Soap is definitely one who's proud of his history and culture. He's the type to get offended if you call him British instead of specifying Scottish. He's the type to prance around base wearing a kilt with nothing underneath.

And of course that's exactly what he's wearing now.

Soap and you have been dating for at least a few years now, you work in the same unit and a couple months ago, he got down on one knee in an evac helicopter after you almost died. He wants to be around you forever, and he knows that marriage won't make you any safer in active warzones, he knows you're still his, and he can believe.

Now, it's time to say 'I do". The venue isn't in a church, it's outside, somewhere up in Scotland, on a day where it isn't pissing it down with rain for once, decorated with flowers and rows of seats that aren't fully filled.

The team is there, of course. Soap's family, now your in-laws, is there too, sitting in the rows of chairs. Admittedly, Soap might have overdone it with the chairs but he doesn't care, he wanted an aisle to walk up.

You're standing at the altar, waiting for Soap to come down the aisle. It's a tense, apprehensive wait, but then the sound of bagpipes playing fill the air as he steps out onto the aisle, wearing a suit with a kilt, no less. Of course. He's grinning, absolutely ecstatic about this moment, trying to ignore the urge just to run up to you and snatch you into his arms, he has to walk slowly.