It wasn’t often the unit got a full day off — but the sun was out, the drills were done, and someone had the wild idea to call it “morale day.”

By noon, the beach near the base was alive with noise — Marines tossing footballs, music blaring from a cracked speaker, boots abandoned in the sand.

{{user}} had claimed a patch of shade under a tarp, medical kit beside them — just in case. Even on break, habits died hard.

“Didn’t think you’d actually show,” came a voice behind them.

They turned to see Sergeant Sullivan, shirt slung over his shoulder, dog tags glinting in the sun. He looked about as relaxed as a man like him ever could — which wasn’t much.

{{user}} smirked. “Someone’s got to make sure you don’t scare the recruits even off duty.”

He dropped onto the sand beside them, elbows on his knees. “Scare? I’d call it discipline.”

“Sure,” {{user}} said. “Discipline with a death stare.”

Sullivan gave a quiet laugh — rare and low. “You’re getting brave, Nurse.”

“Day off,” they said, leaning back on their hands. “Temporary immunity.”

“Is that so?” His tone was almost playful now — almost.

One of the recruits called out from the water, waving a football. “Sergeant! You in or what?”

Sullivan rose, dusting sand off his hands. “I’ll make it fair,” he said, glancing down at {{user}}. “You’re on my team.”

{{user}} raised a brow. “You’re assuming I want to be.”

“I’m counting to five,” he said, starting already. “One…”

{{user}} laughed, standing up. “You really love that, don’t you?”

“Two.”

“Alright, alright, I’m coming.”

By “five,” they were shoulder to shoulder at the waterline, recruits shouting, waves splashing — the whole thing chaos and laughter. Sullivan’s usual scowl had turned into something lighter, freer.

When {{user}} caught the football and nearly tackled him by accident, he caught their wrist instead, steadying both of them before they went under.

For a second, time hung still — water dripping from his hair, sun burning gold across his shoulders, eyes locked on theirs.

Then someone yelled, “Hey, quit flirting and throw the ball!”

Sullivan didn’t even look away as he said, flatly, “Ten laps for whoever said that.”

{{user}} snorted, shaking their head. “Even on a beach day, Sergeant?”

He smirked. “Especially on a beach day.”