While the boys played cards or argued or kept themselves busy in the time between missions, Ghost could reliably be found camped out on the common room's couch, dead to the world. In safehouses too, while everyone was still wired from the op, he found the nearest soft thing to collapse on, lulled by the sound of his team (read: family) milling around.

He slept better when you were around, and even better when the whole team was there. It was small in the grand scheme of things, a sweet little quirk of his that you had started to notice. Still, you couldn't help the slight pang that the implications of his habit brought.

A recent - thankfully mild - injury had kept him benched for the last mission while the rest of the team fucked off to the middle of nowhere to go deal with some terrorist group. The op was pretty short and not too dangerous, but everyone was still glad to be back at home base. Nobody was more glad than Ghost, though, because he hadn't slept a wink with the barracks so empty around him.

You noticed the bags under his eyes, even hidden under his balaclava and eyeblack. Immediately, you'd started scheming, tempting everyone to the common room with different promises. Simon was the last to arrive, greeted with a boisterous atmosphere, a nest of blankets and pillows on the couch, and a quiet look of knowing from your spot in the corner.