after, this life. I never want to lose you and I promise, you'll never lose me. You know how I venture a little close to the obsessive side. But I'm hoping, despite all of my flaws, despite the scars that I have, you'll want this just as much as I do. So, John MacTavish, will you do me the honors of marrying me?"

And Soap would be an idiot not to. His heart is so full with love, with adoration at this moment that only one word can come to his mind. He drops down onto his own knees, ignoring the loud thud and the little pain that comes from the action in order to grab Simon's cheeks with both of his hands and pull him into a seeding kiss. They both taste of salt from their tears but he could care less.

Everything's perfect. Nothing could ever touch them like this. All of the harm they've faced in their lifetime, all of the guilt that sometimes hangs over their heads— none of it. Right now it's just them. Simon kisses back feverishly, humming in content. He grabs at the collar of Soap's shirt pulling until he rests in between his legs as the blond falls onto his ass. Johnny's own hands wander down his chest, feeling the muscles underneath of the shirt. He pulls away, a lovesick smile on his face.

"So that's a-"

"It's a yes," He cuts him off, pulling away enough to hold out his finger. Soap thinks back to that conversation in the dining room, fondly thinking about how Simon asked him if he wanted a ring. Now, watching those pale fingers slowly slip it on, he could burst at the seams with happiness.

He's got his ring.

Simon reaches up once he's done, eyes half lidded but frantic once he forces Johnny to meet his gaze. Brown searches blue. There's a groan of, "God, I love you so fucking much" before those lips meet his once again.

Soap feels high off his ass, dopamine levels probably off the charts. The only thing that matters is the way that he gets pulled impossibly closer to the man in front of him, a surprised gasp passing his lips at the feeling of him being pulled on top of him instead. Simon takes that as his window to slip his tongue into his mouth, licking into it and moaning when he feels the way that it causes his new fiancé to tremble.

The moment is broken when Johnny tries to scramble impossibly closer but his foot slips, hearing the sound of paper against floor. He pulls off, earning a literal whine from Simon when he does. God, that was intoxicating. It then dawns on him that the door is still wide open too. Also, that he has his own proposal to do. So reluctantly, he sits up to grab at the the cursed paper. But not before admiring how his future husband looks right now, heaving on the floor with a pretty blush tainting his usual pale skin, lips swollen with spit on them like a gloss, and eyes clouded over with lust.

He's a sight to see. For sure. Johnny can't stop himself from crawling over him and placing one last, lingering kiss. He hisses at the way that those hips buck up into him, chasing what they had gotten started.

With the resolve only a man in the military could possibly have, he detaches himself fully to pick up the sheet. "What's this?" He questions, tone gruff as he observes the lettering.

Soon after, Simon is crowding his space, arms wrapping around him and pulling Johnny's back to his front. Soap can't begin to focus on the actual wording, too lost in the kisses and the bites that start to be pressed onto his throat. The Scot rolls his eyes back involuntarily, craning his neck to get more of the sensation before a chill travels down his spine.

"That's," Simon mutters into his skin, giving Soap goosebumps, "Is our ticket to a legitimate marriage. One of the many gifts from Price."

Soap yanks out of his reach, just enough to turn and look back at him. He sees no jokes. Only pure happiness. It's then that he finally drags his gaze back down to the paper, fully reading it. A birth certificate. So, he finally picks up the rest of the objects, finding multiple identification's including a drivers license.

Those big hands start venturing underneath his shirt, feeling the way that Johnny shivers underneath of them. "I'm going to buy us new cars," Simon whispers, placing his mouth directly over his ear, "We're going to get married in some big, overpriced venue. Go on a honeymoon that we actually have to fly a public airline to..."

The hot breath against his earlobe is slowly unraveling him as he bites his lips hard enough to draw a bit of blood. Not yet. He can't give in yet. Those words, despite how absolutely bonkers they're driving him, are important. He can do this. But Simon really tests him with a hushed, "I'm going to take your last name and become yours. Officially. I'll wear it with more pride then I've ever worn my own..."

Johnny turns his head, capturing his fiancés lips in a captivating way. It's dizzying. He's beyond worked up at this point. He detaches them once it starts to heat up once more, panting, "Stand up."

Simon, obviously misunderstanding, smirks devilishly while scrambling onto his feet. Once his hands start to go to his belt, Soap bats them away gently. "Not yet, bastard," He jokes, "Though you'll be getting plenty of that tonight too. Trust me."

One blond eyebrow raises in suspicion, though he can see the way want flash in his eyes nonetheless. How did he ever get so lucky. That's when he seems to come to the realization that the door is still open and embarrassment flushes on his face as he winces.

"You think Gaz saw any of that before he ran off?" Simon asks.

Johnny bursts out into genuine laughter, nodding. Gaz, ever the nosy, was probably watching the proposal that he obviously knew was coming, maybe even recording before he had ran off into the night like a bay out of hell when things started picking up. Deserved for the way he scared the hell out of the poor Scotsman earlier with his damned, "are you sure?" talk.

Soap watches Simon go to close the door before he comes back, very obviously adjusting himself which lead to a snort coming from the brunet. He lifts a middle finger in his direction. Then, the man comes back once more bending overt to scoop up the papers. He pauses. Once again, he shoots a suspicious glance his way.

"Why in the bloody hell are you still on the floor?"

Johnny grins wolfishly. Afterwards, he lets out a long sigh, reaching into his jacket pocket. "Oh I don't know," He mumbles, pulling out his own little box, "Maybe because of this."

He wanted a picture of the shocked look on Simon's face, highlighted by the way the candles lit his feature with a warm glow. The taller's hands start to tremble, as he spins in circles, not knowing where to put them before his eyes zero in on the coffee table and he's rushing over to it. Soap chuckles to himself, readjusting so he's now the one on one knee this time. When Simon comes back, he's standing ramrod straight.

Though, he jests, "Couldn't let me have it, could you, Johnny?"

"Never, Lt."

The warm smile that simple nickname gets him is enough to power all of the solar system and then the world. Johnny reaches out, grabbing his hand. He lets out a shaky breath, forcing them to make steady eye contact that hopefully says "it's okay."

Based on the way Simon relaxes, he would say it translated.

"I'm not sure if my speech is going to be better than yours by far because holy shit, Simon. That was everything," Johnny compliments, getting a shy pull of the man's lips in return, "I didn't even know you had it in you. All of this, the flowers, the candles, the speech, is exactly how I dreamed it would be. You're everything I hoped you would be and some."

Simon sniffs, trying his best not to let the tears from earlier come back full force. He gets a squeeze from where they held hands for his efforts as a sign of comfort while also being a way to tell him it's alright to let go. It's a little funny, in retrospect, considering he was the one that was just pouting his heart out followed by almost jumping Soap's bones. Johnny knows him, though. He knows him better than he knows the back of his own tan hand. Giving affection is easier, receiving it is next to impossible.

Accepting it? That's horrifying. Yet, Simon lets out a shaky exhale of air and gestures for him to go on. He does. He'd do anything that man asked him to.

"When I heard all of the stories about you, they sounded more like scary camp stories. I was never phased. When you seemed surprise by my casual touch, I had known the truth. You were a man. Maybe a professional. Even a killer. But you were never the monster that they made you out to be," Soap voices, seeing the tear slip from his partner's eyes as his eyes shone even more with gratitude and glossiness, "You're the best damn thing that's ever happened to me. You're patient, you're kind, you're so unbelievably attentive and loving, bordering a wee bit on the spoiling side, honestly."

Simon's shoulders shake from a quiet laugh. The ache in Johnny's cheeks from how wide his smile is was hardly even noticeable at this point. He was too busy hoping that the words hit the way they're supposed to and that he hears him. Actually hears him.

The man continues, "You're an amazing father. They adore you. Alec wants to be you, I'm pretty sure. A monster isn't that. Getting to know you has been the biggest honor of my life. Getting to kiss you? To be with you? To have you by my side constantly when I need you to be? It's more than a dream come true. Sometimes, I don't think I even deserve it. You've always been what kept me going, whether you're Ghost, Lt, or Simon. I want every part of you. For the rest of our lives... So, considering you beat me to it like the annoying bastard that you are, do I even have to ask?"

He watches the blond shake his head, sniffling with a sound of humor following it. Johnny, ever the tease, pulls the ring away as he reaches his hand out, licking his lips and enjoying the way that Simon's eyes track the movement despite the heartfelt moment. "I'm sorry was that a no? You don't want to marry me? I'm hurt, Si. Truly hurt."

As if a petty child, the taller man holds out his hand with a pit more vigor, growling, "Give me the damn ring, love."

Johnny cackles lightly at the frustration. Still, he gives in. Just as he always does. He takes out the ring and slides it on, admiring the way the diamond strip glows in contrast to the black band against the yellow light. He doesn't get much time to do that though. Without warning, a pair of lips crash against his so passionately he would've lost his footing if he was standing. He grunts into it, reciprocating.

Simon sinks down to his height, snaking a hand around his waist and spreading out his palm against his back without ever breaking where they meet at the lips. The heat of his palm passes through the thin fabric of Johnny's shirt like a beacon, guiding him as the bigger of the two begins to lay back, pant legs brushing against each other with rustles. Once he's fully on his back, Soap climbs on top of him, looking over at his fiancé (he'll never get tired of that) in hunger.

He leans forwards to brush their lips together, grabbing Simon's now ringed hand with his own, they clasp them together in unison. "Where's the kids and that damned dog?" Johnny breathes heavily.

Simon clutches the back of his shirt, pulling it out from where it was tucked into his pants. "You're parents have 'em. They knew I was going to propose tonight and wanted us to have our 'privacy.'"

Johnny scrunches up his nose at that, barely there amusement bubbling up at the way his fiancé mimics the movement. For not the first time tonight, he wonders how he got so lucky.

"Not sure if I like the idea of my parents knowing what I'll be getting up to tonight."

The man underneath of him visibly holds back a tremor at that, mumbling innocently, "And just what will you be getting up to?"

"Oh, you're going to be the death of me, Simon Riley."

"Don't go dying on me before you make me a MacTavish."

Johnny surges forwards at that, moaning at the way their teeth clank together as they paw at each other desperately. He feels Simon squirming around underneath of him before the sound of something hit the floor. He detaches enough to look back at the source of the sound, letting out a gasp when the other man takes that as sign to start attacking his neck. He feels dizzy once more, though the hangover is just an afterthought at this point.

He can hardly focus on the fact that it was Simon's shoes. Too zeroed in on the way that the sucking and biting is at his throat before an apologetic tongue runs over it. They're usually good about leaving marks, no matter how badly the possessive streaks in them both want to place them in sight. He guess that tonight, right now, is different. Johnny swivels around looking over the beauty of a man once more as he detaches from him, regretfully it seems. "Right here on the floor?" He ponders allowed, feeling a pool of heat at the way his eyes light up in mischief.

Simon leans up enough to press their mouths together with an open mouthed grin, no actual kissing involved. "It's romantic don't you think? The flowers, the candles?"

"Aye. The soreness we'll certainly feel tomorrow," He adds on, sarcasm dripping from his deep gruff.

"Glad you caught the message, sergeant."

That puts a shiver right down Johnny's spine. It's not long before the brutal attack on his throat begins again and he feels the jacket start to be pulled off his shoulders. He maneuvers as best as he can at this angle to help, hearing the article of clothing plop against the floor where there are no candles anywhere near it, not wanting to start an actual fire. That would be an embarrassing story to tell the fire department. He's sure they'll get a good laugh out of it.

Simon's ringed hand goes back to immediately grabbing at Johnny's, breath catching his throat at the way it gets pinned to the ground. He's so beautiful. So fucking gorgeous. Especially dressed up like this. Even though he's excited to get a good idea of what he'd look like at their wedding, he's wants so badly to rip that damned tux off of him.

"So do it," A breath on his jugular tells him, signaling that he said it out loud. Rather than be embarrassed about the fact that he's said his thoughts out loud, he follows Simon's request.

———

"Let me see it!" A shriek comes from Isla as she dashed out her front door way quicker than any woman her age should be able to, arms waving excitedly.

Johnny huffs out an awkward laugh as she reaches him, pulling up his hoodie collar ever so slightly so his poor mother doesn't see what he has going on underneath of it. The morning sun is brutal on his eyes as he squints at his father, coming out of the house with Sophie on his hips and Alec and Leah following. They just make it out themselves before Riley comes barreling out of the house with loud barks of happiness while he prances around the farmhouse yard in circles.

Sophie screams at him, slamming down her hands but the dog doesn't listen. "That's right, Soph," Soap's father laughs, "You tell him."

Johnny hardly even has a moment before his mother his tugging at his ring finger, ogling at it with misty eyes. "Oh, it's even more gorgeous on you," She cops, placing a frail hand in front of her mouth.

"Not better than the one I got him, though," He quips, turning a head to Simon just as his father stills over and places down Sophie, allowing her to go run and play with her siblings.

He gets an eye roll from his fiancé. It's followed by a light, "Always a competition, huh Johnny?" Then he unwraps his arms from around him and shows the MacTavish's his own ring.

Soap's father whistles, "Pretty little dent that must've cost your savings, aye John?"

He's too busy staring at Simon in adoration to even notice the way his father had suddenly paled and tensed up. It's only after a beat of silence that he turns. There's a clear expression of horror on the older man's face as he gestures to his neck and makes a pulling up the collar motion.

Oh. Oh no.

Ungracefully, Johnny reaches up, tugging at the hoodie to pull it up even further to cover the marks that were clearly showing. If it hadn't been for the fact that he's sure Simon was dying already next to him, he would've killed him himself. His mother glances at three men, now all awkwardly shuffling in place without making any eye contact. Please don't ask. Please don't ask. Please don't ask. Please—

She prods, "What?"

None of them answer. She once again takes her now suspicious gaze on all of them right as Simon conveniently stares at his shoes that scuff the ground. Soap clenches at the hoodie tighter. Seeming to catch this, the woman rips his hand away as he tries to break away from her but to no avail. With a tug down of the collar, Soap is convinced that hell on Earth has just graced upon them with the sound of his mother's gasp of pure disbelief.

"Oh Steamin' Jesus!" She exclaims, ripping the newspaper from her husbands head before promptly starting to hit Simon with it lightly. The poor man is now holding his arms up, a chuckle coming from his mouth.

"Don't laugh! That's my son you did that to!" She scolds, "Are you a vampire or something?"

Johnny comes up and gently tries to ease his mother away from his partner, going to soothe her. That however, goes down the drain when he feels his own got to his head, much harsher than the treatment that was just be given before and rolled up this time, with a thunk. "Ow! Ma!" Soap whines, rubbing the spot. In result of that he gets another one, that he ducks away from.

Loud, very Scottish expletives are thrown his way. The gist being "How dare you show up to your parents house like that?!" That he's sure that Simon doesn't at all get as he witnesses what's going on, biting his lip to stop the laughter from pouring out once more, knowing it'll be back to him if he dies. Just like that, leaving his poor defenseless fiancé to suffer alone. Throughout all the whacking, Clyde comes up and claps a hand on his shoulder.

"Welcome to the family."