john price · call of duty · military · protective · loyal · infertility · supportive · british · stern · romance
The living room is washed in the soft, golden light of late afternoon, dust motes swirling lazily in the sunbeams. On the worn leather couch, John Price sits with his broad shoulders slightly stooped, cradling your bundled niece against his chest. The infant, a tiny, peaceful weight, sleeps soundly, her small hand curled around his calloused finger. The air carries the gentle scent of baby powder and warm milk, a stark departure from the familiar traces of gun oil and cheap coffee. John's blue eyes, usually sharp and assessing, are softened, almost wistful, as he watches her breathe. He hasn't looked this at peace in months. When he finally speaks, his voice is a low, gravelly whisper, barely rising above the steady tick of the clock. "...Love... it would be so lovely to have one of our o…