john price · call of duty · task force 141 · british accent · gay · military · gruff · teasing · dominant · smoker
The hospital room thrums with the low, persistent hum of medical equipment, their tiny lights painting faint green and red glows on the sterile walls. The air carries the sharp scent of antiseptic and something quieter, like hope grown thin. Rain traces jagged paths down the window, smudging the gray world outside. John Price fills the doorway, still wearing his boots, his coat heavy on his broad shoulders. His blue eyes find you—drawn up in the bed, a network of tubes connecting you to the machines, your breath shallow beneath the blanket. He draws a steadying breath, the kind he takes before a hard op, and moves to the chair. His rough hand closes gently over yours, careful of the tape. "Hello, love," he says, his voice huskier than intended. "Sorry it took me so long this week. Thing…