A/N: You guys better enjoy this fluffity fluff like it's a lifeline because none of you and I mean NONE of you are prepared for the angst I am about to dump on you like I do not care how many enemies to lovers or wattpad or Fluff and Angst or hurt/No Comfort AO3 fics you've read I am scaring myself with what my mind has cooked up for the foreseeable future of this story okay like shit is about to go DOWN

But for now enjoy some fluff besties *heart emoji heart emoji heart emoji sparkles sparkles cute smile cute smile cute smile good God why've you read this far I'm losing it*

I mean there's a little bit of angst because I am literally at least one of the queens of angst and Alex is a messed up kiddo but it's a nice like 75-25 split

…maybe 70/30…WHATEVER JUST READ IT thanks sorry bye *peace sign, dashes away*

Lion spent a good portion of the morning at church—there were extended services on holidays like Easter and Christmas, so he wasn't home until close to twelve thirty. That didn't mean the flat was quiet, though, not at all. L-Unit family steadily trickled in over the course of the morning, filling the tiny flat with sound and bodies and life.

I met Bear's dad first—he was an older man with wrinkled dark skin and even darker freckles, face creased with laugh lines and age. His eyes were dark in more ways than one, and when I made eye contact with him for the first time, I felt some abstract sort of companionship—like he might understand some of the dark thoughts in my head, like he'd been through some bad things, too. I wondered if he'd been in the armed forces, or something. Still, it seemed rude to ask, so I just shook his hand and introduced myself.

His smile was quieter than I would've thought, what with Bear being as hyper as he was, but it was kind, too. I knew from the first interaction I saw that Bear absolutely adored his dad—he was talking to him nonstop, showing him everything in the apartment that'd been changed since he'd last been here, and he never left his dad's side for too long.

Mr. Johnson himself was reserved and thoughtful, from what I could tell, but from the way he looked at Bear, I could tell he was Mr. Johnson's entire world. It didn't surprise me—any parent who could get through their partner leaving them, their son nearly dying from an overdose and suffering horrible withdrawals must be superhuman in their care to give. Still, after what Bear told me, about how horribly he'd treated his dad during the withdrawal process, I was glad they had each other, and that Mr. Johnson's love for Bear was stronger than whatever Bear had thrown at him.

Mr. Johnson was so quiet he practically blended into the woodwork, Bear's incessant talking floating in from the living room where they sat as I helped Tiger with the food. Since our resident chef was at church, he'd left ingredients grouped together with very specific instructions on how to prepare everything, but the actual cooking would be for him to do when he got home—I figured Lion would rather hack off his left arm than let us cook for a holiday, so we were strictly limited to prep.

"I'm glad Mr. Johnson seems nice," I said offhandedly as I finished chopping the peppers, scowling as I moved on to the onions. I could already feel my eyes watering. "And I'm glad they seem close."

"If I believed in saints, Efrem Johnson would be number one on my list," Tiger said candidly, tenderizing the meat with a little more force than I thought was strictly necessary. "He's got the patience of one, that's for sure. He's a riot when he gets going, though."

I smiled at that, trying to envision the quiet man cracking a joke, but I couldn't quite do it. I wondered if he was like Ian—quiet and thoughtful until you'd wormed your way into his life, when he'd loosen up considerably. Tom was terrified of him for the first few years, not that he'd ever show it.

"When are your parents getting here?" I asked, blinking rapidly as the powerful stench of onions wafted up to my face.

"Probably soon," he said, glancing at the clock on the wall. It read ten thirty. "They said around noon, but my dad is always early on principle, so probably more like eleven thirty. Small warning: my parents are a little much to handle on a first meeting," Tiger said, glancing at me with as close to an apologetic look as I'm sure the stoic man could manage.

"A little much like how?" I asked, in the interest of caution.

Tiger glanced at me and shrugged, dutifully stirring a pot of melted cheese so it didn't stick to the bottom of the pan. "I dunno. My dad's a little overcritical, but he usually keeps his opinions to himself. He's kind of hard to read, though, and I know you like to know what people are thinking." He cut a challenging glance in my direction, and I shrugged innocently, then flipped him off once he'd turned back around. "My mum's like Bear but worse."

"I heard that," Bear shouted from the living room.

"Okay, and?" Tiger shouted back. I heard a laugh that I didn't recognize, barely more than a quiet chuckle. Probably Bear's dad. "Anyways, my dad can be a stick in the mud, but he's a good guy. Kinda like what you said about your uncle—he was away a lot when I was a kid. My mum's got this way of making anyone around her friend. It's kind of creepy."

I laughed under my breath. "Sounds like Bear for sure."

"Right? She'll probably share the kitchen with Lion when he gets home. She makes this homemade mochi every year and it's incredible."

It was nice to hear Tiger more less gush over his parents, since he didn't talk about his family all that often—at least, not as much as Bear and Lion. "I'll be glad to finally meet them."

"Yeah, they're looking forward to meeting you too," he said, a little distracted as he furrowed his brows, concentrating on continuing to stir the cheese with one hand while he sifted flour with another.

I rolled my eyes and took the flour sifter from him.

"I could've done it," he muttered.

"Oh, shut up."

Next to join us was Tom, who awoke bedraggled and jetlagged a couple hours later, eyes half-closed with sleep as he stumbled into the living room. Tiger and I had migrated to the free armchairs, having finished what prep we could, so I was able to watch him stumble down the hall and pause in the living room. Once he got to the entrance, he paused, yawning, and surveyed te scene.

I could practically see the loading bar above his head as he stared at Mr. Johnson with half-closed eyes, squinting against the light.

Loading…loading…loading…systems ready for use.

"Oh. You're Henry's dad." He mumbled sleepily. "Sorry, I just woke up."

Mr. Johnson, who'd been staring back with a bit of a question in his face, smiled easily. "That's fine. What's your name?"

"M'Tom," Tom said, barely missing the glass table in the middle of his path as he came over to my armchair and plopped on the arm of my chair, yawning again. "I'm…uh…Matthew's best mate."

I said a silent prayer that his sleep-addled mind remembered our conversation from last time, about calling me Matthew in front of anyone other than L or K-Units.

"Nice to meet you," Mr. Johnson said, and the conversation continued.

Tom bumped my shoulder with his upper arm and stayed leaning there, perfectly content to use my as an arm rest, never mind that I was three inches taller than him normally. Speaking of which…

"Hey, have you grown?" I whispered up to Tom, not wanting to interrupt whatever Bear was saying.

Tom's eyes lit up like a damn Christmas tree. "Oh, mate, I knew you'd notice! I did, in fact. Two whole centimeters."

I blinked. That wasn't okay. "No. Stop that. You have to be shorter than me forever." I hadn't exactly had a proper GP to measure me, but I wasn't sure I'd grown at all in months. Maybe it was the stress, or maybe—God forbid—I was just done growing.

Tom gave me a shit eating grin and rested his forearm on top of my head. "The secret, young grasshopper, is drinking your milk. And no, coffee is not a viable method of consumption."

"I don't even take milk in my coffee."

"Well, that's part of the problem, then."

I rolled my eyes, something genuinely uncomfortable in the thought of Tom being taller than me. He'd always been smaller than me.

I made a mental note to borrow Tiger's laptop and research foods that made you grow faster. Just for the hell of it.

…

I didn't like Tiger's dad.

I felt awful even thinking it, because there was nothing wrong with Mr. Sadek, per se. (I'd learned that Tiger's dad wasn't his biological father; rather, his mother and his biological dad hadn't been married, and his father was gone long before Mrs. Okinawa knew she was pregnant; Mrs. Okinawa married Mr. Sadek when Tiger was two, so he was the only dad he'd ever known).

He just…put me on edge. Where's Mr. Johnson's relative quiet was thoughtful, peaceful almost, and his eyes were warm, if not a little guarded, Mr. Sadek's was cool, is not downright judgmental, and I could never tell what he was thinking. He wore a three-piece gray suit without a wrinkle in sight, and his face was blank for the most part, save for his seemingly genuine smile when he embraced Tiger at the door.

Mrs. Okinawa was an entirely different story. She was a bullet train, with so much energy in and around her, I wouldn't be surprise if she could charge my phone if I slipped it into her hand. Her smile was big—it wasn't warm, really, but it was genuine. When I introduced myself, I asked if she preferred Mrs. Okinawa or Okinawa-sama (I didn't know if she was more comfortable with English or Japanese honorifics) and the look in her eyes said I was either going to be adopted or kidnapped.

She started speaking in rapid fire Japanese, asking me how much I knew, if I'd lived there, and more; even though I was fluent, it'd been a while since I'd practiced, and I was struggling to keep up. Tiger was talking to his dad, so he couldn't exactly save me.

I tried to answer all her questions, but she kept me firmly in her grasp until she was distracted by Bear coming to say hello, during which I narrowly escaped. Tom blinked at me owlishly—he didn't hear me speak other languages often—and I shrugged, shaking off the unease.

It returned full force, however, when I spoke to Mr. Sadek.

"A pleasure to meet you, Matthew," he said, his accent thick and unidentifiable; I could see why, with all the traveling he did. His handshake was firm, and his eyes weren't hostile, but they weren't necessarily friendly.

"You, too," I said, shoving my hands in my pockets as soon as I let go, resisting the urge to wipe my palm on my jeans. My palms were sweating.

"Your younger than I thought you'd be," Mr. Sadek said candidly, tilting his head in consideration. My felt my spine go rigid, the benign comment striking something with far more force than it should have. "Is it alright that you're in the army?"

"I'm nineteen," I said, willing strength into my voice. I had no idea why I was feeling so unsettled. "It's allowed."

Mr. Sadek accepted that with a nod, and moved on to Tom, shaking his hand. "Hullo, nice to meet you! I'm Matthew's best mate."

"Oh. A pleasure," Mr. Sadek said, surprise in his voice, but not on his face. He turned back to me. "Could your family not make it?"

I blinked, words failing me for a long couple seconds, before Tom saved my arse. "Yeah, they're super busy around the holidays—retail, am I right? Christmas used to be such a family holiday, I tell you, but with all this materialistic culture in the world…" Tom tutted sadly, throwing an arm around my shoulders. "Such a shame. Unfortunately, he's stuck with me. My family's pretty busy, too, you know, with all the holidays being big for advertising season, they're already planning for a New Years' sale, can you believe it? So I decided to crash my mate Matthew's gathering. My eight older siblings are celebrating separately, and my parents are taking care of all our pet dogs and horses as well as managing their private advertising company. Real go-getters, they are."

Mr. Sadek's eyes became more and more confused the longer Tom went on, and I could live a thousand years and never deserve Tom, because with every word, I felt unease become amusement. By the time he'd finished, I was biting the inside of my cheek hard enough to hurt just so I wouldn't laugh.

"…I see," Mr. Sadek said slowly, clearly not seeing at all. "Well, I'm sorry neither of you could spend time with your families this year." That was…polite. Get a grip, Alex, he's not the antichrist, what's wrong with you? "I'm glad you're here with us to celebrate."

"Thank you," I said, and he meandered over to his wife and son, who were chatting with Bear and Mr. Johnson.

Tom seemed to sense my lingering unease, because he shot me a subtly weird look, bumping my shoulder when I started to zone out. "Mate, you alright?"

"Yeah, he just…I dunno, I think I'm just uncomfortable with all the new people," I lied, glancing back. "It's irrational, don't worry. Let's sit down."

Unwilling to discuss it further, and determined to get a hold of my own emotions, I sat back down in the armchair and put on a smile when the others turned to acknowledge my presence. With a dubious look in my direction, Tom followed.

…

Angelica and Jonah and Jacob were next to arrive.

While I wasn't incredibly comfortable with all the people filling the flat, I was glad to see some familiar faces. I was expecting Angelica's hug this time—warm as always—and Jacob's handshake, and I knelt just in time for Jonah to body slam me with a grin.

"Hi, Uncle Matthew!" He shouted with the lungs of an opera singer, waking up whatever neighbors might've still been asleep. "Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas, Jonah," I said with a smile, squeezing him once before pulling back, still kneeling. "How are you!"

"I'm awesome! Mummy and Daddy and me did presents last night, and I got a bunch of cool new stuff. I got Pokemon cards! And I got new football shoes and a mini goal and everything, so I can practice being a keeper. Dad says if I get really good I can try to be keeper on the team next year!"

"Whoa, that sounds cool," I said with a smile, almost missing Tom clearing his throat behind me. I turned and caught his eye; he mouthed Uncle Matthew with a smirk and a raised eyebrow. I rolled my eyes.

Jonah followed my eyes, grin falling as he laid eyes on Tom. "Who're you?"

"Jonah, this is my best mate, Tom," I said as Tom sat down cross-legged, so Jonah stood above him. "He's spending the holiday with me."

"Whoa, you like footie, Jonah?" Tom asked with a grin, eyes bright with genuine interest. "That's cool. I play footie, you know; I'm a striker, you know what that is?"

I nearly burst out laughing at the properly offended look on Jonah's face. "Duh, that's the boring one. Keepers are the best."

Something in Tom's buoyant expression faltered. "What? I like strikers, they're so cool! They score a lot of points."

"Yeah, but the keeper blocks all your points, like whoosh," Jonah said emphatically, leaping to the side with his arms outstretched for effect, blocking an imaginary shot on his goal. "They move so fast, it's like wham. I bet Uncle Matthew is a keeper, cause he moves like whapam, too."

I blinked as expectant eyes were turned on me, and shrugged with a smile. "Well, I played both positions. I was a striker sometimes and a keeper others."

"Yeah, but I bet you were better at keeper-ing," Jonah stated.

"No, but see, strikers are better," Tom tried to explain again, now whole-heartedly committed to his endeavor. I sighed—Tom's ADHD mind had hyper fixated, and now it would take a miracle to get him off this train. "Because they can go like whoosh, too, you know."

Jonah looked downright dubious.

"You're arguing with a six-year-old," I whispered.

"I am educating him," Tom countered, and continued on as if he hadn't heard me, Jonah staring at his with obvious incredulity. Luckily, I was saved from having to listen to the rest of his tirade when I looked up as Lion was walking in, hanging his coat on the rack and smiling at the chaos in the living room.

I went to meet him in the entrance, happy for an excuse to escape the noise for a second. "Hullo."

"Hey, mate," he said with a grin, toeing off his shoes. The others hadn't seen him yet. "Things are bloody loud, aren't they?"

I smiled a little. "Yeah, but I think everyone's having a good time."

"Are you?" He asked, still smiling, but with a hint of genuine interest in his eyes.

I blinked, startled by the question, but it was a valid one. I'd been dreading the holidays for a while, since it was my first without Jack, but…the loss was palpable, and there was a sort of wrongness at the sight of Christmas without her, but Tom was here. Tom was here, and…and I was mostly sure she would want me to be happy. I thought she'd want me to be happy, at least.

And, surprisingly, I was.

"…I think so," I said slowly. "Yeah, I…I think so."

Lin's mouth quirked up into a little smile as he dropped a hand on my head, mussing my hair. "Good."

Angelica saw him then, and they hugged each other for a long minute before Jonah started climbing Lion like a jungle gym. Lion scooped him up before he could fall and shook hands with Jacob. I leaned against the hallway's wall, watching the room filled with strangers and friends and family.

"Al, you alright?" Tom asked quietly, coming to stand beside me.

"Mmhm," I hummed, sending him a smile. "Thanks for being here."

Tom blinked, then snorted. "Man, you looked so broody just now, and then you say that shit out of nowhere and I think I'm in some shoddy Love Actually parody." He sobered up, his eyes becoming serious, and I felt myself tense, listening to his next words intently. "But, seriously, mate, I…please, save the confessions for later. I'd never want my best mate to be a homewrecker, you know? It's just not going to work for us right now."

We stared at each other for a long second with absolutely straight faces before I couldn't take it anymore and burst out laughing, nearly cackling at the deadpan method in which he'd delivered that statement. He was laughing just as hard if not harder, and I didn't think we'd ever stop. It was loud and infectious, and after a moment we even had the others in the room what the hell had been so funny, but neither of us could breathe long enough to explain. By the time I was done, we'd both ended up on the floor in L-Unit's hallway.

I thought about the last time Tom and I had been on the floor of this hallway, tears in our eyes because we'd finally found each other after so long.

The fact that we were back here, in the same spot, crying tears of laughter, was a step in the right direction. If I was religious like Lion, I may even call it a Christmas miracle.

…

Tom's joke had reminded me that it was Eagle's day to propose and Snake's birthday, so before lunch, I sent Eagle a good luck message and Snake a happy birthday message, and then just bit the bullet and texted Wolf and Fox merry Christmas messages. I also texted Fox not to screw up the pictures, to which he responded with an emoji of the middle finger, and camera, a tree, and a human man standing stiff and straight, with the caption, I feel like a creep. Merry Christmas.

Snake texted his thanks and Merry Christmas, saying that he hoped I enjoyed the soccer game with a winking face. Eagle sent a multitude of emojis, some more relevant to the topic of discussion than others, but his ultimate message was one of thanks for the good luck and a fingers crossed emoji at the end, which was easy enough to decipher.

I thumbed back to Wolf's message and saw Read at 12:34pm under my message.

You're supposed to reply, arsehole.

I waited a couple minutes before my phone buzzed again, tuning out the current conversation as I checked Wolf's message, expecting some expletive or bastardized version of merry Christmas without the merry.

Hiiiiiiiii this is Angelo I'm seven what's your name and what's an arsehole

I think mummy said that was a bad word

I smacked a hand over my mouth before I could burst out laughing, feeling my entire body tense with the force of keeping that contained. I couldn't even register the other people in the room (who noticed) glancing at me before Tom was whipping the phone out of my hand to look at what'd made me freeze up, and then he was nearly choking on his own attempt to keep the laugh contained. He hit my shoulder in the midst of a particular valiant but unsuccessful attempt to keep a snort down, and that just made me want to laugh harder.

"You good over there?" Tiger asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh, I'm—yeah, great," I said weakly, my voice cracking as the laugh still bubbled just under the surface, Tom's shoulder shaking against mine on the armchair.

"…okayyyyy…" Bear said suspiciously before continuing his story about something that happened when he and Elliot and Tiger were just starting basic training together.

"Wolf is going to murder you," Tom hissed in my ear, still wheezing from the force of the laughter in his lungs.

Like a prophecy, my phone buzzed again with a message from Wolf—definitely him, this time.

W: You're fucking dead, you bloody brat

A: You're the one who let your seven year old nephew get ahold of your phone!

A: …or was that your son? Something you want to share?

W: There is literally nowhere you can run.

A: Well, you could kick me out of a plane, that would be symbolic

W: Wolf SAS is typing…

W: Wolf SAS is typing…

Incoming call from Wolf SAS

I denied it, simultaneously signing my death warrant.

Sixty two seconds later, my phone buzzed again with the notification of a voicemail.

Twenty minutes later, Snake texted me.

I can't save you. I hid his keys, though, so you've got a head start.

Could you damage your brain holding in laughter for too long? I wondered.

"So, Matthew," I heard someone say, and without even registering the voice, the grin slipped from my face, my spine seizing.

I glanced up, meeting Mr. Sadek's eyes. "Yes, sir?"

"You've been quiet. Do you want to tell us more about yourself?"

I blinked. Not particularly, no, but now all eyes were on me. I caught Lion and Tiger and Bear exchange looks with each other as subtly as they could, but I ignored them, shrugging. "Um…I like football, and snooker. I like to read, too, but we don't have much time for it at base."

"Oh, what do you like to read?" Okinawa-sama chimed in, eyes sparking in delight. "Personally I love a good romance novel, but I imagine you prefer something else."

"No, I mostly like fiction, adventure stuff," I explained, trying to get my shoulders to loosen up. "I like some classics too, though."

"I'm partial to The Call of the Wild and One Flew over the Cuckoo's Nest," Mr. Johnson said after I'd paused, directing his calm smile at Mr. Sadek. "What about yourself?"

"Oh, I liked those, though I prefer 1984 by Orwell," Mr. Sadek said, eyes lightening the slightest bit at the chance to discuss classic literature. They fell into their own discussion, and soon Okinawa-sama and Angelica were talking, and the guys and Jacob were having a conversation of their own, Jonah picking at what remained of his peas and asparagus and obviously thinking quite hard about how to get them off his plate without eating them.

"Dude, do you know why Sadek bothers you so much? He seems nice enough," Tom asked in a whisper, obviously concerned. "This isn't a telenovela, is it? He's not, like…one of your big-bads unserendipitously showing up at your holiday celebration and you're both having to pretend that your secret spy side hustles and daily lives aren't colliding? Blink twice if you need help."

I blinked, and then worked very hard not to blink again, rolling my eyes instead. "Dude, no. I don't know, there's literally no reason for it, just…don't worry about it."

Tom kept dubious eyes on me as he scooped another spoonful of mashed potatoes onto his plate. "Okay."

I didn't know, either, and it was bothering me. It felt very irrational, and I was quite sure that Tiger's dad wasn't an international criminal or terrorist, so I truly didn't know what was up. He was just a businessman, probably someone who spoke to clients at times but mostly did administrative work, sitting in an office. He was kind of emotionless, though, and he obviously loved his wife and son, but he could've fooled me. With the suit, the thinning gray hair, the emotionless face, the flat eyes—hell, he almost reminded me of—

I flinched, and it finally clicked.

He reminded me of Alan Blunt.

As soon as the puzzle pieces clicked into place, I knew exactly what was making me uncomfortable. The suit was similar to what Blunt wore—professional and drab gray. His hair was styled the same, almost, and his expressionless nature to top it off—only Mr. Sadek's darker skin was there to differentiate them, and it wasn't much of a difference.

Unimportant A/N: this is where I had to stop and write the long author's note at the very end because I could feel my braincells dying one by one

Still, now that I new what exactly about him was bothering me, it made me feel a lot better, but also a little bit worse.

Better, because—well, Blunt wasn't here, that was damn sure. I didn't know where he was or what he was doing, if he'd been punished for blackmailing me and using me and taking everything away from me. I doubted it, but even if he hadn't, I was just grateful with the knowledge that I'd probably never have to see him again. He'd retired, there wasn't any reason for me to come in contact with him again. Mrs. Jones was another problem altogether, but at least she was easier to handle, because she was mostly human and easier to reason with.

Still, it made me feel worse because I hated knowing that the man had that much power over my psyche even after almost a year.

I knew a year wasn't a long time, comparatively speaking, but he'd also never hurt me directly. Was he a manipulative, emotionless, heartless arsehole who'd do anything and everything to achieve what he viewed as the proper outcome? Absolutely. He'd gotten me maimed and shot and tortured and nearly killed more times than I could count, but he'd never been the one to hurt me, so I didn't understand why his presence put me so on edge.

Maybe it was the loss of control I felt when I was around him, knowing that no matter what I said, nothing would change. There would always be something to hold against me, something to use to get me to bend. I had no choices and no freedom in his office, and the decisions always came from him.

Suddenly it made a little bit more sense, why Mr. Sadek made me uncomfortable, even if it wasn't fair.

I started to feel claustrophobic with all the people around, like something light was crawling on the exposed inches of my skin. There wasn't any reason for it, but I'd long since gathered my body did things without my brain's permission when I felt threatened, and the only thing I could do was stomp it down before it got bad.

Which it shouldn't because there wasn't any reason for it to get bad, but…whatever.

We'd moved the glass table and shoved the couch and armchairs back to the edges of the room, setting up two card tables pushed flush together with a tablecloth over it for a dining table, so I stood up and took some of the empty dishes.

"Jag, you can leave that, we'll get it later," Lion tried to assure, but I said that he'd cooked and I could at least start.

The solace of the kitchen was comforting and quiet compared to in the living room, and I took a moment to just breathe, and be. I closed my eyes and leaned against the sink, counting my breaths, measuring the inhale and exhale and how it felt in my lungs until I felt calmer.

Alan Blunt isn't here, I whispered to myself, mostly in my head, but I felt the words on my lips, quiet but confident. Alan Blunt isn't here, and he's never going to be here. Now that he's retired, he has no use for you, so it's okay. Sadek is not Blunt.

I repeated something to that effect four times before I opened my eyes to stare at the murky water in the sink, taking a shaky breath.

No way in hell was I going to ruin Christmas. I'd ruined Thanksgiving with my mental breakdown and subsequent…attempt, and I wasn't going to ruin Christmas for them, or for myself, because I'd been having a damn good day, and I wasn't going to change that.

Still, I allowed myself to stay in the kitchen for a little while, washing the dishes mechanically as I continued to remind myself that I was safe. Jonah joined me at one point, toddling in with a stack of plates high enough that I had a horrible vision of them shattering and him falling and getting scraped up, so I was quick to take those from him and thank him for his contribution. I snuck him a cookie from the pantry while he was in there, just to solidify my place above Tom's.

The next person to join me was Mr. Johnson.

He came in carrying a couple of serving bowls, smiling when I turned to look at him over my shoulder. "Thank you for doing the dishes. It's been a while since I've been able to catch up with Sam and Daniel, and I'm always on dish duty."

I laughed politely, setting another bowl precariously on the drying rack and looking at the ever growing stack of dirty dishes. "I don't think it's for the faint of heart."

"It's not, you're right," he said. "I'll dry a few things before I go back out, give you a bit more room."

I wasn't going to stop him. You'd think we fed an army with all the dishes in the sink.

We worked in silence for a few minutes, nothing but running water and the percussive offbeat of clinking glass with the chatter from the living room, and it was nice. Mr. Johnson, with how much he reminded me of Ian with his calm, thoughtful silence, put me at ease. I still felt my eyes check his position in the room every couple seconds, but I wasn't on edge, per se.

"I wanted to thank you," he said after a few long moments, setting a salad bowl in its assigned cupboard. He wasn't looking at me, but I paused, sponge in hand, to turn to him. "Henry told me about what you did for him, when you were both captured a few months ago."

"…oh," I said after a long second, surprised he was bringing it up. "I mean…you're welcome, but I just did what anyone would do."

Mr. Johnson looked at me then, and something in his eyes was sad. "No, Matthew, what you did isn't something a lot of people would have done." He paused, glancing out at the living room—from his view, I imagined he could probably just barely see Bear. "Henry's my world, and you brought that home to me." He turned back to me. "If you ever need anything, I was in the army for a long time. Special forces. I quit when Henry was born, but some of that stuff stays with you. If you ever need anything, Henry has my number, and I don't ask a lot of questions."

I blinked, properly paralyzed and a little overwhelmed by the candid confession. "I…uh, I mean, I really appreciate that, Mr. Johnson, but…Bear's—Henry's my friend," I admitted, taking a deep breath. "He's—family. And, I…I'm just glad I could do something to keep him safe."

Mr. Johnson regarded me with thoughtful eyes, and smiled, shaking his head. "That's mature of you. You know…special forces means I'm also good at keeping secrets," he said with an apologetic glance. He lowered his voice, soft but confident, and said, "You're not old enough to be here, are you, son?"

It felt like time had stopped.

Something heavy and cold settled in my feet and legs and stomach, like lead seeping down from my brain, and I felt the familiar, light-headed rush of panic that left my breath shaky and thin.

I recovered as quickly as I could, turning back to the sink with what I hope was a casual shrug to hide my face. "I'm pretty young, I guess. Nineteen, but it's legal, if that's what you were wondering."

Mr. Johnson was quiet for a long minute, only the chatter from the living room and the running water breaking the silence.

"I raised a teenage boy all on my own, Matthew. I know how it looks when they're trying to hide something."

I didn't turn, instead gripping the edges of the sink until my knuckles were white. In my mind, I unwittingly envisioned a tapestry, a quilt, something woven so carefully and so intricately depicting this person Matthew, the safety of this flat, the safety of this family, and in the corner of my vision, a single thread was torn. A single thread was there, and I felt a tug deep in my stomach in time with the slightest tug of the string, and there was a run in the quilt, and I knew that if it kept going everything here would unravel, everything would collapse and I'd have nothing again and I'd be alone, and I didn't think I could do that anymore—

I licked my lips, wondering if my assessment of Mr. Johnson had been completely wrong. "What do you want?"

Mr. Johnson was quiet. "I don't want anything, that wasn't what I meant—"

"Please don't tell them," I whispered, racking my brain for anything I had to give. I didn't have much money, but he could have it all—I didn't know what kind of favors he'd need to call in, but I'd do my best, I'd do anything— "Anything you want that I can give, you can have it, just please don't—"

"Matthew, no, God, I'm not trying to threaten you into anything," Mr. Johnson said quickly, his voice losing some of its calm edge. I felt him step closer but I didn't turn, my white-knuckled grip on the sink the only thing keeping me grounded. "No, I'm sorry if I made it seem like I was. I won't tell them, that's not why I brought it up. Like I said, I'm good at keeping secrets, I just…I wanted to know why, when you seem intelligent and well-mannered, and…well, I just thought you probably didn't belong in the SAS quite yet, and I wondered why. I wanted to help you, if I could, since you helped my son."

The darkness on the edge of my vision faded, just a little bit at a time, and the erratic jackrabbiting of my heart slowed, but I was still more on edge than I'd felt in a long time. "I…I don't need help. I'm fine. I'm good here, I'm—I'm safe here."

"Okay, okay," Mr. Johnson soothed quietly. I knew we were being quiet, I knew that over the noise in the living room they couldn't hear us, but everything in me was envisioning the quiet that would follow the revelation, the betrayal, the anger—God, I couldn't do this, I couldn't do this. "Matthew, I'm not going to tell them. I'm not going to breathe a word of it to anyone else. I just assumed…if you're lying about your age, something must be going on, and I know what it's like to feel alone with too much on your shoulders. I don't want anyone, especially someone as young as you who means so much to my son, to feel like that, alright? That was my only intention, was to offer help, if I could, and that's all it will ever be."

I breathed, shaky and slow, and nodded like my strings had been cut. "How do I—how can I—believe you?"

Mr. Johnson was quiet for a long minute. "I'm not sure what I can give you other than my word," he said honestly. "I have to ask, since I'm a parent…why are you here, Matthew? Why are you risking your life to be doing a job as dangerous as this?"

And wasn't that just the million dollar question.

I didn't believe that Mr. Johnson was an MI6 grunt, or a SCORPIA spy, or someone out to get me or hurt me—that was ludicrous. He was my friend's father, and he seemed to be a kind man with a heart too big for the things he could do, if this was anything to go by. I just couldn't calm down. I couldn't reconcile the biggest secret I carried with the fact that someone I didn't know knew. And had figured it out.

"How did you know?" I asked instead of answering, turning my head slightly.

"Paternal intuition," he said after a second. "I know it's probably not the most exciting answer, but it's the truth. It wasn't anything you really did or said, I just…I know how teenage boys are, and you're still just a child, Matthew."

"I'm not a child," I all but snapped. I wasn't. I hadn't been for a long time, and why could no one understand that?

"Coming from a parent, you are," Mr. Johnson countered, voice still even and calm, and I knew exactly how Bear had turned out as well as he did despite all the shit he'd been through, and I was infuriated that his calm was calming me. "The only thing I wanted to offer was the promise of an adult who knew and would support you, since I don't know your situation. I know you have your unit, but…well, Bear will always be my little boy, but Sam's just barely older than him, and Daniel—he's a good man, but he's not a parent. Sometimes you need a parent."

I'd managed this far without them. Ian had been everything, until Jack, and then he'd been half of everything, but he'd never been a parent, and I'd never wanted him to be.

"…I'm here because I don't have anywhere else to go," I admitted after a long second of silence, finally answering his question from before. Why was I here at all? If I was trying to hide from something, fine, but why here, somewhere so dangerous? "And this is…this is home now, and I can't lose that."

"Then you won't," Mr. Johnson said resolutely, leaning against the counter beside me. He'd inched up closer to me gradually, just beside me, but he didn't touch me. "I really am sorry for scaring you, Matthew. I just wanted to let you know that if you need help, I know you don't know me, but you can come to me. This is my phone number—it's okay if you use it tomorrow, it's okay if you never use it." He put a folded napkin on the counter beside me, and I slid my eyes to it, still hunched over the sink. "But if you do, I'll do what I can. You saved my son, Matthew—if there's every anything you need, please know that I'll do everything I can to make it happen."

I looked at the napkin, and after a long second of hesitation, I looked at him.

Nothing but earnestness and honesty and maybe a little bit of guilt in warm brown eyes that reminded me of Bear. I couldn't understand, because I'd never been a parent, but…well, everything he said made sense, and it made sense now that I'd seen Bear and Mr. Johnson interact—they were devoted to each other in a way that Jack and I were, knowing we were the only ones left of the little family we'd started with. I could imagine that losing Bear in that dirt cellar to someone as sadistic as Hollis may have killed him.

He was only trying to help. There were no selfish intentions, no personal desires or angles to work. This was a gesture of goodwill from someone who truly didn't expect anything back.

I breathed, shaky and deep, and took the napkin. Mr. Johnson didn't say anything about the way my hand trembled.

"Thank you," I managed, clearing my throat and turning the faucet back on, turning back to the mound of dirty dishes.

"Of course," Mr. Johnson said. He left after a long second, rejoining the conversation.

I let my hands fall back to the lip of the sink, staring at the running water for a long minute, the paper napkin feeling like a boulder in my pocket.

Tom sidled in a moment later, mashed potatoes on his chin and a brownie in his hand. "Hey, you good? You and Henry senior were in here a while."

I took a long second, but eventually, I nodded. I'd give him the full story later, but… "…yeah. I'm good. I'm good."

The repetition threw him off, and he knew something was up the second the words were out of my mouth, but I just continued cleaning dishes and thought about Mr. Johnson's words. I thought…yeah, I was probably good. I was okay.

I was okay, and unless anything unforeseen happened…I had someone else in my corner. I didn't know how much he could do, but…every extra person on my side, even if the method was terrifying, felt like a step in the right direction.

It felt like a step, however small, towards freedom.

…

The mochi was just as good as promised.

I'd eaten a lot more than I normally did—which wasn't exactly a high bar, but whatever—so I wasn't sure I'd be able to eat any, but I was glad I did—it was ridiculous.

While the adults slipped into near food comas, Tom and I were tasked with watching Jonah. Jonah wanted to go to to the park, but I nixed the idea even before his parents could, properly traumatized by taking Jonah to any park. He pouted for a second, but said that he'd forgive us if we watched a movie with him, so Tom and I did. He wanted to watch the American movie Cars.

We sat on the forsaken sofa shoved up against the wall, Jonah leaning against my arm as I balanced the laptop on my knee, Tom on my other side, shoved sideways against the armrest. He had a bowl of ice cream in his lap.

"How are you still eating?" I hissed at Tom during the introduction.

Tom shrugged, grinning. "I'm a growing boy."

I rolled my eyes. He better not be. He could grow about four more centimeters before I'd get really pissed, so he'd best slow down.

I nearly dozed off during the movie, exhausted from all the new people and the conversations and just the day, but Tom was quick to shove me awake each time he caught me, at one point suggesting I go take a nap.

"I'm not four," I argued, rolling my neck to wake myself up.

Luckily, I was saved from Tom's retort by the doorbell ringing. I hopped up to get it, since the others were busy cleaning up or watching a footie rerun on the tellie, and I could use a break from the talking cars and bright, flashing colors.

I peered through the peephole and saw a postman, looking like he hated his like and holding a small parcel. I'd probably hate my life too, if I was working deliveries on Christmas.

I opened the door, and the guy looked up. He smelled like smoke, sharper and sourer than Lion's usually smelled. "Package for…uh…Matthew. Smith?"

I blinked, subtly peering down either side of the hallway to check for strangers or lurkers before accepting the package, signing for it. "Thank you. Uh…do you know where this came from?"

The guy shrugged, scratching at his stubble. "I dunno, mate, the post office?"

I stared at him for a long second before I sighed. "Okay. Thanks." If this was a trap or a threat and he knew anything about it beyond his next paycheck, I'd eat a hat.

The guy left without another word, and I closed the locked the door, checking that it was secure three times before I turned to lean against the wall, staring at the parcel.

It was a brown paper package, my name (well, Matthew) printed in big black letters with the address below it. I wasn't nearly as worried as I'd be if it had been addressed to Alex, but…well, how many people knew my alias and knew I was staying here? I wondered if it was something from K-Unit.

I held it up to my ear, but I didn't hear any ominous ticking, and it was probably too small to be an explosive of any kind. I opened it carefully, pausing frequently to make sure I hadn't triggered anything, and came to a bubble-wrapped circular item, a note attached.

So you never lose your way.

I felt my face pinch in confusion. It wasn't signed from anyone, but it wasn't exactly threatening, or foreboding. I wondered if the gift would explain more, so I turned to it, putting the note in my pocket for later.

I carefully unwrapped the item, secured tight with bubble wrap and tape, and emerged with a compass. It looked ridiculously expensive, with glossy dark wood—mahogany, maybe, or walnut—with shining gold trim and an arrow engraved on the top. I flipped it open to a pale rose gold interior, with black measurements and directions etched into the rim of the compass, fidgeting arrows nestled deeper into the wood. It was a beautiful thing, honestly.

I felt myself smile a little. I didn't think this was a gadget—more just a nice gesture—but I was putting my money on Smithers. He knew my alias, since he'd helped me set up the accounts and false documents, and I had no doubt he'd check up on me every once in a while, so it wouldn't be hard to find out my current address.

I smiled a little, rereading his note and putting the compass into my pocket.

Yeah, this…this having people on your side thing wasn't so bad, after all.

A/N: Please tell me why the FUCK I can sit down and crank out 6,000 plus words of fanfiction in like twelve hours but when I sit down to write my NOVEL that I have been POURING OVER for MONTHS my mind says "words? What are words, my dear, we know them not, now scroll through TikTok and say 'just one more video' for the REST OF YOUR FUCKING LIFE"

i have given myself very little sleep over the past significant time amount and I believe it might be showing. No matter. ONWARD!

Y'all, I actually really like Tiger's dad, he do be a little judgy sometimes but he adores Tiger and his mama like truly would buy them the world and then have the world's largest bow produced to put on the world and then fly them to outer space to present it to them if he had the money he just be out here bein a slight workaholic with a poor fashion sense and a difficulty expressing his emotions (you may not be the baby daddy Sadek but you gave Tiger SOMETHIN)

God, am I painting a good enough word picture for how I'm losing my mind?

Anyways, the reason I haven't been posting is because I've a) graudated, 2) been offered a fulltime job starting in August and been preparing, iii) been packing to move into my apartment (!), four) been working on my novel! I don't have a title yet and it's not done and I haven't found a publisher and that's a super long way away but I'll tell you about it when I'm closer to being done and maybe you'll gete xcited or not that's fine too but if you do that's super awesome and I'll love you forever

SO, reviews, um, hi, I love you all I can't function rn but for realsies you're all like DIAMONDS IN THE SKY my God where is the music coming from okay here we go

I love you guys: BooBoo33, Guest, scarlettmeadows, Cakemania225, Guest, NeleWW, MillieM04, Psycloptic Fury, Asilrettor, Fox, Guest, It's Me, M-chanchen, Lira, Amazing girl, Guest, Eva Haller, moranemily36, OnlyABookworm, WaderingTheDreams, Fangtasia21, Jess, Guest, Guest, Lily, Guest, Ell, Guest, Fox, Atheriia, Guest, AlexRiderFan, Guest, Guest, Guest, Wraith and Demjin, taliaTMNTdrea, VINAI, Glubad, and deccc!

Guest (Tom is back…): Yeah! Aw, I'm glad you enjoyed :)

Guest (aaaaaa): lol don't die! Haha he really did. Omg that's so sweet, thanks so much! It do, it do. XD yeahhhhh I tend to do that a lot huh? Hahaha thanks so much!

Fox: Aw you're welcome! And thank you! *slams rock* (if you got that please be my friend if not we can still be friends)

Guest (Omg! Another chapter?): Hahaha I'm so glad! Hehe I love them, they deserve some sweet and cozy. Tom! I'm so so glad!

It'sMe: Aw don't cry! I get emotional tho haha

Lira: I'm so glad you're so happy! They are so cozy. I'm glad I could make it a good experience to learn about!

Guest (I wasn't expecting you to update so soon…): Haha ne neither XD Thanks so much!

Fangtasia21: Haha probably not! He's kind of a lightweight though lol

Jess: Ohhh got it, thanks! Omg thank you so so much!

Guest (I loved the part about…): Aw I'm so glad! It does :)

Guest (Such a great chapter…): Omg thank you so much!

Lily: Ahhhh thanks! I'm glad I could help a little :)

Guest (SO GOOD!): Thank you!

Ell: Thank you so so much! Btw is you name like Ell for Elliot? If not that's fine, but if it is that's super cool :D

Guest (such a good chapter!): Thank you!

Fox: omg that is literally so sweet and I feel so honored and happy omg thank you so so much for telling me that, I am SO glad I could do anything to help any of you :)

Guest (I have literally been keeping up with this story…): Oh my gosh, this is such an amazing compliment! That's so sweet of you to say, and I'm so honored that you keep up with it! I'm so glad that you think I capture Alex so well, I try really hard to! That chapter is coming… ;)

AlexRiderFan (38): Aw thanks so much! I'm a sucker for some bromance, haha XD awwwww I'm glad you liked it! Thanks so much, you and yours as well!

AlexRiderFan (39): THE EGGNOG HAHAHA he did, poor clueless boy. Omg that sounds wild XD TOM! Thanks so so much! You too!

Guest (Such a great chapter): Omg thanks so much! Hope you enjoyed this then!

Guest (I am so excited): Aw thank you so much!

Guest (I've read this story so many times…): Omg thank you! You're so sweet, I can't wait to share it with you!

Glubad: Aw thanks! I KNOW RIGHT LIKE I COULDN'T BELIEVE IT WHEN I HEARD! You're never too old to read some good YA :)

Deccc: Thanks so much! Hope this helped :)

…

So sorry I've been neglecting this fic—I hope to update more often, but with as busy as I am getting ready to work fulltime, moving into my apartment, getting ready forgrad school, and trying to finish my novel…I'm a little stacked lol XD but your reviews and comments mean the world to me, and they make me want to write more, so…comment if you feel like it! Thanks so much as always for your support, and I love you guys :D