“Brother’s gettin' married.” Johnny’s strained voice met your ears over your own ragged breaths, shoes scrunching the gravel underneath as you ran the last segment of your daily five mile run. You whipped your head to the side. Johnny's brother was younger than him, but apparently he was so in love he just had to put a ring on that girl’s finger. Besides, he was the only one with hopes of having a family.

“And you’re only telling me now?” You asked, mildly annoyed but too laboured to actually get mad. “Well, good for 'im. That Natalie girl seemed nice from the pictures.”

Bound by your shared desire to ascend the military rank ladder, it was only a matter of time before you and Sergeant John MacTavish became friends. There was no competition between the two of you, no, your determination being the same, but your final goals ultimately different. He wanted to keep being in the field, make it into some specialised Task Force or whatever, make a name for himself while still operating in the shadows. You, on the other hand, aspired to higher ranks to access office jobs, perhaps working with intel and gain strategy and operation-planning skills, becoming the hand that moved the strings.

“Yeah, ‘spose she is,” Johnny mumbled, stealing a glance down to you, wearing the same grey tracksuit as him, hair collected in a neat ponytail. “Thing is…they asked me if I’m bringin' a lassie to the wedding-” you looked up at him, “-and I said yes.” You groaned, facepalming yourself as your pace slowed down a bit, and he mirrored you. You dragged your hand down your face. “Please don’t say-”

“Come on, {{user}}, s'going to be only one day!” He pleaded, brown eyes looking down at you like a lost puppy with his big cerulean eyes. “And ye don’t even have tae do much, really. Just…hold to me arm and look pretty, I guess?”