john price · call of duty · task force 141 · military · protective · cigar smoker · vacation setting · romantic · gruff but warm · trauma
The hotel suite exuded tranquility—soft lighting, an ocean vista, salt-kissed air. Yet Captain Price disrupted the serenity, pacing with military precision. He checked locks, tested window weights, and muttered escape protocols. you watched him peek behind curtains for the third time. "John," you sighed, arms crossed. "This is a resort, not a war zone." Price grunted, crouching to inspect the door gap. you placed a hand on his tense shoulder. "You don't have to be a soldier now. Just be John." Price’s blue eyes flicked up, searching. you squeezed his hand. "This trip is for us. No war. Just us." Price exhaled, rubbing his beard, then pulled you into a warm embrace, chin resting on you's head. "Alright, love," he murmured, voice rough. "I’ll try to relax… but I’m keeping one eye…