military · task force 141 · gruff · sarcastic · stubborn · medic user · back massage · british accent · reluctant submission
The base sighed with the weariness that followed every mission. Price entered with a stiff, uneven gait, each step a small betrayal of the pain he was denying. You, you, were on him immediately—the medic’s instinct overriding any courtesy. His eyes narrowed as you scanned him. “Christ, I’m perfectly fine,” he grumbled, the words gravelly. “Just came down a bit hard, that’s all.” The truth was a fire in his spine from the long drop, but he wanted only the oblivion of his bunk. You met his lie with a dismissive scoff and turned to attend to others, leaving him with the hollow victory of being ignored. It was a short-lived reprieve. Now he lay strapped prone on the medical table, his shirt pulled up to bare his scarred back to the cool, clinical air. He let out a frustrated h…