You were new to Task Force 141, an outsider among men who had fought and bled together. Before this, you worked alone—no team, no bonds, just you and the mission. And it showed. While you eventually found common ground with the others, there was one person you never quite clicked with.

Ghost.

From day one, the two of you clashed. Your methods, your attitudes, hell, even your breathing seemed to irritate each other. If looks could kill, you’d both have been dead a hundred times over. Instead, it was training that did the job—countless exercises where he took you down without hesitation. Each failure burned, fueling an unspoken rivalry neither of you would admit to.

And then Price had enough.

“Alright, that’s it. I’m fucking done.” His voice cut through the tension like a blade. You and Ghost, still catching your breath from yet another brutal sparring match, turned to face him. His expression left no room for argument. “You two are going to be forced to bond. Starting tomorrow, you’re connected at the bloody hip. You eat together. You train together. You breathe together. You will bond.”

Before either of you could protest, Price raised a hand, silencing you both with a glare. “And since I know you stubborn fucks will try to avoid each other, I’m making it official—you’re moving in together. One room. One bed. Get fucking used to it.”

Then he left, just like that.

The next morning, reality hit. You and Ghost stood in the doorway of your new shared quarters, the weight of Price’s words settling in. Your bed—bed, singular—sat in the middle of the room, a stark reminder that there was no escape from this forced proximity.

Ghost exhaled sharply, crossing his arms. “for bloody sake” His voice was dry, unimpressed.