...I blame Ivy for this (that and the wonderful gif makers of tumblr who keep putting this man on my feed 🙏)
Have I watched more than one episode of this show from start to finish? No. Will I let that stop me from giving this man THE PARTNER HE DESERVES? Also no.
CW: Tooth rotting fluff. Teeny hint of ✨spice✨ at the end. (Not so) Subtle Lena bashing (all the homies hate Lena). Female reader if you squint? Joe is able to pick up reader, that's the only description (like this man wouldn't bench press a tank to be able to lift you)
Word count: 1,590 (it was meant to be like 500??)
The low hum of the radio masked the sound of the lock clicking open, the muffled thud of his duffle bag hitting the carpet as he discarded it alongside the weight of the last couple of months. The air inside always felt fresher somehow; the light always warmer. Stepping into your shared house, Joe was immediately surrounding by the feeling of home.
It was a Sunday, so he knew you’d be home, either stress cleaning or baking an absurd amount that you’d end up taking to work or giving away to the neighbours. You knew he was coming home, you just didn’t know when, and that period no contact that preceded his arrival always made you anxious, the silence deafening as your mind circled through every possible eventuality.
He tugged off his boots, not wanting to risk the potentially freshly-cleaned floors, even though he knew you wouldn’t ever be upset about it. It’s just dirt, you’d shrug, it’s not worth stressing over. It wasn’t something he ever remembered telling you, but somehow you just knew – you seemed to know where all his scars were, all the wounds his last relationship (his only relationship, before you) had left on him, all the I just cleaned that, Joseph’s and no, Joseph, that’s not where that goes, the millions of little things that made him feel like a trespasser in his own home. But never with you. From the second you had moved in together you’d made it clear that this was his house as much as yours, asking his opinion on everything from where the plates should go to what colour the cushions should be. He wasn’t sure he’d ever thought about cushion colours in his life. You could’ve picked fuchsia for all he cared – home to him never about the way the couch faced or the street it was on, home was a person. One person – you.
He found you in the kitchen, exactly as expected, radio playing just loud enough to be heard over the sound of running water as you washed up what looked like every bowl and spoon you owned. As expected, you appeared to have made enough cakes to feed a small army; a couple on the bench cooling, another on the counter ready to be baked, and one in the oven, filling the kitchen with the sweet scent of baking, tinged only with the slightly sourness he felt for making you worry. The guilt he felt each time he left you never truly subsided, even with all your reassurances that you knew what you were signing up for, that you’d worry about him whether he was in Afghanistan or just at the local shops. That’s what happens when you love someone, you’d once told him. I’m worried because I care, because I don’t want to lose you. And I’m going to keep worrying about you, whether you like it or not.
The idea of coming home to someone who cared, who worried about him, was something he’d long since abandoned. Back when each homecoming had felt like jumping from the frying pan to the fire; going from an active war zone into a minefield. In those days he’d started to dread going home, all of his senses on high alert, anticipating every possible angle of attack much as he did in the field. He hadn’t realised at the time just how much it was draining him – the constant fights, the constant blame, the constant demand for him to give more than he could whilst receiving nothing in return. It had felt as though he could never let down his guard, never be allowed to breathe.
But seeing you was was like breathing in that first lungful of air after being held underwater. Like the weight of not only the last deployment, but the last decade had finally been lifted from him. Watching you standing there, your body swaying ever so slightly, your voice softly singing along, almost as though you weren’t aware you were doing it, bathed in warm sunlight from the window in front of you – it felt like peace.
He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, letting himself bask in the quiet comfort of home, letting your presence bring him back down to earth, to something more human. But at some point during his musings the tap had been switched off; the last bowl stacked neatly on the drying rack; the spoon you’d been clutching clattering the floor as you came face to face with him for the first time in months.
The fond smile he’d been wearing quickly grew into a full grin as he watched the different emotions flicker through your eyes – the initial fear and shock quickly replaced with the look that was solely reserved for him, warm and soft and tender. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to the way you looked at him, the way your eyes lit up whenever they met his. It was like being a teenager again, the rush of butterflies in his stomach, the almost bashful feeling that took over him, wanted to duck his eyes away like he was embarrassed to be caught staring. But he could stare, as much as he wanted, because you were here, in your shared kitchen, looking at him like his presence was the reason for the sun shining.
“Joe!”
Your first reaction, instead of scolding him for scaring you like he’d been expecting, was to launch yourself at him, giving him barely enough time to catch you, to stop both of you from falling over, before your arms were around his neck, your lips on his.
It was always easy to lose himself in kissing you; but after so much time apart, kissing you was like feeling the sunlight on your face after a long, dark winter, thawing out his frozen limbs and making the world seem soft and golden again. Holding your body against his, soft and solid and real, was grounding, bringing him back to the here and now and reminding him that he was still alive, you were still alive, and here, with him.
You pulled apart reluctantly, both of you needing air, but neither willing to break the bubble you’d enveloped yourselves in. You stayed close to each other, lips just barely brushing, the air around you humid with your shared breaths, your eyes never straying from the other’s.
“You’re back.” You breathed, like it wasn’t quite real until you’d spoken the words aloud. He simply gave you a tired smile, causing your eyes to slowly drift from his, your brows pinching slightly as you scanned across his face as though you could see right through him. Sometimes he believed you could, the way you always seemed to know what he needed, what he left unspoken. But right now he didn’t want to worry you; he didn’t want to burden you with the things he’d seen and the shadows that still clung to him, stubbornly holding on despite the light of your presence. Right now, he just wanted you.
“’m okay.” he said, dipping his head, his hand cupping your cheek, thumb tracing over your cheekbone in a comforting manner, answering your silent question. It was the same each time he returned; the excitement and relief of having him home was quickly surpassed by your caring nature, examining him for any new marks, even the smallest bumps or bruises, before moving on to the wounds on his soul. It would be hours before you’d so much as mention a single thing that had happened to you whilst he’d been gone, so focused on him and his wellbeing that it barely occurred to you that he’d been just as consumed by your wellbeing when you were apart. Every time you did so, he found himself filled with the all-consuming need to show you just how much your love meant to him, and just how much he loved you in return.
Reassured that he truly was okay, you step back slightly, not enough to leave his arms but just enough to allow you to shake off the haze that always came with being so close to him, slipping back into to the well worn path of the caretaker, but this time, he wouldn’t let you. This time, he wanted to take care of you – to show you just how grateful he was to come home to you.
“I didn’t know if you’d be back in time or not, but I made your favourite and saved you some just in case. Are you hungry? I can make you something to eat if you’d prefer-” He watched you ramble with a fondness in his eyes, before cutting you off with a kiss; his hand moving to grip your neck, tilting your head up to allow him to kiss you deeper, his tongue sweeping into your mouth.
When he pulled away, you were breathless, eyes glazed, and his lips twitched up into a smirk at the state he’d left you in. He loved being able to make you look as drunk as he felt in your presence, and he had plans to leave you feeling well and truly wrecked.
“I can think of something else I’d rather eat.” He grinned, sweeping you into his arms. You shrieked playfully, smile never leaving your lips.
“Joe!” you giggled, slapping his arm lightly but otherwise making no move to escape his hold. “At least let me turn the oven off!”
Needless to say, your coworkers wouldn’t be seeing that one.
The anger I feel when I see a rare Bear/SIXpost and all I see is ' Price???? Captain Price????? Omg is this the CoD movie???? "
NO.
THIS IS SENIOR CHIEF PETTY OFFICER JOSEPH " BEAR " GRAVES. HE IS FROM SIX, AN AMERICAN DRAMA CENTERED AROUND THE NAVY SEALS THAT RAN FROM 2017 TO 2018 BEFORE IT WAS CANCELED AFTER SEASON 2.
THIS IS CAPTAIN JONATHAN " JOHN " PRICE. HE IS FROM CALL OF DUTY: MODERN WARFARE, A BRITISH-BASED VIDEO-GAME SERIES CENTERED AROUND THE SPECIAL AIR SERVICE THAT BEGUN IN 2004, BUT WAS REBOOTED IN 2019, AND HAS 2 OTHER GAMES + A FOURTH INSTALLMENT IN THE WORKS.
THE ONLY THING THEY TECHNICALLY SHARE IS AN ACTOR. THEY ARE BOTH PLAYED BY ENGLISH ACTOR BARRY SLOANE. THEY ARE NOT THE SAME PERSON. THEY ARE TWO VERY DIFFERENT, VERY COMPLEX CHARACTERS. THEY HAVE DIFFERENT LORE, DIFFERENT RELATIONSHIPS. DIFFERENT MOTIVES THROUGHOUT THEIR RESPECTIVE TIME ON SCREEN.
THIS IS SEAL TEAM SIX. THIS IS THE TEAM BEAR HAS AUTHORITY OVER.
THIS IS TASK FORCE 141. THIS IS THE TEAM PRICE HAS AUTHORITY OVER.
NOTICE HOW THEY LOOK NOTHING ALIKE???? NOTICE HOW THEIR TEAMS ARE DIFFERENT. HOW DIVERSE THEY ARE
BECAUSE, AND THIS IS GONNA SHOCK SOME PEOPLE, THEY AREN'T THE SAME PERSON.
Their team dynamics are so unique and so interesting it physically pains me when they are both just thrown into the same box because they share an actor.
I adore both characters and their media more than anything. They are both so dear to me. But PLEASE. They're not the same person at all. This is no hate to anyone specific, I'm just
SIGHHH
SIX barely gets anything content wise, and when we do it's constantly only seen because of Price. GIVE BEAR HIS SPOTLIGHT. PLEASE. I BEG. GIVE SIX IT'S SPOTLIGHT IT'S SO GOOD.
Thank you for coming to my rant. It is 1am and I need sleep
(I'm not actually angry btw I'm just passionate I hope I don't get bullied for this LMAO)
Pairing: Poly 141 x reader
Word Count: 1.6k
A/N: Behold, the Call of Duty x Six crossover I couldn't get out of my head. Please ignore my shitty writing in this fic. I had to get a blood test yesterday to make sure I don't have this fucked up hereditary disease, and I'm still completely fucked up. Like, I can barely stand without getting dizzy, lol.
Summary: Somebody better explain why this guy that just walked in looks exactly like the captain.
TW: none
I shift in the shitty stool, wiggling my butt and popping my back. The cracks make me wince, several hours of paperwork and routine checks making my body stiff. On the opposite side of the hangar Soap and Gaz are pretty much annihilating a punching bag, punching to the rhythm of the blasting music, getting into the right mindset before we go on our next operation. I deliberately sat with my back to them, not wanting to get distracted by them, something Soap vocally complained about before Gaz managed to distract him with kisses and a promise of a good time after work.
Laswell had called the day before. Farah’s brother, Hadir had teamed up with someone named ‘The Prince’. A coworker of Kate, Gina was sending a team of Navy Seals to assist with this operation. Kate had been skeptical. Apparently this woman had a personal vendetta against this guy. She said that the Seals had a problem with this guy who worked with the prince as well. So much of a problem that they might possibly be willing to defy orders to get to him. John had been hesitant to do this operation, but he didn’t have much of a choice after General Shepherd got involved.
So, here we are. Waiting for a team of Seals to show up who may or may not get us killed. Joy.
The doors to the hangar open, footsteps approach and come to a halt next to my working station and a slightly familiar American voice speaks up. “Excuse me miss, we are looking for Captain Price?” I hum, quickly scribbling down the final part of the paperwork, not wanting to forget what I’m writing. “You really should ask why everyone’s staring at you like that, Bear,” pipes up another voice.
I finish writing and put down my pen to look at the guy who just spoke. “What was that?” The guy is cute. He has blonde curls and surfer vibes. He shrugs, “all these people here are staring at my friend here, whispering and pointing and shit.” He points to his friend. I follow his gesture and freeze.
Before me stands John, but he looks different. He gives me a slight smile, sensing my shock and holds out his hand. “I’m Petty Officer Joseph Graves ma’am, call me Bear.” I snap out of my shock and shake his hand. “Excuse me, it’s just that you look like my boyfriend.” A different guy groans, “come on dude, we haven’t been here for more than five minutes and already some hot chick is telling you that you’re boyfriend material?” He winks at me and holds out his hand. “I’m Trevor, sweetheart.” I look at his hand then his face, before focussing my attention back on not John.
“Excuse me,” I apologize. “I don’t mean to come off as rude, it’s just that you really look exactly like my boyfriend.” “That would explain all those people staring at you, man,” says the surfer dude. Bear hums, looking unsure. “Well, it can’t be that much, right?” “Yeah…” I cross my arms
“Soap, Gaz, come here,” I call out to the two sergeants, my voice carrying over the blasting music. They immediately shut off the music and jog towards us. “Yeah Lieutenant, what’s up?” asks Soap, completely forgoing the proper way to address someone of higher rank.
I nod towards the Americans. Soap and Gaz assess the arrivals, before they tense when I point out Petty Officer Graves. Soap jumps back dramatically, pulling me with him while using Gaz as a human shield.
“It’s starting!” he exclaims. We all just look at him in confusion. I raise my eyebrow, urging him to continue. Soap looks at everyone before groaning in annoyance. “The doppelgangers? They are made by aliens, there’s one of every living person on earth and they slowly start to replace us? They take over our lives while they give us to the aliens who do weird butt stuff, that’s if they don’t kill us?” Everyone looks at him like he’s lost his mind. “Has no one seen the movie Us? It’s a warning guys.” “You think he’s a doppelganger who’s here to kill us and you’re using me as a human shield?” asks Gaz, looking offended. Soap just nods, “Don’t you watch movies, Gaz? Gorgeous people rarely die.” I wriggle out of his grip, “you’re not allowed to watch movies anymore.”
“This is starting to get weird,” says a dark skinned man, “I mean, it’s not possible for Bear to look that much like your boyfriend, ma’am.” I shake my head, “believe it or not, we’re serious.” I look at Soap and Gaz, who both look weirded out, before pulling out my phone. “I’ll text him.” “With all due respect, ma’am, we do need to see Captain Price,” says Bear. I nod, “he’s on the way.”
Bear nods, before introducing his team. The surfer boy’s name is Caulder, the dark skinned man is Chase and then there’s Trevor, a man named Buddha, or Ortiz and Fishbait, who’s real name is Armin. I just finished introducing myself, Soap and Gaz, when the door opens and Price and Ghost walk in.
I wave them both over when I start hearing shocked whispers from the Americans. When they reach our little group, Ghost and I stand to flank our Captain, automatically taking our positions. “Shit Bear, you’ve got a twin,” exclaims Caulder.
Price tenses when he notices Petty Officer Graves. I itch to reach out to him, to let him know that I’m here, but I refrain, knowing I need to retain some sense of professionalism.
The two men stare at each other, both tense, even the look in their eyes the same. The rest of us are just observing, waiting for something to happen. Then Price holds out his hand, “I’m Captain John Price.” Bear moves and shakes his hand, “Petty Officer Joseph Graves, call me Bear.” Price nods, before turning to me, practical as always.
“Lieutenant, is there any way to find out what’s going on?” I nod, slipping in my role as the team's medic, “Yeah, I can do a blood test, it’s the most effective and won’t take long.” Price nods and turns back to Bear, “if that’s alright with you?” Bear nods and Price leads the Seals to the recreational area of the hangar. Ghost, Soap and Gaz quickly follow, wanting to support our Captain.
I quickly retrieve the necessary supplies. After drawing blood from both men, we can only wait. “How’s a blood test gonna tell us what’s going on?” asks Soap. I turn to my Scottish boyfriend, “a blood test will tell us how much percent their DNA is a match,” I explain. Soap hums in understanding.
It feels like no time but also hours have passed when my tablet dings. “Alright, results are in.” I announce. I immediately have everyone’s attention as I go over the results. “The DNA samples of Captain Price and Petty Officer Graves are a 100% match.” I announce. “It means that you two are identical twins,” I clarify, wanting to be as clear as possible.
Bear groans and runs his hand through his hair. “This is some parent trap type of shit,” declares Soap. Price looks at him with a raised eyebrow., “what type of shit?” Soap groans, “the parent trap, come on Price, we watched that move like at least ten times.”
“He’s right,” nods Caulder. Soap points at him in triumph, before groaning again as he realizes that it still doesn’t ring a bell with John. “That movie where two girls go to some summer camp, realize that they’re identical twins? I mean there’s literally one who’s American and one who’s British.” I snort, “I hate to admit it, but he’s kinda right though.” “You seriously aren’t allowed to watch movies anymore,” repeats Gaz, causing Soap to stick his tongue out at him like he’s a child.
We eventually leave Price and Bear to discuss the recent revelations, settling nearby. “Is it weird that I’m attracted to the American version of Price?” asks Soap. Gaz and I both shake our heads. “I don’t think so? I mean Price is sexy as fuck and they’re literally identical, so I don’t think that’s weird,” says Gaz. The Seals look at me with uncertainty in their eyes. “You’re okay with them talking about your boyfriend like that?” asks Caulder. I laugh, “yeah, I mean Price isn’t just my boyfriend, he’s theirs too.”
Now the Seals look confused. “The three of us, Ghost and the Captain are in a polyamorous relationship,” explains Gaz. “Shit, good for you man,” nods Caulder, before we go back to watching the two identical men.
“I just realized,” I say, “one of them has the wrong nationality,” I looked at the group. “Price is British and Bear is American, they’re identical twins, so either Bear is British, or Price is American.”
“I hope your Captain is American,” says Caulder and the other Seals nod in agreement. “Why?” asks Gaz. “Because Brits are weird as hell,” Caulder grins. Soap, Gaz and I glare at him, causing him to grin wider. “Toast belongs to which meal?” he asks. “Breakfast,” pipes Chase up, grinning. “Right, and beans belong to which meal?” “Oeh, I’d definitely have to say dinner.” Caulder nods, “exactly, you can’t just combine breakfast and dinner.”
I snort, “well at least our food doesn’t contain all types of chemical shit,” “Well at least we can make tea in the microwave, like normal people,” he shoots back.
“Hey quick question,” I pipe up, turning towards Bear, “you said your last name’s Graves right?” He nods, “You don’t happen to be related to this named Philip Graves, right?” Bear thinks for a moment, “I don’t think I’ve got a family member with that name, no.” I breathe out a sigh of relief. “Thank god, he’s an asshole, which would’ve automatically made you an asshole,” adds Soap.
