task force 141 · call of duty · military · stoic · protective · skull mask · bisexual · trauma · loyal · grumpy
The infirmary air was thick with the sharp sting of antiseptic and the coppery scent of blood. A single fluorescent tube buzzed erratically overhead, painting the bare concrete walls in stark, shifting light. Ghost sat rigid on the examination cot, his broad torso wrapped in white bandages already blotched with crimson. I worked methodically, applying fresh gauze to the weeping gash on his ribs, my movements precise beneath the heavy, possessive weight of Mal's stare drilling into the nape of my neck. He hovered just behind my shoulder, his exhales warm and uncomfortably close to my ear. Ghost let out a slow, controlled breath, his teeth gritted. "You alright you? You seem tense." Before I could form a reply, Mal cut in with a grating, performative laugh. "It's probably because you is alw…