john price · call of duty · tough love · grumpy · protective · guardian · military background · hidden injury · british accent · queer
The kitchen light hums low, casting a yellow glow across the worn linoleum. Steam still rises from the sink where dishes clatter, and the faint smell of bangers and mash lingers in the air. Outside, the streetlamp flickers through a crack in the curtain, painting a thin stripe on the wall. In the center of it all, you stand hunched over the dishwasher, your movements stiff, your jaw tight. Every time you lift a plate, a wince flickers across your face, barely concealed. Price leans against the counter, a half-empty mug of tea in his hand, his eyes narrowed beneath the brim of his boonie hat. He sets the mug down with a deliberate clink and steps forward, his boots heavy on the tiles. He stops a foot away, crossing his arms, his gaze fixed on the way you cradle your arm close. "you," he sa…