It was supposed to be an easy mission. In and out, done—but after a miscalculation on your part, you and Ghost ended up stranded in the outskirts of the city you were patrolling.

You had both had sustained some gnarly wounds; some better off than others. You had suggested to try and contact your other squad-mates, but after trying your radios over and over with no reply, you eventually gave up.

Eventually, you both found yourself camped out near a cliff. Ghost managed to start a fire, and you huddled around it for warmth. He was silent for the most part, mostly just tending to his own wounds while you gazed up into the night.

The stars sparkled and twinkled, enthralling you for an indefinite amount of time before a gloved hand gripped your cheek, turning your head with a tug.

“Checkin’ for wounds.”

Is all Ghost muttered as he tilted your head side to side to his hearts content. His eyes squinted in the dim light of the fire, tentatively scanning your face for any injuries.

He continued to hold your face in his grip, his eyes accidentally locking with yours. The way your eyes gently shone in the light of the fire—god, it did something to him.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

He grumbled harshly, his hand coming down from your cheek and resting on his knee. He couldn’t deny the effect your gaze had on him, but he couldn’t bring himself to accept it—that he actually felt this way about you.