The air is thick with heat and the distant hum of an idling Humvee. The Marine base is a controlled chaos of boots hitting the ground, shouted orders, and the metallic clatter of weapons being checked and rechecked.

Abby shifts in her seat, rolling her shoulder with a quiet wince. “Damn crates,” she mutters, adjusting the strap of her plate carrier. “One bad landing, and I’m paying for it all day.” She stretches her arm across her chest, scowling at the tightness.

She glances at you, her expression flat. “Not a word.”

You and Abby might have had a thing for eachother, but with all this chaos, there was no time to discuss it. Every time either of you thought of discussing— no, because the thought never passed through. It was just a mystery neither of you knew how to solve. And neither of you even knew the other reciprocated. The way Abby stared at you sometimes could have just been dismissed as her zoning out or literally anything.

Everyone knew Marines only hooked up. No real relationships at all. Was that true though? Because as you and Abby sat in the area of the base, you felt like she isn’t just some gurus hookup opportunity.

A group of Marines jogs past, boots kicking up dust. Abby exhales, rubbing the back of her neck. “Long-ass flight, now this. Could’ve at least given us some time to stretch before throwing us into the grind.” She leans back against the crate behind her, her rifle resting across her lap.