#protective 141

Prompt: You are rescued from an uncomfortable situation by the 141.

You twirl your drink in your glass, eyeing the patrons around you with mild interest. It's a quiet night and the bar is mostly empty, save for a few men in the corner playing pool. Above you, the bar lights flicker and buzz, echoing your exhaustion after work.

"Can I get you another drink?"

Glancing over, you see a stranger leaning on the bar beside you. He's far too close already, but you stay polite. "No, thank you."

His smile is strained. "Not interested?"

"I've had a long day." You tell him, hoping it's enough to express your disinterest without also upsetting him.

"One drink." He insists, sitting beside you.

"Sorry, this is my last one for the night." You try instead.

"Then you can keep me company."

You sigh, giving up and deciding to just start gathering your things. "I should get going-"

The stranger stops you from getting up with a hand on your arm, but before he can say anything else, he is interrupted.

Price: "There you are, love." A hand, wide and scarred, lands on the bar top between the two of you. Another sits at the back of your seat, leather creaking beneath a firm grip. His broad frame blocks the overhead lights, bracketing you between two thick arms. He is careful to keep space between your bodies, even as he leans himself over you. His voice was warm velvet when he was speaking to you, but it turns to gravel when he looks at the stranger. "You keeping my wife company?"

OR

Gaz: "We got a problem here?" There's a man standing at the other side of the bar, holding a tray of drinks. The cap on his head doesn't hide the narrowing of his eyes when he looks at the stranger, nor does his sweatshirt hide the strength of his body under the loose fabric. "Hands to yourself, yeah?" He says and the stranger rips his hand away like he had been burned. The man then jerks his chin in your direction, addressing you only. "Let me drop these drinks off to my friends and then I'll walk you to your car."

OR

Soap: "Don't think she's interested, mate." The voice booms across the quiet bar. Both you and the stranger turn to the men playing pool, where a man is watching you with a big smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. He's got a pool stick in hand, emphasizing the bulk of his biceps. There's an ease to his posture, like this confrontation means nothing to him. He wears the nonchalance well, keeping his smile as he walks over to you and holds out a calloused palm. "Come now, bonnie. Care to join me for a quick game?"

OR

Sorry this one took my so long, I’ve been trying to finish off some fics that’ve been sitting in my computer for a year.

Anyway! I actually love the idea of Gaz getting sent to Soap’s med room so often that the two just know each other really well by now and Gaz looks at him, looks at his lieutenant and goes, “Yes. He’s gonna love him.”

And then starts the talking about either man to the other one. Ghost kind of gets over Gaz talking about this medic so often and finally decides to go see what all the fuss is about himself one day. One look at the man tending to a random soldier and Ghost has fallen hook, line and sinker.

So now Ghost takes every opportunity to go see the man, including the time he ‘had’ to go with Gaz to make sure the man didn’t pass out in a random hallway (because there totally weren’t other people that could’ve taken him and he was the only person available)

It’s probably the only proper interaction he’s actually had with the man and when Soap turns that bright grin and soft eyes on him and speaks without an ounce of fear? Simon swears he could melt into a puddle.

König only ends up in medical because his captain told him to, something about needing him in tip-top shape. He doesn’t understand why since it’s literally a scratch but he won’t disobey orders, even if they’re literally pointless.

Though when the Austrian walks through that door and the nice medic man smiles at him that brightly he doesn’t feel as annoyed anymore. Especially when he gets so worried over mere scratches and handles him as if he might actually hurt him with one wrong move.

Soap offers him a choice of three animal Band-Aid’s, giggle on his lips as König chooses the cat one, “It suits you quite well I reckon.”

And if König wears those bandaids with pride and makes sure they’re always on display? Well, nobody’s gonna bring that up with the giant lest they die.

Rodolfo and Alejandro hadn’t met the man yet, both having been on a mission that had gone just a little rougher than they had expected. When they get back they’re both a little reluctant to go to medical, the older lady that had last been there was rough in her proficiency and sometimes you came away with an extra injury you didn’t have before.

But they both walk in and Soap’s there, turning toward them with a smile that drops in favour of worry as he rushes over. He ushers them to sit before going about and collecting his equipment, deciding to tend to Rudy’s head wound first since it seemed a little more severe than Alejandro’s arm.

Soap talks the entire time, voice as soft as his hands and Rudy swears he’s about blow a fuse with how hot his face is getting. The man’s face is so close and he keeps shooting the other these reassuring smiles whenever Rudy finds himself tongue tied in the face of his questions.

Alejandro watches the whole thing with amusement because he’s positive that he’ll be able to pull off talking to the man better than his longtime friend has.

But then Soap’s taking his hand in his own, treating him the same as Rudy and Alejandro finds he can’t remember a damn thing about the English language. He rolls with it though, flustering only slightly as he flirts in Spanish even though he’s positive that Soap doesn’t speak the language. Maybe the man will sense the intention behind the words?

“You’re quite good looking yourself. Did you want me to kiss your wound better as well or just your friends face?” Rudy looks ready to combust with both the words and the sudden language change from the Scotsman, Alejandro not faring much better as he opens and closes his mouth.

Soap laughs at their faces and lord have mercy, they’re both ready to die for this man if he so much as asked it of them. Soap does keep his words, kissing Rudy just right of the cut along his brow while he kisses the back of Alejandro’s hand, just shy of where his injury ends.

The two end up staying in medical just a touch longer since they both fear they’ll pass out if they stand right that second.

141-centric chatfic!

Prompt: You get caught in a crossfire and the 141 saves you.

It was a beautiful, sunny day in the city. You were thumbing through the wares of a local street vendor, admiring their fresh flowers for sale and humming softly to yourself.

The usual urban noise fills the background. Chatter and laughter from locals, commuter cars passing by, the occasional honk of an impatient driver. You tune it out as you always do.

Across the street, you see a few dark vans with tinted windows pull up at the curb, throwing open their back doors. Men get out by the handful, hoods over their heads.

You go still, intuition turning ugly in your stomach.

A metallic click echoes from somewhere behind you. The birds on the street burst upwards. Another click, closer this time. Flat and dry, like a heavy book dropped to the floor. Then you hear screaming.

People are running in every direction, sprinting past you, but you feel frozen and completely exposed. Blood rushes to your ears, hands shaking uselessly at your sides. You don't know what to do.

Price: You get knocked down by the people fleeing, falling to the ground on your hands and knees. Panic clouds all your common sense. Completely abandoned, there is nothing left for you to do but crawl. Everything gets louder. Two hands grasp your shoulders, pulling you up. You are spun around to face a man. There's a gun strung across his back. He sweeps a cold gaze over you, assessing, "You hurt?" You shake your head, mouth gone dry. He nods, turns you back around, and pushes you in the direction the others ran. "Go quickly. Find somewhere safe."

OR

Gaz: A man grabs you by the arm, yanking you behind a nearby car. You notice his gun before anything else, and it makes your breath hitch, squirming away. He tightens his grip - not reassuring, but a warning. "Don't move," he tells you. His sunglasses don't hide the calculated way he scans the street, locking onto something before he raises his pistol and begins to fire. You take notice of his uniform, letting it comfort you. "What's happening?" You whisper, scared to look anywhere but at him. Your fingers clutch uselessly at his jacket. "Close your eyes. It'll be okay."

OR

Soap: One of the people rushing past hooks an arm around your waist, sweeping you against their side. Your panic is swallowed by their palm, head pulled to their chest, until suddenly you're out of the street and tucked into a nearby alley. He keeps you hidden behind him as he leans his upper body out of the alley, gun pointing into the street. "You alright, lass?" He asks, though you can barely hear him over the gunfire. Shakily, you manage a nod against his shoulder. When he fires his own gun, you gasp, gripping onto his uniform harder. "Aye, I got you. Keep a hold on me."

OR