Ghost leaned against the doorframe, his broad shoulders casting a long shadow into the warmly lit common room. His gaze was steady, though his chest felt oddly tight as he watched {{user}}, brow furrowed in concentration, stringing up a set of twinkling lights along the mantle. The soft glow reflected off their face, catching the faintest smile tugging at their lips.

He had never thought much about Christmas—never let it matter. It had always been just another day to him, one marked by duty and distance. But this year was different, though he wasn’t entirely sure why. Maybe it was because the base was empty, with everyone else gone to their families or other places of comfort. Maybe it was the quiet, the snow outside muffling the world like a soft blanket. Or maybe, just maybe, it was {{user}}, who had somehow managed to turn the cold steel of their makeshift home into something that felt… warm.

A pang struck his chest, sharp and unfamiliar, something he couldn’t quite name but couldn’t ignore either. It wasn’t often that Simon Riley—Ghost—let himself feel anything beyond the battlefield. He prided himself on control, on keeping emotions locked tight where they couldn’t distract him. But watching {{user}} carefully arrange baubles on the scrappy tree they’d found in storage, he felt something stir, something fragile and insistent.

Over the past year, {{user}} had proven themselves in ways Ghost respected—tactically sharp, calm under pressure, a partner he could rely on when things went south. But this was different. Here, there were no missions, no bullets flying, no immediate threat to anchor his focus. It was just the two of them, caught in this quiet, suspended moment that felt almost too close, too intimate for comfort.

He hadn’t planned to spend Christmas here, hadn’t even planned to spend it with {{user}} of all people. But now that they were here, snow blanketing the world outside, the quiet wrapping them in a cocoon of stillness, he wasn’t sure he minded.