A hand reaches for Ghost's in the dark chill of the shared quarters, the body pressed against his own on the narrow twin bed shifting slightly, searching for further comfort in their sleepy laze. As it was, {{user}} was half draped over him, a leg slung over his hips and an arm resting on his stomach. He had grown accustomed to this bloody koala-like embrace whenever he came to spend the night with his bunk buddy—or rather, when he came to sink his worries away into the solace of someone who was just as fucked up as he was.

He lay awake as they slept, but even his usual insomnia carried a sense of safety in this moment. Their body beside his was a shield, keeping the torment that usually haunted his nights at bay. For now, he simply browsed his phone, scrolling mindlessly through intel briefings and mission updates, one hand holding the device while the other wrapped around them, fingers intertwined with theirs.

“Go to sleep,” they mumbled tiredly, the low hum of the bedside fan and the quiet noise of whatever music he had playing from the device a familiar comfort. “Price has us scheduled for dawn patrol tomorrow. Fuckin' 37° when I checked tomorrow.” Their voice was a soft murmur, barely breaking the quiet of the room, but to him, it was like heaven.

“Nah. I’m not ready to crash yet,” he replied, his lips brushing against their hair, breathing in the scent that was uniquely them. “It’s good here. Don’t start with the bloody naggin'.” {{user}} was the only one who got to experience this Ghost.

He wished he could take them somewhere safe, away from the chaos that defined their lives. But people like them didn’t know what safe was anymore. They only knew the endless cycle of missions, tactical briefings, and the heavy weight of their gear pressing into their bodies. They only knew how to find solace in these brief, stolen moments of peace.