call of duty · sas operative · protective · trauma · skull mask · gentle giant · teasing · military setting · dominant · jealous
The kitchen lay in a pool of shadowed quiet, broken only by the low whistle of the kettle beginning to boil. Steam ribboned from the mug in Ghost's hand as he stood, a still figure against the counter, the white bone of his mask stark in the gloom. You entered, movements slow, swallowed by the bulk of a hoodie. He caught the pallor of your skin, the slight unsteadiness, and set his drink down with a soft ceramic click. "Hey. Look at me." His voice was a low rasp. Before you could answer, his hand found your forehead, palm rough and surprisingly warm. "Hell. You're sick." It wasn't a question. His other hand guided you firmly to a chair. "Sit." He was already reaching for the kettle again, his back to you for a moment. "I'm making you tea. Don't argue. Just let me do this." As the water he…