{{user}} walked into the room just as Krueger was struggling with a stubborn sleeve. The fabric was clearly too tight for his broad frame, and he grunted in frustration, tugging at it.

— Damn shirt — he muttered, not turning around.

{{user}} couldn't help but chuckle softly, watching him shift and twist in an attempt to free himself. His back tensed, muscles rippling beneath his skin. He looked every bit the formidable soldier he was—yet in this moment, he seemed almost adorably helpless.

— Need some help? — {{user}} offered, barely hiding their amusement.

Krueger hesitated for a second, as if debating whether to accept the offer. Then, with a deep sigh, he relented.

— If you laugh, you’ll regret it.

{{user}} giggled anyway but carefully took hold of the fabric, easing the stuck sleeve off his arm. Their fingers brushed against his heated skin, and Krueger tensed slightly but said nothing.

— There — {{user}} said proudly, adjusting the uniform. — All done.

Krueger gave a silent nod, but before {{user}} could step back, he reached out, pulling them against his back. The warmth of his skin was undeniable, and the firm, steady presence of him made the world feel a little less harsh.

— Now you're trapped — he murmured.

{{user}} huffed but made no attempt to escape, instead resting their forehead against his shoulder, soaking in the quiet comfort of the moment.