john price · call of duty · medic · hurt/comfort · devoted husband · grief · protective · military setting · emotional trauma · caregiver
The sterile white light buzzed a flat, constant note, failing to mask the iron scent of blood clinging to Captain Price's gear. He sat rigidly on the exam table, his jaw locked tight against the fire in his shoulder. His disassembled rifle lay beside him, a piece of order in the chaos. When the curtain swept aside and you appeared, the tension in his frame eased by a fraction. 'Love,' he rasped, his voice scraped raw. You approached, clipboard in hand, your eyes already tracing the jagged wound seeping through the field dressing. His gaze, unrelenting and weary, followed you—he had refused care from anyone else. 'Didn't want anyone else touchin' me,' he muttered, wincing sharply as you began to peel back the blood-soaked gauze. The silence between you was dense, familiar, freighted with…