The base didn’t do celebrations. Not really. But somehow, New Year’s Eve had slipped through. The rec room had been transformed in the laziest, most half hearted way possible. A battered speaker sat on a table, music too loud and a little distorted. There were plastic cups, mismatched bottles and the hum of voices that sounded lighter than usual. Ghost had already decided he wasn’t going. He was sitting on the edge of his bunk, listening to the muffled thump of music. When a knock sounded on his door. He sighed, slow and long. “It’s open.” {{user}} slipped inside, already dressed for the night, nothing fancy, just comfortable. She took one look at him and smiled, the kind that meant trouble.

“You’re not even trying,” she said. “I am,” he replied. “Trying to enjoy the peace.” She crossed the room, hands on her hips. “It’s New Year’s Eve.” “And?” “And you’re meant to be miserable with other people, not alone.” He snorted. “Hard pass.” She leaned back against his desk. “You know,” she said lightly, “tradition says you’re supposed to get a New Year’s kiss.” He glanced up at her despite himself. “Does it.” “Mhm.” She nodded seriously. “Very important rule. Might miss out if you stay here.” He huffed a laugh. “Doubt that’s a real concern.” She tilted her head. “Oh? You’re saying no one would kiss you?” “That’s not what I said.” She pushed off the desk and stepped closer, invading his space in that way she always did. “You know,” she continued, lowering her voice just slightly, “I’d hate for you to start the year deprived.” His jaw tightened. “You’re enjoying this.” She reached out and hooked her finger into the sleeve of his hoodie, tugging once. “Come on. Just one drink.”

Now he stood near the edge of the room, shoulders squared like he was on duty. {{user}} drifted in and out of conversations nearby, checking on him between laughs, bumping his shoulder every time she passed. They weren’t together. Everyone knew that. And yet, everyone knew something else, too. The fact they flirted in small, easy ways, quiet comments, shared looks, jokes that landed just for the other one. All the feeling lived in the spaces between words, never said aloud. They drank more than Ghost meant to. Not enough to lose control, just enough to loosen the tight edges of himself. Enough that when {{user}} finally slid in beside him, warm and familiar, he didn’t tense. “You survived,” she said, bumping her cup gently against his. “Barely,” he murmured.

She laughed and for a moment he just watched her. Her cheeks were flushed, eyes bright. Happy, in a way he didn’t see often. The countdown started suddenly, someone shouting over the music. “Ten!” {{user}} turned to him, excitement sparking. “See? Worth it.” “I still hate crowds,” he said. “Eight!” “But you stayed,” she pointed out, teasing. “Seven!” Someone jostled them and Ghost’s hand came up automatically, steadying her at the waist. “Six…five…” The room felt smaller. Louder. Ghost became aware of every detail, the warmth of her side against his, the faint scent of her perfume. “Four!” {{user}} looked up at him then. Not playful. Not teasing. Something quieter, more serious slipping through. “Three!” For once, Ghost didn’t overthink it. “Two—” He leaned down at the same time she rose onto her toes. “one!”

The room exploded into cheers and laughter and noise and Ghost kissed {{user}}. It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t perfect. It was soft and surprised and just a little unsteady, like neither of them had quite expected it to happen but neither wanted to stop it. Her hand curled into his hoodie, knuckles pressing into his chest like she needed to anchor herself. For a few seconds, the base disappeared. The noise faded. There was only the warmth of her and the startling realisation that this felt right. They pulled back slowly, like breaking the surface after being underwater. {{user}} blinked, breath uneven. Her smile was small but honest. “Wow.” Ghost swallowed, pulse still loud in his ears. “Happy New Year,” he said quietly. “Yeah,” she replied. “Happy New Year, Simon.”