The Medic || Ghost [Simon Riley] Story.

Behind the chippy

The knot in my stomach twisted to an irreversible point the moment I laid eyes on Gaz. Part of me hoped he hadn't had the chance to inform them, but who really knows?

God, I feel physically fucking ill.

Lost in my thoughts, I stare into space, contemplating how I can remove myself from this task force, when Price snaps his fingers in front of my face, breaking my trance.

"Earth to Nash, still not adjusted to British time?" he chides, and I shake my head, allowing them to believe it's just jet lag.

Ghost's intense glare drains me. He knows, Gaz definitely spilled the beans. I can sense it.
"If we take her to South America, she'll be trafficked. Just look at her," Soap remarks, his mouth curving into a condescending expression.

I bite my cheek and step forward, my voice sharp, "What's fucking wrong with me?" I snap, now feeling Gaz's glare on me. I glance at him, and he responds with a sheepish, half-hearted smile.

Soap circles around me, assessing my appearance. "Blonde hair, green eyes, and are you 5ft 10?" he remarks.

"Exactly, actually. And I'm not a natural blonde," I retort.

A scoff echoes from behind me. "That's even worse," grumbles Ghost.

I turn to Gaz, seeking support, but all I receive is a smirk. And I should have known better.

The men begin to snigger, and it infuriates me to the point where I want to scream. I was aware that this wouldn't be easy, and there was always a chance that they wouldn't warm up to me, but this situation is truly debilitating.

Price interrupts, trying to hide his laughter by rubbing his hand over his beard. "Alright, let's grab some scoff and get our heads down for the night. We leave for South America at 0400."

Price takes the lead as we head out, followed by Ghost, who looks like a giant compared to him. Soap's eyes scan me once again, and he shrugs unapologetically. Before Gaz can slip past me, I grab his shoulder.

"Can we talk?" I nervously grin through my teeth.

Gaz licks his lips and raises an eyebrow. "What's up?"

"Can we just... keep what happened between us to ourselves?" I practically plead.

Infuriatingly, Gaz shakes his head. "Don't know what you're talking about, love." His words churn in my gut.

I'm unsure if he's being kind and pretending to forget about it, or if he's trying to punish me. Either way, I feel sick.

His deep brown eyes lock with mine, capturing my attention. He reaches out and gently flicks my bottom lip with his thumb.

"I have to keep my team informed. Trust is crucial in this game, love," he says in a soothing tone.

My heart sinks as it hits the pit of my stomach. "Gaz, please."

"You know sometimes when I close my eyes I can still imagine the feel of you stretch around my cock," he husks, inching closer to me, "the softness of your lips," our breaths mingle, "and the taste of your cunt on my tongue."

Fire spits in my chest and I shove at him, "Fuck you." I grunt, biting back angered tears.

"I haven't told a soul, and I won't." He chuckles, "What happens behind the chippy, stays behind the chippy." He sends me a wink before leaving me in briefing room, alone.

The thought of sitting down to eat with those baboons made my stomach churn. I couldn't bear the idea. Determined to make Gaz pay for his actions, I planned to inflict as much discomfort as possible - extra disinfectant on his wounds, perhaps even a few well-placed malaria vaccinations. I know coming here to be part of this team wouldn't be an easy task, but fuck me, it's unbearable after only 30 minutes.

Taking a moment to gather my thoughts, I hesitated before finally retrieving my belongings from outside the debrief room. Doubts crept into my mind, questioning whether I had made the right decision. Should I have completed the seminars and returned home instead?

I skillfully maneuvered past the noisy mess tent, ensuring that none of my comrades caught sight of me. Laughter and banter filled the air, though my anxious mind immediately assumed it was directed towards me. Eager to eavesdrop, I strained my ears while waiting for a granola bar to drop from the vending machine. Unfortunately, the noise of the sturdy vinyl and polyester tents rustling in the wind drowned out their conversation.

Frustrated, I swiftly turned on my heel and made my way towards the medic tent, longing to unload my pack and find some respite for a few hours. However, just as I settled in, a knock echoed on the post outside my tent.

"Staff Sergeant Nash, are you decent?" Price's voice called out.

"Come in, Sir," I responded, allowing him entry. A perplexed expression settled on his face as he glanced at my pack resting on the bed.

"At ease," he replied, his gaze fixed on my misplaced belongings. "Nash, do you understand that this area is meant to be sterile for you to attend to minor medical procedures?"

"Sir?" I questioned, slightly taken aback. Of course, I was aware of the sterile environment protocol. I wasn't a complete imbecile.

"Then why, Staff Sergeant Nash, is your fucking pack occupying the medical bed?" His voice dripped with disdain.

I'm not sleeping here, which can only mean...

Price must see the light switch flick on in my mind. Because he approaches me with two very annoyed raised brows as he nods slowly.

"All in the one tent." He smirks. Except he isn't in the tent, no. He'll have his own lovely quarters and I'll have to share with Soap, who I haven't sussed out yet, Ghost who makes my skin crawl and better not sleep in that fucking mask. Not forgetting fucking 'behind the chippy', Gaz. If I believed in a god I would be on my knees begging for him to tell me why. Why, fucking why.

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A/n:

A little interaction with Gaz 😏.
3 guys one girl sounds like my kind of fantasy 🤣🤣