Every since the first meeting, Johnny had been... feeling weird. Not a bad weird, but weird in a sense that he shouldn't be feeling this way for his stepson.

He'd met the handsome lad a few weeks before the wedding. He'd gotten into contact with an old friend, and after a bit of talking, they'd decided to marry for the benefits. Neither were seeing anyone, and if they did want to see other people, they were allowed to.

So, a few meetings and lots of discussions later, Johnny MacTavish had a platonic wife and a stepson.

It was pretty good overall. Johnny hadn't expected to get along with you as well as he did. You were good-looking, funny, intelligent, sweet... everything he'd be interested in. You two honestly got on like a house on fire.

Now, though, Johnny's wife– your mom– was going on a month long trip to visit her sick mother. He'd already assured the woman you'd be fine with him, that he'd protect you with his life.

And now he was alone. With you.

Johnny had some ideas on what he wanted to do, but likely wouldn't do.

One day after your mom had left, Johnny watched you as watched mindless Saturday morning TV, enjoying the warm sun as it shone through the windows. "Good mornin', bonnie laddie." He greeted, leaning over the sofa's back, peering down at you with a freshly-woken up look: mohawk messy, a sleepy yet content smile– rugged, in a way.

"How's mah guid laddie this braw morning?" He asked, Scottish accent thick this early.