Contagious || Ghost x Fem

𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

The morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the medbay as you prepared to be discharged. The nurse, a kind-faced woman with years of experience etched in her eyes, went through the rundown of postoperative care with you. "Change the dressing after every shower, and be careful," she advised, her voice carrying a gentle tone. The words held a weight of responsibility, emphasizing the importance of meticulous care for your wound. The nurse continued, "No unnecessary bending, jumping, or running. Take it easy, especially in the first few days. Your body needs time to heal properly." She handed you a small bag containing pain relievers, a lifeline to manage the discomfort that accompanied postoperative recovery. "Thank you, ma'am," you said appreciatively.

You made your way out of the medbay, the sterile scent gradually giving way to the more familiar surroundings of the base. As you entered the rec room, you spotted Gaz sitting on the couch, engrossed in the colorful puzzle of a Rubik's cube. He glanced up as you approached, a cheeky grin on his face. "You look like shit," he remarked with a teasing tone, to which you responded by playfully flicking him off. You reached for the Rubik's cube, and with nimble fingers, you manipulated the cube with precision, the colors aligning seamlessly as you solved it in a matter of seconds. Gaz's eyes widened in surprise, and he couldn't help but chuckle. "Alright, show-off," he teased, acknowledging the unexpected skill you displayed.

"I'll be back, gonna shower." You said tossing the cube back at him. "Yeah, you need to." Leaving the rec room, you headed up the stairs, the familiarity of the base becoming a comforting backdrop. The events of the past mission lingered in your mind, but for now, the prospect of a shower provided a brief respite. Entering your room, you gathered your essentials and made your way to the bathroom. The sound of running water and the steam-filled air greeted you as you turned the shower to the hottest setting. Each droplet of water felt like a cleansing touch, washing away not only the physical remnants of the mission but also the lingering tension. The hot water offered a moment of solace, and you took your time, allowing the therapeutic flow to ease the soreness from your recent injury. Thoughts of the team, the mission, and the complexities of relationships within the task force swirled in your mind, but in this small space, you found a temporary sanctuary.

While you showered, Ghost was quick to ask questions. He approached Soap who was in the weight room with his headphones on. He tapped his shoulder which startled him, and Soap took his headphones off pausing his music on his phone. Ghost glanced down at his phone, seeing he was listening to Poker Face by Lady Gaga. Ghost raised an eyebrow at Soap's choice of music, an amused smirk playing on his lips. "Seriously, Lady Gaga?" he remarked, unable to hide a hint of amusement. Soap, unfazed, shot back with a scoff, "I know you're not hating on the queen of pop."

Ghost leaned against one of the gym machines, crossing his arms as he prodded further, "I'd take Metallica over Poker Face any day." Soap chuckled, adjusting the weights on the barbell. "Different strokes for different folks, Ghost. Gaga's got that energy, you know? Pumping me up for the next workout." Ghost shook his head in mock disapproval, a playful glint in his masked eyes. "You're hopeless, Soap. Stick to the heavyweights, not the pop charts."

"What are you bothering me for anyways?" Soap said starting to lift the weights. "You know if Price has any kids? Daughters specifically." Ghost watched Soap's focused expression as he lifted the weights, contemplating the question. The clinking of metal echoed in the room as Soap set the barbell back on the rack before wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. "No idea," Soap replied, taking a moment to catch his breath. "Price doesn't talk much about his personal life. Why the sudden interest in the captain's family tree?" Ghost leaned against a nearby bench, his mask betraying no emotion. "Just curious. Got a feeling there's more to our dear captain than he lets on." Soap raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "You trying to dig up dirt on Price, Ghost? That's a risky game." Ghost merely shrugged, his tone nonchalant. "Call it a hunch. Sometimes the things left in the shadows are more interesting than what's in plain sight."

Soap took a sip of water, his gaze narrowing at Ghost's insinuation. The weight room's ambient hum provided a backdrop to their conversation, creating a tense atmosphere. "Price? Giving intel to the enemy?" Soap chuckled, a disbelieving tone in his voice. "You've officially lost it, Ghost. Price is as loyal as they come. He's been through hell with us." Soap's words lingered in the weight room, a heavy tension settling between the two soldiers. "I'm not talking about just Price, but Serpent as well. I did some digging, Johnny. Before five years ago, there was nothing on her—no last name, no personal history. It's like she appeared out of thin air." Soap set the weights down, a serious expression on his face. "Ghost, you're treading on thin ice. Accusing both Price and Serpent without solid proof is a dangerous game. Price has been with us for years, and Serpent's a damn good soldier. Questioning their loyalty without concrete evidence could fracture this team irreparably."

Ghost's gaze remained fixed on Soap. "I'm not accusing; I'm just saying we need to be vigilant. There's more to Serpent than meets the eye, and until we know what that is, we're vulnerable."

The steam from the hot shower enveloped you as you stepped out, the droplets of water clinging to your skin. You decided on comfort and practicality, opting for a black spaghetti strap crop top that provided easy access to your bandaged abdomen. Pairing it with loose cargo pants, you aimed to avoid any unnecessary irritation to your injury. With a towel wrapped around your hair, you started the meticulous process of wrapping your injury with medical tape. The faint scent of antiseptic lingered in the air as you carefully secured the bandage around your waist, ensuring it was snug but not too tight. The mirror reflected your focused expression as you brushed your hair, the strands falling into place. Despite the lingering soreness, you couldn't help but appreciate the temporary reprieve the shower provided. The clothes felt fresh against your skin, and the carefully wrapped bandage offered a sense of protection. Ready to face the day, you left the bathroom, the scent of soap and the steam trailing behind you.

As you walked out the door, your path was unexpectedly blocked by a solid black t-shirt and the defined contours of an overly large chest. Raising your gaze, you found Ghost standing before you, his face concealed by a menacing skull balaclava instead of the usual hard white mask. Ghost's piercing eyes stared back at you, and the thin fabric of the balaclava outlined the sharp angles of his jaw and cheekbones. For a moment, you were caught in the arresting gaze of the skull, and the air seemed to be sucked out of your lungs. "Ghost."

"Serpent."

1226 words