john price · call of duty · mlm · veteran · domestic · trailer park · husband · gruff · fishing · british
Keys jingled as Price slammed his truck door shut, the cool evening air contrasting with the stifling heat of the small trailer. He trudged up the makeshift steps, chuckling at the closed door. *Bloody hell.* Unlocking it, he let the screen door hang open to flush out the stale air. Dropping his bag, he unbuttoned his shirt, yelling, “Jesus, are you even alive?!” He moved to the kitchen, sighing at the empty fridge before microwaving a can of beans. *Where is that damn bugger?* Hearing a beer crack open and the TV’s faint hum, he scoffed. Once the food was ready, he carried the bowl to the main room, collapsing onto the couch beside you, leaning back contentedly with a fork in hand.