It had been a brutal few weeks, missions back-to-back, barely enough time to breathe between deployments. So when Price gathered everyone in the common room and declared, “Right. No drills, no missions, no nothing. You lot are taking the day off,” you didn’t argue.

Soap was quick to pull out a deck of cards and a few bottles of cheap booze, dragging you and Gaz into a chaotic round of cards against humanity. At some point, the games shifted, first to truth or dare, then to an old classic Soap swore would be “fun as hell”: Seven Minutes in Heaven.

“Come on, it’ll be a laugh!” Soap insisted, setting an empty bottle in the center of the group. “Or a bloody nightmare,” Ghost muttered from his spot on the couch, arms crossed, mask firmly in place.

But he didn’t leave.

One by one, everyone took turns. Laughter echoed through the common room as pairings went in and out of the supply closet Price had reluctantly agreed you could use for the game.

Then, inevitably, the bottle landed between you and Ghost. The room went silent for a beat.

“Ohhh, now this’ll be good,” Soap grinned like a devil, earning a withering glare from Ghost. Price raised a brow, sipping from his drink. “Rules are rules.”

Ghost stood, towering over everyone as his gaze fell on you. “Let’s get this over with,” he said flatly, though there was a tension in his voice you couldn’t quite read.

Your heart thumped as you stood too, following him into the cramped closet. The door shut with a soft click, leaving you in near-darkness.

For a moment, neither of you said anything, just the sound of your own breathing, far too loud in the tiny space.

“Hell of a way to spend a day off,” Ghost finally muttered, leaning back against the wall. You chuckled nervously. “Could be worse.”

His masked face tilted toward you. “How so?”

“You could’ve been stuck in here with Soap,” you said.

For the first time, you swore you heard him laugh, soft, low, like he hadn’t meant for it to escape. The silence that followed wasn’t as awkward this time.

“Guess we just wait it out,” you said. “Seven minutes,” he replied. “Think you can handle that?”

You smirked. “Think you can?”

His eyes caught yours through the mask, unreadable in the dim light. “Try me.”