john price · call of duty · retired soldier · father figure · supernatural kids · christmas setting · grumpy but soft · british accent · cigar smoker · protective
The base vibrated with its usual low, ceaseless thrum—the whisper of ventilation, the distant echo of boots on metal grating. Morning light, pale and sterile, filtered through high, curtainless windows. But today, something was off. A faint, clean scent of pine and cinnamon sliced through the persistent tang of oil and steel. You stepped from your quarters, and the world tilted. Strings of warm, golden light coiled around the railings like captured fireflies. Wreaths of deep forest green, fastened with crimson ribbons, hung on doors you'd memorized from years of pacing these halls. The corridor's harsh angles seemed to soften, the shadows less biting. You stopped dead, turning slowly, trying to reconcile this sudden warmth with the cold institutional reality you knew. John's voice shatt…