Summary - While in a close combat fight you are stabbed in the stomach. Soap realizes and drags you off to a safe spot, trying to help you. As you are convinced you'll die, Soap comforts you.
Warnings - mention of blood and injury, mention of death/dying, combat
You must have been in shock because you kept fighting. You barely recognized the searing pain in your lower abdomen as you finished off the soldier who hurt you. You stepped on his throat, stomping down to kill him.
You looked up for a moment, trying to get your bearings. Your vision was blurry at the edges. You scanned yourself for injury, finally feeling the hole in your body. You pulled your hand away, it was covered in blood and dirt. "No. No no no" you whimpered, putting pressure back on the wound. It stung, the sweat on your hand making you wheeze. "Fuck" you cried.
The pain only got worse as you were rushed from behind, a much larger solider pinning you face down. You cried out, your arm behind twisted backward. You felt the barrel of a small gun pressed to the back of your head, it was over.
Suddenly, the pressure on your back was gone, the solider had fallen away. You heard Soap yelling.
He rolled you onto your back. "Y/n, oh shit man, what happened?" He was continually scanning you, making sure the stomach wound would be priority. He hoisted you up, putting one of your arms over his shoulder. "Put pressure on it, you got it. I'm gonna get you out of here."
Soap might as well have been dragging you, you were losing blood fast and walking was impossible. He dragged you for a while till you reached a small stream you recognized. You had been here with him before. That was a much better time, though.
You grit your teeth as he pulled gauze from his pocket and a flask from the other. He pulled your shirt up, inspecting the wound closer.
"Oh shit, y/n. This is real bad." He mumbled. Soap used his radio to signal for help. You couldn't make out what he was saying.
"Soap, fuck please don't let me die out here." You cried. The pain was making you grip the leg of your pants. "Please."
Your voice was fading. You felt like you were freezing, but also like you were on fire.
"This is gonna hurt, I'm sorry." He poured alcohol onto the open wound making you scream out. "I'm sorry, I know, I know."
You were no longer gripping your own clothes, rather his. Your fingers were digging into his leg, but he wasn't pay attention.
"Y/n, I need to pack this wound. It's going to feel pretty shitty, though." Soap's voice was apologetic. As he packed your wound, you began to feel light. Like you were floating. Your eyes rolled back.
"No! Quit!" Soap slapped you, "fucking stay awake. You can't sleep now, y/n." You were panicking, but you were so tired. You kept your eyes on him, scanning his face over and over, memorizing his features one by one. He was crying. Why was he crying? Is he hurt?
He finished packing the wound, rinsing his hands in the stream. "You're gonna be ok, y/n." He wept. "I'm gonna get you home, and we'll have a fuckin party for ya." His accent was getting more intense as he got more emotional.
"Soap" you mumbled, "I'm so cold, Soap." You we're still losing blood. He moved to be behind your head, hoisting you up to lay against his chest. You cried as you reached down to your wound. "It hurts, real bad."
"I know it does, I know." Soap said, pushing your hair out of your face. "I'm here, just squeeze my hand. As hard as ya can, you won't hurt ol Soap." He was rocking back and forth, trying to comfort both you and himself. "We're gonna get home, we can go for drinks yeah?"
"What kind of drinks?" You asked, trying to distract yourself from the cold and pain. "You like drinks."
He laughed, "Yeah, I do." He wiped away his own tears. "I'll buy you all those stupid fruity drinks you always want. You know the ones with the colorful straws. Shit, I'll even drink one with ya." Soap hated sweet drinks, him drinking one with you made you happy.
"Soap, if I don't get out of this-" you began.
He cut you off immediately. "No, quit talkin' like that. We are gettin ya home. I promise, y/n. I promise I won't let you die out here." He felt you squeeze him harder. "Tell me what you want to do when ya get home, all about it."
You took a deep breath. "I want to take a long shower. Hot water, no one else around. A shower to myself." You laughed. "Then I'll get to sleep in my nice warm bed. With so many pillows and blankets." You spoke with a light smile. "I'm so cold, Soap."
Soap pet your hair again, "I know, it's gonna be ok. Keep telling me about that bed, y/n." His voice was shaking. You heard the helicopter nearby.
"Flare-" you said breathily. "Soap, flare gun." Your words were slurring. He did as you said, shooting into the sky. The bright light was beautiful. "It's so pretty out here, John." You hadn't said his real name in so long. He gasped.
"Yeah, sucks that it's covered in blood now." He laughed, trying to make light of the situation. "We need to get you a new shirt." Tears were flowing quicker from him now.
"I'm gonna get every last one of those fuckers, y/n. They won't get away with what they've done to you." Soap grit his teeth as he spoke. "I will kill every fucking one of them."
As the chopper landed nearby, and medics swarmed you to get you in the air, Soap kept his hand in yours. You kept squeezing. He stayed with you all the way to base, and in the med-bay. Soap refused to leave when medical told him to.
They sedated you. The last thing you saw before nothingness was Soap, he was smiling at you through tears.
The entire time you were in surgery, Soap was right outside the room, pacing. Ghost tried to comfort him for a while, letting him sob into his shoulder.
When you were brought to the recovery bay, Soap was next to your bed the entire time. He didn't move. He wouldn't leave to eat or sleep, he stayed right next to you waiting for you to wake up.
You woke up, you were cold. Everything hurt. Your hand was warm. You looked over, Soap was asleep. He looked like a mess. The blood wasn't on him anymore, Ghost forced him to get cleaned up so the recovery bay would stay clean for you.
"Soap." You spoke, your throat was dry. He woke up immediately, tears in his eyes. He kissed the back of your hand gently. "Soap." You said again.
"Yeah, what is it?" He looked with such concern.
"You owe me a fuckin drink."

YOU ARE READING
COD Oneshots / shorts
FanfictionThe autism got me. Will write - smut, fluff, angst, comfort Will not write- any smut with underaged characters