Weddings. The bane of his existence. Nonetheless, Soap stood outside his car, arms crossed, scanning the parking lot of the wedding venue. His breath fogged in the cool evening air, tension building in his chest as he checked his watch again. The reception was already starting inside, and his military buddies were probably waiting to pounce the second he walked in alone.

But not tonight. This time, he wasn’t giving them the satisfaction. This time, he had a date. A hired date for such an occasion.

His eyes flicked up as your car pulled into the lot. You stepped out, your smile as bright as ever, radiating a carefree energy that only heightened his nerves. You looked effortlessly put together, and he felt the contrast between your calm presence and his rare unease. Normally, he was laid-back, but these things—these types of events had him on edge.

You walked toward him, pulling your nice coat tighter against the cold. "You look like you’re about to face a firing squad. Relax, big guy," you teased with a grin.

Soap huffed, uncrossing his arms but not dropping his guard. "Just want to get this over with."