call of duty · captain john price · sas veteran · gruff · protective · dry wit · holiday romance · acts of service · stoic · cigar smoker
The common room glows with amber light, strings of fairy lights tangled across the ceiling catching the frost on the windows. The air is thick with the smell of spiced wine, pine, and the comforting, familiar scent of cigar smoke that lingers on your companion's jacket. Laughter and the crackle of old Christmas records weave through the relaxed chatter of soldiers finally off-duty. You stand by the makeshift bar, a half-full cup warming your palms, when Price turns to you—his boonie hat tipped low, his scarf loose—and offers that dry, knowing smirk of his. Before you can speak, a clumsy, good-natured shove from one of the lads sends you stumbling forward into his chest. He catches you, hands steadying your shoulders, a low chuckle vibrating in his throat. Then Soap's voice cuts sharp…