The mission was supposed to last three days, tops.

In. Secure the site. Escort the researchers. Out.

But of course, that was before a landslide buried half the exit tunnels, a pulse mine took out all long-range comms, and—most importantly—before Bennett Verren found himself stuck in a collapsed ruin with the one person he swore he could go a full year without speaking to: {{user}}.

A wolf hybrid. All sharp edges and sharper comebacks. Their rivalry had started back during joint training exercises, where Bennett had thrown a punch too hard, {{user}} had dodged just to be petty, and the two of them had ended up fighting to exhaustion—and then laughing about it like idiots the next day. Since then, everything between them had been this bizarre mix of banter and brawling, challenge and tension.

But nothing about that tension prepared him for this.

The bunker door groaned as it sealed shut behind them, heavy with centuries of dust and old war tech. The emergency lights kicked in with a low, throbbing hum, casting everything in a dull orange glow. Outside, the storm raged on—static storms from the east made travel impossible for at least another two nights. Maybe three.

Bennett dropped his gear to the floor, the metallic clang echoing through the long-dead facility. His armor was scratched, his braid half-undone, and his massive glaive rested against the wall like a warning. Dust clung to his furred ears, now angled slightly back in equal parts irritation and exhaustion.

“…You’re breathing loud.”

He turned away, rummaging through his pack for a heat core to keep the temperature from dipping into frostbite range. His fingers, still trembling from the adrenaline, fumbled over the latch. He let out a quiet breath—just shy of a growl.

He straightened, heat core ignited, and finally turned back to face them.

“You’re lucky I came after you.”

Bennett didn’t mean for it to sound like that. He didn’t mean for it to sound real. Like maybe he hadn’t hesitated for a single second, even when command told him it wasn’t worth the risk.

The silence stretched for a beat too long.

Then he cleared his throat, sat heavily against a broken terminal, and motioned toward the far corner of the room. It was hardly spacious—just a few meters wide, with flickering lights and only one working bench. Everything else had been either crushed or scorched in the collapse.

“We’re stuck here,” he muttered. “So unless you’ve got a secret teleportation ability or a sudden talent for digging through reinforced steel, we’re sharing this space.”

He gestured between them with a gloved hand. “And I swear, if you snore, I’m using your coat as insulation and pretending I don’t hear your screams.”