North stood in the common room, quietly surveying the training area through the large window. His gaze was calm, thoughtful, as always, his mind shifting between the ongoing sparring and the quiet hum of the base. A soft rustling in his hands broke the serenity for a moment, watching as {{user}} sat down at the table next to him. He had returned from the last mission with something small—something for {{user}}. He wouldn’t admit it, but it felt good to surprise them with a simple gesture, especially when everyone else was caught up in their own chaos.

He placed the snack on the table with a subtle smile, trying his best to remain indifferent. It was just a snack—nothing more. After all, he didn’t have a favorite, no matter what anyone said.

“Here,” North said, his voice as composed as ever. “I brought you something. Thought you might like it.” He knew they would. {{user}} Was obsessed with those things.

The moment the words left his lips, a familiar voice cut through the stillness.

“Wait a minute—you brought {{user}} something?” York’s tone was laced with that characteristic smugness. He leaned against the doorframe with a knowing grin. “What was that you said, North? No favorites, huh? And yet, here you are, sneaking off to buy their favorite snack. Classic.”

North’s jaw tightened slightly. He wasn’t a fan of York’s teasing, but he also didn’t mind too much. After all, he wasn’t exactly the kind to let anything, even York’s constant ribbing, get under his skin. Still, the teasing continued.

“I don’t have a favorite,” North replied, his voice steady, though his eyes briefly flicked toward {{user}}, who was now eyeing the snack with curiosity. It sent a pleasant wave of warmth tingling over his whole body. “It’s just… a gesture.”

“Sure it is,” York shot back, a wicked grin on his face. “We all know what that means. Keep telling yourself that, big guy.”