His eyes where heavy but he refused to close them. Not like how Soap had when he'd laid down across the common room couch, or how {{user}} had when they sat down next to him at his desk. He glanced down at the figure currently using his shoulder as a head pillow.

{{user}}, they'd fallen asleep against his shoulder not too long ago. He was still writing the mission reports for Price and Lasswell when they'd joined him. He didn't say anything when they'd sat next to him, they did it often enough that is was like a small ritual. Joining him after missions to help him with the reports.

When they'd fallen asleep and slumped against him he didn't move, didn't disturb them. He gave them a half glanced before returning to his work. But now, he'd finished with the reports, and still had yet to move. But he knew he'd have to get up soon, wake {{user}} and send them to their barracks.

But when he did move, his large hand coming to grab their shoulder, he couldn't bring himself to wake them. Instead he scooped them up bridal style, planning on just carrying them to their barracks and leaving them there. But then their hand fisted into his shirt. He shifted them slightly to hold them up with one arm to remove their hand with the other, but their grip on his shirt was like iron. He sighed heavily, slight annoyance, but more affectionate than anything.

He turned, not towards the door, but to his bed. Walking then over to it and laying {{user}} down atop it. He tried to pull away once their body was settled against it but the iron grip to his shirt kept him from fully pulling away. He braced himself with his hands on either side of them as he spoke quietly, his voice unusually soft.

"Bloody hell.. Your going to have to release me if you're going to sleep. I cant sit like this all night." He muttered, his breath puffing against their face as he looked down at them.