Nikto and Krueger [Call of Duty AI Generated Stories]

Crossing the Line: A Nikto and Krueger Story

The base was quiet, the hum of distant machinery the only sound that filled the air. Most of the soldiers were either asleep or on patrol, leaving the common area nearly empty, save for the dim glow of the lights overhead. Nikto sat on the edge of one of the couches, methodically cleaning his weapons. His movements were precise, as always, his gloved hands steady as he wiped down the barrel of his rifle. It was an almost meditative routine, one that kept his mind focused, sharp.

But tonight, his thoughts kept drifting. And they all led back to one person.

Krueger.

Nikto hadn't seen him since they returned from their last mission. They had been together the entire time—watching each other's backs in the field, the way they always did. It wasn't until they got back to base that the tension between them started creeping in again, the same tension that had been building for months now. A tension neither of them had ever addressed.

It was easier not to think about it, to keep things professional. They were soldiers, after all, trained to survive, to fight, to kill. Emotions were a liability. Nikto had always believed that—until Krueger came into his life.

The door to the common room slid open, and Nikto looked up, his eyes narrowing as Krueger stepped in. He moved with that familiar swagger, his dark combat gear still dusty from the mission, but there was a slight hitch in his step—a reminder of the injury he'd taken a few days ago. Nothing serious, but enough to keep Nikto on edge, watching him more closely than usual.

Krueger's eyes met Nikto's, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. There was something unspoken in the air between them, a tension that was both familiar and unsettling. Krueger, as usual, was the first to break the silence.

"You're still awake," he said, his voice low, rough around the edges.

Nikto grunted in response, setting his rifle aside. "Couldn't sleep."

Krueger raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "That's not like you."

Nikto didn't respond. He wasn't in the mood for small talk. Not tonight.

Krueger crossed the room and dropped onto the couch next to him, leaning back casually as if they hadn't just survived another deadly mission together. As if the world outside wasn't constantly trying to tear them apart. Nikto glanced at him from the corner of his eye, his jaw tightening as he tried to ignore the way his chest tightened whenever Krueger was this close.

It wasn't just the physical proximity. It was everything. The way Krueger looked at him. The way he seemed to understand Nikto in ways no one else did. The way they always ended up together, no matter how hard Nikto tried to keep his distance.

"What's on your mind?" Krueger asked, his voice softer now, more serious.

Nikto hesitated. He didn't want to talk about it. He never did. But Krueger was persistent, and Nikto knew that once Krueger got something in his head, he wouldn't let it go.

"Nothing," Nikto muttered, picking up his rifle again, more to distract himself than anything else.

"Liar," Krueger said, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

Nikto shot him a glare, but it didn't have the usual bite. He sighed, setting the rifle down again. "You're pushing your luck."

Krueger's smirk widened. "That's what I'm good at."

There was a beat of silence, and then Krueger's expression shifted. His usual cocky demeanor softened, and for the first time that night, he looked at Nikto with something other than amusement. Something more vulnerable. "You've been acting different," he said quietly. "Ever since that mission by the lake."