FEAR IS FOR THE WEAK [GHOST//SOAP X OC]

1. WELCOME TO THE 141

"How is it that no matter how many times I tell you to keep your eyes open, you still manage to get hurt?" I asked him seriously. My eyes narrowed on what my fingers were doing, trying to stop them slipping in his blood. "Every fucking time MacTavish...every fucking time." My words huffed out with my frustration when the needle pierced his skin again as I stitched him back up, ignoring his hissing at me as I tied up the ends of the sutures and placed the needle on the tray, grabbing the gauze, dousing it with saline solution before I leant forward, cleaning him up.

Only now, that I knew he was ok, did I allow my eyes to move to his face. "Don't MacTavish me, my eyes were open." He replied, his Scottish accent was rough but soothing. I raised a brow before he pouted slightly. "I don't have eyes in the back of ma head." My own eyes rolled into the back of mine before I chuckled softly, my gaze dropping back to his wound.

"It's almost like you do this on purpose." I sat back, pulling my gloves off before dropping them and the bloody gauze to the tray next to me. He went to get up but I growled at him, pressing my hand to his chest. "Did I say you could move? No...so lay down until I'm done." He groaned in frustration, dropping back to the bed as I opened a fresh bandage, carefully applying it to his ribs, covering what I'd just fixed, making sure the sticky sides were pressed down firmly. Nodding in satisfaction at my work, I looked back up at him, seeing his displeasure at being stuck there until I said otherwise. "All right you big baby. You can go now."

He sat up carefully as I turned around, emptying the now blood soaked items in their respective bins for sanitation, but his grunt made me spin around, frowning slightly at his expression. "Here." I moved to my cupboard and popped out two Tylenol for him before I filled a glass and brought them both to him. "That's all I can give you." I sighed as he took the glass, smiling crookedly before he popped both the tablets in his mouth and chased them with the water.

Once he had swallowed them he stood up, swaying slightly before he went to pull his blood soaked shirt on. "Johnny!" I growled and he froze, looking at me somewhat worried and confused. "God have mercy, it's like having children...how many time's do I have tell you NOT to put your dirty gear back on?!" He frowned, looking at his shirt before I snatched it off him and pointed to the door. "Shower. Now." I watched him move, hands up in defence as he slipped out of my room before I looked at his shirt and huffed, following him out.

"You know this is why I called you 'Hen'...mother hen." My hand came up, smacking him upside the head as we entered his room and I giggled softly, watching his face twist as he turned to me, his eyes darting between mine. "Ya bloody witch sometimes, Jessie." His tone was light but I saw that look cross his eyes, the look he'd given me plenty of times when I'd put him in his place and my arms folded lazily, my brow raising as I dared him to continue but he simply grumbled, entering his bathroom while I stood there in the doorway, watching him. "If you're gonna stare, just get in with me." He smirked.

My eyes followed him as he tried to bend down to remove his shoes, an involuntary snicker leaving my mouth and as I entered, his head snapped to me before I dropped to my knees and unlaced his boots, letting him step out of them before I pulled his socks off and looked up at him. His cheeks had a slight pink tinge to them which only fuelled me on and as I stood I kept my eyes on his, my fingers unbuckling his belt roughly, his zipper falling down easily, his pants following. "Need me to wash you too?" I teased him, watching his cheeks flush brighter as his eyes widened slightly before I patted his cheek and left, leaving him to shower alone.

This seemed to be our routine.

He would leave on missions and I would always warn him to be careful, as I did with the whole team but he just had a tendency to always come back bloodied and bruised, ending up in my room where I'd need to stitch, bandage and clean him, patching him up before the next mission. It was a never ending cycle. But I couldn't complain, not really, he was always welcome.