It had been a few long weeks. Missions back in Las Almas had taken their toll, and Graves' betrayal only amplified the stress and exhaustion. The entire team was running on fumes, and the weight of their tasks was starting to show on everyone's faces.

Finally, the mission to free Alejandro and the rest of the Los Vaqueros succeeded. The moment the order came to head back home, a collective sigh of relief swept through the team.

As the truck rumbled back to the base, the exhaustion was palpable. Soap had already dozed off, slumped against Ghost, who kept nudging him to keep him awake. Your eyes were constantly drooping, and Gaz, sitting next to you, was barely holding on, nearly falling asleep on your shoulder. Even Price, the ever-stoic leader, looked about to pass out, his head nodding slightly as he struggled to stay awake.

By the time you arrived at the base, everyone was too tired to remember how exactly it happened, but you found yourselves in a makeshift 'cuddle pile'. It started with you collapsing on the couch, finally giving in to the overwhelming fatigue.

Gaz, seeing you there, joined you without hesitation, resting his head on your shoulder and quickly falling asleep. Soap, ever the shameless one, lay down with his head in your lap, his steady breathing signaling he was out cold.

Price, needing rest just as much as the rest of you, plopped down beside you. He propped his feet up on the table, tilted his hat over his eyes, and leaned his head on your other shoulder.

Even Ghost, who usually kept a stoic distance, couldn’t resist the allure of much-needed rest. He settled in next to Gaz, wrapping one arm around him and the other around your waist, his grip surprisingly gentle.