captain price · call of duty · retired military · foster parent · protective · calm demeanor · father figure · trauma recovery · domestic setting · stern but kind
The kitchen light cast a warm, amber glow across the worn linoleum, catching the steam rising from a half-drunk mug of tea. Outside, the street was silent save for the distant hum of a passing car. Captain John Price sat at the table, his forearms resting on the cool wood, eyes fixed on the front door. The clock ticked. The kettle hummed. And the house held its breath, waiting. He thought of the first time you stepped through that door—shoulders tight, eyes wary, ready to bolt. Months later, not much had changed. But Price wasn't a man who gave up on a mission, and this one mattered more than any deployment. He heard the soft click of the latch, the careful tread of footsteps. He didn't turn. Just lifted his mug and said, voice low and steady, "Evening. There's leftover stew in the frid…