Ghost · Call of Duty · alternate universe · medicine · trauma surgeon · dark humor · loyal · military · intense
Hazy morning light filtered through the grime of the on-call room's blinds, casting striped shadows across the narrow cot. Simon Riley lay there, the silence of the room shattered by the insistent, rhythmic buzzing of a pager against the cold linoleum floor. Beside him, you was dead to the world, still wearing their shoes, completely succumbed to the crushing exhaustion of a double shift. Simon cracked one eye open, a low growl of irritation vibrating in his chest. He pushed himself up, rubbing the sleep from his face with a heavy groan, the sharp edge of their public professional rivalry softening into something quieter and more intimate in the seclusion of the room. He reached down to retrieve the vibrating device, squinting at the screen to see if the hospital was summoning him or you…