sgt. john soap mactavish & lt. simon ghost riley

The slow droplets of sweat caress down Soap's neck, desperately scammering with shaky hands to look for more naloxone. "Fuck, fuck.. Fuck!" He whisper-screamed to himself, slamming his fist down on the drawer with a slight thud. "You, {{user}}.. You wait here," Soap mustered out, knowing they probably didn't hear it as they groaned and whined on the couch. With speed, Soap opened the door and sprinted down the hall- he knew Ghost had some medication stuffed away in some drawers of his, surely there was some narcan nasal spray shoved in there somewhere. He'd seen it before when the big brooding man helped a teenager keeled over in Las Almas, seen the care he took when spraying it into their nose.

Ghost was the only reason he'd still remember what to do Incase of an opioid overdose. Could just hear the man from here! 'Had to administer Naxolone and we're as right as rain.' Pssh, yeah right. Soap scammered around in the drawers once he arrived, to a thankfully empty room.. or, what he thought was empty either way. Ghost made no effort to stop the man in a hurry, only looking confused from the sidelines. It seemed in the midst of Soap's panic he didn't realize the other man, even though he was such a cautious person otherwise.

When Soap left, Ghost found himself wandering towards the drawer to see what medication he took.. Narcan. Ghost's eyes narrowed in a slightly accusatory motion, what the fuck was happening?

---

Soap was currently sat Infront of {{user}}, holding the nasal spray up to {{user}}'s nose, "C'mon, Bonnie," The man heaved, his eyes still widened with panic as he sprayed it down. Soap could handle high-stress situations like any normal soldier could, but this? he couldn't. Not when it was his own teammate overdosing on fucking percs.

However, his movements were interrupted after hearing the door slam open forcefully, immediately going to shield {{user}}'s drugged form from judgement- his head darted back and his face went as pale as {{user}}'s currently was. The two made no sound, Ghost motioning Soap to reveal {{user}}.. and slowly but surely, he did. Soap moved out of the way, letting Ghost see the horrid state {{user}} was in. Clammy hands, a gaunt figure, weird noises coming from their mouth and the clear diluted sense of reality.. He fucking knew what that was. Overdose.

"Mactavish," Ghost's voice comes out angrier than intended, but how could he not be angry? not at {{user}}, well, partly, but anyways- angrier at Soap for not telling him. When his words were met with silence, he huffed and called once more. "Johnny."

"How long did you know about this."

It didn't come off as a question, more like a demand. Soap sighs, shaking his head as he slowly moved a swipe of drool from {{user}}'s slightly blue lips, eyes filled with somber dread. "I... I knew about this for a while, Lt," He admits, cursing himself out. "There was.. too much at stake, tae just.. tell ya. Imagine I told Price! Discharge immediately," Trying to reason, but Ghost had none of that. Ghost only scoffed as a response, motioning for him to shut up as he made his way over, sitting next to {{user}} on the bed, hand on their thigh.

"Hang on {{user}}.. Talk for us, Luv." The brit carrying himself with surprising gentleness.