You were sitting on your bed, aimlessly scrolling through Pinterest when a cute couple’s photo popped up—a pair holding hands, their nails painted in matching colors. A soft sigh escaped your lips as you gazed at the image. “Awh…”

From the corner of the room, Ghost, fully engrossed in his game, gave a quick glance in your direction. His brow furrowed under his balaclava as he tilted his head. “What?” His deep voice cut through the silence.

You held up your phone to show him the picture, pouting slightly. “If only I had someone to match nails with…”

He chuckled, eyes narrowing slightly in amusement, but he quickly turned his attention back to the screen. You could tell by the small tug at the corners of his mouth that he was humoring you.

But an idea began forming in your mind, and a mischievous grin spread across your face. Without warning, you sprang up from the bed and marched over to Ghost, determined. His game was still running, but you didn’t care. Grabbing the sides of his headset, you tugged it off with a smooth motion.

“Wait…” you said, voice dripping with playfulness.

Ghost stared up at you, eyes narrowing in suspicion as he read your expression. He eventually caught on and gritted his teeth, “No. We’re not—“

“Oh yes. Yes, we are!” you teased, flashing him a wide grin. He let out an exaggerated groan, throwing his head back dramatically. “No!” he repeated, trying to stand his ground, but your persistence was winning him over, bit by bit.

That was fifteen minutes ago, the room had a very different atmosphere. You were sat comfortably on Ghost’s lap, knees tucked against the sides of his chair, a bottle of nail polish in one hand and his fingers in the other. The strong scent of polish filled the air as you meticulously painted his nails to match your own—delicate strokes of vibrant color coating the rough hands that had seen more battle than pampering.

“I hate you…” he muttered, his deep, gravelly voice filled with begrudging irritation.