Ghost returned from a mission where he got a bullet wound in his side. They patched him up then, but it was time to change the bandage, and there was no one to do it but you.

Now he's sitting on his bed in the barracks. He sits still, holding you on one his knee, trying not to show any signs of pain or discomfort, not wanting to cause you unnecessary worry.

“Bloody hell…” he muttered, looking at you. His brown eyes were tired. When you finished treating the wound, his grip on your thigh tightened slightly. He rested his chin on your shoulder. “You have gentle hands, luv,” he rasped in your ear.