Temptation (Simon Riley x OC reader)

9.

The next morning was the day of our leave to Mexico. We each loaded our duffel bags and weaponry onto the cargo plane before getting in. Ghost avoided me and I avoided him too. If he didn't want to work with me, why should I make the effort? I'm not his friend. I'm just a subordinate, so I'll act like one.

"Right lads. Off we go"

Price gave the pilot a thumbs up for the departure and we set off. The flight would be long and exhausting, and I couldn't wait to just spend all of it in silence.

The first two hours went by easily, I chatted a bit with Soap until he fell asleep. His snores prevented me from sleeping or focusing on anything that wasn't the sound of passing tractors he emitted. Gaz was reading something on his phone whilst Price went over the plans for the mission.

Only Ghost remained. His legs stretched and back leaned against the metal wall of the plane. His arms tightly secured on his chest, moving up and down with every breath he took. His eyes were closed yet I knew he wasn't one to sleep around. It did seem as if he was exhausted just yesterday, maybe it was the stress of having to go on mission.

But then again... Ghost, stressed? Unlikely.

————————(Ghost)————————

I could feel her eyes on me. Was she trying to burn holes into the side of my head?.

I could barely stay awake, my head pounded, my ears rung. I was feeling... tired. It was strange, I was never so under the weather but it could just be my body trying to adjust to the constant blabber from the barking bitch staring at me.

Did she really think I would be sleeping? If that were true, she was even dumber than I thought. My eyes flickered, motion happening in my proximity. I didn't react soon enough when I felt a hand on my head. What the fuck?

I looked down to my feet, stretched comfortably in front of me. Then a secondary pair of legs. Black cargos, tiny combat boots that looked half of the size of my own, and that damned scent. Her scent.

A fragrance of roses and a tinge of lemon. It brought me back to when I was a kid, playing on the fields those rare times my mother would be healthy enough to go out. I hated the way she makes me lose control, the way she pisses me off and that damn hand. I wanted to break it

"He's fevering..."

She spoke softly, as if I was actually asleep. Her warmth was comfortable, the softness of her hand was muffled by the fabric of my mask but I could still feel the heat radiate off of her. I tried my damn best to avoid her, she seemed to give up just to come bother me again

Her sigh brushed against the back of my neck, sending a shiver down my body. I was cold, yet the weather had gotten better. I shook a bit from time to time even though I was completely covered.

My damn head. It felt as if it was about to burst

"Kat.."

"Hm..?"

Price shut it.

"Leave him be. He may be tired this time around"

No, I'm not. Let her stay.

"He's piping hot, Captain. We shouldn't have allowed him to tag along"

"He'll live, sugar. Go rest up too"

Don't go. For the love of god don't let go.

I felt her hand slowly raise off of me and the faint sound of her light footsteps walk away from me. She must've noticed I wasn't too attentive yesterday. I hated it. How she could read through me. How she was always there when I needed someone to lean on. Yet I've always treated her like a raggedy little doll. She's nothing more to me, but the comfort of her body relaxes me. Fuck.

Why was I so vulnerable around her? Why did her questions piss me off? Why did I have to call her... a bitch. Her mere existence enraged me. Yet... why was I drawn into her embrace? Why did I want her to hold me, to tell me all the things I always wanted to hear. Tsk. Pathetic.

————————(Katarina)———————

I was worried for Ghost. He was fevering badly. I noticed his attempts at keeping himself still even when his body shivered. It was a bad idea to allow him to join. Price should've known better than to let a sick soldier on the battlefield. I wanted to take care of him, to soothe his pain. Lift the giant weight off of his shoulders. Then again, I couldn't forget what he told me. The angry spats, the rivers of insults I had to listen to whenever I tried to get closer to him.

He kept his walls up and I hated it. I wanted to break them down, see under the thick layer of stone. I wanted to hold his heart and see the man I've admired for 8 months. I didn't care to interact with Ghost. I wanted Simon. That old grumpy man who'd crack crappy jokes from time to time. I could only imagine what it must be like to speak to him and not Ghost. The stoic, cold, harsh and ruthless shell of something much more fragile

I looked at the watch hanging loosely on my wrist. Only 4 more hours to go until we got to Mexico. I could give Ghost a painkiller, it might help subside the fever ongoing. He couldn't refuse a helping hand, could he?

He could seeing the hand was mine.

I sighed and rubbed the palms of my hands against my face, cursing myself for still trying to be on his good side when he clearly had no intention to return the favor. He would shoot me down and use my body as a human shield through open fire, how could I still be so hopeful he could change? Damn me.