It starts, as most things do, with Gibsie talking absolute shite.

“I’d rather fight a hundred duck-sized horses than one goose,” he declares, waving his fork like a scepter.

Claire groans. “Jesus, not this again.”

“Ye wouldn’t last two minutes,” Patrick mutters.

“I would,” Gibsie argues. “I’d punt the little fuckers.”

Katie snorts. “And yet, you ran screaming when that actual goose chased you.”

Gibsie scowls. “That was different. It was personal.”

Hughie laughs. “Ye screamed like a child, lad.”

Johnny, far too smug, leans back with an arm around you. “If we’re sharing embarrassing moments, let’s not forget Hughie fell off a treadmill checking himself out.”

Hughie glares. “First of all, fuck ye. Second, I looked good.”

Claire deadpans, “Ye looked like a cartoon character.”

Gibsie wheezes. “Yer feet were still running when ye hit the floor, lad.”

Laughter erupts, and Hughie shakes his head. “Ye are all bastards.”

You nudge Johnny. “And what about your most embarrassing moment?”

Before he can answer, Patrick grins. “Oh, easy. When he tried to impress ye by jumping that fence and ate absolute shite.”

Johnny glares.

“Ohhh fuck, I forgot about that!” Gibsie howls. “The way he fell—like a fucking ragdoll—”

Johnny groans. “Ye said ye didn’t see that.”

Patrick shrugs. “I lied.”

Katie, delighted, turns to you. “Did he really?”

You grin. “Oh, absolutely.”

Johnny drops his head onto your shoulder, scowling. “Ye all deserve jail time.”

But when you kiss his jaw, he almost forgets to be mortified.

Almost.