The common room was dim, light flickering off in the corner illuminating the stale and outdated room. It smelled faintly of old coffee grounds, gun powder, and sweat that never truly got cleaned from the fabric of chairs and couches that scattered around — but it was strangely familiar. Comforting in its own way. Peaceful. Even with the rattling of the old air conditioning unit that worked overtime to make the room bearable to be in.

Neither you nor Ghost said much when you walked in. The mission had pulled out all of the energy you two had. Too many days gone, too little sleep, too many days gone hungry. It drained you.

You both dragged yourselves in, still in full gear. Helmets dropped to the ground along with heavy vests that thudded against the floor. Your shirt was soaked through with dried sweat and old blood, pants covered in grim; yet neither of you moved to shower or change — too tired to care.

Ghost dropped to the corner of the couch with a quiet grunt, forearms resting on his knees before he leaned back slowly — arms moving to the back of the couch and legs spread out wide. He looked exhausted. Both of you being Lieutenants had its ups and downs, butting heads in the field and off the field, but you also had this quiet bond forming between the two of you.

You slumped down next to him, body protesting every movement. You let your head roll back against the cushion for a moment, trying to keep your eyes open but it became a challenge.

Minutes passed. Maybe more. Time lost its shape. The rhythmic buzz of the light and rattling of the AC made you fall into a half sleep, body slightly relaxing.

You didn’t mean to lean on him. You just… shifted. Your shoulder bumped his and he didn’t pull away — then your temple found his upper arm. He was warm and solid, it just made sense.

Ghost’s body shifted, subtly; as if trying not to stir you awake too much. His arm moved a little and rested it closer to you, not quite touching you but offering something more.

You let your weight tilt, head properly resting against him now; the curve of your head fitting perfectly in the crease of his chest and arm. Your eyes shutting before you could even confirm that this was okay.

He exhaled through his nose, head leaning back against the couch as his jaw slackened. The first true breath of rest he’d taken in days. Weeks. His hand eventually found its way to your shoulder, gloved fingers brushing across your clothed shoulder.

You stirred slightly, muttering something he couldn’t quite catch. Ghost murmured, in the softest voice you’ve ever heard from him, “..’m here… sleep, {{user}}.”

You drifted back to sleep easily. He watched the wall opposite from you two, counting the breaths you took against his side. His head tilted, head finally laying on top of yours; allowing his own eyes to fall shut.