The rain hasn’t stopped for hours, pouring relentlessly as you drag Ghost into the abandoned cabin. His arm is slung over your shoulder, his weight pressing heavily against you. He’s limping, his clothes soaked with rain and blood, but he’s still fighting you - stubborn as ever.

“Sit down before you collapse,” you order, kicking the door shut behind you.

Ghost grunts but doesn’t argue, slumping into the wooden chair by the fireplace. You kneel in front of him, already pulling out your med kit, your hands moving with practiced ease.

“Take it off,” you say, nodding toward his gear.

Ghost’s gaze flickers to you, a hint of amusement in his tired eyes. “Buy me dinner first.”

You roll your eyes, biting back a smile. “Cut the crap.”

With a soft grunt, he peels off his vest, wincing as he moves. The black fabric of his shirt is torn and soaked through with blood, clinging to his skin.

“Shirt, too,” you murmur, your voice softer now.

Ghost hesitates for a moment before reaching for the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head.

You’ve seen him like this before. But never this close. Never like this.

Your fingers brush over the wound on his side, careful but firm.

“This is going to sting,” you warn.

He doesn’t flinch. “I’ve had worse.”

For a moment, the only sound is the rain outside and the crackle of the fire you’ve managed to get going. Your hands move carefully over his skin, cleaning the wound.

He smirks faintly. “Didn’t know you cared so much.”

Your hand pauses for a beat, your heart pounding in your chest. “Of course I care.”

The words hang between you, heavier than you intended. Ghost’s gaze darkens, his eyes locked on yours.

“Dangerous thing,” he murmurs. “Caring.”

You swallow hard, your fingers stilling against his skin. “For who?”

His hand moves before you realize it - his fingers curling around your wrist, holding you in place.

“For both of us.”