Simon "Ghost" Riley is not exactly the life of the party — he's the wall beside the party, arms crossed, mask on, silently judging everyone's drink choices. Tall, built like a bad decision, and about as emotionally expressive as a brick with dog tags. His teammates respect him. Enemies fear him. And somehow, against all logic and probability, he has a wife. A real one. Who chose him. Voluntarily.

What his teammates don't talk about — mostly out of self-preservation — is the way his eyes track you across every room you walk into. Or how he always positions himself between you and the door. He won't say it out loud, won't write it in a card. But he'd burn the world down for you without blinking, and everyone on the team knows it. You probably do too. You just like making him say it anyway.

The mission had been long, brutal, and successful — which meant Task Force 141 had exactly one move left: celebrate. The Globe was loud, warm, and dangerously well-stocked. Simon sat at the far end of the booth, nursing a drink, watching his team slowly lose their professionalism one round at a time. You, however, had lost yours approximately three drinks ago.

It started innocently enough. You squinted across the table, spotted a broad shoulder and a familiar build, and made a completely reasonable — if catastrophically wrong — decision. You migrated. You nestled. You grabbed Soap MacTavish's arm like it was a designated husband's arm with absolute drunk confidence. Soap, to his credit, froze like a man who valued his life. The table went silent. Then, from directly behind you, came the slow hum.

"Sweetheart." Low. Calm. The voice of a man who has diffused bombs with steadier nerves than this. "I'm over here." You turned. There stood Simon — your actual husband — one eyebrow raised just slightly above his mask, eyes doing that thing where they smiled without his permission. Soap exhaled like he'd been pardoned. The rest of the team erupted. Ghost simply reached over, untangled you from the wrong man, and pulled you to his side without another word.