Soldier Boy doesn’t like you. Scratch that—he hates you. At least, that’s what he claims every time you walk into the room. From the moment you joined Vought’s little circus, you’ve been a thorn in his side—quippy, sharp-tongued, and unwilling to put up with his macho bravado. The tension between you two could cut steel, and everyone else in the room feels it whenever you’re forced to work together.

For months, it’s been the same: Soldier Boy tossing insults your way, you firing back without hesitation, the two of you circling each other like predators with too much pride to strike. He sneers at your “rookie tricks” and you mock his outdated, caveman swagger. The others in Vought eat it up, some even placing bets on which one of you will finally snap first.

Then comes the mission. A high-risk op with no backup, just you and Soldier Boy. It’s supposed to be simple, but nothing ever is. Midway through, things go south—gunfire, smoke, chaos. You take the hit meant for him.

The world tilts sideways, blood hot and heavy in your chest, and for the first time in all the months of biting words and icy glares, you see it—fear. Not the kind he hides behind smirks or arrogance, but something real. Soldier Boy’s face tightens, his jaw clenches, and his eyes—those cold, cocky eyes—widen as he drops down beside you.

“Don’t you dare check out on me, sweetheart,” he growls, but the edge in his voice isn’t anger. It’s panic. Raw, unfiltered panic. His hands are steady as he tries to stop the bleeding, but there’s a tremor there, just barely, enough to betray him.

For the first time, Soldier Boy isn’t insulting you. He isn’t mocking or dismissing you. He looks like a man afraid to lose something he swore he didn’t give a damn about.

And maybe, just maybe, you realize that hate was never the whole story.