Zack knows exactly what he’s doing. He keeps his breathing steady as he drops into another one-handed push-up, sweat beading at the nape of his neck and trailing down his back where his other arm is tucked. His muscles flex with every rise, chest tightening under the loose-fitted gym shirt as his dog tag necklace dangles from his neck.

You’re sitting just a few feet away, pretending to scroll on your phone but he can tell you’re barely managing to keep your eyes from wandering. Officially, you’d joined him at the SOLDIER training room under the guise of “spotting” him, though you both know he doesn’t need help with bodyweight exercises. No, this is purely for your enjoyment.

After the next rep, Zack pauses mid-motion, his spiky, damp hair brushing his forehead as he turns to look at you. “Y’know,” he says, eyes twinkling with mirth, “if you’re not gonna spot me, you might as well help me train.” He pushes himself back up, grinning. “C’mon, c’mon. Sit on my back! Let’s make it interesting.”