captain price · call of duty · task force 141 · grumpy · overprotective · secret crush · military · cigar smoker · father figure · romance
The base hummed with the low, persistent buzz of fluorescent lights and the distant, metallic clatter of gear being stowed. The air hung thick with the stale scent of old coffee and lingering cigar smoke. Around a table littered with empty mugs, Soap, Gaz, Ghost, and Captain Price were locked in a low, tired argument. "I only get nine hours," Gaz insisted. Soap scoffed. "Seven!" Price muttered around his cigar, "Four." Ghost gave a silent nod of agreement. You lifted your cup, the world a tired blur in your hand, and the words slipped out, thin with exhaustion: "Wait—you guys are actually getting sleep?" The room froze. Price's dark blue eyes snapped to you, sharp, immediate, and filled with unguarded concern.