raineandthunder

Johnny (crying): "Si! Look! She rolled over!

Simon: “Would ya look at that, I can’t believe how big she’s gettin’.”

Johnny (sobbing): “How’s she so big already?!”

Simon, seeing how much Johnny is losing it: “Ya alright, luv?”

Simon, however, is Mr. Brick Wall when it comes to his family. Rarely sends pictures to other people of his daughters, though he takes a lot for himself. Price will get a few occasionally when he texts and asks how his granddaughters are doing. He doesn't keep a single photo of his girls or even Johnny on his desk at work. Doesn't speak of them at all. He's made too many enemies that killed his family before, and he's terrified of that happening again.

Unfortunately, the convenience never stopped the fact that everyone stared and whispered at him every time he walked through the door with his daughter bouncing at his side. It didn’t seem to matter to the other parents that Maeve always hugged and kissed her papa goodbye when he dropped her off and rattled on endlessly about what she did during the day and showed him whatever doodles or projects she had made when he picked her up. They always stared.

Part of Simon couldn’t blame them. He knew he towered over every father and mother there. He knew his muscular build was intimidating. He knew the black cloth mask he always wore to hide his scars was unsettling. He knew the fact that he never made conversation with any of the other parents made him seem odd. But that didn’t give them the right to stare.

He only ever addressed the stares and comments once when a lady he’d noticed had started dropping off a little boy a week or so ago said something that made his blood boil.

“That poor lass. Must be terrified to go home with a man like that every day. She cries every time he drops her off and picks her up.”

She’d said it while staring straight at him as he grabbed Maeve’s backpack from her cubby. She’d fussed and cried every time he’d dropped her off and picked her up the past week, that much was true. But only because Johnny was away in Yorkshire on a demolition’s job with his company. Maeve missed her Da and was upset when everyday Simon told her when he picked her up that, “No, bug, Da’s not home yet.”

Simon could only assume this woman had seen Maeve in a bad mood for the past week and come to that very incorrect assumption.

“Oi, ‘scuse me.”

The woman looked at him and had the decency to look at least a little embarrassed.

“She’s only upset because my husband’s been away for work. Misses ‘im. Best not to assume things about strangers, yeah?”

Simon took Maeve’s hand and led her outside as the woman was still trying to stutter out a response. Maeve innocently looked up at him and asked through her fading sniffles what the lady had wanted.

“She was just concerned as to why you’re upset, bug.”

“I just want Da to come home,” Maeve sniffled.

Simon picked her up and placed her on his hip, giving her head a quick kiss.

“I know ya do. I miss Da too.”

[TW!] Death and dying of a loved one l Descriptions of a corpse | Grief | Descriptions of Death

You can also read it on A03

Johnny had known it was coming.

For weeks, really. Years if he was being honest with himself.

Mum had been declining for two years already and was only getting worse. She'd had a few falls in the past few weeks that left her in bed and unable to move at all by herself. She never healed, as expected. It was getting closer to her time, her body breaking down as the weeks passed. Johnny could see the Lord was ready to take his mum from him any time now. And he'd been fine with that ever since she'd ended up in a care home two years ago when she had her stroke.

Johnny had gone to the care home to help look after her nearly every day. Simon was kind enough to drive the girls to school and pick them up, and have Price watch them when he joined Johnny at the care home. Sometimes Simon brought Maeve and Louise with him so they could visit their Granny.

She didn't recognize half the people she knew anymore. Johnny was forever thankful that she remembered him, Simon, and the girls, even though half the time she scolded Johnny for various things like he was still wee and babbled nonsense to herself.

His sisters weren't so lucky. She only recognized Catherine. Margo and Victoria were complete strangers to her.

Being there every day with her became part of his routine. What was he going to do everyday now? He'd been there every time she'd fallen. He watched as she slowly started refusing to eat. He'd known it was coming. She was going to die soon. He knew that.

So why did it still feel so terrible when his phone rang that afternoon?

He had known he would be upset and crying, obviously. But he didn't think that he'd get the horrible sense of doom and shock in his chest as he felt right now. He thought he'd already pre grieved her a great deal before she went. Apparently not.

Catherine had called him only 4 hours ago while he'd been watching Maeve and Louise play in the backyard in the June sunshine. Perfect day, actually. Bright blue skies and fluffy white clouds filled the sky, a slight breeze drifting through the leaves. But the immediate sound of tears on the line when he picked up made it feel like rainclouds were completely blocking the sun and a downpour was being dumped on his head, filling up his lungs to where he couldn't breathe.

"Mum has died.”

She didn't get anything else out besides more choked sobs. He hung up the phone. A horrible heavy feeling crashed down onto his chest.

He'd just been there.

He'd been there with her not 6 hours ago.

He'd stayed all night with her last night after she'd fallen out of bed again the previous week and fractured her neck. But the chair next to her bed was less comfortable than the floor and he needed a shower. So he'd talked to his mum and listened as she spoke out unintelligible strings of words as she laid on the bed with her eyes closed. Then he'd told her that he was going home for a bit and that he'd be right back.

6 hours after he got home one of the nurses had called Catherine, then Catherine had called him.

Now he was back, just as he had promised her.

But it didn’t matter because Flora MacTavish was dead.

Johnny walked into the room to see Catherine sitting in a chair beside mum's bed, holding her hand and squeezing it tight as her tears fell onto the bed sheets. The squeeze would never be returned.

Johnny took the chair on the other side of the bed and took his mum's hand, finding it still warm. That should have felt comforting, Johnny had assumed, her hand feeling as warm as it normally did. But knowing she wasn't really there anymore just sent a deep ache of pain through his body. Simon stood right behind him and rubbed between his shoulder blades as he joined his sister in her tears.

They cried together for what seemed an eternity.

Then they slowed and they told teary stories of the fun times they'd had with her. The rest of the family that was there had joined them.

“Remember that time she fell into the creek and cut her hand? I’ll never forget how she refused to let us take her to the A&E before one of us fixed her hair,” one cousin shared.

“She always hated people touching her hair too. She always yelled, ‘Get out of my hair!’. Nobody but Catherine was allowed to touch it,” Margo added.

“Remember her chocolate fudge she’d always make at Christmas? It was to die for.” Victoria said.

Then Catherine dissolved back into soul wrenching sobs when she'd started talking about how she wished mum would have looked at her the last time she visited two days ago. Then she started pleading to their mother’s corpse.

"Please mum, just open your eyes and look at me," she begged, "Please look at me. Just open your eyes and look at me.”

Johnny said nothing as Catherine begged their mother over and over again to gaze at her one last time. He couldn't stand the twisting feeling in his stomach hearing her wail the phrase over and over again.

"Mum is dead, Catherine," he wanted to say. "She's dead and she'll never look at you again no matter how long you sit there and beg her to.”

But he didn't. Even though it was true, it was an awful thing to say. So he didn't.

He just kept rubbing small circles on the back of mum's hand, white creeping further up her fingertips as the blood that had stopped flowing 4 hours ago settled in her veins. He stared at her mouth, how it hung open all the way, her teeth poking up slightly from behind her blue lips. They'd closed her eyelids before he and Catherine had gotten there, thankfully.

One of the nurses stepped in briefly in the midst of the tears to inform them that she’d gone peacefully. That she’d given Flora her doses of morphine every two hours and she’d just fallen asleep. She wasn’t suffering anymore.

“I’m so jealous of Da right now,” Catherine choked out. She’d calmed a bit but the grief swelled again as the sharing of memories started to hurt more than heal. “I’m so jealous he gets her and we don’t. It’s not fair, it’s not fair,” she wheezed, losing air towards the end of her sob.

Again, Johnny said nothing.

In fact, nobody said anything for a while. They all just sat in silence that was only broken by sobs or sniffles, the blowing of a nose into a tissue.

Then the extended family started to leave one by one. Until it was only Johnny and Simon, Catherine and her husband, Alex, Margo, and Victoria.

They cried and laughed some more together. One of the nurses popped in at one point and asked when they’d like her to contact the funeral home—Catherine told her to go ahead since everyone had made it to see her. Then they helped the nurses change her, as they had countless times before over these past two years, from the nightgown she was wearing into fresh clothes, a loose set consisting of a dark blue long sleeve top and joggers. Johnny lifted her left leg off the bed, pulling the joggers up as Catherine did the same on the right, muttering how this was her last time dressing mum.

Catherine lifted her left arm and pulled the sleeve onto her. Then the nurse slipped it over her head as Johnny held her cold head up—it was heavier than he expected. Johnny slid her other arm in. They helped the nurses roll her to one side then the other as they pulled the shirt down and the joggers up on their respective sides. During each roll, Catherine whispered wetly, “I’ve got you, mum. You’re not gonnae fall.” She’d said that so much these past two years because mum would say she was going to fall out of the bed every time they changed her. They pulled the covers back up to just below her chin, spreading the sheets smooth.

Then they shared stories of growing up together, centered around mum, of course. Getting in trouble for breaking something and hiding it from her. Mum grounding Catherine for catching her trying to sneak out. Mum taking them all to the local fair when they were little.

Anything and everything, good and bad was shared. Until there was a knock on the door. They were here to collect her. And Catherine broke.

“No I can’t I can’t,” she sobbed. Alex kept a steady hand on her shoulder and pressed a kiss to her head.

The men from the funeral home sent to collect Flora stood respectfully in the hallway as Catherine wailed, while Simon, Margo, and Victoria filed out of the room.

“I can’t let them take her, then she’ll really be gone! I can’t do it!”

“You’ve got to,” Johnny whispered to her.

Catherine nodded but didn’t calm a bit as he and Alex helped her up out of her chair. They caught her as her knees buckled under her grief, walking her slowly out of the room as she gasped for air, half bent over. A nurse standing by asked if they needed a wheelchair for her.

“She’ll be fine,” Alex told them quietly. He took his wife completely in his arms, supporting her fully as she clung to his shoulders and spilled her soul onto his shirt.

Johnny looked away as the most horrible cries left Catherine’s mouth. Simon held him close as the funeral home people asked if everyone had said goodbye. They had, so they pulled the gurney into the room and shut the door.

They walked down the hallway together slowly, and Simon entered the code to unlock the door to the lobby.

She was gone.

Truly gone now.

It’s a lovely day Johnny thought as the sun danced across his face, warm and comforting. He smiled up at the bonnie blue sky. The warm outside air felt so much better than the freezing air conditioning in the care home.

She picked a beautiful day to go.

In which: Johnny gives Price the best news of his life.

The bastards have really done it this time. (Seriously, they made Price cry)

It’s cute, I promise.

Check it out Ch 1 if you haven’t yet (also read it before this one, duh.

This man refuses to even look at them and only ever buys loose leaf tea. No doubt Simon bitches every chance he can get about how terrible tea bags are. Especially that one time Price had the audacity to bring a box of the vile things into his house.

“What the fuck are these?”

Simon turned to where Price was sat at the kitchen table with a cup of tea in front of him. The man in question looked up at Simon to see him with a disgusted look on his face, holding the box of tea bags he’d brought with him since he was staying for the week.

“My tea, Simon. What’s it look like?”

“It looks like garbage,” he scoffs. “Why are they in my cupboard?”

Johnny rolls his eyes from where he sits next to Price, a strong cup of black coffee in his hands.

“Oh here we go. Price you’ve done it now,” Johnny laughs.

Que Simon going on a rant about how tea bags taste like water and how they’re not even real tea leaves.

Definitely happens in the first few hours after she’s born, with her wispy blonde hair and big brown eyes. Johnny’s laying in the hospital bed with the baby on his chest all-

“It’s insulting she came out looking just like you, Si.”

Simon can’t help but laugh.

“I’m serious, ye bastard. I went through all that suffering just fer her to come out yer fuckin’ twin!”

Simon huffs out a low chuckle.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing, Johnny.”

Johnny just grumbles under his breath that it is, in fact, terrible. He stares down at Maeve’s tiny face and says-

“At lease she didn’t get yer ugly ass nose.”

Simon would be offended if it wasn’t true. His hooked nose was atrocious, even before being broken more times than he could count.

Check it out on A03!

Title: 21 Hours

Fandom: Call of Duty (Video Games)

Rating/Warnings: General Audiences/No warnings apply

-will indulge Maeve’s insistence to be picked up/held every single time

surprisingly Johnny is the more strict parent in this regard

“Simon, she doesn’t need to be held every minute of the day.”

“Yes she does.”

even in public, where Simon normally is very reserved, he will pick Maeve up and settle her on his hip the second she reaches her arms up towards him

which results in the odd sight of a very serious and buff, built-like-a-brick-wall man with his happy bubbly toddler on his hip

The 4 year old babbles about the pretty flowers and the butterflies on their walks (and simon is nodding right along with her with the same amount of enthusiasm as she’s talking about them)

-don’t tell me Simon doesn’t sneak her sweets behind Johnny's back because he totally does

Johnny will give her half a biscuit after dinner and Simon will slip her the other half when Johnny’s not looking

“Don’t tell your Da.”

-Simon also gives in way too easily when Maeve asks for just one more story at bedtime

“Please Papa. Just one more story? Pleeeaaasseee”

He’ll always shake his head and pretend he’s thinking about it when in reality he’s already made his mind up

“Alright, bug. Just one more.”

-Simon is a sucker for cuddles with his little girl

Maeve will climb up onto his lap while watching her cartoons on the weekends

Simon always pulls her close, presses a kiss to her blonde waves, and settles back with his hand on her back while she watches tv

also naps Simon is a nap fiend

when Maeve inevitably starts to get tired on the weekends around her nap time, Simon spoils her and lets her crawl up in his lap with her favorite yellow blanket and stuffed bunny to doze

and simon usually falls asleep with her

Johnny always snaps a picture of his husband and daughter, the identical bastards, as they nap together, mouths open in sync.

-Simon doesn’t seem up front to be the type of person to play pretend with Maeve, but he always will when she asks, even though it’s more Johnny’s department to be silly and play with her

It’s definitely a learning curve for him when Maeve is old enough to start needing entertainment beyond stacking blocks

Simon is very awkward at first when Maeve asks him to play tea party or princesses, not knowing quite how to let go and not feel stupid for acting like an idiot

Sev doing dad things:

-This man sneezes ridiculously loud. It is written in the creed of dads that he must.

-Also that armchair that he sits in in the living room. That’s his. Only his. That’s dads armchair. Nobody sits in dads armchair. Also typical dad moments of dozing off in said chair when he finds himself sitting and reading there in the evenings. Also has a very worn but comfy oversized throw pillow that is sat on the left side of it for him to lean on. (for when he falls asleep by the fire)