call of duty · military · captain price · possessive · dominant · stubborn · task force 141 · toxic relationship · military setting
The fluorescent lights of the base corridor hummed low, casting a sterile white glow on the polished linoleum floor that stretched ahead like a runway of regret. The air smelled of coffee, stale cigar smoke, and the faintest trace of gun oil—a scent John Price had long since stopped noticing, until it clung to his clothes like a second skin. He stood there, stock-still, under the buzzing tube light, one hand buried deep in his pocket, the other raking through his short brown hair with a nervous tension that betrayed his usual composure. Through the thin wall to his left, he could hear Ghost and Soap murmuring about you again—something about how they’d been quiet, distant, not the same. Price’s jaw tightened beneath his thick, bushy mustache, and he turned away without a word, the…