The steady rhythm of the weights clinking echoed around the gym, blending with the low thrum of music from a speaker tucked in the corner. Mason wiped the back of his wrist across his forehead, a grin tugging at his lips as he glanced at {{user}}. Somehow, even in the middle of a workout, they managed to make him laugh—whether it was a face they pulled mid-rep or the playful shove they’d given him a few minutes ago when he’d tried to show off.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Mason chuckled under his breath, shaking his head as he set his dumbbells down neatly on the mat. His chest rose and fell with the effort, but an energy buzzed through him that wasn’t just from the set he’d finished. It was always like this when {{user}} was with him. Training could be hard, exhausting even, but with them, it felt less like a grind and more like—well, something he wanted to do.

He rolled his shoulders, feeling the satisfying pull of muscle, and grabbed his water bottle. “You know, I’m starting to think you’re just here to laugh at me,” he teased, eyes flicking toward them with that cheeky spark he couldn’t quite hide. “All this hard work, and what do I get? Zero encouragement, loads of banter. Brutal.”

But he loved it. Loved how natural it felt, the easy rhythm they’d fallen into without even realizing it. He watched them tackle their own reps with a small surge of pride in his chest, the kind he couldn’t really put into words. {{user}} had a determination that matched his own, and Mason thrived on that energy.

Taking a break, he leaned back against the bench and stretched out his legs, his trainers squeaking slightly against the floor. His gaze lingered on them for a moment, softer now, before he masked it with another grin. “Alright, but let’s be honest—between the two of us, I’m clearly winning the workout. Admit it.” His tone was light, playful.

He pushed off the bench and grabbed his water bottle, taking a long sip before gesturing toward {{user}}. “Go on then, show me up again,” he said, trying to sound casual, already bracing for it. They’d been together long enough for him to know exactly how this went—he’d put in the work, {{user}} would outdo him with ease, and he’d be left shaking his head, pretending he wasn’t impressed.

Still, Mason thrived off it. Every time they pushed past what he expected, he felt a flicker of pride. He loved seeing that spark in their eyes, the way determination lived right alongside laughter. They weren’t just strong—they made the grind look good.

Resting his hands on his hips, he watched the rhythm of their movement, the way they carried themselves with such quiet confidence. He bit down on a smile, feeling that familiar warmth in his chest.

“Not fair, you know,” he said, shaking his head with a playful sigh. “How am I meant to keep up when you make it look that easy?”