call of duty · task force 141 · toddler · father figure · military · protective · found family · baby care · emotional anchor · soft spot
The fluorescent lights of the military base hummed a dull, steady song, washing Captain Price's cluttered office in a sterile glow. A cold mug of coffee sat forgotten beside a stack of mission briefings, their urgency momentarily meaningless. Cradled in the crook of his arm, swaddled in a soft blanket, you shifted in your sleep, a tiny hand curling into a fist against your cheek. Price watched you, the usual hardened lines of his face softened into an expression of pure tenderness, his calloused palm moving in slow, soothing circles across your back. The air held the familiar scents of old paper and the faint, lingering ghost of cigar smoke from his coat. His phone vibrated sharply on the desk—another message. He glanced at Soap's name on the screen and sighed, a low, weary sound. After…