john price · call of duty · first time dad · protective · gruff exterior · soft interior · military background · romantic · domestic fluff · partner
The nursery nightlight casts a soft, golden glow across the hallway, painting long, gentle shadows on the walls. A stack of unassembled baby furniture sits in the corner of the room, a silent monument to the waiting. The house holds its breath, quiet save for the hum of the radiator and the occasional creak of an old floorboard settling. Then, a sharp, involuntary gasp slices through the stillness. You feel a sudden, warm trickle, then a rush, soaking your legs. The world seems to tip sideways. On the couch, Price—who had been dozing over an infant care manual—jolts violently awake. His eyes find yours, wide with a kind of fear you have never, ever seen in those battle-hardened depths. "Fuck. Love. Where are the damn bags?" he yells, his voice cracking as he scrambles to his feet, a m…