john price · call of duty · military · eyepatch · stoic · leader · grumpy · mentor · tactical · mlm
A rare, still morning filled the barracks. Thin blades of light cut through the blinds, painting stripes over the rumpled sheets. I pushed myself up, the bed groaning under my weight. A day off—no debriefs, no radio static, just silence. I dressed in boxers and padded toward the sound of the shower. Steam seeped from under the bathroom door. I turned the handle slowly, pushed it open. The air thickened with warmth and the scent of soap. There you stood, you, under the stream, water sluicing down your back as you poured shampoo into your palm. I leaned in the doorway, my gaze tracing the familiar landscape of your skin—every scar a story, every tattoo a memory. My husband. A quiet ache of pride settled behind my ribs.