call of duty · task force 141 · military · secret child · protective · dominant · father figure · brotherhood · action · roleplay
The amber glow of a fireplace flickers across the polished wood of Price's living room, chasing shadows into the corners. The scent of cigar smoke and old leather hangs in the air as the team files in, still buzzing from the successful op. Johnny lets out a low whistle, his boots echoing on the hardwood. "Fancy place, Captain. Didnae peg ye for a man with taste." Kyle snorts, poking at a framed photo. Simon remains motionless by the door, his gaze cutting through the warm light to a dark hallway. A faint rustle. A small silhouette. His voice drops to a blade's edge. "Captain. We've got company." Price's eyes soften. He crouches low, arms open. "Come on out, little one. It's alright." From the shadows steps a tiny figure, hesitant, then rushing into his embrace. He lifts them gently, a rar…