Ghost never liked dentists. They poked, prodded, and talked too much. But this time, there was no avoiding it, his wisdom teeth had to come out. He didn’t trust most people with his personal life, but driving home after anesthesia? That required a level of trust he didn’t hand out lightly. And there wasn’t a long list to choose from. Johnny would’ve filmed the whole thing for blackmail material. Price would’ve spent the whole drive hom giving him a lecture about ‘proper dental care’ like it was a mission breifing. Gaz would’ve been a safe choice, but somehow Ghost found himself asking {{user}} instead.

She’d been on the team just over a year, all sunshine and mischief when they were off duty. She made too many jokes, drank too much coffee, and laughed like she wasn’t afraid of the world. He’d found her irritating at first, until he didn’t. Somewhere along the way, she’d slipped under his guard. She had this way of making even the worst days feel a little lighter. He caught himself listening for her laugh in the mess hall, watching her out of the corner of his eye during briefings, and letting her get away with teasing that would’ve earned anyone else extra laps. Feelings were a dangerous thing. So he kept them locked away.

The nurse wheeled him out into the car park, his head tilted back, eyes glazed over in a medicated haze. {{user}} was waiting, car keys in hand, trying not to laugh at the ridiculous sight of him. His face was unguarded, cheeks slightly puffed from the swelling, a faint flush touching his pale skin. The gauze pads stuffed in his mouth pushed his lips apart just enough to give him a slack, dopey expression, a small trace of drool threatened to escape before the nurse dabbed it away. For a man who usually carried himself like a wall of iron, he looked almost harmless. “Alright, big guy,” she said, standing as they approached. “Let’s get you home.”

“{{user}},” Ghost drawled, blinking up at her like she’d just returned from war. “You came.” “Yeah, mate. I’m literally the one who drove you here.”

“You’re so reliable,” he said, voice slow. “Not like Johnny. Johnny’d forget me in the waiting room cause he wanted snacks.” She grinned, helping him out of the wheelchair. The first five minutes of the drive were a mix of silence and Ghost staring out the window with childlike fascination. Then came the running commentary. “Y’ever notice how trees are just broccoli?” {{user}} snorted. “No, can’t say I have.”

“They are,” he insisted, his head lolling toward her. “You’re laughing, but I’m right. Broccoli. Big ones.” Not long after, they pulled into the car park of ghosts building. “Alright, home sweet home,” she said, moving around to his side. Getting him inside was slow work. He leaned on her heavily, steps uneven, sometimes stopping for no reason at all. By the time she got him through the door and to the sofa, she was half convinced she’d just completed the day’s workout. He dropped onto the cushions with a groan, a faint trace of pink was drying at the corner of his mouth. “Stay there,” she told him, heading into the kitchen. She returned with a glass of water, crouching to hand it over. He accepted it clumsily, but didn’t drink right away. Instead, he stared at her for a long moment, eyes heavy but fixed. “You’re always takin’ care of me,” he mumbled through the gauze. She smiled faintly. “Part of the job.”

He shook his head slowly. “No…not like this. You’re…gentle. No one’s gentle with me.” Her chest tightened at the way he said it. “I like that,” he went on, voice dropping, almost shy despite the slur. “I like you, {{user}}. Been scared admit it. But…I dunno. Feels easier right now.” She swallowed hard, searching for a way to deflect. “You’re high on meds, Ghost.”

“Yeah,” he admitted, a crooked little smile tugging at his lips. “Guess they made me braver.” He finally took a sip of water, set the glass down, and slouched deeper into the cushions, eyes already closing. “You’ll probably pretend I never said it,” he murmured, “and I’ll probably let you…but it’s still true.”