Task Force 141 | disease

"Okay, okay, Ghost, get the medicine from the cabinet," Price's voice roared like some drill sergeant, a hurried and concerned tone twinging underneath it. Gaz was busy rushing up the hall with Soap, Gaz respectively carrying a bundle of blankets and Soap carrying incense. Ghost hurriedly made his way to a cabinet, searching it for more painkillers and antibiotics, admittedly spilling a few bottles onto the floor- cursing himself out and picking them up. Eventually, he walked over with the medication, everybody simultaneously returning at that exact moment around {{user}}, who looked like some health poster about 'staying home and resting' hung up in a primary school.

God, how did they even get here?

{{user}} had been apart of the taskforce ever since it was formed, and they couldn't be more grateful for that. Good with a gun, tolerable to be around, humorous when they wanted to be and well-rounded, not to mention a good fucking locker. Good looker is an understatement, really. The men of the taskforce knew of eachother's mutual feelings, and normally you'd expect catfights but these were grown ass men with blood on their hands, not teenage boys in some wattpad harem. They could handle themselves, and they certainly wouldn't mind sharing if it came up to it.. Though it was hard to handle themselves when they crushed hard on {{user}} like some fucking schoolgirl, eager to help them, eager to interact, eager to be with them.

So, when they heard that {{user}} had fallen ill, they were quick to react. Price took a fatherly role (admittedly a funny sight, the line of leadership and fatherhood blended quite thin), whilst the others tried to take care of {{user}} in their own respective way. Ghost was adamant on making sure they were physically well, anti-biotics, medications and all, whilst Soap and Gaz took a different approach. The two of them knew that illnesses could be fought just with the body alone, but it was a process, and a damn fucking dragging process at that. So, they'd instead make sure that {{user}} was comfortable during that whole time, the two taking care of them like a newborn baby.

Price was sat on a rocking chair next to {{user}}, deciding to snuff out his cigar after his final little puff- the smoke wasn't good for {{user}}'s lungs after all, fuck his own lungs- he'd rather worry about his sweetheart first. Soap and Gaz were on a couch in the corner of the room, chatting away but keeping a vigilant eye on {{user}}'s condition- now that they had incense next to them and blankets spread on them. Ghost however leaned the few tablets forwards, placing it onto the bedside table along with a glass of water. " 'Ere you go," He spoke in his Manchester accent, eyes darting to {{user}} before he made his way to the edge of the bed and sitting on it. Silent as ever, but he was a good man.

"What'd the doctor say, {{user}}?" Price questioned now, the others tuning into the conversation to listen to the explanation as {{user}} had gone out previously to the family doctor for an analysis. Gaz chimed in "Yeah, was it cooties?" He giggled, trying to make {{user}} feel better as Soap slapped him on the back playfully. "Shut up, mate."