Page 49 of Heat Clickbait
"Nothing! Next obstacle!"
By the fifth challenge, which was a zip line between platforms, I'd found my rhythm. The fear had transformed into exhilaration, that same rush I got from particularly savage streams but more immediate, more real.
"See?" Crash said, catching me as I landed less than gracefully on the platform. "Fun first."
"What happened to content second?"
He pulled out his phone, which had been recording the entire time from a chest mount. "Been getting that too. Your face during the rope bridge? Premium reaction gif material."
"You're not posting that."
"Private collection only, cross my heart." He made an elaborate crossing gesture that definitely wasn't over his heart. "Maybe I'll use it as blackmail when you try to be too cool for us."
The way he said "us" so casually, like our pack bond was just fact, made something warm bloom in my chest.
The obstacle that broke me was deceptively simple, monkey bars over a foam pit. I'd made it four rungs before my grip failed, sending me flailing into the foam with all the grace of a drunk octopus.
Crash dove in after me immediately, despite having cleared the bars easily.
"You completed it!" I protested, spitting out foam.
"Yeah, but this looks more fun." He started building something with the foam blocks while I struggled to find solid ground. "Besides, falling is half the point. Can't find your limits without pushing past them sometimes."
"That's unexpectedly philosophical for someone building a foam penis."
"It's a rocket ship!" He looked at his creation. "Okay, it's definitely a penis. But an inspirational one."
I laughed hard enough that I sank deeper into the foam. Crash reached out to help me, and when our hands connected, that spark of pack bond flared between us. Not heat, not overwhelming biological need, just... connection.
"This is what I wanted," he said suddenly, his usual manic energy settling into something more focused. "To see you laugh without calculating engagement metrics. To watch you fail at something and not immediately turn it into content. Just... you."
"This is me?" I gestured at my current state, sweaty, covered in foam, helmet askew.
"Yeah." His expression went unusually serious. "And it's perfect."
We finally extracted ourselves from the foam pit and made it through the rest of the course, including a warped wall that took me seven tries while Crash cheered increasingly ridiculous encouragements.
"Channel your inner salmon!"
"Become one with the wall!"
"Think bouncy thoughts!"
When I finally made it over, he caught me on the other side, spinning me around in celebration like I'd won an Olympic medal instead of barely conquering a padded wall.
"And now," he announced with ceremony, "the ultimate challenge."
The ball pit at the end was massive, filled with thousands of colorful plastic spheres. A sign warned it was for "ages 12 and under only."
"We're definitely too old for this," I pointed out.
"Age is just a number, and rules are just suggestions." He grabbed my hand. "On three?"
We jumped together, landing in an explosion of plastic balls that sent them flying everywhere. Crash immediately started swimming through them like a chaotic dolphin while I lay back, letting them support my weight.
"I fought so hard for the ball pit in the nest," he said, popping up near my head. "Nova said it would be undignified. Ghost said it would be impossible to sanitize. Milo worried about allergies. Blitz just laughed."
"What did you say?"
