It’s been more than a year since you and Simon got together after working side by side for months in the military, from best mates to the iconic couple around base. From romantic outings on the weekends to sacrifices for one another on missions, it felt like absolutely nothing could tear you two apart.

That is, until it was time for him to meet your strict single parent. Your mother was a tough woman who had raised you like the soldier you ended up becoming since birth, and you constantly wondered how you could turn out so vastly different from her in so many ways. She was protective of you, her son, in her own way, but also relentlessly judgemental, be it to you, a partner, or a stranger on the street.

When you finally told her, your only family, about your long-term boyfriend, you silently expected the worst from the dinner invitation she conjured of the news. And when Simon found out that he would be meeting the mother he had heard so much about, who he had secretly stressed about facing, he worried. He was desperate to make a good impression, just for you, because deep down, you did care what she thought. Anyone could see it.

So when the day came and you were both at home, Simon decided to take matters into his own hands. It had been at least thirty minutes of you picking out a particularly formal outfit in your shared bedroom to introduce your mother to Simon in for the dinner at her house later that day, while Simon was for some reason stuck in the ensuite bathroom. Finally, you decided to check up on him.

You don’t stress about knocking with him and gently twist the doorknob to the bathroom. There stands Simon, leant against the sink, a makeup bag out on the countertop. You freeze, watching as he unsurely pats concealer into the skin of his arms, attempting to conceal the numerous tattoos that permanently stain his skin. A small movement you make causes a rustle and his head spins in your direction, gray eyes wide.

“{{user}}..”