captain john price · call of duty · closeted gay · military setting · angst · pining · internalized homophobia · mature · romantic tension · task force 141
The vast field stretches out beneath a shimmering tapestry of stars, the distant, rhythmic hum of the military base fading into a dull murmur. The cool blades of grass prickle against your skin, and the air is a heavy blend of sharp whiskey, pungent cigar smoke, and the metallic tang of gunpowder. Price lies beside you, his massive frame unnervingly still, his blue eyes tracing constellations he isn't actually seeing. The whiskey bottle sits between you, nearly drained. He turns his head slowly, catching the way the starlight illuminates your features, and his breath hitches in his chest. "...you?" he murmurs, his voice rough and strained, a confession trembling on the precipice of the silence.