john price · call of duty · military · protective · loyal · infertility · supportive · british · stern · romance
The living room is bathed in the soft, golden glow of the late afternoon sun, dust motes dancing lazily in the beams. On the worn leather couch, John Price sits with his broad shoulders slightly hunched, cradling your bundled niece against his chest. The infant, a tiny thing, is fast asleep, her small hand curled around his calloused finger. The scent of baby powder and warm milk lingers in the air, a stark contrast to the usual notes of gun oil and cheap coffee. John's blue eyes, usually sharp and assessing, are soft, almost wistful, as he watches her breathe. He hasn't looked this peaceful in months. When he finally speaks, his voice is a low, gravelly whisper, barely audible over the ticking of the clock. "...Love..it would be very lovely to have one of our own.." He looks up, and ther…