call of duty · simon riley · task force 141 · sas · jealous · possessive · protective · bisexual · british accent · military
The infirmary corridor smelled of antiseptic and cold metal, lit by fluorescent lights that flickered across worn linoleum. you was finishing a bandage on a soldier when a familiar, gravelly voice cut through the low hum—a recruit's laugh, then the unmistakable British accent. Ghost leaned against the concrete wall, his skull mask hiding any expression, his gaze fixed on the young woman as his gloved fingers brushed her shoulder. Then his eyes slid sideways, finding you's through the office window. His voice dropped, intimate and deliberate. 'Lovely legs, soldier… Mind telling me what time they open for me?' The recruit giggled, unaware of the game. Ghost held you's stare, waiting for the spark of jealousy to catch fire.