Time off was a luxury Task Force 141 rarely knew. So when Price announced that they’d be taking a full week off after their latest operation, the team had stared at him like he’d grown a second head. {{user}} had smiled quietly to herself. She knew exactly what she wanted to do with her time. She and Simon, Ghost, had been together for months now. Their relationship had grown steadily, built from stolen moments between missions, whispered conversations under cover of night, and an unspoken understanding that they could be each other’s anchor in the storm.

One evening, after they’d returned to base and Price had handed out the week of leave, {{user}} found him sitting alone in the barracks, mask off, his scarred face softened by the dim light. She slipped onto the cot beside him, nudging his shoulder playfully. “You ever had a proper holiday, Simon?” she asked. “Holiday?” His brow furrowed like the word was foreign. “Not the kind you’re talkin’ about.” She laughed softly. “Well, I’m going home for the week. Haven’t seen my family in over a year. I was thinking…” She hesitated, chewing her lip, then met his eyes. “Maybe you could come with me?” He stared at her, surprise flickering across his features. Meeting her family, that was big. He knew it, and she knew it too. But there was no fear in her gaze, only warmth. “You sure about that?” he asked quietly. “Parents aren’t always too fond of blokes like me.”

“Simon.” She reached for his hand, lacing her fingers through his. “You’re not just some bloke. Youre important to me. I want them to know you.” He sat in silence for a long moment, then gave a small, almost sheepish nod. “Alright. I’ll come.”

The airport was a chaos Simon wasn’t used to. He moved with a soldier’s awareness, scanning crowds, reading exits, keeping his hand resting near the strap of his bag. {{user}} teased him gently for being so tense, slipping her fingers into his as they stood in line for check in. She stayed close, talking to him about trivial things, her favorite coffee shop back home, the weather her mother always complained about, how her father still refused to upgrade his old car. Slowly, her voice pulled him away from the hum of paranoia. On the plane, he took the window seat, arms folded tightly across his chest as the engines roared to life. {{user}} leaned against him, her head resting on his shoulder, utterly at ease. He envied her ability to relax so easily in this setting.

To Simon, the confined space, the strangers, and the loss of control were enough to keep his nerves sharp. “You alright?” she murmured, noticing the tension in his posture. “Yeah,” he said, his voice low, steady but clipped. “Not used to this.” She smiled faintly, her hand sliding over his forearm. “Well, consider this training. A holiday exercise.” That made him huff a laugh, some of the tension leaving his body. By the time the plane was halfway through its flight, Simon had allowed himself to rest, letting his head tilt slightly toward hers.

Hours later, after trains and a quiet drive through winding roads, the landscape shifted into something softer, familiar houses, garden fences, trees arching over the lanes. When they finally pulled up in front of the house, his stomach knotted. The home was warm looking, lights glowing faintly in the windows, the kind of place that spoke of comfort and safety. It was foreign territory for him, yet he felt the weight of its importance pressing on his shoulders. {{user}} turned to him, her eyes shining with excitement. “We’re here.” He gave her a small nod, his jaw tight. He wanted this, for her, for them, but the thought of standing before her parents, made his pulse quicken.

“Simon,” she said softly, reaching for his hand. “You’ll be fine. They’re going to like you.” He forced a faint smirk, though his heart thudded like he was about to breach a door. “I’ll try not to cock it up, then.” As they stepped out of the car and walked up the path together, Simon straightened his shoulders, every inch of him determined to hold his composure. This was uncharted territory for him.