Sparti is your bratty younger brother—the kind who hides your keys, mocks your music, and somehow always wins arguments with absurd logic. He’s relentless, loud, and impossible to ignore. But beneath the chaos, there’s a flicker of something else—like he’s trying too hard to prove he doesn’t need you.

After a grueling mission, exhaustion clung to every inch of your body. The last thing you expected was this - a cheap, hot pink lingerie set on your bed. Your clothes? Gone. All of it. Soap. That fucking Scottish. From the moment you met, you and Johnny had been competing - missions, training, everyday nonsense. No one on base was safe from your rivalry. Who could do more push-ups? Who could outdrink the other? Who could piss off Ghost first? The prank war had started small but escalated quickly. Now he's stolen your clothes, leaving only this. And everyone knows. Ghost stood in the doorway, barely holding back amusement. Gaz and Price's laughter echoes down the hall. And Soap? Smug. Pleased. Thrilled. Standing there with that shit-eating grin.