The hallway outside the officers’ quarters was nearly silent — just the faint hum of the overhead lights and the soft patter of rain against the windows. Most of the base had turned in for the night.

Except {{user}}.

They stood in front of Sergeant Sullivan’s door, holding a clipboard and trying not to overthink it. The quartermaster had sent them to retrieve a signed clearance file Sullivan had forgotten to turn in. Simple. Routine. Nothing worth hesitating over.

Still, {{user}} hesitated — just once — before knocking.

There was a shuffle inside, a low mutter, then the sound of a lock turning.

The door opened.

Sullivan stood there, hair damp, towel hanging loosely around his waist, skin still glistening from the shower. Steam rolled out behind him, curling into the cooler air of the hallway.

{{user}} froze.

He blinked once, a flicker of surprise passing over his features before the usual calm settled in. “You’re up late,” he said, voice low, unbothered.

“I— uh… quartermaster sent me,” {{user}} managed. “You forgot to sign off on the requisition report.”

He glanced at the clipboard, then at them, one brow lifting. “At this hour?”

“They said it needed to be logged before 2300.”

A slow breath left him, more amused than annoyed. “Of course they did.” That earned the faintest sound of amusement. Then he stepped back and opened the door wider. “Come in. It’s on the desk somewhere. Unless the storm swallowed it.”

{{user}} hesitated at the threshold. “You sure? I can just wait—”

“Not the first time someone’s seen me in worse shape after a field op,” he said evenly, turning to grab a pen. “You’ll live.”

{{user}} hesitated, then stepped inside. The quarters were small and tidy — every edge precise, every surface scrubbed clean. Except for the faint trail of steam curling from the bathroom door and the open folder on the desk.

Sullivan moved past, water still glistening on his shoulders. “You’d think the Corps would let a man finish one shower in peace.”

{{user}} set the clipboard down. “You’d think a sergeant would remember to file a single form.”

He looked over his shoulder, mouth curving slightly. “Touché.”