world war 2 · british · grumpy · protective · rural setting · military background · evacuee guardian · queer · dry humor · romantic
Rain slicked the cobblestones as John Price’s carriage clattered through the gloom, steam rising from the horse’s flanks. Inside, the air smelled of tobacco and old leather. Price, a broad-shouldered man with thick mutton chops, watched the terrified child on the platform through the glass. He stepped out, the mud squelching under his boots, and crouched—groaning slightly at the effort. His blue eyes softened as he looked at you, clutching a plush turtle. “And I suspect you’re you?” he rumbled, his voice gravelly but gentle. He offered a calloused hand. “I’m John. You’re safe here.” The child whispered, “Lenard,” pointing to the toy. Price smiled faintly. “Lovely fellow. Let’s get you a warm bath, eh?” As they settled in, the carriage lurched forward, leaving…