summary: running away from your birth family and then using a new name to enlist in the military came back to haunt you... of course it does.
a/n: I awakened my daddy issues and create a little something for the platonic dad Price lovers of the fandom.
tags: sfw. angst comfort. platonic dad Price. reader is a member of 141. post-mw2 (2022). Price calls reader “kid” but they are an adult (Price is just a dad). John Price being a good dad because look at him he’s literally dad shaped, Filipino words, Price speaking Filipino
You knew this would happen, but you still hated that you had been correct.
The paper that your family used to write you their last letter rustled in your trembling hand. They discovered that you enlisted in the military, after you ran away from them. You were a skilled enough schemer to get on top of your government documents to change your name, but in the middle of Shepherds' and Graves' betrayal, they made sure your family found you. Now they were both dead, and they were still fucking up your life in particular.
Wag ka nang bumalik. it said at the bottom, in your father's heavy penmanship. You wouldn't be surprised if he broke the pen he used.
Cheering and laughter resounded from outside the hangar. Oh, what good would come out of telling the boys? They were tired from that goose chase with Shepherd, and Soap was with Rudy when they made sure Graves was KIA. What they deserved was a full 8 hours of sleep, a full meal, and maybe a good lay unless you flirted your way through and stole their girl for yourself.
"Hey." Captain Price jogged up to you. "Where's all that victory yellin' a while ago, huh? The noise doesn't feel complete without you."
You drew your lips into a line, angling the paper away from his line of sight. "Mhm."
Price narrowed his eyes. The softness in his voice was only exhaustion, you were sure. "Everything all right back home?"
That word made you laugh. Home. Spending each day of each week under a roof with children who don't have sympathy (or empathy for that matter) because their parents never do. There were adults who should've acted more like Laswell when Gaz asked her get-to-know questions over the stupid comms. You suffered so many 'family gatherings' where your cousins and yourself were told to be more brotherly or sisterly, but when Soap was bleeding out because of Graves, you kept him lucid while you maintained his wound. You went back-and-forth with Ghost and his jokes. You jumped over 4x4s with Gaz and made it a competition just because. Rudy bantering with you in Spanish felt sweeter because the others were learning the language at the sidelines. Alejandro was happy to see you too, when you all came to save him from custody. The fact is, you gained two new brothers living in Mexico, and the rest are lumbering from the plane to the barracks to get some damn rest.
And Price. To answer his question, you offered the paper to him.
He gave it a simple glance, then shifted his attention back up at your face. "You sure, kid?"
You nod. "I trust you."
He slowly took the letter from your hands, and muttered some words that caught his eye. You wandered several steps away, hands on your hips and thoughts zooming through your mind. The exhaustion hasn't quite settled into your bones yet... or maybe it already has.
"What does 'wag ka nang bumalik' mean?" Price's eyebrows were furrowed. He was confused but open-minded in the way that the father who wrote that letter could never be. Even for you.
You clench your jaw. "Don't come back."
Price blinked, and the weariness that he otherwise already showed a while ago disappeared from his eyes. His shoulders squared, he was alert again. He was back on mission mode because of you.
"Shepherd's and Graves's last hurrah, or whatever." You take the paper back, breathing in. "I always wondered what being rejected actually feels like. Normally, I'm already gone before it happens."
"Oi..."
You shake your head, lifting a finger at your captain. He shouldn't sound so fatherly at this moment. Not right now. "I don't care. Really! I don't care. If they don't want to take me back, I'm not going back. It's so much effort to pack my things, and book a flight, and drive there if I'm going to get kicked out before I even see the welcome mat behind the door."
Price was looking at you with that warm, understanding, patient look on his face. You don't fucking deserve that! "Listen, if you're mad, then be mad. You're allowed."
You threw your hands up, defeated. "You can tell, can't you, Captain? Because it's natural for you to pay attention to everyone under your authority. I believe that you'd protect me because you follow through all the damn time. You're very cool when you do that, by the way."
"Thanks." he smiled fondly.
"And you know what? When they put me in charge of a unit, the best thing I can hear from those people is how much I act like you. They like how organized my operations are, how I praise their skills in the field, how I check up on them. I never learned any of that from him!" you lifted the paper, physically unable to say the name of your biological father. "Captain, it is so easy not to give a shit about any of these people. But I know I'm your legacy, and I know how to do things right. It feels good to be in a team."
Price stepped closer. Within reach, if you were all right with that sort of thing now. While he does want to hold you, his judgment call inclines more to prioritizing what you need. "Yeah, I'm really proud of you."
The first tears escaped your eyes, and you turned your head away smiling. Your voice broke. "That's not fair. You know I turn into a baby when you say that."
"Aren't you our baby?" Price frowned. Playful. "Ghost would never say it, but we all know you have scary older brother privileges. You're absolutely infuriating when you're with Soap, and Gaz always talks about how you dethroned him. See? You're our bunso." (youngest)
You studied his face for signs of lies and deceit that you knew you'd never see. He continued, approaching with his hands open and pacifistic. "You let me read the letter, so I have some idea about what's going on here. It's not your fault."
"Shut the fuck up." you laugh through your tears.
"It’s not your fault. I'm proud of you for having the strength to leave, and the wits to make sure they don't follow you here... well, until Shepherd and Graves." he sighed, cradling your face between his palms. Never mind the dust and dirt on his gloves. It was all over the both of you. "But we're 141. On this little slice of the world, we have room for kids like you."
He pecked your forehead and then gently wrapped his arms around you. You gladly melted into his embrace, hugging him back as tightly and lovingly as you could. "Understood, anak?" (kid, child)
