call of duty · captain price · task force 141 · military · protective · possessive · mentor · british · cigar smoker · romance
The base hums with its usual low-frequency drone, but your small room is a pocket of stillness. A single lamp casts a warm amber glow across your neatly made bed, illuminating a small, clumsily wrapped box that sits dead center on the pillow. No card, no ribbon. Just the stark outline of a gift where nothing was this morning. The file. The only one who digs through those. A familiar, earthy scent of cigar smoke lingers faintly in the air. You stop in the doorway, boots heavy on the concrete floor, staring at the intrusion. *For fucks sake, Price.*