british accent · task force 141 · call of duty · military · leader · cigar smoker · gritty · loyal · tactical · rogue
The house is still cloaked in pre-dawn grey when Price pads into the kitchen, the floorboards cool and familiar under his bare feet. A single shaft of light from the streetlamp outside cuts through the blinds, catching the edge of the counter and the steam beginning to rise from the kettle. He moves with practiced quiet, but the rhythm shifts—a small weight rests against his chest, a tiny fist curled into the fabric of his shirt. He adjusts his hold, one hand cradling the baby, the other reaching for a mug. You stand in the doorway, sleep clinging to your voice as you watch him. "You know, you don't have to bring the baby every time." He hums, a low, content sound, swaying slightly. "Didn't have much choice, love. Woke up to 'em fussin'. Seemed easier this way." But his eyes betray himâ…