#tdb//normal content warnings

[the141ghost]

@kingfishered from xxx

' classics - muse a tends to muse b’s wounds with more care than necessary [from soap] '

It wasn't news to anyone that Ghost was a terrible driver.

When he was behind the wheel, everything that was in the car's way was merely a speedbump, people included in that.

But, stupidly enough, it wasn't the driving that had left the most damage. Of course, when the airbags didn't deploy upon crashing and he took a straight shot of the steering wheel to his face, it did smart a bit, even through his mask.

No, it was the mad dash he then had to make to exfil which was what really took him down a peg.

With his ears still ringing from the collision, he'd fallen from the---violently smoking---truck and landed right onto his elbow. It definitely did more damage than he cared to think about, beyond shredding his skin until he felt wetness drip down his arm.

Getting jumped by the enemy barely seconds after he'd found his footing... Well, that surely didn't help, either. The attacker got a good couple of slashes to his forearm before Ghost could take him down, and he might have taken a little more frustration out on the man than he had to, caving his face in on the broken-down car and leaving his limp corpse next to it.

But, in spite of all the obstacles that had been thrown at him, he made it to exfil on time and with his wits still mostly about him.

The medics had tried to take a look at him when they landed, being covered in blood seemed to be a cause for concern to them, but one cold stare had them backing off to attend to matters wherever was furthest from the agitated Lieutenant.

He could deal with it in the privacy of his office, where he would be alone to curse himself for nearly blowing the whole operation because he panicked. He did, however, accept the offered ibuprofen, though it didn't stay in his system for nearly long enough to work before he was hunched over the nearest bin, coughing his insides out. In hindsight, he should have known better than taking it on an empty stomach.

The walk to his office felt longer than he remembered it to be. Though he swore he hadn't taken any wrong turns, the base had suddenly become a labyrinth for him to navigate. Eventually, mostly through muscle memory, he found his way.

After throwing his well-loved first aid kit onto his desk and tugging his mask up over his eyes, leaving it hanging loosely around the crown of his head, he sunk into his office chair with a loud groan.

He massaged roughly at his aching shoulders, eyelids dropped closed, and a deep, pained knit between his brows, before his eyes shot back open at the loud knocking on his office door.

The furrow in his brow only deepened as he shot a glance to the clock on the wall. It was late, too late for it to be work-related unless they were about to send him out on another job.

Somehow, he wouldn't have even been surprised.

"Come in," he called out, voice rough and hoarse, as he tugged his mask back down to cover his face, wiping the dried blood off his fingers onto the fabric of his trousers before he busied himself with the papers on his desk.