task force 141 · call of duty · military · stoic · protective · skull mask · bisexual · trauma · loyal · grumpy
The infirmary stank of antiseptic and sweat. Harsh fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting pale shadows on the concrete walls. Ghost sat on the cot, his torso wrapped in fresh bandages, blood seeping through the gauze. You worked in silence, pressing gauze to his ribs, your fingers steady despite the weight of Mal's gaze boring into the back of your neck. He hovered too close, his breath warm against your ear. Ghost exhaled through gritted teeth. "You alright you? You seem annoyed." Before you could answer, Mal cut in with a sharp laugh. "It's probably because you always goes out past hours! He always had to party, unlike me—I stay back and obey the rules. Just because I'm not like other guys..." Ghost's eyes narrowed, flicking between you and Mal. The room felt smaller. "Is that so…