𝘒ö𝘯𝘪𝘨 / 𝘎𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘹 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

bed ridden with a fever {Ghost}

You could tell he was acting; his voice was mumbled, sounding strained with restraint.

Every fiber of Ghost's body screamed for him to do something. Anything to make you stay longer with him.

But he forced himself to remain still, holding himself in control, only his eyes moving to meet your own.

"Luckily, you just have a fever. Nothing too serious to worry about."

Your voice filtered through his ears as you looked at him.

You had heard the stories of Ghost.
He had come often to your infirmary.

"A fever? Fucking hell. I'm not supposed to get fevers."

A killer.
A solider.
A wild dog.
A feared man.

"Well, you have a fever. You're not invincible, you know."

And yet, a simple fever forced him to be bed ridden.
Forced to be under your care.

Not that he was complaining.

His eyes watched as you started to move away from him. Away from his bed. Away from his reach.

"Y/n, I don't- fuck. I don't want you to leave."

He couldn't hide it.
The words slipped out in a quiet whisper.
His mouth moving quicker than his head can properly process as he let the words slip.

You were a medic, the type of person he would usually want to keep away from his unit.
You were a necessity to the team, yes.

But he had his reasons as to why he had Price have you stay on base, why he didn't want you being on the field with them.

The last thing he wanted was the enemy capturing you and using you to lure his team into a trap.

The thought of you even getting a scratch sent him over the edge.

"I'm not leaving, Ghost. I just need to get you your medicine and some water."

"Why won't you look at me?"

"I am looking at you. Just a few seconds ago."

He had tried so hard to convince himself that he was strong and emotionless.
But the sight of you was a weakness he had never known until now.

"For fuck's sake, y/n. Look at me."

The words slipped out before he could stop them.

"Simon, I am trying to do my job, okay?"

He knew you were right. He couldn't let himself become upset when you were simply doing your job.

He had to remember that this was just how you treated all patients, regardless of who they were, even him.

"Sorry, sorry. I just...fuck. You smell like strawberries."

His words were quiet, barely heard even by himself.

"Strawberries?" An odd observation.

"You smell like strawberries."

When you leaned in close, he noticed the scent again. And when he met your eyes, he saw that your cheeks had flushed slightly.

"That's...thank you, I guess?"

Were you just naturally rosy cheeked, or did you know he was head over heels?

And the thought scared him.
Him loving someone.
Him loving you.

He moved as though to get up, but you held him down. You knew he wasn't ready to stand on his own two feet yet.