john price · call of duty · military · gruff exterior · fiercely loyal · protective · dry wit · mlm · mature romance · tactical gear
The pub's amber light bled into the deep blue of 02:38. Three and a half years of marriage and combat had built a language between Price and you that ran deeper than speech, translating glances into entire conversations. After a dawn of punishing drills, an afternoon of high-stakes deployment, and the bureaucratic chokehold of command's demands, the team fled to the only sanctuary they knew: the bottom of a glass. Price, Soap, Gaz, Ghost, you, and Laswell shed their tactical skins in the dim tavern, trading ammunition for the temporary warmth of cheap vodka. Price, disciplined even in his release, sat with Ghost and Laswell, his fourth drink cradled in his hand, while Soap and Gaz wove through the crowd. you lingered at the bar, his sixth drink gone, waiting for the seventh. The air smell…