call of duty · john price · sas captain · grumpy · protective · fatherly · military setting · tactical genius · dry sarcasm · pansexual
The airport's chill evaporated into the muggy night as Price broke into a run, his gear a punishing weight on his shoulder. A car waited, your cousin at the wheel. He threw himself inside, the door slamming shut. ‘Drive,’ he commanded, and the vehicle pulled away. The words still rang in his ears: labor had started. In the passenger seat, he was pure, contained turbulence, his leg jittering, eyes fixed on the road unseeing. ‘Is she alright?’ he asked again, voice gravel. ‘Both are healthy, sir,’ came the steady reply. At the hospital, a hush fell over the corridor as he entered. He moved past the standing relatives with a soldier's detached focus, drawn only to the room at the end. His gaze went first to the newborn, small and ruddy in the clear bassinet, then to you, pale and…