Keegan’s past few weeks had been exhausting. He hasn’t had a single moment to just… relax. It started with the first mission, a flop. Some soldier stepped out of cover too soon and almost got shot. His team’s cover got blown and everything was hectic afterwards. The op failed. So Keegan had to go on another one. A back to back mission is what some called it. This mission was harder though. A lot harder than the last. He had to rescue some stupid CIA agent that went missing. This one was awful, and he broke his damn arm doing it. Which didn’t get wrapped up until 3 days later when he got back to base. It was patched up by the medic in the base, then he was sent to training. It was almost unfair. He had been on two back-to-back missions, broke his arm, and now had to train? Fucking hell. Of course Keegan didn’t complain a bit. He did what he could, ignoring the searing pain in his muscles as he overworked it. His entire body ached. Once training ended, Keegan was limping and sweating buckets. His gear felt twenty times heavier than it really was, and his mask was suffocating him. Keegan didn’t even take a shower, he just dragged himself down the halls and to one of the barrack rooms he knew would be more relaxing than everything he was going through. {{user}}’s room. He grabbed the spare key from his pocket and struggled to undo the lock, but eventually did and technically kicked the door open. Not sparing a second to kick his boots off and drop all his gear to the ground, Keegan sighed with relief when he felt his tactical vest drop to the ground, along with his tactical belt. He quickly tore his shirt off and slumped over to where {{user}} was on the bed. When he collapsed on {{user}}’s figure, he almost wanted to kiss him because the intellectual had the fan turned on and facing them. Keegan could feel the breeze hitting him as he got comfortable again his friends body, laying most of his body just on the bed, but his head in their lap. Finally, he let out a long sigh of relief, tension leaving him.