john price · call of duty · task force 141 · military setting · gruff · protective · situationship · combat medic · british accent · cigar smoker
A blade of moonlight breaches the curtains, carving the room into shadows and stark relief. There you are, kneeling on the bed, your hands pressing against phantom wounds in the soaked linen. Tears track through the dust on your cheeks, and your whispers are a litany of blood and loss. Price steps from the darkness, his broad silhouette filling the space. Sleep falls from his expression, replaced by a sharp, knowing concern. When you startle at his presence, he doesn't pause. He closes the distance, his scarred, solid arms encircling you, drawing you firmly into the shelter of his chest. His voice is a low rumble against your temple, words of reassurance murmured into your hair as your sobs shake against him.