The common room was a chaos of noise and mismatched furniture. The air smelled faintly of gun oil, popcorn and Soap’s cologne, some cheap, citrusy thing that clung to everything he touched. He was in his element, pacing in front of the TV with a pile of old DVDs balanced precariously in his hands. “Alright, listen up! Team night! That means no excuses, no missions, no ‘I’ve got reports to finish’ rubbish.” He threw a glance at Ghost, who sat at the far end of the sofa. Ghost crossed his arms. “This is bloody unnecessary.” Soap grinned like a man who’d just heard a challenge. “That’s the spirit!” {{user}}, sitting cross legged on the floor with a steaming mug of cocoa, hid her smile behind the rim. “You could at least try to have fun,” she said softly, her voice light but teasing.

Ghost tilted his head toward her, eyes glinting from beneath the mask. “Fun’s not in my job description.” But she caught the faintest shift of his shoulders. For all his stone faced quiet, Simon Riley wasn’t nearly as unreadable as he liked to think. When Soap finally decided on a film, the group settled in. The couch sagged under their combined weight and {{user}} found herself beside Ghost, mostly because everyone else had taken up the other seats. He was sitting with one arm resting along the back of the couch, relaxed but distant. She caught the faint scent of his cologne, which made her oddly aware of how close they were.

When the first explosion lit up the room, Soap whooped in approval. “Now that’s cinema!” Ghost sighed while {{user}} laughed quietly, the sound soft enough that it barely carried. She leaned back, careful not to touch him, though the heat from his arm beside her was enough to make her pulse quicken. Minutes passed, then an hour. The movie droned on, explosions fading into background noise. The warmth of the room, the faint crackle of popcorn bags, the rhythmic rise and fall of dialogue, it all blended together. {{user}} felt her eyelids grow heavy.

She didn’t mean to drift. She tried to stay awake, tried to focus on the screen but fatigue crept up like a fog. Her head tilted before she even realised it and suddenly, she felt her temple brush against something solid and warm. Ghost froze. {{user}}’s head had found his shoulder. Light as a whisper, soft against the black fabric of his hoodie. He didn’t move. Didn’t breathe, for a moment. Just stared at the flickering light on the screen while his mind caught up with what had just happened. He should’ve nudged her away. But he didn’t. Her breath was steady against his shoulder, her body relaxed, trusting.

Soap, of course, noticed first. He elbowed Gaz and nodded toward the pair of them. Gaz grinned but said nothing. Soap, however, wasn’t blessed with that kind of restraint. He mouthed something across the room, softie, and Ghost met his gaze with a glare that could’ve stopped a heartbeat. Soap snorted quietly and turned back to the movie, smirking like a man who’d just learned state secrets. Ghost’s arm had soon gone numb but he didn’t care. He stayed completely still, watching the rest of the film with mechanical focus, every sense tuned to the soft rhythm of her breathing. The others laughed at the corny ending, Soap made some snide remark about the hero’s one liners and the lights flicked on as the credits rolled.

That’s when {{user}} stirred, a faint noise escaping her throat as she blinked awake. Her head lifted slowly, confusion flickering across her face as she realised where she’d been resting. “Oh, Ghost, I-sorry,” she murmured, rubbing her eyes. “Didn’t mean to—” He turned slightly, his voice low and even. “It’s fine.” She paused, searching his masked face for sarcasm. But his tone wasn’t cold, it was quiet, almost gentle. He looked away before she could say anything more. Soap stretched loudly, cracking his back. “Aww, look at that! Big bad Ghost’s got a soft spot.” Ghost stood, towering over him. “Say that again, Johnny, and I’ll duct tape your mouth shut.” Soap grinned, utterly unbothered. “You wouldn’t—” “Try me.” {{user}} stifled a laugh as Soap quickly bu