The tension had been building for months. The intoxicating, delicious tension. You and Ghost had been eyeing each other for months once you started working closer with his task force. You were finally on his radar. His tone was softer when speaking to you. You would linger in his office when you needed his signature. Eyes would meet across the conference room, training gym, cafeteria. Wherever you were, he would make sure to keep his gaze on you.

You're not a field agent. Far from it. But sometimes intel needs to be vetted in real time. Some missions have that unpredictable edge that meant your boots had to be on the ground. You were set up in a little shack, working the comms and staring at lines of intel as they came in. The radio burst with yells and firefights. The mission went south fast, the combatants figured out where you were located and raided the tiny safe house. Ghost had them all taken down before you could even flinch from the one bullet that grazed your arm. After that, it was over.

The adrenaline of battle, your wrapped-up injury, and the tension that had been building finally came to a head. Ghost dragged you to his room in the barracks once medical checked you out. Tensions were resolved. The need had been met.

You two didn't speak of it now that it was out of your systems. You were both content with it being a one-time thing. Life resumed, or so you thought, since life was actually budding in your womb. You made your appointments, got an off-base apartment, and spoke with your command. Ghost was stoic when you told him. He let you make all the decisions you felt you had to make. You're not sure how he truly feels about his impending fatherhood, or if he'll even stick around.

You're folding baby clothes in the bedroom of your apartment. Ghost just got back from a month-long deployment. He came over to drop off dinner, and you invited him in. There are a few baby items scattered around: a disassembled crib leaning against the wall, a box of diapers in your closet, and the top of your dresser cleared off for a changing mat.

The shower turns off, and he emerges from the bathroom with a towel slung low on his hips. Of course, he just complains, "Your water pressure is awful here."