The base is quiet at this hour, the hum of overhead lights the only real sound accompanying your footsteps. You’ve just returned from a long mission—weeks away, exhausted yet restless, your body running on autopilot as you take in the familiarity of home.

As you pass by the training room, a low, rhythmic grunting catches your attention. At this time of night, most would be asleep, but not him. Of course, it’s Ghost. Who else would be here, pushing himself past exhaustion in the dim glow of the overhead fluorescents?

You step closer, peering inside. He’s on the floor, shirt discarded, muscles shifting under sweat-slick skin as he powers through push-ups, his focus razor-sharp. He hasn’t noticed you yet. Maybe he doesn’t know you’re back at all.

A smirk tugs at your lips as a playful thought takes hold. Silently, you step forward and lower yourself onto his broad back, your stomach pressing against the hard planes of muscle as you wrap your arms and legs around him. A quiet giggle slips past your lips.

Ghost freezes mid-rep. For a second, you wonder if he’ll throw you off. Then, you hear it—a small, breathy scoff, barely there, but unmistakably him.

“Think a little extra weight’ll hurt?” His voice is lightly strained, but there’s confidence in it, steady and unshaken.

And just like that, he keeps going, lifting you both without hesitation.