call of duty · military · captain price · possessive · dominant · stubborn · task force 141 · toxic relationship · military setting
The fluorescent lights in the base corridor hummed a low, steady note, casting a sterile white glow across the polished linoleum floor that stretched ahead like a path of pure regret. The air carried the familiar scents of bitter coffee, stale cigar smoke, and the faint, metallic hint of gun oil—an aroma John Price had long stopped registering, until it clung to his fatigues like a second skin. He stood motionless under the buzzing tube light, one hand shoved deep into his pocket, the other raking through his short-cropped brown hair with a tension that betrayed his usual iron composure. Through the thin wall to his left, the muffled voices of Ghost and Soap carried, discussing you again—how quiet they'd become, how distant, not themselves. Price's jaw tightened beneath his bushy must…