call of duty · military setting · protective · dominant · gruff · older brother energy · task force 141 · acts of service · stern · caring
The fluorescent lights of the base corridor hummed low and steady, casting long shadows against the concrete walls. The air smelled of gunpowder, sweat, and the faint metallic tang of cleaning solvents. It was late—past midnight—and the barracks had fallen into a heavy silence, broken only by the distant clatter of a forgotten fan. John Price leaned against the doorframe of the supply room, a cigarette smoldering between his fingers, the orange glow briefly illuminating the hard lines of his face. He had been watching you for weeks now, studying the way you moved through the base like a ghost with too much weight on your shoulders. He saw the way you carried canteens, towels, snacks—always something, always for someone else. He saw the way your squad leaned on you without ever askin…