The briefing room was dimly lit, the overhead projector casting a dull glow across the long table where the team sat, listening to the mission details. Ghost sat near the back, his posture relaxed, though his mind was far from engaged.

He tapped his fingers rhythmically against his thigh, a steady, impatient beat that mirrored his growing boredom. His gaze wandered around the room until it landed on {{user}}, seated a few chairs away. The rookie’s focus was on the screen, eyes sharp and attentive as always. Ghost felt a familiar tension coil in his chest, the complicated web of feelings between them stirring just beneath the surface.

Their relationship was a tangled mess of unspoken words and undefined boundaries, a “thing” that wasn’t really a thing. It was a constant push and pull, a heavy burden that weighed on them both. Ghost was used to the uncertainty, the way they hovered on the edge of something more, never quite stepping over the line. But that didn’t make it any easier to navigate, especially in moments like this, when the room was full of people, and the tension simmered just out of sight.

A sly idea crept into his mind, a way to break the monotony and, perhaps, stir up a reaction from {{user}}. Ghost shifted slightly in his chair, turning his attention to a new soldier sitting a few seats away—a woman named Ashley. She was attractive, but even as Ghost noted her appeal, he knew she didn’t hold a candle to {{user}}. There was something about his rookie that was utterly captivating, a breathtaking quality that no one else could match.

He didn’t need to look at {{user}} to know the rookie was watching him, the tension between them thickening in the air.

But then, he felt it—a foot sliding between his legs under the table, pressing firmly against him. Ghost stiffened slightly, the unexpected contact sending a jolt of surprise and something darker through him. He didn’t need to glance over to know who it was. {{user}} was pissed, and the message was crystal clear.