Price has an (office) squad crush on you, the most professional and polite girl out there. What a mess. (slight nsfw+mentions of blood)
-At first, he just feels protective over you, the new squad member. He thinks it's his instinct, the same he has for Gaz, Soap, and Ghost.
-You can’t count the amount of “Are you okay?” he has asked you with worried bushy eyebrows. At your positive response, he gives you a thumbs up, his beard rising with a satisfied warm smile. It is more of a thumbs up to reassure himself that it's all good…
-Before missions, he stands in front of you and pats the shoulders of your bulletproof vest, looking deep into your eyes.
-The first time it happened, you blinked confusedly, waiting for him to tell you something. Yet, he looked down instantly, and it’s your accidental doe eyes that make him get all flustered.
-Avoiding eye contact, the Captain's rough gloved hands check the sides of your gear, and the locks of the guns on your belt.
-”Sir, I know I’m a rookie, but I do realize when my gun will shoot my own leg,” you giggle off the bittersweet mix of underestimation and being taken care of, as he kneels. Your voice gets caught in your throat when the Captain looks up. The sight of his glassy black eyes from below is somehow endearing, the slight wrinkles around his eyelids giving him a tired warmth. He knows what he’s doing. He has seen too much. He wants you to be alright.
- His eyebrows furrowed, as his irises shifted to the side, realizing how he sometimes might be too much to handle. A slightly ashamed smile formed on his lips.
-”Sorry, angel, just making sure.”
-He dusted off the knees of his cargo pants as he stood up, the nickname slipping off naturally from his voice. «Angel»…It was genuine, and maybe that’s why you felt comfortable with it. He made you believe you deserved it, because you did.
-When he turned his back on you and walked out of the room, you realized how his shoulders were slumped, looking defeated. He resembled a wet dog. Of course, he would feel heartbroken if he couldn't show you his main love language: Making sure you were okay.
-But instead of letting him sink into his overthinking, you rushed your pace and walked by his side to let him know that he had your permission to protect you.
-”I appreciate it, Captain.”
-You used that sweet, softer voice, a smiling whisper that didn't belong under the roof of a military base. It was so unusual and comforting that Price turned his head at you with his not-used-to-romance heartbeat racing.
-Still walking, he only nodded, as if saying “It's just my job.” Even when it isn't. He chose to do it, all of it.
-And, if you looked closely, Price’s boots and yours stomped at the same pace. Your footsteps had coordinated.
-It all felt like a silly office crush. Little smiles in the hallways, knees touching in the truck, subtle touching. You got flustered and hoped he didn't notice. Of course, he did. The subtle goosebumps and gasps he gave you were his favorite part. He was addicted to the blush that spread along your cheeks every time he walked behind you in a narrow space. Price is the type of man to subtly put his hands on your waist and walk past behind you, his hips dangerously brushing yours.
-”Excuse me,” he would politely mumble, with that raspy voice of his.
-There would be more and more missions with you two together.
-Until, during one of those duo duties, things got especially rough.
-Price got hurt to the point of unconsciousness, you two had run out of bullets in the middle of the snow, and it was only you and your tactical knife against twelve enemy soldiers.
-When Price opened his eyes again, everything was completely silent—no sound of the battlefield. The quietness shocked him, terrified that the worst had happened to you.
-When he forced his wounded body to sit up, he saw you, only you. The last woman standing. You were covered in blood, breathing heavily like an animal. Frozen, your eyes were fixated on the bodies of all the stabbed men surrounding you. You didn't even know you could do that. Price didn't either.
-He calls your name to take you out of that fight-or-flight state. Price coughs and his head falls back again onto the snow.
-You snap out of your ecstasy, humanity returning to you. You run up to him, leaving bloody footsteps behind you, melting the snow with crimson on your way.
-Price’s point of view consisted solidly of the cloudy sunset sky until your pretty face intercepted it.
-”Captain? Are you awake?”
-He fell in love right then and there. Your cheeks were stained with splatters of red, and your neck dripped with it too. The hair that could be seen under your tactical hood was messier than ever, sticking to your forehead.
-Yet, your expression irradiated that usual warmth, so polite, so good. Nobody would've believed what he saw: The most correct girl covered from head to toe with enemy blood. You did it to protect him, the man who was used to protecting everybody else. He wanted to make you his wife. He's one of those.
-In that delirium, you gripped his wide arms, glad that he was alive.
-“Price, John, John…!” You prayed his name. “Where did they shoot you? Where does it hurt?” If you weren't scared that his chest was wounded, you would've hugged him right then and there.
-Gaz will hear everything about this btw.
-Price would be so annoying with that lil sweetheart of his.
-”So… Y/N and you.” Gaz smiles over his glass of beer at the bar. It was only him and Price sitting at the stools.
-”Gaz…” He wants to be mature and discreet about his feelings. He doesn't want to come off as a boy with a crush.
-Price does indeed end up coming off as a boy with a crush.
-”...Oh, Gaz. She's everything I've ever wanted.” After the fifth beer, he sighs, all dreamy. It makes Gaz want to throw up. You got that old man in the palm of your hand.
-And Price straightens up his back, hoping his fixed posture will fix his inconvenient feelings too. “But we gotta keep it professional, right?”
-And maybe Gaz is right. He's such a smart dude.
-Off-duty meetings fuck with his head. You show up dressed so formally he has no choice but to rely on his imagination. And, God, he has fantasies.
-It’s the first time Laswell’s words fly past him. He's sorry for that, he will ask her about the details later. For now, he can't focus on anything else than the pencil skirt hugging your wide thighs in all the right places. The way you cross, and open your legs. He wonders how would they feel under his touch, his rough, big fingers squeezing the smooth skin. Your inner thighs must be even softer, how about you cross them around his arm? Would they jiggle when you shake, overstimulated? What about your red-bottomed heels kicking his back?
-”That's the best option, L.T. We have no other choice for this mission.” You say, and he jumps in his chair. Your voice snaps him back from his fantasy, and he feels nasty. He's half-hard at a fucking meeting, for God's sake, he's a grown up man, what was wrong with him? He tries his best not to go back to those thoughts, you're so sweet, your bunny face so innocent. But that makes him want to ruin your purity even more.
-What he doesn’t know is that you’re hornier than him. You realize the way he looks down when your thighs separate slowly from the leather chair. It makes your stomach fill with funny warm feelings.
-The day comes when he accepts he can’t handle any more staring from afar, and he makes the decision: He will ask you out on a date.
-He’s a gentleman, duh. Price will make you his girlfriend before anything else… If you want to, of course. He hopes you do.
-One quiet summer evening, before everybody goes home, he calls your name in the base’s parking lot just right before you hop into your car. The calm crickets chirping float in his deep voice.
-”I enjoy spending time with you, you’re great company…” He says wholeheartedly. The honesty is written all over his gentle face. “Would you like to go for dinner one of these days?”
-Excitement runs through your veins. You want to give little jumps and kiss his handsome face right there and then. Yet, you try to keep your cool.
-You know that, if you spoke up at that moment, it would come out a squeak. You limit your answer to a big, bright smile, and a enthusiastic nod of your head.
-Price’s face lights up. His shoulders relax, showing he has been stressing over your answer.
-Still in disbelief, he asks with his face closer to yours: ”Is that a yes?”
-You giggle: ” Yes, John!”
-The little laugh interlaced with the way his name sounds in your mouth obliges Price to physically force himself not to lift you with his loving arms.
-The night of the date, he shows up at your doorstep with a dark blue shirt, rolled-up sleeves, black pants, and leather shoes.
-”You look beautiful tonight.” He says in awe, staring at your hair, your pretty face, and that classy outfit you picked. He smiles, and adds: “As usual.”
-Next thing you know, the hands that were behind his back reveal he brought you flowers!
-You cover your mouth with your delicate fingernails and rings in your fingers. You whisper his name in disbelief, as you smell the lovely flowers.
-You place a little grateful kiss on his cheek, which leaves his enamored head spinning for an instant.
-He extends an arm, for you to interlace yours with his, and walk to his car. Of course, every door is opened by him and every chair is pulled back for you.
-John is so old-fashioned it’s making you fall even harder for him.
-He’s freshly shaved, he smells like wood. cinnamon, whiskey, almonds… A toasty, thick scent, with a hint of smoke from his cigar, and that fresh hit of his shaving cream. For once, he doesn't smell like gunpowder.
-”This quiet life suits you.” And he gives you that look. He wants to retire you. He wants to keep you safe as his housewife.
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