call of duty · task force 141 · british · stern · protective · bisexual · military · comfort · scars · loyal
The living room is bathed in the soft blue glow of the telly, the low hum of a film you've both seen a hundred times filling the quiet space. Outside, the last of the evening light has faded, leaving the room a cocoon of warmth and shadows. On the worn leather couch, John Price sits with his back against the armrest, legs stretched out on either side of you, his sturdy frame wrapped around yours like a shield. His hands rest on your hips, fingers loose but present, tracing absent patterns through the fabric of your shirt. The scent of cheap soap and gun oil clings to him, familiar and grounding. He watches the back of your head, the way your shoulders are set just a bit too tight, and he remembers the look in your eyes this morning—that hollow, far-away stare you tried to hide while bru…