A gentle hand
john price x f!reader
Summary: you take care of John after he comes home tired and bruised
A/N: I just want to take care of him ahhhh probably unrealistic but idk a girl can dream
Fluff
The click of the key in the door could be heard throughout your quiet home. You were on your feet in a matter of seconds.
John entered with a heavy bag slung over his shoulder and still in full camo gear. Through the darkness from outside, his form appeared scarily big in the doorframe. He only had time to throw the bag on the floor before you crashed into him. Your cheek pressed against his chest and arms squeezing him tight. He made a small oof but immediately engulfed you in his grip.
"I missed you too." he muttered with a slight chuckle.
You stayed in that position for a few moments. Basking in each other's presence. John breathed out heavily.
You loosened yourself slightly from him and instead raised your hands to cup his cheeks. His beard was longer than usual but tickled your palm in a familiar way. Your brows pulled together in concern at a scratch on his temple.
"Are you okay? Did something happen?"
John almost laughed. Of course something happened. It was the whole point of the mission to make something happen. You looked at him with such pure concern that he wondered how he deserved you. He slightly bowed his head down, making him look smaller than he was.
"I'm fine. Just the usual. Nothing major" he spoke softly.
You brushed gently through his hair. "Good. I'll take a look at that scratch though." It was almost a whisper. Your voice so delicate as if he could break in your arms.
"Yes ma'am."
Dark circles made his blue eyes stand out in the dim light. There was that worry line between his brows, which took forever to disappear whenever he got home. A small cut on his lip. Dirt in his beard. You couldn't help but smile at the sight.
"Your beard needs shaving again." You observed.
He chuckled and ran a hand over his chin. "I know, has gotten rather long hasn't it?"
John reluctantly untangled himself from you and lifted his bag into your shared bedroom to unpack. He unclasped the straps of his tactical vest and you helped him with one on the back. You observed how exhausted he was in the way he moved more sluggishly.
"Are the others fine?" You unpacked some stuff from his bag absently. You threw loads of used underwear and dirty shirts in the laundry basket. You'd have to make an extra wash for his clothes tomorrow.
He put his tactical gear in a grawer. "They're still kickin'. Though Kyle got hung from the chopper upside down. Left him quite shaken, I believe."
You shook your head with a sigh. "I'm gonna check in with him soon. He went home to his mum?"
John grunted which could be interpreted in various ways but you could identify it as an affirmation. Though you weren't sure if it was meant as an answer or as a result of his struggle to pull the shirt over his head without hurting his wounds.
"Let me help..." You tugged him to you by the front of his belt and brought the fabric over the wound on his rib. It looked like a nasty blow. Your brows creased in worry.
John observed you dumbfounded as you fussed over his form and followed your instructions when you mumbled at him to lift his arms. If his men saw him now, they'd never let him live it down. He must have looked pathetic, but as long as you looked at him with such tenderness he frankly didn't care.
Before you, he had never felt a tender touch like yours. It was unfitting for him. He was a big man; a captain. All he knew was roughness. A hard pat on the back or handshake. But for you, touching him so carefully was the most natural. He still didn't comprehend that he was married to you.
"I thought you said nothing major...that looks painful." You scolded him gently. John knew you enough to know that you were just looking out for him but he still felt as if he had disappointed you.
"I didn' want to worry you luv." His accent got thicker whenever he was tired, making it sometimes even difficult for you to follow along.
"You know I worry, no matter what." You could read his body language like an open book. He shrunk in on himself whenever he felt guilty and his tired eyes didn't meet your disapproving gaze anymore. "You sure that your rib isn't harmed?"
A featherlight touch went around the wound as you inspected it, making john involuntarily shiver.
"It's fine. They checked it."
You hummed before grabbing a pair of sweatpants for him. "I'll get the first aid kit."
John had changed by the time you got back and spread the supplies out on the bed. A wet cloth in one hand, the other placed delicately on his skin.
"How did you get that?"
He leaned his head back and sighed. "Hand to hand combat."
You wiped the wound clean. Some dried blood was around it, and a purple bruise was already building under his skin. You felt his muscles shift beneath your fingers and his chest moved with a deep inhale.
You glanced up at him through your lashes. "Do you need to sit down?"
"Darling m' good. Just tired. Been on my feet for ages." The reassuring smile made his eyes crinkle.
"Sit down then..." You gushed him onto the bed before stepping in between his legs and continuing your work.
John observed your concentrated expression with adoration. "I love when you do that."
"Do what?"
"Take care of me. I couldn't imagine a better welcome to come home to."
You stilled your movements momentarily as a light blush spread over your cheeks. "Well, I'm glad you like it."
A sudden tightness constricted his throat. The word like didn't capture the way he felt. Not even slightly. He thought about these moments when he was away a lot. Laying on the floor, wishing he'd be home with you, hoping he'd see you again, praying that you were doing okay. When he first met you he finally felt like his life had a purpose. All those years in training, going through hell and back in the military. He did it all to be able to protect you; serve you. Bloody hell what was he thinking. Soap was right: he really was whipped, even after all these years. The time apart when he was on a mission only seemed to worsen it.
He didn't say any of that. You could only see a small pull of his lips from the outside but you learned to interpret his actions as words.
To lighten the mood you prodded against his belly. "If I want to do a good job I'll need to put some meat back on those bones."
He giggled. Yes, john price giggled, though it sounded rather like a low chuckle from his mouth. He caged your hands in his and pulled you to him, making you stumble out of balance slightly.
"Good thing you like me too with all your food in my belly." a grin on his face, as he looked up at you.
"Just makes you more comfy." you gave the top of his head a kiss. "Nothing could make me change my mind about you anyway."
The look he gave you resembled a happy puppy.
John didn't sleep much that night. He was on the verge of collapsing but he didn't want to take his eyes off of you in the dark of the room. He would take every moment he could get.
















