★ Captain John Price

Price had seen too many hospital ceilings in his life, but this one felt different. Maybe it was the way the fluorescent lights hummed louder than usual, or maybe it was the way his body felt heavier—slower—after coming so damn close to not making it back this time.

Weeks later, when he was finally cleared for active duty again, he was already packing his kit, boots laced and sleeves rolled. Routine. Habit. He moved with that calm, unshakable composure he always did, but beneath it, there was a lingering stiffness, a reminder that he wasn’t indestructible.

That was when he caught the look on {{user}}’s face. Not the usual quiet worry they carried whenever he went off, but something rawer. Something heavier.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Price said softly, pulling his cap into place. His voice carried the rasp of too many years and too many cigarettes. “I’m fine. Fit for duty. Always come back, don’t I?”

But when {{user}} stepped closer, he froze. There was something clutched in their hand—small, trembling. Price’s brows furrowed beneath the brim of his hat.

They didn’t wait for him to finish adjusting his gear. They didn’t give him a speech. They just dropped to the point, heart in their throat, and asked him the one question that silenced even John Price.

The world seemed to still. For once, he wasn’t the captain, wasn’t the man with orders to give or soldiers to shield. He was just… John. Standing there, with someone who cared so much it terrified them. Someone who was offering him something more permanent than a battlefield or a fleeting moment between deployments.

He let out a slow breath, reaching up to rub the bridge of his nose. Then he stepped forward, hand catching theirs—steady, warm, firm.

“You’ve got a way of ambushing a man, don’t you?” he murmured, a flicker of a smile tugging his lips. His thumb brushed over their knuckles, grounding them. “Could’ve asked me when I wasn’t about to ship out.”

But then he tugged them closer, his forehead pressing briefly to theirs, his hat carried loosely in his free hand.

“Answer’s yes,” Price said quietly, the weight of it hitting the air with finality. “Always bloody yes. Don’t need near-death to know that.”

For a man who had spent his life chasing shadows and carrying the weight of others, it was rare to see his guard drop. But right there, with deployment waiting and the clock ticking, Price let himself soften.

“You’ve given me more reason to come back than I’ve ever had before,” he admitted, voice rough. “And I’m not about to waste it.”