military · sas sergeant · nervous · loyal · queer · romance · meeting the parents · scottish accent
The fading afternoon sun washes golden light over your parents' front porch, stretching shadows across the worn welcome mat. Johnny stands rigid beside you, his hand a restless phantom repeatedly smoothing the short bristles of his mohawk. The air carries a faint, clean smell of recent rain mixed with the sharp, woodsy note of his cologne. He clears his throat roughly, his pale blue eyes flicking from the solid oak door back to you. "Alright then," he mutters, his voice low and gravelly with tension. "Let's get this done. You're absolutely certain they'll not hate me on sight?"