„If I survive this, I'll fucking slit your throat, MacTavish!"
„I'm just trying to help, lass!" said Sergeant held his hands up in the air in a defensive motion, not seeking her wrath. Because by the way she looked at him, he was a hundred percent sure that she would stick to her words.
She had to bite down on her lower lip to hold in a cry as he helped her to sit on a desk, the tension in her thigh not really lessening. They were in the back corner of Alejandro's backup hideout, where Ghost took them. When they found Rodolfo here, she wanted to jump in his neck and hug the life out of him, she was so happy to see a familiar face. But instead of a warm welcome, they had to make do with a fistbump, since she needed both men to keep her on her feet at this point.
And now, it was time to address her wound, and this was the part she wanted to skip forward.
Soap barely touched her leg, she hissed at him, trying to get away from his prying hands.
„Wellsy, I can't help you like this," he sighed, putting his hand on his hip as he looked at her. She almost smiled at the sight, he looked like a disappointed father, standing there like that. „We should get Ghost."
„No fucking way," she immediately shut him off, shaking her head so violently that a few strands of hair flew by her eyes. „He would kill me himself if I don't stay put."
„That's the point," he flashed her a mischievous smile, already turning around and heading back to the main area.
„Get back here, Kilt Boy!" she shouted after him, but she didn't even get a glance back. „Fuckin' quitter."
While she waited, seated on a not-so-comfortable metal desk, she took the chance to look around. It was fairly dark in the room she was in, with only a lone lamp on the desk giving some dim lighting. But it was enough to take one look at her thigh and know it was way too fucked up to do it up by herself.
It was embarrassing, but when it came to wounds, she was still a whiny baby about most of them. Especially about burnt wounds and bullet wounds, the rest she could deal with. But when she saw her two mates approaching, her self-respect returned, forcing her signature smirk on her lips and trying to block out the pain.
„Hey, Ghost, I almost forgot!" she leaned forward a little, reaching into the pocket on the side of her leg, pulling out a knife. It was the very knife she got from a Shadow, with the black and white marble handle. „I got you something."
As they stepped into the room, both of the men looked at her with curiosity, noticing the knife held in her hand. Soap's eyes flicked back to Rora's face with panic. This was it, he thought, she was really going to slit his throat. And by her sadistic smile, she knew exactly what effect she had on him.
„Another headache, a'ight?" Ghost gruffed out, crossing his arms in front of his chest. For a moment, his eyes wandered to her leg, seeing that her pants were drenched in blood, fresh and dried. And she looked pale. He wondered if she had any other injuries.
She motioned him to come closer, not really wanting to get off the table, it would be embarrassing to just collapse in front of them. With hesitant steps, he stepped closer to her, only leaving a foot distance between them, and the sudden close proximity caused her breath to hitch in her throat. She tilted her head back a little, looking up at his face, his eyes barely visible because of the dark shadows. She was mad at the shadows for taking away his eyes from her.
Rora held out her hand, waiting for him to place his in hers. But by the confused look he gave her, it was obvious he didn't get it, so she let out a sigh and reached forward, grabbing his wrist and turning his palm upwards.
The sudden urge to step back two steps was hard to fight down, his heart skipping a beat at her touch. He didn't like being touched. The only physical contact he received so far was mostly malicious and harmful, and the very little percentage that wasn't got drowned out by the ones he hated. But if she touched him, somehow it wasn't that bad like the rest. It confused him, and he didn't like it.
A fairly heavy thing being placed in the palm of his hand break him away from his thoughts. His head tilted to the side a little as he inspected the knife placed in his hand. It was a combat knife, with pretty but unnecessary detailing on the handle. The blade was serrated, a typical type of a US combat knife. He didn't need to ask who it was from.
„I stole it from a Shadow," Rora cleared her throat, not being sure why she got that look from him. „It looked too great to leave it there. And it reminded me of you."
„Why?" Ghost asked, genuine curiosity showing through his words.
„It's rough around the edges."
Their eyes met, each of them showing something else. Her crystalline eyes glistened with amusement by her own humor, the corner of her lips curved up as she looked up at him, while Ghost's eyes clearly showed how unimpressed he was. With a swift motion, he flicked his wrist, throwing the knife in the air. She watched as it flipped in the air and he caught it with such grace and practicality, she was unable to hide her fascination.
„I have enough knives," he said as he handed it back to her. With a shake of her head, she pushed his hand back.
„It's a gift, and I killed somebody for it. So take it." Just to get her point through, she flashed him one of her most innocent smiles, fluttering her lashes just for good measure.
For a few seconds, the two of them held each other's gaze, both of them too stubborn to back down, but the scuff of boots against the floor caused them to snap out of it. Only to see a retrieving Soap, and she only caught a glimpse of his back, her mouth opening in disbelief. Did he really just ditch her with Ghost?
„Why am I here again?" Ghost broke the sudden silence, earning her attention once again. And as she looked up at him, suddenly she had a lot to say.
She haven't got a chance to spend some alone time with him in a hot minute, and even though she didn't like to admit it, Rora enjoyed his company. She liked the teasing, the fact that all of her flirty remarks bounced off of him with ease. She liked that whenever their eyes met, it changed: his eyes weren't so cold anymore, they just held little light, but she wanted to be the one to reignite it again.
But she would rather die than say any of those things out loud.
„Soap is a pussy, and I can't do this myself," Rora moved a little her injured leg, showing what she meant. „So, even though this pains me, but... Could you help me stitch my leg?"
She blurted out the last part of the sentence so fast he could barely understand, and by the slight tint of her cheeks, he could tell she was embarrassed to ask for help. Rora Wells was probably going to die because of her pride, all of them knew this.
„Is it lethal?" Ghost asked, looking at her leg. It looked like shit, even in this lighting.
„No...?" her eyebrows furrowed at him, she just didn't get some of his questions. „As you can see, I'm still breathing."
„Then why do you need me?" he crossed his arms in front of his chest, as he took a step back, his eyes flicking back to hers.
Are you fucking kidding me? Rora had to take a moment to not cuss him out because of his dumbness like she didn't just break a piece of her pride even by asking for help.
„I can't do it by myself," she had to bite her tongue to not say some curse words after her sentence. She hated admitting defeat because she was Rora Wells. There was nothing so far she couldn't do, and here she was, not being able to fix her busted leg.
„Why couldn't Soap do it?" he asked, but to her surprise, already reached for the medkit placed on the table next to her by MacTavish.
„I may or may not threaten to cut his throat if he touched me," Rora replied sheepishly, looking anywhere but his eyes. From the corner of her eye, she saw as he shook his head in disbelief. Not because it was an out-of-place thing for Rora to say, but the fact that it was so easy to scare MacTavish away.
„So am I your next victim?" he asked as he rummaged through the box, searching for something to clean her wound with. The slight playful tone in his voice somewhat eased her nervousness, earning a small smirk from her.
„I can barely reach your head like this, I think you're fine for now," she shrugged her shoulders, earning a look from him that made her smile widen. Of course, she knew that even if she were at her full strength, she would probably still have very slim chances of taking him down. He was skilled and an absolute unit, and even though her ego was twice the size of hers, that still didn't make her bigger or stronger. Dumber, maybe.
In the silence settling in between them, she let her mind to zone out, her eyes staring into nothingness as he readied the supplied out. And as he stood there, looking down at her, contemplating whether or not it was a good idea to agree into helping her, only one sentence could break her out of her thoughts.
„I'll have to cut it off."
„Wait the fuck up, my leg is not that bad, sir!" Rora blurted out, panic rising in her throat as she tried to scoot away from him, but a hand placed above her knee made her stop.
„I meant the pants, you muppet," his voice rose only a little, but it was enough for her to forget about running away from him. After all, she was the one who asked him to help.
As she watched him reach into the box on her right, pulling out a small scissor, Rora couldn't help the frown on her face.
„Did you just call me a muppet?" she asked, confusion thickening her voice. It was probably a British slang again that she didn't quite understand, the boys liked to throw around those. Especially to make fun of her for not getting all of them.
„Stay put," he grumbled out, pulling out a metal chair from under the desk to place himself down, getting a better look at her leg.
And before she could have the chance to protest, he placed the small scissor just above her ankle, cutting into her pants. It was a somewhat thick fabric against the world's shittiest scissor, and it was a comical sight to watch such large hands suffer with such tiny scissors. But her amusement only lasted for so long, because he soon had enough of the scissors. He tossed them aside with a swift motion and by grabbing the sides he just cut into, he ripped her pants.
A surprised gasp left her lips as he yanked on the fabric with a little more aggression, ripping the pants in half up to her thigh. The sudden cold air caused goosebumps to appear on her naked leg, and she had to bite her lower lip to stop her mind to go to other places.
After a little hesitation, he pulled off his gloves, ditching them right next to her other leg, not wanting to get more blood on them. And right now, she had too many distractions to even pay attention to him cleaning her wound. The picture of him sitting between her legs, his bare hands brushing against the tender skin of her thigh, leaving goosebumps in their wake was such an experience she never thought she could live through.
And with every touch, it was more questionable if she'll ever survive this, because this was torture.
She failed to realize how touch-starved she really was because with every touch, she craved more and more, and her breathing got heavier, and the pain in her leg almost vanished beside the sudden desire. And he noticed all of these. The way her bottom lip got caught between her teeth as an attempt to control herself, her slightly blushed cheeks, and the look that made her icy blue eyes such a dark shade was suffocating him.
The sight of her bare thigh was more than enough to get some thoughts swirling in his mind as he stitched her up, careful to not really hurt her. And in the process, he somehow took his time to let his fingers brush the inner side of her leg, watching as goosebumps appeared after them. In the beginning, he thought that maybe his hands worked too rough on her wound, but after he let his palm rest above her knee and earned the smallest whimper-like noise, he knew that wasn't the case.
With gentle hands, he placed her foot on his thigh, slightly lifting her leg so he could dress her wound. The way he was so gentle was such an out-of-world experience for her because out of all of them, she expected him to be the least careful with tending her wounds. And his hands on her body were the only thing she could think about as she watched him.
When he was finally done with the dressing and his eyes wandered to hers, his breath got caught in his throat. With her rapid breathing, her chest rose with the same rhythm, her eyes halfway closed and full of repressed desire as she let herself fall back to the wall behind her. His gaze wandered to her full lips, her teeth catching her bottom lip in the process. And despite the strong pull towards her, the need to feel her against him to feel a little more alive, he had to gather all of his strength to push the chair back and stand up.
That's when she noticed the blood on his shoulder.
„You got hurt, too," her voice was deepened by desire, and as she looked up at him she tried her best to regulate her rapid heartbeat. But how does one do that when all she wants at that moment is standing only a step away from her?
„It's nothing," Ghost brushed her off immediately, his tone softened by something she didn't hear before. But that something gave her enough courage to say her thoughts out loud.
„Take your shirt off. I can help."
His immediate answer would be no to that. But it was Rora who said that, and saying no to her was getting harder and harder lately. And the look she just gave him was enough to tip him over the edge, not really finding within himself the reason to say no.
„I can do it by myself," he said nonetheless because it was true. He didn't need help. But what if he finally wanted to feel something for once? Something besides cold and numbness.
„Just accept my help in trade for yours," she replied with her signature smirk, but this time it held a little less mischief and a little more fire. A fire he suddenly craved more than ever, even though he knew it was going to burn him to his core, endless flames like a siren's melody bringing him closer with a step. He hesitated because the picture of her sitting there like that, and the look in her eyes was something he wanted to remember for the rest of his life. But Rora took his hesitation the wrong way. „I won't look at your face."
„Close your eyes."
And she obliged. The sound of him taking his gear off and placing it next to her was intriguing, filling her with such weird anticipation she haven't felt in years. Her hearing got enhanced by the lack of visuals, and only by the sounds she could piece together what was happening. The heavy thud on her right meant he took his pistol from the holster and placed it next to her. The light rusting of fabric indicated he pulled his jacket and undershirt off, even maybe his mask. The thought of him being in such a vulnerable state caused her to edge closer to him because being left in the dark was her least favorite thing.
His heavy steps indicated that he came closer, she just didn't know how close. So she reached her right hand out, feeling nothing but air.
„I can't fix your shoulder if I can't even find you," Rora tried to ease the tension with humor, but her voice came out strained, lacking the usual easiness. And when a warm hand got a hold of her wrist, her forced smile faltered immediately.
His hand moved hers by a few inches, placing it on the center of his chest. The smooth feeling under her palm and the heat almost made her forget how to breathe properly. She was so tempted to open her eyes, she wanted to see him.
„That's me," his chest rumbled under her touch, a smile appearing on her lips. She let her hands wander around a little bit, feeling his body. The shaky breath he let out only fueled her fire more.
Maybe it was the fact both of them were touch-starved. Or the high of their previous mission, the rush of the possibility of dying at any minute. They didn't know what was this, there was no logical explanation. But as he stepped between her legs, her knees brushing his hips and her lips involuntarily parting, both of them knew that there was no turning back.
His hand carefully reached for her cheek, fingers grazing over the scar alongside her left cheek. For a moment, she wanted to flinch away, the memories of the scar surfacing, but his gentle touch somehow managed to fade them, then push them completely aside. Rora leaned into his touch, letting his hand tilt her head back ever so slightly.
She felt his breath over her lips, hesitating mid-air. Rora let her hand slide down to his waist, and with a gentle pull, she gave him the feedback he waited for.
And with that, he leaned down and pressed his lips against hers.
The kiss started out gentle and slow, but upon hearing the low groan from the back of his throat, it was enough for Rora to lose all control. Their kiss turned fiery, intense, and suffocating in a second, both of them grasping into each other like their lives depended on it. Her naked leg circled around his waist, pulling him closer as he let his hand slip into her hair, deepening the kiss.
It was so wrong in so many aspects, but at that moment, none of them mattered. All they needed was someone to make them feel something, anything. And with how good the kiss felt, Rora doubted it was wrong. Because if so wrong, why feel so right?
Her hand wandered back to his chest, up to his face, and to her surprise, instead of the fabric of his mask, her hand touched a light, stubble-covered face. His grip tightened around her waist, his other hand trying to find a grip, knocking the lamp over in the process.
They broke apart, both of them breathing heavily. She still kept her eyes shut, even though she wanted nothing more than to look into his eyes, to look at him. It took all her willpower to maintain her promise, but his following words broke her morals like a dam.
„I want you to look at me, Rora."
She hesitated for a moment, but when her eyes opened, she felt so many emotions come with it like never before. Despite the sudden darkness hugging them, there was still barely enough light coming through the boarded-up window for her to catch a glimpse of his face. Of his seemingly darker hair, his attractive face, his familiar eyes. It was the eyes that made her pull him down for another kiss: seeing that it was Simon Riley who kissed her, not Ghost.
But a loud noise from outside their room got the pair to break their kiss. And just like that, like a light switch being flipped, his entire demeanor changed.
Like her touch burned him, he pulled away, his chest rapidly rising with each breath, looking at her like he couldn't believe what he had done. Feeling like she just took the world's most addictive drug, her hazy eyes kept trained on his face, still trying to process what happened.
But before she could say anything, he pulled his shirt back on and grabbed his mask, storming out of the room, taking a piece of her heart with him. But since she got a taste of him, she doubted that she could ever let him go now.
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IT FINALLY HAPPENED GUYS!!
i hope you guys were satisfied with this chapter, i really tried my best lol
but of course things won't be easy for them - they never are
also, i want to mention i'll post my soap fic on sunday, so stay tuned for that! if you follow me, you'll get a notification when i mention it in announcement, so if you're interested i recommend hitting that follow button!
and i want to thank you guys for all the amazing feedback you gave me so far! it really makes me happy to see you guys are enjoying what i'm putting out there. so thank you for always cheering me up! and just as you guys are here for me, i'm here for you, too. so if you need someone to talk to, i'm always here to listen ❤️