Whisky Sour Celebrations - Price
Celebration. Stretches of respite came few and far between for the you and one four one. The time that you were granted had always been held to the utmost importance: whether it be days in which the base is quiet with slumbering and lounging bodies or back to back parties and drinks as you drown the memories of war with the cheapest of booze.
Sardined up in the belly of a colorfully lit bar, you’re grateful for the alcohol in your system. Months of desperate gun fights and working as double agents had left you and your comrades worn to the bone and mentally checked out.
Deep bass reverberates through your chest as the bartender slides you another drink. Fruity and just strong enough to bite back, just the way you liked it. The bartender, Kevin was his name, winks playfully as Soap slips onto the stool to your left.
He shouts to be heard over the music, ordering another round of shots. To your right, Gaz shakes his head dramatically.
“You’re gonna get yourself in trouble, Soap!” Gaz jests, looking pointedly at the bartender who pours their row of shot glasses a little too close to the rim.
Soap snorts, though you don’t miss the flirtatious smirk he sends across the counter. He and his friend across the bar had all but fed you and Gaz drinks since you stepped foot in the club, commending you for the work you’ve done undercover these last few months.
“Yer stunning tonight, LT!” Soap had complimented, an arm draped over your shoulders as he swept you away from the entrance. “Captain’s a lucky man, he is.”
You laughed, though silently you relished the praise. It had taken you over an hour to muster the courage to wear the dress you had chosen. Hugging the dips and curves of your body, and exposing the tops of your breasts as well as a long stretch of one thigh, you had been nervous of showing so much skin. But after the months of recon you had endured, separated from the crew and your partner, you decided to go all out.
“Where is John?” You ask now, throwing back the whiskey quickly. Soap and Gaz each shrug in response.
“C’mon LT, let’s dance! You too, Gaz! We’re celebratin’!”
You laugh as Soap tugs you from your stool. Careful of spilling your drink, you let him lead you deep into the crowd, drowning in the music and the lights.
You let your stress melt away with the rhythm as you settle in the space between your friends. All around you soldiers you fought beside dance and lose themselves in their liquor.
Swaying and twirling your hips, you all but forget about the lack of Price’s presence. It felt great to simply lose control for a while, letting the alcohol and the rhythm guide you. Beside you, Soap laughs unrestrained as your hips collide.
“You gonna keep eye fucking the bartender or do I need to finally get his number for you?” You laugh, staring pointedly back at the bar. You and the boys have frequented the joint enough to have a reputation. For all of Soaps confidence on the field, he had yet to grow the nerve to ask out the handsome barkeep.
Soap snorts, purposefully spinning you away from his face. You can all but picture the blush creeping across his nose, or the way he rolls his eyes to feign innocence.
“I’ll do your morning inventory for three weeks if you go up there and ask him out right now!” You dare cheekily, laying your head against his well built chest. “At least fuck him in the bathroom for Christ’s sake!”
“Fine but you’re also buying the next round!”
You wave him off, ushering him back towards the bar with a “go get some ass!” Alone in the depths of the crowd, you let yourself fall in beat with the music once more, drowning any thoughts with more and more liquor until your cup is empty.
“Well well well,” A heavy hand suddenly snakes its way around your waist, accompanied by a face you can only vaguely recall from morning line ups. “If it isn’t Price’s little fuck doll.”
You can smell the booze rolling off the young soldier, can hear it in the way his words melt together. Piss drunk, you stumble beneath the dead weight as the stranger clings to your body.
“C’mon baby, why the cold shoulder?” he continues without hesitation, his fingers wandering and finding purchase against your hips.
“Because I am your superior,” you bark back to be heard over the music, shoving away his hands.
Such gross displays weren’t foreign to you. Men like him were always desperate to assert their dominance over you, despite your ranking.
“That didn’t stop you from hopping the captain’s dick, hmm?”
Anger flares in your belly as the soldiers taunt you, fueled by the alcohol in your veins. Your relationship with John had always been the talk amongst the lower ranks, rumors spreading like wildfire with each new wave of recruits. You had made the decision together to make your relationship public many months ago, though it did little to end the gossip.
You loved John, had loved him for many years before you even realized that love was its name. It ran deeper than a play for power and titles. And he loved you in turn, for the way you balance his rigid exterior and remind him nearly every day that he’s still a human despite being captain.
The soldier continues, annoyingly persistent as he slurs, “Why don’t you let me buy you a drink, yeah? We can head back to my room after, I can show you how a real man treats a lady such as yourself.”
His hand fumbles against your collar bone, brushing away the strands of hair that cover the bare skin between your neck and shoulder. Fumbling fingers dare to dart around to the nape of your neck.
You stiffen against the breach of personal space, clenching your fists to prevent irrational actions. Across the floor, between a throng of oblivious soldiers, you catch Gaz’s eye. You nod once, a silent plea for assistance.
“No.”
Your pursuer falters for a moment, incredulous. “What the hell do you mean, no?”
“I mean, no. Now fuck off soldier, before I report you to Price.” You had always tried your best to refrain from leveraging your relationship to punish other soldiers, but desperation leads you to the threat. If he wouldn’t listen to your objection, this would either work in your favor or anger him further.
“Who the hell do you think you are?” The drunk growls, grip tightening against your hip and the base of your neck. “You’re just some dumb whore who slept her way to the top!”
“That’s enough!” Gaz emerges from the fray, one hand striking out for the other man’s shoulder in an attempt to pry him away.
Pain sears through your side where the soldier’s nails dig deep into your skin as he cements himself at your side. Anger floods and dulls your senses. Without hesitation, or a rational thought edgewise, your fist connects with his nose.
You feel rather than hear the sickening crutch of bone against your knuckles. The mess of a man cries out, staggering back and falling to his knees as he grasps at his broken nose.
Like a wave of thunder had erupted from your punch, a ring opens up on all around you, spotlighting you and your aggressor.
“You cunt!” He bellows, loud enough to be heard over the thrumming bass. “You broke my fucking nose! I’ll have you discharged for this!”
A new hand replaces the one that had wounded you, familiar in the way it finds the dip in your hip and curls over the skin that connects to your thigh. Warm and reassuring, Price hovers beside you, staring darkly down on the soldier.
“You best hold your tongue, <em>cadet</em>.”
Defeated and isolated under the captain’s piercingly cold stare, your assailant stutters and slurs out several half drowned excuses. Around you, the ring of spectators look on, whispers and gossip spreading like an unsupervised forest fire.
Gaz catches your eye, astonishment and pride glittering beneath a rainbow of flashing lights. He nods, wordlessly commending you for putting the prick in his place.
The same oceanic eyes that look at you with nothing but overflowing adoration now blaze with icy blue fire. John waits, holding his tongue until the soldier is nothing more than a whimpering, cowering mess on the dance floor.
“Pick yourself up, soldier, and excuse yourself before I do worse than break your nose.”
Stuttering out a “y-yes captain”, the drunken soldier scrambles to his feet. Blood pools from his hand as he flees the bar, tail tucked between his legs.
The celebration breathes with new energy as he’s swallowed up by the crowd. You release a breath you hadn’t even noticed had lodged in your throat. Soldiers melt back into the rhythm, eating up the empty dance floor until bodies press against you on all sides.
Clearing the scarlet puddle, Gaz clears the floor in three steps, watching your captain warily. Before he can reach you anger and dismay overwhelm you, until the stretch of skin both your lover and your aggressor have held burns beneath the contact.
Slipping and snaking between unaware bodies you hurry for the exit, desperate to be isolated from the cacophony of sounds and touch and colors.
The outside air is chilled, an almost full moon greeting you silently behind a few wispy clouds. You groan, airing your feelings to the stars. You fingers and thighs tremble as adrenaline pumps through your body, wickedly strong as your calm facade finally cracks.
You were familiar with men like that, in your expansive time in the military. It had been an uphill battle your entire life, fighting against the stereotypes they tried to force upon you. Each encounter more draining than the last.
“You alright, doll?” The door to the club opens, an unrecognizable song muting the footsteps that follow after you. Pivoting on your toes, you turn to see Price alone. He smiles at you sadly.
“Don’t-“ you start, curling your hands in your hair as the frustration swells again in your chest. “Please don’t call me that right now.”
John pauses, clear blue eyes staring at you with sympathy and love. The fire had receded, all signs of his anger gone. Tenderly, his hands find your waist, smothering what you could feel were several crescent shaped marks with his love and care.
“I’m sorry, I-“
“No.. I’m sorry,” you cut him off with a sigh. “I shouldn’t snap at you.”
Leaning into his arms, always so strong and ready to carry the weight of your world, you bury your face in his chest. You sigh again, willing the anger in your lungs out.
“I’m not just some hole for you to fuck.”
“I know you aren’t, sweetheart. You’re one of my best soldiers… and my best friend.” He reassures you with soft peppering kisses around your hair. “They just can’t see past their own insecurities that you can handle your own.”
“I’ve been holding my own long before I kissed you,” you remark crossly, though you have to remind yourself that shitty men had targeted you before you and John had gone public. This wasn’t a new situation because of your relationship.
John holds you tight, until calm replaces the anger in your veins. “Some men just can’t handle that.”
“Did you see the hit?” You ask hopefully, a grin replacing your scowl. There was no sense in letting the altercation ruin your night, the least you could do was make a joke or two.
“I did,” Price chuckles with pride, pressing a quick kiss into the corner of your lips. “Atta girl.”
“You wanna get out of here?” You tease, walking two fingers up the planes of his chest to the hollow of his throat. You bat your eyelashes preciously.
“Aye… I’m not just a drunken hookup to you, doll.” He growls back playfully, hands pulling your hips flush with his. You scoff, rolling your eyes as you bat at his chest.
Back at your apartment together, the two of you make quick work stumbling into your bedroom. You fall back against the freshly washed sheets as Price excuses himself to bathroom. He returns with an extra button undone on his shirt, teasing you with the revealed bare skin.
“Did he do this to you?” Price asks, fingers tracing the marks bruising your skin. You nod, unable to meet his worried face. You wince and silently curse yourself as calloused pads whisper against the wounds.
You should have stopped him sooner.
“Don’t do that, love.” Price breathes, forehead pressed to yours, leaving you nowhere else to look but deep into his adoring gaze. “I’ll make sure Ghost breaks him in.”
He growls against your skin, protective and territorial, lips trailing from your chin down the soft, smooth skin between your breasts, all the way down to the crescent marks that adorn your waist. He kisses them each in turn, replacing each wound with utter love and devotion.
Once satisfied with the quiet sighs he elicits, he returns to your mouth once more, melting into your kiss.
He adored every inch of you, thrived on your affection and intelligence. Sex had only ever been a perk, another measure to prove himself worthy enough to be your other half.
He was the antithesis to every piss drunk creep, every rumor that spread amongst the recruits. He had agreed to keep your relationship secret at your request, willing to go to any corner of the earth if only you should ask.