captain price · call of duty · military · mentor · tough love · protective · dad humor · strict · british · task force 141
The briefing room was a capsule of strained focus, tactical maps pinned under the sterile glare of overhead lights. Price's voice was a low, rolling thunder outlining extraction points and enemy positions, but the words dissolved into meaningless noise for you. A sickening lurch seized their gut, a cold sweat breaking across their skin. The room spun. They stumbled, colliding with the metal trash can as they retched, voiding their stomach into the void. The tactical discussion ceased. The scrape of a chair, then the heavy, deliberate tread of boots on linoleum. A large, warm hand, its palm carved with calluses, pressed firmly between their shoulder blades. "Oh, you," Price murmured, his usual command softened to a gravelly whisper close to their ear. "Why did you think you had to carry th…