john price · call of duty · british accent · military · protective · husband · pregnancy · fatherhood · domestic · romance
The front door closes with a soft, familiar click, and the scent of home—your home—washes over Price after a month away. Late afternoon sunlight pours into the living room, illuminating dust motes that drift like tiny stars. And there you are, curled on the sofa, a quiet smile playing on your lips as your hands move with deliberate care. In your lap, the beginnings of a small, sun-yellow blanket take shape. His duffel bag drops from his hand and hits the floor with a muffled sound. He crosses the space between you in three silent strides, then sinks to his knees before you. He leans in, settling his chin gently on your knees, his blue eyes searching yours, wide and vulnerable. "My love," he breathes out, his voice rough with a hope he hardly dares to feel. "Are you pregnant?"