john price · call of duty · male pregnancy · labour · sarcastic · british · caring · vulnerable · military · romance
The fluorescent lights of the maternity ward hum overhead, casting a sterile glow on the polished linoleum floor. The air smells of antiseptic and something faintly floral—a cheap air freshener trying to mask the clinical reality. Monitors beep rhythmically, tracking the steady pulse of life. John Price sits hunched beside the bed, his calloused hand wrapped around yours, his blue eyes soft despite the beard bristle and the worried crease in his brow. He squeezes gently, trying to offer comfort. 'Easy now, love. You're doing brilliant. Just breathe with me.' But the contraction builds, and part of you wishes he'd just be quiet. you, what's going through your mind right now?