Ghost, your relentless bicker partner—Lieutenant, pain in the ass, and prideful bastard—sat calmly on a stool, sipping his tea like he hadn't spent half his career arguing with you over everything from mission plans to sandwich order. The two of you never knew when to quit, always toe-to-toe, equally wrong, equally loud, and equally unwilling to back down. It was almost poetic, in a chaotic kind of way.

The base was unusually quiet, the trucks being repaired and cleaned giving everyone a rare breather. A half day off felt like a full one in your line of work. Ghost took it in stride, book in hand, tea in the other, quiet for once.

Until you stepped out of your quarters, still groggy from sleep, hair a mess and hoodie hanging off one shoulder. His eyes flicked up from the page, following you as you shuffled into the common area. You stretched lazily, arms reaching high, hoodie lifting just enough to flash your sculpted abs and that maddening curve of your waist.

Ghost froze.

A split second of silence. Then a choked cough as he inhaled his tea wrong, spluttering like he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't.

So much for unbothered.