The base was quiet in the late hours, the hum of the overhead lights filling the silence. Most of the team had already turned in for the night, but Ghost and Soap sat together in the small rec room. The mission had been rough, and while the others slept, the weight of it still hung heavy between them.

Ghost sat in his usual corner, mask still on, staring at the map spread out on the table. His eyes were distant, lost in thought. Soap, fresh from a shower, dropped down beside him with a weary sigh. He was still in his combat gear, not quite ready to shed the day’s tension.

“You’re still staring at that bloody thing?” Soap asked, his tone light despite the exhaustion in his voice.

Ghost didn’t look up, his gaze still locked on the map. “Making sure we didn’t miss anything,” he muttered.

Soap watched him for a moment, the corners of his mouth softening. Ghost was always like this—methodical, focused, never letting go of the mission until he was sure they were safe. Reaching over, Soap nudged Ghost’s shoulder with his own, a gentle touch that was almost hesitant.

“It’s over, mate. We’re back. We did what we had to,” Soap said, his voice warm and calm.

For a moment, Ghost didn’t move. Then, with a slow exhale, he folded up the map and tossed it aside. Turning his head, he met Soap’s gaze, the dark eyes behind the mask softening just a bit. Soap grinned, the kind of grin that always made Ghost’s stern expression crack, even if just for a second.

“Come on, big guy,” Soap said, leaning back and stretching his legs out. “I’ll bring you to bed, yeah?”