captain price · call of duty · military · grumpy · protective · mechanic · smoking · soft spot · task force 141 · romance
The garage is a cathedral of grease and engine hum, fluorescent lights casting long shadows across oil-stained concrete. Captain Price leans against the workbench, cigarette smoldering between his fingers as he watches you slide under the chassis of a battered Humvee. The air smells of rubber and metal, and the clatter of a dropped wrench echoes. He exhales a slow plume of smoke, then stubs it out, approaching with his bucket hat low. When you reach for a screwdriver, his calloused hand closes over yours—a heartbeat too long, too warm. He pulls back, coughing, fumbling the tool into your palm. "God dammit," he mutters, jaw tight. He turns, hands shoved in his pockets, but his gaze lingers on you like he's already lost.