it’s almost comical. four of the most dangerous men in the world, the infamous 141, crammed into a pastel pink nursery, standing shoulder to shoulder as they surround a stout, handmade crib, staring down at the babbling babe inside. she’s precious. the sweetest creature any of them have ever seen, with john’s nose and your frown, chin slick with drool, her sparse tufts of hair sticking out every which way. five weeks old, and she already has them all wrapped around her chubby fingers.
“she’s fuckin’ perfect, cap’n,” kyle murmurs, grinning so hard it must hurt his cheeks.
john smiles just as wide, his pride a tangible thing. even the sleepless nights and the stress of a newborn couldn’t dull it. it suits him, all this newfound domesticity. they can all remember a time that the captain abhorred the very thought of it, would’ve scoffed if you told him what would become of him. that was before you, before her. “isn’t she? she looks just like her ma.”
“thank god for that.” simon bites, though even he’s gentled himself in the presence of such innocence. john pretends not to notice how he’s looking at johnny, how the lieutenant’s hand lingers on his lover’s arm as the scot coos at the baby. it’s not so scary, he wants to tell him. it’s nothing like they feared it would be.
johnny claps his captain on the shoulder, misty-eyed and starlit. “you did good, ol’ man. we’re proud of you.”
“thanks, sunshine.” john squeezes his scruff, his chest warming at his words. it means more to him than he can say, that pride. it means the fucking world. “m’glad she’ll have you, all of you.”
“she will.” simon vows, stern, final. “so will you, and the missus. you’ll always have us, cap’n.”
he’s never doubted that, not for a moment. they have, and always will be, john’s. just like you, just like this little life you’ve created. not even the devil could take them from him.
although, “there’s sumthin’ i ought tell you,” he’s been avoiding it. not because he’s afraid, or because he regrets it, but because john price’s never been very good at change. but he’s learning. sometimes, all you need is a leap of faith. now he’s finding his footing on the other end of that chasm. it isn’t so bad, with you around to stabilize him.
“i’m gettin’ out. i signed the papers monday morning.”
simon’s the only of them who isn’t surprised. his lips twitch into what could almost be called a smile. pride, is what it is.
kyle’s brows raise, his gaze soft, gentle but mournful. understanding, but still dejected. his first boy, his sweet gaz. he knew he’d take it the hardest. “yeah?”
“yeah. i’ve got new orders, straight from the top. a new mission. she’s it. they’re it.”
for a moment, it’s silent, but it’s not loaded. not the settling of dust in a formerly active war-zone, just the sun setting over something that’s long since due. it’s his boys coming to terms with the fact that they’ll have to fight the good fight without him from now on. but he’ll still be here. his home will always be theirs, a soft spot to land when it’s time to shed the kevlar and fatigues.
it’s johnny who breaks it, of course. he’s a mouth almost as big as his heart, that one. “good for you. you deserve it—all of it.”
“so do they,” simon adds, nodding at the angel-faced infant. him and john both know, better than most, that you cannot have just one foot in. it’s all or nothing. he’ll never be able to walk onto the field with the same confidence again, without fearing for what he’s leaving behind. that sort’ve second guessing is what gets people killed. and he won’t be the one to tell you your husband’s dead.
john looks to kyle then, and the sergeant softens. “m’happy for you,” he means it, too. john’s done more for this service than any of them. johnny’s right, he deserves this. every beautiful, hard-earned bit of it.
his daughter chooses that moment to stir, emitting a wail so loud that it seems to rattle the very walls. john only laughs, cooing at her as she wriggles and fusses, reaching into the cot to pick her up. johnny grins gleefully—he’s been waiting weeks to meet her, after all. they all have.
“oh, i know, i hear you. were you feelin’ left out, sweet girl? is that it?”
“i told you not to wake her up,” the sergeants jerk like children caught with their hands in the cookie jar, wide-eyed and contrite, as they see you standing in the doorframe, arms crossed over your chest, despite the sheen of amusement in your eyes.
“i didn’t!” john protests, though the grin he’s fighting does nothing to argue his innocence. “she wanted to say hello to her uncles, is all,”
“mm. m’sure she did.” your front doesn’t last long. in fact, it crumbles the second john steps forward to press his lips to yours, ignoring kyle and johnny’s playful gagging. you melt into it, baby smushed happily between the two of you, grabbing at fistfuls of your hair and babbling senselessly at her parents.
john heads down the stairs after detangling your locks from her eager fingers, with two of three soldiers hot on his heels. you linger, waiting for simon, smiling gently when the lieutenant makes his way to you to wrap an arm around your shoulders.
“alright, si?”
“yeah, love, m’good.” his eyes crinkle as the sound of johnny’s sweet laughter filters through the house, following by john’s instructions to be careful of her head! it’s a far cry from the gunfire and carnage the 141’s so accustomed to. it’s a nice change. it heals something in him, cauterizes a wound that’s been bleeding for far too long. he has john to thank for that. and you, most of all. you’ve made a home, not only for yourself, your husband, and your child, but for this rag-tag family you inherited along the way.
“you’ll take care of him for us?”
“always.” you promise, and he knows it to be true. they kept john alive long enough to get him here. now, it’s all up to you.
the lieutenant has no doubts that you’ll do right by his captain, as you always have.
