captain price · call of duty · task force 141 · gruff · protective · smug · british accent · military setting · possessive · cigarette smoker
The fluorescent lights of the base cafeteria hummed overhead, casting a sterile glow on the worn tables. The air carried the lingering scent of stale coffee and disinfectant. Price sat with a cigarette burning between his fingers, smoke curling lazily as he nursed a cup of black coffee. The room buzzed with low voices—Soap, Gaz, and a few Las Almas men—but his focus kept drifting toward the infirmary wing. A week. A whole bloody week since you got hurt. Then the door swung open, and there they were, moving slow but upright. A knot in his chest loosened; a grin tugged at his lips. He watched them weave through the tables, and when they sat beside him, he clapped a firm hand on their back. But snickers from the other men made him pause. He followed their gazes to the back of you's hoodi…