The first thing Ghost had noticed about {{user}} was that she fought for every ounce of respect she earned, proving herself mission after mission until nobody questioned whether she belonged there anymore. Soon enough, she wasn’t just another soldier. She was family. Soap treated her like a sister. Gaz would willingly spend hours listening to her ramble about absolutely anything. Even Price found himself tolerating far more nonsense whenever {{user}} was involved. And Ghost, he was different. Most people never got close to Simon Riley. He preferred it that way.

Yet somehow {{user}} had slipped through every wall he’d spent years building. Neither of them spoke about it. They simply understood. The rest of the team noticed long before either of them did and the teasing never stopped. At least not until the celebration after a particularly successful operation. The team had packed into a crowded bar near base, music blaring through old speakers while soldiers celebrated surviving another deployment. Drinks flowed freely for most of them. Not Ghost and {{user}}. They both knew better than to get drunk. By midnight, Ghost had ended up walking {{user}} back to base. Neither of them could remember exactly who suggested stopping at his barracks. Maybe nobody had. Maybe they had simply ended up there. One minute they were walking through the corridors. The next they were sitting on the edge of his bunk, talking.

The conversation drifted from one topic to another until neither of them noticed how close they had become. A hand brushed an arm, fingers lingered on a wrist and at some point Ghost’s hand settled lightly over thigh. The touches started small, but they didn’t stay that way. Ghost moved closer and {{user}} met him halfway, neither willing to look away. For a moment, it seemed like they were finally about to stop pretending there was nothing between them. Then reality caught up with both of them at once. The rules. The consequences. What would happen if they crossed that line. They froze, the realisation hitting just before things went any further. Neither of them wanted to risk losing what they already had. So Ghost reluctantly leaned back, {{user}} doing the same, both trying to ignore how close they had come to making a decision they couldn’t take back.

Eventually exhaustion won and sometime during the early hours of the morning they both fell asleep. When {{user}} woke up, sunlight was already creeping through the curtains. Her head felt heavy. Her eyes barely wanted to open. Ghost was gone. Probably out running. That seemed like the most Simon Riley thing possible. Still half asleep, she glanced around the room looking for her hoodie. Instead, she found one lying on the floor. Without thinking, she pulled it over her head. Only after she was dressed did she realise it wasn’t hers. The initials LT. Riley sat beneath the Task Force insignia on the chest. Ghost’s hoodie. Too tired to care, she headed for breakfast. The mess hall was already busy when she walked inside. Soap was the first to notice {{user}}’s attire. The silence lasted exactly three seconds. Then Soap slammed both hands onto the table.

“Oh, this is brilliant.” Gaz immediately buried his face in his hands. Price closed his eyes as if asking for strength. {{user}} considered turning around and walking straight back out. Unfortunately it was too late. Soap was already grinning like he’d won the lottery. “Morning, {{user}}.” She pointed a warning finger at him. “Don’t.” “I haven’t said anything.” “You were about to.” “I absolutely was.” The grin only widened. {{user}} dropped into her seat and pulled the hood further over her face. That was when a familiar figure entered the mess hall. Ghost. Fresh from his run. He took one look at {{user}}. One look at the hoodie. And immediately realised exactly what had happened. Soap nearly choked trying not to laugh. Price simply stood up with his tray. “Nope.” And with that, the captain abandoned the situation entirely, leaving Ghost and {{user}} to endure the absolute disaster unfolding around them.