Price felt an unfamiliar flicker of excitement as he rounded the car and opened the passenger door for Amber. Four months. They'd been together for four months now, and somehow, in that relatively short time, she'd become someone he could genuinely imagine growing old with. It was a strange thought for a man who'd spent most of his adult life preparing for the possibility that he might not live to see his next birthday. Yet here he was, looking forward to an evening that didn't involve gunfire, classified briefings, or the possibility of someone getting killed.

“C'mon, love.” He offered her his hand, a tender smile softening his features as she slipped her fingers into his. Once she'd stepped out, he drew her closer, both hands settling at the small of her back. “Ready to meet the lads?” he asked, leaning down to press a lingering kiss to her lips. He'd told her plenty about his team over the past few months. Introducing her to them felt like another step toward something permanent.

Amber smiled as she pulled away. “Of course I am, darling.” She'd dressed carefully for the occasion, choosing a silk emerald-green dress that hugged her figure in all the right places. Her honey-blonde hair fell in glossy waves over her shoulders, and the delicate gold jewellery at her throat caught the light. She knew how to make an impression, particularly among people whose opinions mattered to John. “Lead the way, my captain.” She pressed another quick kiss to his cheek before threading her fingers through his.

John gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “You look beautiful,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over her knuckles as he guided her toward the entrance. He'd already told her as much when he'd first seen her that evening, but it seemed worth repeating.

Inside, the officers' mess had been transformed almost beyond recognition. Gone were the usual signs of hurried meals and informal gatherings, replaced by crisp linen tablecloths, polished silverware, crystal glasses, and the regimental colours hanging proudly along the walls. Warm light spilled from overhead, catching on dress uniforms and evening gowns as officers mingled with their guests. Somewhere across the room, a burst of laughter rose above the steady murmur of conversation.

It was meant to be a celebration, an opportunity to put aside deployments, operational briefings, and the weight of command for a few hours. John had attended enough regimental dinners to know the routine by heart: handshakes, polite conversation, the occasional dreadful joke from a senior officer, and someone inevitably drinking more than they ought to. Usually, he regarded these evenings as another obligation that came with the rank.

Tonight, however, felt different. For once, he wasn't simply Captain John Price, commanding officer of Task Force 141. He was a man bringing the woman he loved to meet the people he considered family. And although he'd never admit it aloud, he was rather looking forward to seeing what the lads made of her.

Amber remained tucked against John's side, one hand curled around his arm as her green eyes swept across the room. Her expression was perfectly composed, a pleasant smile resting on her painted lips as she took in the decorated hall, the dress uniforms, and the unfamiliar faces. She looked entirely at ease, although John knew she'd spent a considerable amount of time preparing for tonight. He couldn't blame her. Meeting the people closest to him was hardly an insignificant occasion.

The lads noticed them almost immediately. Soap had been halfway through saying something to Gaz when his gaze landed on the blonde woman accompanying their captain. His usual grin faltered for a fraction of a second before returning, while Gaz raised his eyebrows in a silent expression that practically screamed, So this is Amber. Ghost, standing beside them with his arms loosely crossed, merely tilted his masked head. His eyes moved from Amber to the hand resting on Price's arm, then back to her face. Whatever conclusions he was drawing, he kept them to himself.

“There they are,” John announced, a rare note of enthusiasm slipping into his gravelly voice as they approached. “This is Amber. Amber, meet the troublemakers I've been telling you about.”

“Troublemakers?” Soap pressed a hand dramatically against his chest. “Captain, ye wound me. Here I was thinkin' we were your pride an' joy.”

John chuckled. “Don't push your luck, Soap.”

Amber laughed politely, her gaze settling on the Scotsman as she offered him a manicured hand. “So you're the one with the accent.”

There was a brief pause. Soap blinked, his grin momentarily losing some of its enthusiasm before he recovered with a short laugh. “Aye, guilty as charged, lass. Though I've been told it's part o' the charm.”

“How lovely,” Amber replied, her smile never wavering. Whether she meant it as a compliment or something else entirely was difficult to tell.

John caught the slight hesitation in Soap's response but dismissed it almost immediately. Johnny wasn't exactly known for being shy, but perhaps meeting Amber had caught him off guard. Besides, she was only making conversation.

“And this is Kyle Garrick,” John continued, gesturing toward Gaz. “One of the few sensible men I've got left.”

“That's a generous assessment, cap,” Gaz replied with an easy smile, extending his hand. “Pleasure to finally meet you, Amber. We've heard quite a bit about you.”

“Have you?” Her eyebrows lifted with apparent delight as she shook his hand. She studied him for a moment longer than necessary before adding, “You don't look anything like I imagined.”

John chuckled, taking the remark as a compliment. Gaz, however, seemed momentarily uncertain what to make of it. His smile tightened ever so slightly, though his voice remained perfectly courteous. “I'll take that as a good thing, then.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Amber assured him sweetly, offering no further explanation.

Soap's eyes flickered toward Ghost, an entire unspoken conversation passing through that single glance. Is she actually serious? Ghost's expression remained concealed beneath his mask, but the faint narrowing of his eyes suggested he'd noticed the same thing.

---

Dinner had begun pleasantly enough, although Amber had wasted little time making her first observations about the surroundings. “Oh, proper cutlery,” she'd remarked, delicately unfolding her napkin across her lap. “I must admit, I was expecting something a little more... rugged.”

John had smiled at that, taking it for the harmless joke he assumed she'd intended. He'd even leaned closer to murmur something about the army occasionally remembering its table manners. Across from him, Gaz had exchanged a glance with Soap, who'd promptly hidden his expression behind his wineglass. Nobody had said a word.

As the evening progressed, however, Amber seemed considerably more interested in the wine selection than the people sharing their table. She spoke at length about her favourite restaurants, holidays abroad, and a particularly exclusive boutique hotel she'd visited in Paris. Whenever the conversation drifted toward someone else's experiences, she had a remarkable talent for steering it back to herself. John hardly seemed to mind. He was simply pleased to see her enjoying herself.

Gaz had just started recounting an amusing incident from a previous deployment when Amber interrupted to mention that her emerald-green dress was imported from Italy. Apparently, the particular designer was notoriously difficult to acquire outside Milan. Gaz had paused, offered a polite compliment, and quietly abandoned the remainder of his story. Later, when Soap made an enthusiastic but thoroughly unsuccessful attempt at pronouncing the name of a French dish, Amber corrected him with a delicate little laugh.

“It's pronounced con-fee, darling. Not con-fit.”

Soap stared at her for a moment before he glanced down at his plate. “Right. Well, whatever it's called, tastes bloody good.”

John had laughed along, entirely missing the way Johnny's smile tightened around the edges. To him, it was all harmless banter. Amber was making conversation, the lads were being their usual selves, and nobody had started an argument. By his standards, the evening was going rather well.

By the time dessert arrived, the conversation had settled into something quieter. Amber regarded the beautifully arranged chocolate tart placed before her with mild disinterest, taking a single, delicate bite before setting her fork aside.

“A little too sweet for me, I'm afraid,” she murmured, pushing the plate away.

“Shame to waste it,” John replied, already reaching for the abandoned dessert. After years of surviving on field rations and whatever passed for a hot meal during deployment, he certainly wasn't about to turn down a perfectly good chocolate tart.

“Honestly, John,” Amber laughed, watching him help himself. “You'll eat absolutely anything, won't you?”

“Within reason, love.” He gave her a wink before taking another bite. “I've had worse.”

Soap made a small noise into his glass that might have been a laugh. Gaz suddenly became very interested in straightening his napkin, while Ghost remained silent at the far end of the table, his watchful eyes occasionally drifting toward Amber. The lieutenant had contributed little to the conversation throughout dinner, though John hardly found that unusual. Simon had never been particularly fond of formal gatherings.

A few minutes later, Amber placed a gentle hand on John's shoulder, her manicured fingers brushing the fabric of his dress uniform. “I'm just going to freshen up, darling,” she said softly, leaning close enough to press a fleeting kiss against his cheek. “I won't be long.”

“Take your time, love.” John covered her hand briefly with his own before letting her go.

Amber rose gracefully, smoothed the front of her dress, and offered the table a warm, practised smile. “Do excuse me, gentlemen. It's been lovely.”

“Aye, likewise,” Soap replied, his tone perfectly civil.

John watched her make her way between the tables, his expression softening as she disappeared into the crowd. He couldn't help feeling a quiet sense of satisfaction. She'd looked beautiful, carried herself with confidence, and seemed perfectly comfortable among his colleagues. He'd worried, perhaps unnecessarily, that the unfamiliar environment might make her feel out of place. Instead, she'd handled herself rather well.

At least, that was how he saw it.

What he failed to notice was the peculiar silence that settled over the table once Amber was safely out of earshot. Soap slowly lowered his glass, the easy grin he'd worn for most of the evening finally disappearing. Gaz leaned back in his chair, exchanging a long, meaningful look with the Scotsman. Even Ghost shifted slightly, his dark eyes settling on their captain. For several seconds, nobody said a word.

John finally looked up from the last bite of chocolate tart, his brow furrowing at the sudden silence. “What?”