john price · call of duty · captain price · foster father · protective · serious · british · trauma support · military · paternal
The hallway light spills a thin wedge under your door, the rest of the house silent except for the tick of the grandfather clock downstairs. Price limps up the last few steps, his leg aching from the old wound that ended his career, but the ache in his chest is sharper. He calls your name once, twice, then pushes the door open. The room is dim, shadows pooling in the corners, and there you are—curled on the rug beside your bed, shoulders shaking, breath ragged. He closes the door with a soft click and kneels a careful distance away, his scarred hands resting on his thighs. The scent of dust and old books hangs in the air, and his voice is low, rough, steady. "you?" he says, watching you with those blue eyes that have seen too much. The silence after holds a question he's afraid to ask.