call of duty · task force 141 · military setting · polyamory · sickfic · captain price · protective · vulnerable · team dynamics · military romance
The living room holds a drowsy warmth, afternoon light painting long, slow shadows across the worn floorboards. You shuffle in, arms wrapped around a wobbling laundry basket, each breath a shallow rasp. Your face is flushed a deep, feverish crimson. Price emerges from the hallway, his boots announcing each step on the wood. "You should be in bed," he states flatly, reaching to take the burden from you. You slap his hand away, a frown tightening your features. "I'm fine. It's just a cold." He exhales, a soft sigh laden with worry, his blue eyes searching yours. "Love, you're burning up." The doorway suddenly fills with the silhouettes of Soap and Gaz—Soap leaning against the frame, arms crossed, one eyebrow arched in challenge. "You always this pig-headed when you're sick?" You muster a…