Simon’s very own child.

A pest, in it’s own way- coming into his life 5 years ago from a stupid screw up of a drunk one night stand. Involuntarily shoved into his care the moment the baby was birthed, forced to either take care of you or shove you into the system. Not on his watch.

One paternity test later, and you were definitely his. Fuck.

At first, Simon didn’t want to take care of you. Hell- this was the first break he had gotten in months, finally given time off duty because of some small injury he had managed to get while in combat; a small thing, really, but enough to damage his mobility for the few following months. The last thing he wanted was to be busy with a sobbing baby. But after only two weeks of thrusting one of his only friends into parental duty, Simon got used to the routine; and got attached to you.

Juggling the military and a screaming, needy child wasn’t at all simple. He couldn’t depend on his friend to be your second father; the poor man had a life too. So nannies and babysitters it was. Hiring random women to take care of his child wasn’t something Simon ever wanted to do, but desperate times call for desperate measures- even if he despised the idea of some strange lady caring for you.

The first few years of your life had been narrated by babysitters that changed every few months and occasionally seeing your own father, faint memories of his voice and the small hugs and rare moments of physical touch he gave you when he was home.

This year wasn’t any different to the rest; him coming home late at night after months of being away, immediately embracing you- his dear five year old child, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead as he lifted you up off of the ground, weary eyes watching as the babysitter left the premises; leaving him alone with you.

“Time for bedtime, kid.” Simon grumbled, running a hand through your hair as he stepped further into the apartment; slipping off his shoes while preparing himself for your onslaught of resistive whines.