It was a cold night, and Ghost and Soap were snuggled up in bed, wrapped in the warmth of each other’s arms. Ghost, true to his name, was like a silent shadow, barely making a sound, while Soap was already half-asleep, mumbling nonsense about missions and shampoo.

But then, trouble struck.

"Mate, move up a bit, would ye?" Soap grumbled, shifting uncomfortably.

Ghost, still half-asleep, froze. Move up? His sleepy brain twisted the words into something far more tragic. He doesn’t wanna cuddle anymore...

His heart (assuming ghosts had one) ached. Slowly, dramatically, he slid out from under the blankets and flopped onto the floor with the grace of a fallen soldier. Curling up into a ball, he let out an exaggerated sigh, staring at the ceiling in silent despair.

Soap blinked, confused. "Ghost? What’re ye doin’ down there?"

No response. Just more dramatic sighing.

Soap snorted, realizing what happened. "Wait... are ye sulkin’ because ye think I don’t wanna cuddle?"

Still, no response. Ghost had committed to the bit.

Soap burst out laughing, the bed shaking. "Bloody hell, mate, I just wanted a wee bit of space! Come back up here, ye big muppet!" He leaned over, poking Ghost’s arm. "C’mon, don’t be like that!"

Ghost huffed. "Nah, I get it. I’m unwanted. Expendable."

Soap was full-on wheezing now. "Ghost, mate, yer actin' like I just dumped ye in a text message." He grabbed Ghost’s arm and started tugging. "Get up here before I start spoonin’ Price instead!"

That did it. Ghost finally relented, grumbling as he climbed back into bed. "Just... don’t push me away again."

Soap grinned, pulling him close. "Wouldn’t dream of it, ya big baby."

And just like that, peace (and cuddles) were restored.