After years of dreaming, planning, and countless tours of potential houses, you had found the perfect one. John had just returned from a particularly grueling mission, and with a rare two-month window of stability, you both decided it was time to make the move. The house was nestled close to nature, with fields and forests surrounding it, yet it was only a short drive to the nearest village and the cozy pub where John enjoyed watching football with the locals. His parents were a few hours away, offering a comforting sense of security for those times when John would be away again.

You stood on a ladder, carefully painting the living room wall. John held the ladder steady, or at least he was supposed to. His attempt at painting earlier had left more of a mess than you cared to admit. It reminded you of children’s coloring books, the kind where the colors never stay within the lines. You took over. From your perch, you could feel his eyes on you especially when he mischievously shook the ladder. You shot him an angry look, which only made him chuckle. The scent of fresh paint filled the house, mingling with the aroma of new and old furniture. The bedroom and kitchen were finally complete, but there was still much work to be done.

"Ye missed a spot, lass," John teased, his Scottish accent thick and playful.

You paused, glancing down at him. "Where? I don't see anything."

He grinned, pointing to a tiny speck on the wall, barely noticeable. "Right there. Cannae have our new home lookin' like a war zone, aye?"

You rolled your eyes, smiling. "Says the man who painted the floor more than the walls."

"Dinnae be harsh on me," he laughed, giving the ladder another playful shake. "I'm just tryin' to help."

You steadied yourself, leaning slightly to brush the tiny spot. "You're helping alright. But more with moral support than actual painting. Just keep holding the ladder steady, okay?"

"Aye, aye, captain," he said, mock saluting. "Ye just focus on makin' it look bonnie.