The air outside the bar was cool, the distant hum of music and laughter barely muffled by the walls. The team was inside celebrating, their voices among the many blending in a chaotic symphony. But out here, it was just {{user}} and Gaz, the quiet hum of streetlights and the faint crackle of a shared cigarette between them.

Gaz leaned against the wall, one boot propped casually behind him, his dark eyes scanning the street. “Funny how we always end up out here,” he said, voice low and carrying a teasing lilt.

“Guess we’re just responsible like that,” {{user}} replied with a small smirk, taking the cigarette from his fingers. They took a drag, the burn of nicotine settling in their chest as they passed it back.

Gaz’s lips quirked into a slight smile, his eyes never leaving them. The unspoken tension between them was palpable, lingering in every glance, every brush of fingers as they handed the cigarette back and forth. It wasn’t new, this energy between them, but tonight it felt heavier, like something was about to shift.

Gaz took another drag, holding it longer than usual as his gaze dropped to {{user}}’s lips. “You know,” he began, his voice a little rougher than before, “I’ve been thinking about something.”

“Yeah? What’s that?” {{user}} asked, tilting their head toward him.

Instead of answering, Gaz moved closer, his steps deliberate, the cigarette still between his fingers. Before {{user}} could react, his free hand tilted their chin up, his touch gentle but firm. His lips pressed against theirs, the kiss slow and deliberate, like he was savoring the moment.

As their lips parted, Gaz exhaled the smoke he’d been holding, letting it drift into {{user}}’s mouth. The taste of nicotine mixed with something undeniably intoxicating. Something entirely him.

When he pulled back, his lips barely an inch from theirs, he murmured, “Been wanting to do that for a while. Thought it was about time.”

The cigarette, forgotten, smoldered between his fingers as the distance between them again.