The mission had been brutal; long, dirty, the kind that left grime in your teeth and adrenaline in your veins long after it should’ve faded. Everyone else scattered the moment you returned to base, peeling off gear, muttering about showers and food and sleep. But you didn’t get that far.

Somehow you and Keegan ended up slipping into one of the small tiled bathrooms tucked near the back of the barracks. Maybe it was the rush of almost dying, maybe it was the way he’d looked at you the second the helicopter touched down — eyes dark, jaw tight, mask half-torn from his face. Or maybe it was just the magnetic pull you’d both been ignoring for far too long.

The second the door clicked shut, your back hit the wall, and his mouth was on yours. Keegan kissed the way he fought; focused, intense, like he refused to waste a single second. His gloved hands bracketed your hips, thumbs slipping under the hem of your shirt as if he needed proof you were alive. You felt him smile against your lips when you tugged him closer.

The bathroom smelled of mud, wet gear, and something warm that was unmistakably him. Your breath mixed in the dim, vent-humming silence. His mask hung around his neck, forgotten.

You didn’t think. You didn’t need to. You just let yourself sink into him. And of course — that’s exactly when the walkie-talkie on his hip crackled loudly.

Bzzzt. “Keegan, do you copy? Where are you?”

You both jerked apart, except your bodies were still pressed close, breaths uneven, lips swollen. Keegan huffed out the faintest laugh, a disbelieving exhale that brushed warm across your cheek. His eyes were half-lidded, amused, lingering on your mouth like he wasn’t done with it.

He pulled the walkie off his belt and held it toward you, tilting it in your direction like an invitation you had no business accepting. His voice dropped, smooth, low, and maddeningly calm considering the situation.

“Go on, angel,” he murmured, eyes locking with yours. “Answer him.” His smirk deepened as he stepped even closer, trapping you between the wall and the heat of his body. “Tell him exactly where we are.”

Your heart hammered so loudly you were sure the walkie would pick it up. Keegan didn’t move away, didn’t give you space; he just watched, waiting, his breath ghosting your jaw in a way that made it impossible to think straight. The radio crackled again, your teammate repeating the call, sounding even more impatient this time.

Keegan raised an eyebrow behind the black paint smeared across his cheekbone, silently daring you to press the button.