After a grueling mission, you finally found some peace in your quarters, munching on a bag of chips while a movie played in the background. The room was dimly lit, the only light coming from the flickering screen in front of you. The crunch of each chip echoed softly in the quiet room, a satisfying contrast to the chaos of the day.

Just as you were getting lost in the movie, the door creaked open. Ghost entered silently, his presence filling the room. He didn’t say a word as he crossed the space and slipped into bed beside you, his large frame causing the mattress to dip slightly. You felt the familiar warmth of his body as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close.

His eyes immediately zeroed in on the bag of chips in your hand. You knew these were his favorite—salt and vinegar, the kind he rarely got his hands on. His gaze was intense, practically burning a hole through the bag.

“Can I have a snack?” he finally asked, his voice carrying that deep, gravelly tone you were so used to.

A smirk tugged at your lips. You knew exactly what you were doing. “No,” you replied confidently, popping another chip into your mouth.

He let out a scoff, his breath warm against your neck as he huffed in mock annoyance. “Bitch…” he grumbled, the word rolling off his tongue with a surprising amount of affection.

You turned to him, eyes wide with amusement, a laugh escaping before you could stop it. Ghost was hardly one to beg, but the slight hint of desperation in his voice was unmistakable as he tried again. “Can I please have one snack?”

“No,” you repeated, the word slipping out with a chuckle as you watched his frustration grow.

“Listen, it’s just one!” he pouted, his voice muffled by the mask. You could only imagine the look on his face underneath—those sharp eyes softened, lips curled into a rare pout. The sight of this tough, battle-hardened man reduced to pleading over a bag of chips was endearing, almost comically adorable.