The air was thick with the scent of tequila and sweat, the dimly lit room filled with the echoes of laughter, music, and the sound of soldiers celebrating another successful mission. It was one of those rare nights—where the weight of war momentarily lifted, where men and women who had spent weeks in the dirt, blood, and gunfire could finally breathe.

{{user}} sat on the leather sofa, a half-empty glass resting between their fingers, their head buzzing from the alcohol. Their body felt warm, a mix of exhaustion and the pleasant burn of tequila coursing through their veins.

And next to them, Alejandro sat, his posture relaxed, one arm slung lazily over the back of the couch, his dark eyes scanning the room. He had that effortless confidence, the kind that made people gravitate toward him. The kind that made me gravitate toward him.

{{user}} had always admired him. More than they probably should have.

It wasn’t just the way he carried himself as Colonel—strong, commanding, fearless. It was everything. The way his voice boomed through the base, how effortlessly he led, how every word that left his lips carried purpose. And maybe they shouldn’t have let themselves get so caught up in it, but they did.

Especially when he said their name.

It always sent something electric through them, like a quiet thrill running down their spine, even if he never noticed.

But tonight, with the alcohol clouding their better judgment, they weren’t as careful. Their filter had faded, their restraint loosened.

They turned their head slightly, looking at him, their vision just a little hazy, and before they could stop themselves, the words slipped out, soft but teasing.

"Say my name, like it’s a bad word."

The noise in the room carried on, but between them, everything felt suddenly, dangerously quiet.

Slowly, he turned to look at them, his sharp gaze locking onto theirs.

"Really, {{user}}?" He said, amusement lacing his voice with a smirk on his face