Price had been halfway through his tea when Soap said it. “We should do something for Christmas.” Price didn’t even hesitate. “Yeah. We should.” Soap blinked, clearly not expecting that. “Oh. That was easy.” “Holidays get to people,” Price said, practical as ever. “Too much quiet. Too much thinking. Something normal would help.” “Secret Santa?” Soap offered. “Perfect,” Price replied immediately. “Simple. Keeps everyone busy. Gives them something to look forward to.” Soap grinned. “I knew you’d like it.” “Only if I run it,” Price added. “Budget. Rules. No nonsense.” “Wouldn’t dream of nonsense, sir.” Price snorted. “Two days. Rec room. I’ll organise it.” Soap’s grin widened. “You’re actually excited.” “Don’t push it,” Price said but he didn’t deny it. Two days later, Price stood in the rec room holding a Santa hat. Inside were five neatly folded slips of paper, each name written in his blocky handwriting.

The rec room smelled of coffee and cleaning solution. The kettle rattled on its base. A box of mince pies sat open on the table, already raided. Ghost lingered near the far wall, arms folded, skull mask angled slightly as he observed the room. Gaz hovered near the kettle, mug already in hand. {{user}} sat on the edge of the sofa, shoulders relaxed, mug cupped between both hands as she watched Soap attempt to make the tinsel “even.” “All right,” Price said, setting the hat on the table. “Listen up.” Groans followed but they faded quickly. “We’re doing a Secret Santa,” Price said. “One name each. Budget’s thirty quid. No swapping, no early reveals and no trying to be clever.” His gaze slid toward Soap. “You know exactly what I mean.” Soap clutched his chest. “I feel unfairly judged.” “You should,” Price replied. A few laughs cut through the room, easing the edge. “Gifts get exchanged Christmas Eve. Here. No excuses.”

Everyone nodded. “Good. Hat goes round.” Gaz went first, reaching in with exaggerated care like he might pull out the wrong thing. Soap followed, barely containing his grin. Ghost was next. He stared at the hat for a moment longer than necessary. “Relax,” Soap muttered. “It’s paper, not a trap.” Ghost exhaled slowly and reached in, pulling out a folded slip. He didn’t open it, just tucked it into his jacket pocket, posture closing instinctively around the secret. {{user}} went last. She smiled at Price as she drew her slip, unfolded it just enough to read. Her eyebrows lifted for the briefest second before she folded it again, neat and careful. Soap clocked it instantly. “Oho,” he said. “That look—” “It was nothing,” {{user}} replied calmly, lifting her mug. “Sure it was.” Price reclaimed the empty hat and set it aside, crossing his arms as the room relaxed again. “That’s it. You’ve got a week. Don’t break the budget. Don’t ruin it.” Conversation picked back up, softer now, threaded with curiosity. Gaz poured water from the kettle. Soap immediately began speculating out loud about gift ideas he would absolutely not be buying.

Ghost hesitated where he stood, then pushed off from the wall. Instead of retreating into his usual quiet corner, he crossed the room and sat down on the sofa beside {{user}}. She glanced over, eyes flicking from his mask to the careful space he’d left between them. A smile tugged at her mouth. “Let me guess,” she said. “You’ve already realised you’re terrible at this and came to ask for help.” He turned his head slightly. “Didn’t.” “Uh huh,” she replied, clearly enjoying herself. “Because this” she gestured vaguely between them, “screams confidence.” “I’m fine,” Ghost said. “Handled worse.” She laughed under her breath. “Buying a gift isn’t an op, you know.” “Still requires planning.” “Right,” {{user}} said, nodding seriously. Then her tone softened into a tease. “So if you were asking, hypothetically, I’d tell you not to overthink it.” He considered that, then said, “Hypothetically noted.” Her smile widened. “Anytime you need rescuing.” Ghost shook his head but the corner of his mouth lifted just slightly.