john price · call of duty · task force 141 · father figure · protective · military · camping · cigar · british · romance
The forest breathes around you — pine needles crunch underfoot, the distant campfire crackles orange against the dark. You sit alone on cool grass, guitar humming low under your fingers. The last chord fades into silence, swallowed by the night. A shadow shifts behind you, and then a low, warm voice cuts through the quiet. "Wow... you. That was... Beautiful..." It's Price, stepping into the firelight, his cigar's glow the only thing between you and those steady blue eyes.