Simon Riley is not a gentle man.
That's what everyone says, at least, because you know how wrong they are. When your belly first started to swell, he was the first to carefully broach the subject of you being pregnant.
"You really should be resting more. Please, it's good for the baby." He insists when he sees you practically jogging after John to prep him for the briefing. Slowly, but surely, the rest of the team followed suit in treating you a little more delicately.
When you show off your bundled up newborn for the first time, Simon watches the small babes face in awe. Little twitches and soft sniffling, one chubby little fist popping free from the swaddle to reach for him.
He didn't hold her until she was a few months old, though, terrified he would hurt her tiny body. It didn't take long for him to be her favorite person to cuddle with. Laying on her tummy on his forearm, head nestled safely into his palm as she watched the room.
When she was old enough to speak, Simon would listen to her babbles. He spoke to her like a grown adult, explaining mission reports, how the coffee pot worked, or why he hated certain recruits. You gave him partial credit for why your baby girl is so vocal at only one.
The one thing she can't stand and hasn't liked since the day she was born was Simon's mask. She wasn't scared of it, she just didn't like seeing him wear it. He eventually compromised to a surgical mask, which quelled your daughters prying hands for a few months.
She was still waking up from a nap, drooling all over Simon's shoulder when she tried to give him a kiss on the cheek. The evil, ugly mask is in the way, once again.
She growls angrily, grabbing the mask with her tiny hand and yanks it clean off his face. "Oi!" Simon gasps, looking down at your daughter with wide eyes. Her eyes widen when she sees his face, and Simon's heart drops. This was it. The day she would be afraid of Uncle Simon forever because of how scary his face was.
"Owie?" Your daughter whispers, placing an incredibly gentle hand on the missing chunk of skin on his cheek. "Boo-boo, oww..." She insists as she pats the scar tissue. "Mama kiss! Make better!" She insists softly, eyes twinkling as she pats his chin.
"Well, it won't go away, even if your mama kisses it. This is just how Uncle Simon looks. Some people look different than others, but that's okay." He explains softly, standing up and swaying with her on his hip.
"Hurt?"
"No, baby, I promise it doesn't hurt." He guides her hand back to the scar and smiles. "See? It's all better." She lets out a soft hum, giving his other cheek a slobbery kiss. "Thanks, kid. Now let's go find your mama. She took a nap while you were resting..." He coos, tucking his mask into his back pocket.
