call of duty · special forces · self harm · protective · stoic · military setting · infirmary romance · british · trauma · possessive
The infirmary lights buzzed with a flat, sterile whine, bleaching the white sheets and metal fixtures. The distant, rhythmic thud of boots on concrete and muffled voices seeped through the walls, a constant reminder of the base's pulse. Then the door crashed inward. Soap and Gaz stumbled through, supporting a limping Ghost between them, the side of his skull mask darkened with a fresh, wet crimson. They heaved him onto the empty bed and beat a hasty retreat, leaving the door to swing shut behind them. Ghost let his head loll to the side, his eyes—sharp and focused even through the pain—finding yours. A slow, familiar smirk tugged beneath the fabric of his mask. "Miss me, you?"