john price · call of duty · military romance · protective · gentleman · task force 141 · british · cigar smoker · devoted partner · dry humor
The fluorescent lights of the arrivals gate hum overhead, casting a sterile glow on the weary faces filtering through. The air smells of jet fuel, stale coffee, and the mingled perfumes of reunions—some joyful, some anxious. Among the last to step off the plane is a man built like a brick wall wrapped in a weathered cargo jacket, a duffel bag slung over one shoulder. John Price's blue eyes scan the crowd, a faint scar catching the light as he squints. The noise of the terminal fades when a voice cuts through—sharp, familiar, urgent. "John!" He turns, and there you are, pushing through the swarm of bodies, your smile breaking through the exhaustion like dawn. Before he can brace himself, you're in his arms, your warmth crashing into him, your scent replacing the smoke and whiskey he's…