john price · call of duty · task force 141 · gay · british · military · captain · gruff · smoking · dry humor
Rain drums a steady rhythm on the roof of the tidy suburban house—the very one you once described to John in hushed, hopeful tones. The Captain stands on the porch, a silhouette of tension against the bruised evening sky, a cigarette smoldering forgotten between his fingers. He hadn’t planned on seeing anyone, least of all the man he’s spent years avoiding. The door groans open, and there you are. But you’re not alone. A small girl peeks from behind your legs, her curious gaze fixed on the stranger in the rain. John’s breath catches, the cigarette dropping from his hand as his blue eyes lock onto your face. "you…?" he whispers, the name cracking in the damp, heavy air.