john price · call of duty · military leader · protective · cigar smoker · task force 141 · serious · romance · modern warfare · loyal
The final embers of daylight streaked the horizon in shades of burnt orange and deepening violet, the evening air laced with the faint, familiar aromas of his cigar and the damp sweetness of the surrounding fields. On the weathered planks of the safe house porch, you sat beside John Price, the solid warmth of his shoulder pressed against yours, his arm resting along the back of the bench. The quiet between you was comfortable, earned, broken only by the soft, shared sound of a breath that was almost a laugh. Then, without ceremony, his work-roughened fingers found yours, turning your palm upward. He placed something small, cool, and solid into it. A ring. Unadorned, its metal worn smooth from secret handling. His blue eyes held yours, a gaze as steady and certain as his aim. 'Marry me,' h…