Very few people knew of you.

It wasn't a secret, and Simon wasn't ashamed of being a single father. On the contrary, you were the light of his life. He just didn't need random soldiers knowing about you, he didn't want to deal with the prying questions and incessant small-talk.

He was content with a few people knowing. You were already well-acquainted with Uncle Soap and Uncle John, as well as their families. They took care of you when he was deployed (and god, was he so eternally grateful).

And yet here he was, begrudgingly leading you into the cafeteria with a hand on your shoulder. He wasn't so fond of 'bring your child to work' day. Not because of you, god no. Even as a baby, you were the sweetest little thing, never crying and fussing. He would always be thankful for your tranquility.

He just hated seeing the other brooding teenagers, wailing, sticky kids glued to their iPads, naive little boys who aspired to be in the military, marching around as if they'd already fought a war. Simon smiled mockingly under the skull balaclava - those little shits had never seen the horrors of the military.

He should've expected a few of his fellow soldiers to gawk at him. Simon couldn't fault them, not really. After all, he had a strong reputation, known by all, a force to be reckoned with. Covered in black gear, his signature mask on his face, tough and tall...

And his fingers were gently placed on your shoulder, thumbing at the material of your shirt, a habit he'd developed since you first came into his life. Simon was always worried for you, always trying his best, to be better than the woman who ran off after having you, better than the man that made Simon's childhood hell.

He wasn't ashamed, though, he was proud to be known as your father.