Sam's Proposal

Genre: Family, Humour, FUTURE FIC

Pairings: Greg and Molly, background, Greer and Sam

Main characters: Greg, adult Sam

Samuel McTavish took a deep breath, letting it out in a rush.

It wasn't that Greer's dad scared him. No… nothing like that.

Okay, maybe a bit like that. Just a bit, mind you.

Well alright, maybe just a bit more than a bit… and Sam knew it was completely and utterly illogical that he should feel that way.

Then again, it wasn't every day he was asking one of New Scotland Yard's finest for his daughter's hand in marriage. Sam briefly thought about the fact that if they'd all been Canadian, and Greg Lestrade in turn a higher ranking Member of the RCMP, he would have a service pistol in a holster on his hip.

In retrospect, Sam was glad that police officers in the UK didn't carry firearms.

Quickly, he pushed the thought out of his head. That thought was even more ridiculous than the fear he suddenly felt settling in his gut.

Nerves, Sam realized. He'd felt them his first day at school in Canada. He'd felt them his first day at the University of Saskatchewan, about to pursue his childhood dream to become a teacher, like his dad. And again, four years later, he would feel them as he stepped into his own classroom, embarking on a new chapter.

Asking Greg Lestrade for his daughter's hand was simply another major, life-changing event. No big deal, really.

Greer was a daddy's girl, she'd always been. She'd been that way when Sam first met her when they were little. She'd still been after he had moved to Canada with his parents to forge a new life in Saskatchewan, his dad taking on a position in a small town high school as a teacher.

When Greer had visited with her parents and her brothers, Sam hadn't felt fear, he'd only felt that home had come to visit him, before his new home had quite settled into his heart.

Even the times after that that they'd visited, and he'd begun to feel more and more at home in the Saskatchewan "lake and bush country," as the locals had called it, when Greer and her family were there, he felt a piece that had been missing had somehow returned to him.

But now, many years later, after gradually losing touch with Greer Lestrade, finding himself in adulthood, he had also found himself moving back to London, and back to her.

Reacquainting himself with his old home had meant reacquainting himself with the Lestrade family, and Greer in particular. Now, Greer was a proud member of New Scotland Yard, he found himself falling in love with this childhood friend he'd found again. Because of her job, he felt, simultaneously, gut wrenching fear for her day-to-day, and heart bursting pride that she was a true everyday hero.

Much like Greer had followed her dad's footsteps, Sam of course, had followed his own's. But, not once did it ever occur to Sam that perhaps Greer felt the same way about him, in his job as a school teacher. Not the fear for him, but the pride in what he did for a living, or rather, as Greer's Mum had referred to it as – "a calling."

But now the inevitable had happened.

Samuel had realized that he wanted to grow old with Greer. Maybe even start a family with her, if she was agreeable to it.

In short, Samuel McTavish wanted to marry her.

There was only one small obstacle.

Okay, maybe a large-ish one.

Okay. So... it was bloody huge.

Greg sat in his office, these days finding himself more focused on paperwork than field work, and finding himself to be increasingly content with that. He knew retirement wasn't that far off, but having learned long ago to set his own sense of pride aside for the sake of the job, Greg recognized that there were certain aspects of CID that were maybe not as exciting as field work, maybe not as likely to get the blood pumping and the adrenaline rushing… but was still equally satisfying, if you'd learned how to let it be.

He looked up as he heard a gentle knock, and smiled warmly as his daughter's boyfriend smiled nervously.

"Sam!" Greg declared, warmly. "Come on in, son. What's on your mind, lad?"

Sam cleared his throat, suddenly feeling paralysis of fear grip his voice.

"Ummm… Sir… I mean Mr. Lestrade… I mean… Damnit. I'm sorry. Bundle of nerves," he muttered, then more softly, mostly chastising himself, "Bloody brilliant McTavish. Great sell you're making here…"

Greg, however, had seen this coming a mile away, and had a decent guess as to why this young man was visiting him at the Yard, with Greer nowhere in sight.

"Mmmm hmmm," Greg commented, softly. "So, how is the new school year going? I'm told Danny quite likes you. He quite thinks you're the cat's pajamas," he chuckled."

"Oh, it's going… it's going quite well, thank you, Sir. Yes," Sam said, feeling a knot in his belly begin to loosen slightly, "Dan is a model student. Cheeky young bugger, but never in a disrespectful way."

"Sounds like Daniel Watson to a tee," Greg commented lightly. "He does speak highly of you. He said you have a way in the classroom. He appreciates that you treat your students like young adults. I believe he phrased it as something like, 'Mr. McTavish isn't a condescending jackass, like some of our other teachers.' I think he's beginning to take after John."

At this, Sam snorted loudly. "Well, I'm simply modeling myself after my own teachers, and my dad. Treat young adults as young adults in the classroom, and you have a mutual respect begin to develop, which in turn creates control in the classroom and students who are eager to learn from you, who want to please you. It's simple in theory really. It's worked for me thusfar."

Greg nodded at this. "Respect always begets respect, I agree. Good old fashioned values never seem to go out of style, do they?"

Sam, feeling much more at ease, gave the older man a half smile, as Greg spoke again. "So, what brings you here on this fine day, son? Because I'm going to make a couple of small guesses here," he said thoughtfully. Sam simply stared at him blankly, now so put at ease that he'd nearly forgotten why he had decided to visit Greer's dad at his office at NSY.

"You're here because you've something to ask me, am I correct?" Greg kept a straight face, simply nodding solemnly, his lips pursing slightly.

"Well… yes…" Sam admitted, with a nervous smile. Sliding his hand into his coat pocket, he wrapped his fingers around the small velvet box he had made a habit of carrying with him at all times.

"I'm also going to surmise that this has something to do with my daughter." At this, Sam coughed nervously.

One of Sam's special skills as a high school Industrial Arts teacher, as he had been known in Canada, was his ability to improvise and think on the fly – to problem solve, as it were.

Some of his students had even taken to calling him Mr. Mac – not because of his last name of "McTavish", but after their ultimate improvising television hero, "MacGyver." At first, Sam had been confused by the North American television icon. An hour or two one evening on YouTube had enlightened him, and made him appreciate the reference.

Not that Sam necessarily had a problem that needed solving, at the moment. Impulsively, he pulled the small box out of his pocket. Greg, noticing this, smiled to himself, feeling a warmth of pride in his chest growing.

"Sir… I was wondering if you might tell me if Greer might like this particular style of um… engagement ring?"

He handed the small box over to Greg, who glanced at him with a raised eyebrow and twitching mouth. As he opened the box, Greg recognized a style he knew Greer would love. The ring wasn't tiny by any stretch, but it was small enough to be practical. His daughter never was one for frivolities or material things. Greg gave a half nod, studying the ring more closely. The setting itself was inset and flush, and unlikely to hinder her every day activities in any way. Greg knew his daughter never wore jewelry that might catch on anything.

"Yes, Samuel," Greg smiled warmly, closing the small box and handing it back to the younger man. "That should do quite nicely. You have a firm grasp on her sense of style, I reckon. That will only serve you well in future."

"I had hoped so, yes" the young man admitted. He cleared his throat, improvising again. "Sir, you know Greer and I lost track of eachother for many years, but when we reunited last year, some old spark was… well it never really died, I don't think. Now that I'm back, we've managed to fan it for a bit. It's grown into something… warm, and comforting… something I want to spend the rest of my life savouring with Greer."

"Sir," Sam continued, "I was wondering then, if you would be agreeable to it, that is, if you would like very much… well… Sir, would you be my father-in-law?"

Greg, his eyebrows raised at this most unconventional proposal he'd probably ever heard – and he and Molly had become accidentally engaged after a minor row, so he was no stranger to odd proposals - and threw his head back, laughing heartily. "Samuel," he said warmly, "it would be an honour and a privilege to walk my daughter down the aisle and become your father-in-law."

Sam sat, suddenly staring blankly at Greg, seeing him, but really not noticing him.

"Samuel?" Greg asked, holding back a snicker.

"Sam?" he repeated, before shaking his head.

"YES, you may marry my daughter. In fact if you don't leave now and propose to her already, I'm going to summon her on the radio and tell her myself what your intentions are. I'm pretty sure that 'Little Love, will you marry Sam? Because I've just agreed to be his father-in-law and if you don't say yes things might get rather awkward?" isn't quite the proposal you had in mind, yeah?"

Sam blinked, shaking his head, before a huge grin if indescribable relief broke across his face.

"No need, Sir," he said, heaving the biggest sigh of relief he'd ever felt in his life. "Thank you, Sir… um... dad, if I may?"

"You may, Son," Greg chuckled. "Now go on, Greer's off duty in twenty minutes. She usually heads to the Oak to de-pressurize with a bevvy in the Nook. You might be able to head her off if you hurry. I'm not sure she'll be willing to leave a perfectly good pint on the table, even less so if it's a cup of coffee, and I'm not sure you want to ask her to marry you in a busy tavern."

"Not really," Sam said with a grin. "And our Greer hates to waste a good drink, no matter what it is. Thanks again, Si... um... dad. I'll um… I'll let you know what she says, yeah?"

Greg nodded, rising to his feet, cuing Sam to do the same. "Yeah, I think you've nothing to worry over., now go on, off you go," he said, gently shooing Sam out the door.