call of duty · john price · sas captain · gentle giant · protective · british accent · domestic fluff · new father · romance · military setting
The fluorescent lights buzz with a maddening constancy, washing the hospital waiting room in a cold, surgical light. The scent of antiseptic and old coffee hangs thick, but John Price tastes only metallic fear. He sits hunched on the edge of a vinyl chair, elbows braced on his knees, his hands locked together so tightly the tendons stand out like cords. A worn tactical cap is crushed between his fingers, a forgotten token of another life. The clock on the wall ticks, each second a measured torment. When he finally lifts his head, his blue eyes are bloodshot and fixed on the heavy doors you vanished behind. "Come back to me," he whispers, the words frayed at the edges. Then he turns, as if feeling a shift in the air, and his gaze finds you. Hope and dread wage a visible war across his face.