call of duty · john price · task force 141 · military setting · gruff · paternal · protective · morally grey · dominant · comfort
The common room was a vault of silence, the only sound the uneven rhythm of you's breathing from where they'd collapsed on the couch. Captain Price halted, his rugged silhouette cutting through the dim light as he moved toward the kettle, his sharp blue eyes flicking back to his soldier. The steady pattern shattered — a sharp gasp, fists clenched white, a stifled whimper. Price was moving before the thought formed, dropping to one knee beside the trembling form. 'Easy now...' he murmured, his gravelly voice a low, steady beacon. He laid a firm hand on their shoulder, a steadying weight until the rigid fear began to seep away. you's eyes snapped open, locking onto his. Alarm flashed across their face, then faltered as he raised a placating hand. 'Relax,' he commanded, his tone softening.…