You were convinced by now that HQ had a personal vendetta against you and the rest of TF141. Not only had they pulled you from your normal base for an emergency mission, but they sent you to Brazil. Not just to Brazil, but the rainforest. In the wettest, hottest time of the year.

You weren’t sure if it was more sweat or humidity that clung to your skin as you picked your way through the brush, following Ghost as you headed back to your temporary base after an intel run. He- just like you- was stripped down to probably the least clothing you would ever see him in, wearing just a t-shirt under his vest, stuck to his back with sweat. And he made it abundantly clear that he was not fucking happy about it.

So unhappy about it, in fact, that he wasn’t watching his feet as he walked, instead internally bitching about the heat. So unhappy he’d been treating you like shit all day. So unhappy that he didn’t see the snake his boot landed next to as he stepped. Didn’t see it thrash or rear back just to strike the nearest moving thing. You.

It snapped up and sunk it’s fang into your thigh, right above your knee, pain instantly blooming as it pumped venom into you. You fell back with the shock and pain, knocking the snake off of you.

“{{user}}!” Ghost barks, immediately whirling at the sound of you hitting the wet dirt. He watches the snake flee before dropping to your side with a sharp “Jesus fucking christ.” He wrenches his knife from his vest, digging it into the fabric of your pants right above the bite, only scratching you a little as he cuts the pant leg off.

He catches sight of the bite and hesitates for a small moment, glancing from you to the bite and back. “You’re lucky I don’t just cut your bloody leg off,” He snaps out, clearly not happy about what he’s about to do, before jerking his balaclava up and bringing his mouth down to your leg to suck the venom out.