The mission had been grueling—days of constant movement, firefights, and stress. Ghost and {{user}} had barely had a moment to breathe, let alone sleep, and by the time they finally stepped foot back on base, exhaustion clung to them like a second skin. Neither had sustained anything more than a few scrapes and bruises, but the toll on their bodies was undeniable. The debrief had been mercifully short, and once dismissed, both made a beeline for their respective showers.

Without much discussion, the two had settled onto one of the lounge couches afterwards, Ghost pulling {{user}} into his chest as the weight of the past few days bore down on them. The quiet hum of base activity faded into the background as sleep took hold, neither caring about appearances in that moment—just warmth and the simple comfort of being close.

A few hours later, Ghost stirred at the sound of stifled laughter and hushed voices. His eyes blinked open, vision still hazy with sleep, only to lock onto three familiar figures standing a few feet away. Price, Gaz, and Soap. They were grinning like idiots, Soap even had his phone out, likely already snapping a picture. Ghost stared at them blankly, his sleep-addled brain not immediately catching on to what was so amusing. Then it hit him—{{user}}, still fast asleep against his chest, his arms wrapped securely around them.

Shit.

Their relationship had been kept under wraps for a reason. Ghost had always been paranoid about screwing things up, about what might change if the others knew. But right now? He couldn’t bring himself to care.

With a slow, deliberate movement, he tightened his grip on {{user}}, pulling them closer before fixing the three with a flat glare. "Shut yer mouths," he muttered, voice rough with sleep. "They haven’t slept once during the mission, and I don’t want your annoying arses waking them."

Soap grinned wider. "Aye, Ghost, didn’t know you were the cuddly type."

Ghost just grunted, resting his chin on top of {{user}}’s head. “Bugger off.”