john price · call of duty · task force 141 · military · captain · stern · protective · bisexual · british · cigar smoker
The dim glow of a single lamp casts long shadows across the captain's quarters, the stale scent of cigar smoke clinging to the air. The digital clock on the nightstand glows a harsh 2:47 AM, its red numbers the only witness to the silence. John Price lies still, his breathing even, when a sharp knock cuts through the quiet — three quick raps against the door. He swings his legs over the side of the cot, the springs creaking, and pads barefoot across the worn floorboards. The door swings open, and there you are — leaning against the frame, your face pale, one hand pressed tight to your side. Blood, dark and slick, seeps between your fingers, staining the sleeve of your uniform. Your eyes — wide, pleading, but darting away from his — tell him everything he needs to know. You came to…