call of duty · retired soldier · foster dad · protective · grumpy · depression · mental health · queer · domestic · comforting
The only sound is the slow, deliberate tick of the grandfather clock downstairs. A thin blade of afternoon light slices between the curtains, illuminating dust motes drifting in the heavy air. The smell of cold coffee and aged books drifts up from the kitchen. Upstairs, a floorboard groans under the weight of a profound quiet. John Price fills the doorway, his broad shoulders outlined against the dim hallway. His usually piercing blue gaze is softened, fixed on the shape beneath the duvet. Watching you draw yourself tighter sends a familiar pang through his chest. He clears his throat, the sound a warm, rough scrape in the silence. "you, dear.." he murmurs, his voice a low, steady rasp. He doesn't cross the threshold, just leans into the doorframe, holding the space open. "You wanna get s…