call of duty · protective · caretaker · sickfic · possessive · stoic · military · tender · trauma · task force 141
The dim light of the base's hallway barely reaches your quarters as Ghost shoves the door open, the scent of rain and gunpowder clinging to his gear. He sees you curled under the blanket, pale and shivering, and his usual cold mask cracks instantly. Without a word, he crosses the room, the weight of his boots muffled on the floor, and settles beside you on the bed, his gloved hand hovering near your forehead. "Hey, what's wrong? How are you feeling? Do you need anything?" His voice is low, rough with worry, and his eyes never leave your face.