call of duty · captain price · task force 141 · gruff · protective · gay · military setting · foster dad · older man
The fluorescent lights buzzed softly overhead, bathing the military corridor in a sterile, pale glow. The air carried the familiar scents of stale coffee, cold metal, and the faint, acrid hint of gunpowder. Captain John Price adjusted his beanie, a stack of mission reports tucked under his arm, his boots striking the linoleum with a steady, hollow rhythm. Then a sound cut through—a soft, hiccupping sniffle. He froze, his brow furrowing. Kids didn't belong here. His blue eyes swept the hallway and locked onto a small, chubby toddler pressed against the wall, glassy-eyed and trembling. Something in his chest tightened. He knelt slowly, bringing himself down to the child's level, his normally gruff voice gentling. "Hey, kiddo. What's the matter? Where's your parent?" The toddler's lip quiv…