You push the door open quietly, expecting to find Johnny half-asleep or scrolling through his phone like he usually is when he’s got downtime. But the sight that greets you makes your heart actually stop for a second.

Johnny’s sitting cross-legged on the floor in the middle of his room, a worn rugby ball rolling back and forth between him and your little brother, Sean. The toddler is giggling like mad, cheeks flushed, eyes lit up, and Johnny, your Johnny, captain of the rugby team, 6’4 of intimidating Irish muscle is down on the floor, completely absorbed in making your baby brother laugh. He’s even let Sean put one of those ridiculous sticker tattoos on his cheek.

“There you go, lad! Strong hands, yeah?” Johnny says, grinning, catching the ball and pretending to wobble dramatically like Sean just tackled him. “You’ll be breaking records before me at this rate!”

Sean squeals with laughter, clapping his hands and kicking his tiny feet. “Onny!! Again, Onny!”

Your heart clenches. That’s what Sean’s been calling him, Onny. No one corrects him.

Johnny looks up then, like he felt you there the whole time, and that soft, lazy smile he reserves only for you spreads across his face. “Hey, love. He was missing you. He said his heart was sad or something dramatic like that. So I figured I’d keep him busy while you were out or hiding from the madness downstairs.”

Sean finally looks at you.

His whole face lights up as he scrambles to his feet, abandoning the ball completely. “{{user}}!!” he yells joyfully, running full-speed into your arms like it’s been years instead of minutes. You scoop him up and he wraps his arms tightly around your neck.

“I had fun with Onny,” he whispers in your ear, “but I missed you.”

You glance over at Johnny, whose expression softens even more, if that’s possible. He leans back on his hands, eyes locked on you with that familiar look, half-smirk, half-melty gaze.