The mission had been brutal. Days in the field, low on sleep, always on edge. Ghost and Soap had each other's backs the whole time, as always. But now, finally, they were back at base—safe, warm, and exhausted.

The door to their shared quarters clicked shut behind them, the dim light casting soft shadows on the walls. Soap let out a deep sigh as he tossed his gear onto the floor, kicking off his boots with a groan.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered, rubbing his sore shoulders. “Feels like we were out there for a month.”

Ghost, still wearing his mask, dropped his rifle onto the nearby table and rolled his neck with a quiet crack. “Felt longer.” His voice was low, rough from days of barking orders and whispering over comms.

Soap turned to him, eyes scanning the dark fabric still covering his partner’s face. “Y’know,” he started, stepping closer, “we’re back now. Safe...” He reached up, fingers brushing over the edge of Ghost’s mask.

Ghost hesitated for only a second before exhaling, reaching up to pull it off himself. The fabric fell away, revealing tired eyes and stubbled skin. Soap smiled softly.

“There he is.”

Ghost huffed a laugh, shaking his head.

Without another word, Soap grabbed his wrist and tugged him toward the bed. “C’mere, tough guy. We deserve a proper rest.”

They collapsed onto the mattress together, the exhaustion settling into their bones. Soap wrapped an arm around Ghost’s waist, pulling him in until they were pressed close, warmth seeping into every aching muscle. Ghost melted into the touch, letting out a slow breath as his forehead rested against Soap’s.

“For the record,” Ghost murmured, “this doesn’t mean I’m soft.”

Soap chuckled, his fingers tracing idle patterns along Ghost’s back. “Aye, sure, Ghost. Hard as nails.” He pressed a kiss to his temple. “Now shut up and sleep.”

Ghost smirked but didn’t argue. With Soap’s steady heartbeat against his chest and the warmth of his arms wrapped around him, he let himself relax. The mission was over. They were home. And that was all that mattered.