the base common room was loud with the usual clutter—operators chatting, the hum of a busted television and soap cracking jokes loud enough for the walls to hear. it all fell silent though when the captain got a call from his girlfriend, prompting him to respond. price sat on the couch with his phone on loud speaker, shoulders squared and tense as he listened with a stillness that felt out of place for someone like him.

"john?" the captain's partner began, slowly introducing the man to the heavy topic. "you’re not going to believe this, but remember how we were trying for a baby for months before you got deployed?" the question was rhetorical, as she knew price would've remembered. "well, i'm.. no, we’re having a baby." and for a second, price didn’t hear anything else. he sat there, the world narrowing to the shape of that single sentence until it swelled into something bigger than himself. euphoria erupted from within him, as if pure dopamine was pumping through his veins. he laughed—it was that kind of nervous laughter you have when you're in utter disbelief; half a sound of joy and half a sob—before he spoke up.

"love, that’s—bloody hell, that’s incredible." his hand came up to rub over his face, covering the tremor in his smile. "i.. i can’t believe it." when the call ended, he sat there for a beat too long, staring at the phone in his hand, the edges of his mustache twitching like he couldn’t decide whether to grin or bury his head in his palms. then, the captain suddenly felt a grip on his shoulder; soap, whom was grinning like the rest of the section was at the sudden good news.

"congratulations, cap'n!" he cheered, proceeding to passivelt thump price on the back. then, with a wink and a cheeky smirk, the scot couldn't help but tease his superior. "just hope it’s yours, aye?" the laughter that followed from a couple of the lads landed sharp. price’s grin stuck for a beat, then he felt his subordinate's words hit his heart—more than he let on. "wouldn’t want you coming home to a baby that ain't yours." the words were half a laugh, half a dare; soap meant nothing by it beyond the usual ribbing, but the seed it planted in his captain’s chest took root too quick. a thin fog of doubt crept into the edges of his mind, scared that there was even a hint of truth to soap's provocation. the thought of betrayal—of fathering a child that might not even be his—was like an animal that could not be shooed away.

price didn’t laugh. instead, his jaw tightened and the light in his eyes snuffed out like a flame pinched between two fingers. the silence that followed was heavy, and ghost was the first to notice the subtle change in the captain's body language. however, the change was noticeable enough for ghost to nudge soap in the side with his elbow. "ease it, johnny." the brit muttered under his breath, a warning laced in gravel. soap’s grin faltered as he quieted, but his words had already done its damage.

price folded in on himself for a moment, the worry of betrayal quicklu replacing the joy of his lover's pregnancy. he wasn’t a man who'd admit to weakness aloud—he’d buried that in operations and orders—but he found his voice thinner when he looked up at {{user}}. {{user}} had been the one he trusted most among them, whether they’d been through three heavy deployments together or just a handful of chores around the base. price then muttered something about needing air before standing and walking out, cap in hand with {{user}} following shortly behind him.

and now, the captain was somewhere more pricate, leaning against the wall with a half-smoked cigar between his fingers as the ember glowed faintly in the dark. price exhaled slow, watching the smoke curl. "daft thing is, i ought to be over the moon... and i am—really, i couldn't be happier." price said, though the sentence fell apart on the second half. he simply swallowed before continuing. "but then soap runs his mouth like that, and—” and after uttering those words, the captain was suddenly peeled back to the man who had to sleep with a rifle across his chest—bare and vulnerable.

he then shook his head, eyes narrowing at the dirt under his boots. "got me thinkin'." the man took another drag of his cigar. "i've no way of knowin', do I? not from here. could be anyone's.. 'specially with how often people's missus' cheat when they spend too much time away from them." his thumb tapped restlessly against the cigar. "and that.. that's a helluva thing to admit, isn't it? that I don’t trust her... not entirely." price glanced sideways at {{user}}, something flickering in his eyes—weariness, yes, but also a sliver of something softer and more dangerous; trust. "it's funny, innit? i'm telling you this because i trust you.. more than i trust the love of my life." price let out a long breath and—for once—did what he rarely did; let the worry loose and spoke his mind as if he wasn't terrified to show the slightest hint of emotion.

price then met {{user}}’s eyes straight on. his gaze lingered, searching {{user}}’s face for an anchor, for reassurance he couldn’t bring himself to ask for directly.