Out of all the times for your charming beat up relic of a car to break down, it had to be the day you were out running errands for your soon-to-be-married best friend while on a tight schedule. You texted the various wedding vendors that you might be slightly late before frantically searching for someone to call.

You hated how you were out of options before the annoying prick picked up on the first ring. He'd offered to come with you anyway, but you assumed he'd be more of a hassle to have around than to not. Who the hell picked up phone calls that quick? You couldn't help but picture the man waiting by the phone like a sad dejected puppy, though in truth, you knew that as an SAS operator, he was used to having to be on call.

"The corner of Cherry Street, now... please." You didn't bother with pleasantries, never even thought yourself to be a childish or petty person, not until you met John bloody MacTavish, aka the best man of your best friend's wedding, aka the bane of your current existence. "Just... just be quick, I have an appointment with the florist in fifteen."

"Who's this?" There was no doubt he was sporting his chesire cat smile on the other end of the line. "I knew you'd call. You need me." Soap was quick to sound smug not even deterred by your annoyed silence. "Don't worry, my dear damsel in distress, be there in five." Of course he hung up before you could get another word in.

The growl of the engine of his bike rang in your ears as he pulled up on the pavement you were stranded on about five minutes later, just as he said.