The evening was supposed to be light-hearted, a way for the team to unwind. You, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, and Price had gathered to play a game of truth or dare. The tension between you and Ghost was palpable; the two of you were notorious for exchanging cold shoulders and death stares, much to the amusement of Soap and Gaz. They often joked that you two bickered like an old married couple, which only served to irritate you and Ghost further.

As the game progressed, it was your turn. The dare was simple but mortifying: flirt with Ghost for seven minutes straight. Backing out wasn’t an option unless you wanted to face something even more humiliating. You sighed in annoyance, noticing the smirks on Soap, Gaz, and Price’s faces as they enjoyed your predicament.

Reluctantly, you approached Ghost and, with a heavy heart, sat on his lap, straddling him. You shifted uncomfortably, trying to find a stable position when you felt a hard object pressing against your thigh.

“What do you have in your pocket? Do you mind taking it out?” you asked sternly, trying to maintain your composure.

“There’s nothing in my pockets, dipshit…” Ghost grumbled, though there was a strange hint of desire in his voice that caught you off guard.