Call Of Duty One-Shots

It's The Acohol... (TF 141xOC)

Mission gone sideways, injuries galore, and alcohol is used as the only way to numb the pain. Sounds like a lovely time. Enjoy the drunk Ghost and cuddling sergeants.

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Indy, Ghost, Gaz, Soap and Price are at a rendezvous safe house after a mission went badly in Italy. Ghost's been shot in the shoulder and Indy has cuts and gashes everywhere, all over her arms and legs, and one deep one in her side. Everyone else has a few bruises and cuts. The safe house is small and compact, with little food, and there are only four beds, meaning two of them have to share. 

"For fucks sake!" Ghost yells, clearly pissed off as he leans on a wall in pain.

"Alright, let's get this over with." Indy grabs 5 pieces of paper and writes 'share' on two of them before putting them into a small container. "Whoever get's the papers that say 'share' have to share a bed."

Soap rolls his eyes as he takes a piece of paper out, while Gaz opens the other one and looks at it.

Soap reads his piece of paper first and sighs. "I'm an unlucky bastard, alright."

"Damn. Well, at least I have company." Gaz mutters as he throws his piece of paper on the ground.

Ghost is still leaning on the wall, breathing heavily as Price checks on the wound. Everyone is bleeding from a few cuts and bruises and the atmosphere in the room is somewhat tense.

"Alright, Soap and Gaz are stuck sharing which means the rest of us get our own beds. If you need me, I'll be trying not to pass out from blood loss." Indy slides onto the floor and rests her head against the wall as she attempts to treat her wounds. Since she and Ghost got hurt the most, she's glad neither of them ended up having to share.

While she starts to slowly starting to treat her injuries, Gaz and Soap bicker over who should be the little spoon.

"I'm taller so I get to be the big spoon."

"Nae, I'm stronger, I cannae be the little spoon."

"I don't care what you say, I'm big spoon."

"Ye're a whiny little bitch. Ya can't always get what ya want. Ye're getting tha short end oof tha stick, so just deal wit' it."

Price hands her a med pack from the few supplies available before heading back to Ghost. At least her injuries aren't as severe as Ghost's. He's still against the wall, breathing heavily as Price checks his wounds. She can't see much, but she knows it's not good.

"Ghost, remember, we run on spite. Too petty to die." Indy grumbles, wrapping up her smaller cuts.

Ghost lets out a small growl. He's been shot in the shoulder with whatever weapon those bastards fired at him and he's definitely pissed off.

Gaz and Soap tend to their own injuries and change into cleaner clothes now that the 'big spoon, little spoon' argument is over.

As the others continue to tend to their injuries and change up, Ghost is still against the wall breathing heavily as Price tends to his shoulder.

Reaching into her gear pack, Indy pulls out 2 mini bottles of burbon and tosses one to Ghost.

"Numb the pain." She drinks her little bottle and goes back to tending her wounds.

He catches the bottle and drinks the bourbon as he lets out a sigh. He isn't the type to turn down anything that can help dull the pain, or get rid of it entirely. 

Her injuries still sting and hurt like hell, though, and the wound on her side is still bleeding despite whatever she's doing to try and fix it.

"For fucks sake...." She groan and pulls out her combat knife. "Gaz, put this on the stove and let me know when the metal is hot."