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lethalchiralium · 2 years ago

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i am FOAMING AT THE MOUTH

John Price x Reader

Wounded, bloody, and just the two of you. A mission gone wrong leads to a long overdue moment between both you and your Captain, perhaps too late to count for anything. Not if either of you two can help it at least.

Part One of Two (Possibly Three Part short story).

EDIT* I went back and proofread this again and fixed errors. I didn't realize I posted this in such a crummy state before, I'm sorry!

TW//: Blood, Violence

Angst, Drama, Action, Romance, Near Death Experiences, Confessions, slightly Dark, some Fluffy Dialogue (not a ton though), Tension, slight Suspense, slight Slow Burn, For the girlies who like when their romantic moments feel a little teased and earned, Though this might still be boring garbage, plus the real stuff doesn't start 'til part two. The "developing feelings through almost dying in front of each other" trope, my favorite trope lowkey

This was not the smut piece I have been planning to write for Price (That's still coming), I wanted to practice writing him a little and this sprung on me after playing MW 2019. Figured I'd post it, though this is just to indulge my growing obsession with this man. Let me know if he's OOC, I want to write him well! Enjoy!

Price's voice suddenly shouts out from the living room, frantic and wired...

"Ambush! Get behind cover!"

...However, his warnings are drowned out by the whistling of an RPG heading straight for your location. It cuts through the evening sky, coming to you as a black dot zipping by at the blink of an eye.

The rocket breaks through the window of the house you and Price had been tasked to raid for intel, as the explosion goes off against one of the walls behind you. The sound which follows is unlike any you've ever heard the likes of before. A piercing, defeaning pop; the loudest and most unpleasant thing imaginable.

The sharp, crashing boom it erupts around you is hot like fire, singing your uniform and blasting you forward. It's the last thing you remember, before being greeted into a world of swirling blacks and oranges. In pain and completely immobile. Momentarily knocked unconscious.

You're not so sure how much time passes before you come to again. Only a handful of minutes or so. Though in that span, you've listened to the sounds of growing gunfire and shouting rise like a terrifying mob outside. Coming in and out in hot flashes.

Had your Captain's shouting not broken through this foggy barrier, you would have thought you'd have just died. You wouldn't be so lucky.

"Lieutenant!" you hear him call out. His voice grows more desperate the longer he hasn't heard from you. "I'm comin'!"

As the dust began to settle, you felt yourself coming back. You groan in pain, your entire body sore from the blast. Brick and stone rubble surround you like a straightjacket. You're pretty sure the entire roof of the house had fallen on top of you just now. Beneath it all, it was hard to tell for certain.

As you lie trapped, waiting to be rescued, you couldn't help but think about the mission. You and Price should have known this was some sort of setup.

Even Laswell had doubts this lead on Makarov wasn't just some trap to lure out their rivals and take them out, but with this recent dry spell on the investigation, your team couldn't afford to pass up the chance at some potentially valuable leads. It's why Laswell kept the team small, sending only you two on this one.

An easy enough operation: infiltrate the building, gather the intel, and get out. Nothing new. Only all you've found in this rinky-dink building on the outskirts of Urzikstan was a handful of AQ remnants and their new Russian PMC allies. And they knew you two were coming too.

The marked house was empty, both of any life and intel. And not even a second later were they all on top of your location, every inch of this town and the hills that surrounded it dug in with hostiles.

You'd have to ask Price later how it was he was able to push back that hoard alone, if you can make it out of this. There's no telling what they'd do to you both if they caught you in here, and that's if they even take you in alive.

You feel bits of rubble being shifted off your body, immense amounts of pressure releasing upon their departure. It's quickly replaced by the sharp bruising and pain it's left in its wake beneath your uniform.

"I'm right here," you hear Price's voice try to soothe you from up above, that gruff Liverpool accent of his clear enough even through the strain and stress. He hasn't let you down a day since you've known him. He wasn't about to make today his first.

Another large bit of rubble gets removed, taking the darkness away and flooding light down from above.

You could have sworn you were looking at an angel when you finally made out the silhouette of the man rescuing you. Your Captain. John Price.

"I've got you," Price assures you, his words felt wracked with adrenaline, hands moving near on impulse.

His hat was gone, short brown hair in a light tussle, and dust and light soot coating the black of his uniform and scruff of his beard. It almost worried you not to see him in it; he never parts from that thing. Perhaps during the blast it had gotten caught in the crossfires and rendered unwearable.

For some reason, it only made the situation feel much more worse than you originally thought.

His blue eyes find yours beneath the rubble, and you watch all the dread he'd been juggling with subside into relief the second he hears you cough out all the dust and wall you'd inhaled, struggling to catch your breath. He sighs to himself with a smile.

He doesn't even hear the words when he says them. Price only says the first thing that came to mind the minute you've finally stopped coughing to see him again.

"Thank fuckin' Christ."

Once Price saw you weren't dead, he finished removing the rubble from off of you. It's the bit he removes from your right arm that finally pulls a pained cry out of you. It's so intense it's as though reality just now set back in for you.

Your entire right arm felt numb from the elbow down, your fingers no longer feeling attached to your body. Had you not held your breath and sucked up the courage to look (with your peripherals first), you would have thought you'd lost your arm in the explosion.

Though it didn't make it any less broken and fucked. Nor did it make it any easier to not become fearful of what this could mean for you.

The Captain immediately notices the condition of your arm once he's cleared the debris off you. Cursing under his breath, Price helps you to your feet, brushing as much dirt from you as he can.

"You broken?" he asks. "Apart from the arm?"

You feel for what weapons still remained attached to your body after the blast, finding just a slender knife and your holstered pistol. Only two clips though. Of course.

Your arm and entire backside ached something fierce, and your brain felt as though it had been rattled inside your head and then some. If you shut your eyes now, you feared fainting dead away, and the ringing in your ears has yet to subside.

But your current state would have to do. It's that or die here. You knew that, and Price knew that too.

"I'm still here, Captain."

Price smiles, his gaze softening for just the slightest second. Happy to see his training and advice being taken seriously.

It just now was beginning to dawn on him that you hadn't died in here with him either. Seeing you OK and still ready to fight felt fuel enough for the Captain to keep going.

"That you are," he says.

Price parts from you to take post back by the freshly made hole in the wall, readying his rifle. Most of the building had collapsed in on itself, with the exception of the back of the house still being mostly intact.

Outside you could see the mountain of bodies Price had no doubt created while you were buried. None made it too close to where your position was.

With the coast temporarily clear, the current objective at hand remained the same: Get to the Evac Zone stat and get the hell out of dodge.

"This building's gonna be surrounded by Russians and AQ in less than a minute if we don't bug out now," Price warns. "And there'll be more where that came from, so ready yourself for a fight."

"Price..."

The Captain looks back at you, hearing the sudden dread in your voice. It takes him having to have stepped away from you to finally see that something really was up.

Your eyes look down to his waist, where you see the blood beginning to pool at his hip, staining his clothing and growing larger by the minute. It's clear he'd used what he could to try and wrap it, though it hadn't been enough. The adrenaline must have taken his mind away from it.

It figures you weren't the only one who got wounded here.

You look back up at Price, worried. Quiet.

Price looks down at his wound, placing a hand against it and seeing the warm, wet liquid coat his tattered glove. Whether it be a front or really only a flesh wound, Price doesn't dare break composure in front of you. You both would need him clearheaded.

"It's nothin' fatal," he simply tells you.

You knew Price wouldn't make a big deal about his injury, even if it were serious, which you honestly could not tell from where you were standing. You also knew Price wouldn't want you to worry about it either. He never liked when you worried for him; that's his job.

The time dwindled all the same; you can worry about it when you both get home.

You look to Price with contentment. You wouldn't be another reason for his worries if you could help it. "It'll make a good story for the boys later."

Price smiles back at you. "You'll tell it better than me, I'm sure."

The growing sound of men shouting and vehicles rushing to flank your position makes your blood run cold. If you didn't leave soon, neither of you would make it out of this to tell your stories.

You try and get that adrenaline you felt before to spike back up, knowing this was a matter of life and death now. Though your body betrayed you.

Your heart won't stop racing, no matter how much you try and calm yourself. Your hands keep shaking, and you can't help but keep checking the recently blasted hole behind you and your Captain. Soon to be flooded with enemies. Afraid.

Price must have noticed your worrying, because he steps away from his position and does something completely outside of himself suddenly. Though as he did so, it couldn't have felt more natural of a thing to do. Like a gesture he's spent his whole life waiting to give you.

He rests his hand gently on your cheek, bringing your eyes forward so you could see nothing beyond his own gaze. This close, even as night falls over the town and darkness shrouds the remains of this little house, this felt the clearest you've ever looked upon your Captain.

There's a glint of determination in his eyes, all the years of experiences that have worn and torn him the older he has gotten, defining the finer parts of his features. His expression always softened at the sight of you, an act you alone pulled from him for the first time truly, now.

Price was here with you. At that moment, it was the only thing that mattered.

"Hey," his thumb caresses your cheek, his jaw clenching to keep from wincing at the pain in his abdomen. "We're alive. Let's keep it that way, yeah? I'm not leavin' here without you."

His jaw tenses once more and you think for a second he might say something else. But he holds his tongue, wanting the most for you to keep calm beside him.

You can feel it in the air around him; the captain's as bugged out as you are right now. He was just doing everything he could to keep being a leader and bottle it up, channeling those fears and turning them into fuel to keep going. His words may be more for himself, than you, but they're true enough.

You lift your good hand up and let it rest over his, feeling his hand stiffen at first, but then find its home against your palm. You didn't want to have to let go, but you knew you must eventually. So you nod. "Damn right, you're not."

Price chuckles, happy to see you on the same page. "Fuckin' A, love," he quickly quips. "Now let's move."

The rocky hills stretched further out ahead of you. At some point their edges seem to blend with the black of the sky, all the stars gone away someplace. Luck would see a full moon above your heads, providing the only bit of light on this makeshift route to the Evac Zone.

You have Price's arm over your left shoulder now, having to help him the rest of the way since you've escaped the base. No amount of tough guy act the Captain put on could prevent the amount of blood he'd been losing. Had he not started tumbling over mid-shootout suddenly, you wouldn't have even known. And you wanted to kill him yourself once you did too.

It's nothin' fatal, he had said. The lie of the fucking century, right?

By now his dark blood has practically stained the entire lower right side of his body, making his skin pale and his eyelids heavy. His movements slowed, his reflexes taking a severe hit because of it, and he was beginning to breathe heavier. You've gone through all your supplies trying to stop his bleeding before leaving the house. Nothing worked.

It had been infuriating, just as it'd been scary to realize that your Captain really did need a medic right now. If he didn't see a doctor soon, he might just bleed to death before you've made it out of here.

Of course, having to help him now meant you couldn't shoot at all, given the state of your other arm. Price helped with what he could, but even a man of his talents couldn't prevent shaky shots from increasing blood loss.

"Nikolai's not far out now," Price grunted out, doing his best to put one more clip into his pistol. The last one. "Should be a few more clicks along this trail."

"He couldn't fly a little closer," you huff out, readjusting your hold on the Captain. He wasn't a light man, and while he did everything in his power to make this easier for you, his weakening state only grew harder to carry.

"You holdin' up alright?" Price asks. You feel him once again, ready himself to try and pull away and stand on his own feet. Having to rely on you was eating away at him, you could tell.

"I'm fine," you tell him, though that's not all the way true. Your vision had started to blur, and your lungs felt on fire. Now that some time has passed, all your once numb injuries were suddenly starting to scream at you for relief. Had you not been concentrating on your steps in front of you, or the thumping of your heart inside your ringing ears, you would have fainted already.

But you were all Price had right now; there was no way you'd fail him when he needed you most. "I'm more worried about you, Captain."

"Still got my wits about me..." he says. "Maybe a little lighter now, given I've been leakin' like a faucet."

"I'd beg to differ."

"Eh, you can use the exercise, lieutenant."

"Or you can lose the weight, Captain."

You both chuckle, and for a second, it felt easier to pretend you both were somewhere else right now. Spending all the time together you only wish you had before.

The levity was needed. It kept you both sane and human, and right now, Price was kicking himself in the ass for not appreciating these moments with you sooner.

The team really lucked out when they recruited you, he saw that now. You've always made sure you were someone Price could trust. That you were someone he could depend on you. You kept a cool head and you did what you must, while staying both good-natured and sweet, despite everything.

And when everything was said and done, you came back to him, keeping a smile as neutral as his own could manage. Your eyes bright like stars with him in your sights. His would often do the same.

All the times you've been at his side before tonight, keeping his head on straight when he needed it most, and always reminding him of life outside of all of this, they've only increased over the years. In every moment it always felt as though you two only teetered at the next level of your fondness for one another. Both wanting to push further, but not wanting to push the other too quickly either.

Your roles on the team always came first; they seemed to be the most important thing at the time.

Every lingering touch, a longing gaze brought by excitement and recognition, a check-in during work, or a brief moment of conversation... that's where your relationship has stayed for years now. You both felt OK with that. You thought so at first.

However, Price knew one thing. He couldn't lose you tonight. He wouldn't. Not on his account. Not when there's so much more that can still be. John's lived long enough to know that when something feels this right, there is no time to waste, lest he lose that chance forever like he has with so many others before.

You feel Price grow slack against your side now, his blood starting to soak through your uniform. It took everything in you not to panic.

"I won't let you fall," you assure him now, adjusting him against you. "Just keep holding on."

The smell of blood is so strong, you'll never forget its scent long after you've left this place. Nor would you forget seeing your Captain this way. Hurt and broken. You know he's no stranger to it, but alas, John is still human.

"...I'm taking you out for dinner after this," Price up and says suddenly. He figures he should just throw that out there, in case he didn't get another chance to. "My treat."

You nearly trip when you hear him, as if you're heart needed any more of a reason to fluctuate. You lost count of how long you've waited to hear him say that, having spent so many nights daydreaming about a time he'd come up to you and actually asked you out. It felt like everything you imagined it would; if only it had been under better circumstances.

"Is that a promise, Captain?"

"You know I wouldn't bluff about that, love."

"Well, then you better keep it then, John."

"As you wish."

He could hardly understand how it was you were still able to push through all that growing pain in your body after taking such a blast. He couldn't be more proud of it either.

The town illuminated like a glowing city behind you, AQ and Russians creating an uproar there, regardless of your presence. It was no longer your problem, however. The approaching convoy heading your direction was.

You weren't out of the fire just yet.

You look around yourselves, only having a few large rocks and boulders to hide behind in your immediate vicinity. Little word is needed to be shared between you two before the plan was nonverbally green-lit.

You both take cover behind a large rock facing the hills, Price resting down against the rock as you took out your pistol. It was time to see if your shooting with your left hand has improved any more than it did a few minutes ago during your escape.

You peak over the stone, seeing four AQ soldiers step out with rifles and flashlights, already hot on your pursuit. Tracking the trail of blood you'd left behind. Price peaks around the other side of the rock, raising his pistol.

"You take the two on the right," he whispers. "I got left."

You nod, and then take position. Price takes the first shot, dropping both his targets with swift precision. Even wounded, the man always had a way with pistols. Forever the dead-eye shot.

You drop one AQ soldier, happy to see your aim improve. However, your heart sinks when you go to shoot the other soldier and you hear the click of your pistol suddenly. Out of ammo.

The AQ soldier fires at you, the bullet just grazing by your cheek, before another hits you straight at the center of your chest, rattling your sternum and knocking you off your feet. Without your bulletproof vest, that bullet would have torn straight through you. Though you might as well have died, with the pain it sent through you instead. Knocking the wind out of you.

Before you know it, Price has reached over and started pulling you back behind the boulder. "Hold on!" he says. "You're not dead yet."

Price goes to try and get to his knees and peek over the boulder, however, now that he's sat back behind the rock again with you, it's become an impossible task to even wiggle his feet at this point. Like his legs were losing feeling. The blood loss really was starting to catch up to him now, it seems.

So instead, Price did the next best thing, simply waiting for the AQ soldier to round the corner, which he stupidly does. The minute the enemy's head peaks over, Price shot twice for good measure, watching the man drop to the ground with a heavy thud.

"I think we're clear," he says. "Still breathing?"

"Yeah," you gasp out.

A lot of times, you're not sure if you'd make it through a lot of these missions if Price wasn't here. The true backbone of the 141. The man always just seemed to be prepared for anything, even with the odds stacked against him. Often feeling like some other worldly being on the field, unable to be truly harmed by the threats he faced.

Until now, you couldn't even picture him so hurt.

When Price went on a mission, you could trust he'd get it done, if no one else. And you could always trust he'd make it back too. One way or another. Of course, he wasn't always lucky, as rare as those days actually came. Luck seemed to only be a recent thing for him in fact, and of short supply tonight.

You push yourself up, rubbing your hand over your chest in an attempt to soothe the throbbing. You're unsure what bad juju you yourself had crossed, or why lady luck seemed on your side even despite it all, but maybe fate wanted you to make it out of here.

One of you at least.

You look over at Price and see him barely able to keep consciousness now, cold sweat forming at the sides of his face, and a puddle of blood building around his legs. His breathing broken. Dying.

Seeing him now, pale, bloodied, and relying on a rock behind him to keep himself upright... for the first time ever you felt fear for your Captain.

"No, no, no," you rush over to Price, taking hold of his face and bringing his eyes to you. Seeing them so close again wakes him somewhat. "Stay with me, Captain."

"I'm still here..." Price answers weakly. Even still, he tries to keep up an act in front of you, like he truly was fine. It only made you more afraid to lose him now. Out in some rocky hilltop in the middle of nowhere because of bad intel. You couldn't lose him like this.

You look over the boulder, seeing the convoy those AQ soldiers showed up in still running a few feet ahead of you. Just what you needed.

"Can you stand?" You ask.

"...I'll need help," he said.

"OK, OK..." You take a deep breath, plotting everything out in your head before taking Price's hand in yours. "There's a convoy over there we can take to the Evac Zone. It'll be faster than going on foot."

You start trying to pull Price up, feeling the man use all the strength he can muster to try and push off the ground and back to his feet. Having one hand to help him didn't make matters easier, however. He made it halfway before falling back against the cold stone with a sharp grunt and some swearing.

Rather than comment, you take Price's hand again, feeling your face turn red with trying to lift him. He gets his knees bent to stand this time, but whenever any weight was applied afterward, an aggressive pain would awkwardly shoot through his body, taking all the momentum from him and causing him to sink back down. And with how heavy he was, you couldn't stop him once he it happened.

Price falls back against the rock again, as frustrated as you are about it all. He can't even bring himself to look you in your eye he's so mad, ashamed of the situation. It's not like him to be the one holding things back. He shouldn't have gotten wounded like this in the first place, he felt.

"...If you go and get help, I can manage here 'til then," Price starts to say. Feeling like a burden, he no longer wished to hold you down. But you wouldn't hear it.

"Fuck that," you protest. "I didn't carry you all the way over here to leave you so you can bleed out."

"...You didn't do it to die here either." He grabs at his side, gritting his teeth along to that burning pain he felt, as the taste of iron tinted the back of his throat now. "Look, this ain't how I plan on goin' out, trust me. Plus we've still got that dinner, yeah?"

Price smiles at you after he says it, and it takes everything in you not to cry. An unspoken reality lingered in the air soon after, because you both knew what it'd mean if you couldn't pick him up from this spot. You'd give anything to not make that so.

You hear more vehicles heading your way from the town. A good handful of them now. Too many. All armed and ready to take out the two 141 soldiers responsible for killing their friends. You knew if you left Price here now, you wouldn't see him again.

"Fuck..." Out of breath and defeated, sorrow starts to settle in and you swallow it down, letting the feelings stir into frustration. "Why'd we wait so long, John?"

Price felt at a loss for words. "I don't know..." he admits. He couldn't quite give you an answer for that; it had always just been... something. He could at least look you in your eyes when he spoke to you now. "But... I'm sorry for that," he says. "Probably should have said somethin' sooner, huh."

You have to bite your cheek to keep from letting his words fill you with so much sorrow and regret. "You and me both."

Fearful that these may actually be your final moments with your Captain, now you wish he hadn't said anything at all, not knowing you'd be losing him so soon after. Leave it to Price to twist the knife in a wound you didn't even know had now grown.

However, Price did not share your begrudging feelings about how things turned out. He'd just been happy finally getting that off his chest. Now, if you could just get to safety then if he did die tonight he'd be satisfied enough with things.

"Better late than never, right?" Price chuckles through the pain. And then he grows quiet. "You know I've always had a pension for dramatic timing."

The vehicles in the distance getting closer now. There was no more time for further talking.

"Forever the attention seeker, Captain," you comment.

"Yours is all I ever needed."

You look back to the town a final time, seeing the convoys getting closer. You take a deep breath, and then you reapproach your Captain, taking his hand. You prepare yourself to try and lift Price back up to his feet again. "Well, you've got it."

"Now hold on-"

"No," you didn't want to hear any more of his excuses to be left behind. If helping him means you both die here, then that was something you were willing to risk. "I'm not leaving you here, so give it up already."

With one final pull, you use all the strength you have left in you to lift your Captain up to his feet. He uses your momentum to push himself up from the boulder, actually managing to stand, though it feels as though his guts are about to spill out of him when he does.

As he's teetering over, you quickly grab hold of his arm, restabilizing him, and trying not to jump too much for joy that you actually got him up this time.

You take his arm and wrap it back around your shoulder, as you guided him over to the convoy.

"We're damn near home free, Captain," you say. "Just hold on a little longer. You'll make it. You're the toughest man I know."

He is the toughest man you knew. A man ready to jump into the fire to save others in need. A man that can shrug off a helicopter crash, take a beating and still keep from succumbing. You knew he'd never go down without a fight, and it's why you felt so safe beside him. It's why you wouldn't leave him.

You open the passenger door and help Price inside.

"...You really want that dinner, don't you?" he teases you.

"Is that even a question?" You check to make sure the vehicle can still run, feeling for any tracking devices that might overcomplicate your escape. Once you see you're good to go, you buckle your seat belt and take the wheel. "Yeah, I want that dinner. Now stop bleeding and sit tight."

"Yes, ma'am."

Next stop, the Evac Zone.

Part Two Coming Soon...

#NOT MY WORK #I LOVE PRICE SO MUCH #call of duty #john price x reader #captain price #captain john price #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty mwii #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare ii

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starsofang · 1 month ago

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“You’re droolin’.”

You whipped your head over to Kyle, who eyed you from the classroom beside you. You sputtered, quickly covering your mouth while he snickered.

“I am not,” you hissed in warning, risking a glance at the room in front of you and praying the man inside didn’t hear.

“Mm,” Kyle hummed, crossing his arms and watching as his students piled into his class, giving him sweet little ‘hello!’s in greeting. “Don’t know why you haven’t talked to him yet. He’s a nice guy.”

Your eyes drifted over to the classroom across from you, staring at the neighboring teacher who’d captured your heart from the moment you started working at the school.

Mr. Price stood at his desk, speaking with a chatty child and smiling kindly, nodding along as he listened. He paid no mind to you, entirely distracted. It was a wonder if he even knew you taught across from him.

It was a painfully one-sided crush. A silly, childish feeling, one you were sure he’d find strange if he found out about you, the quiet teacher that admired him from five feet across the hall.

“I don’t want to make a fool out of myself,” you sighed, shoulders deflating. One of your students waltzed into your classroom, greeting you cheerfully, so you put on a smile, welcoming them in.

“Ach, you’re just worryin’ for nothin’,” he dismissed lazily. “You’ve gotta talk to him one of these days. How else will you get him to ask you out? Or maybe you’re the one that likes takin’ the reins.”

You threw him a glare and Kyle only snickered some more, dodging the pen you threw his way.

Once your last student arrived, you sighed helplessly, tossing one last look into Mr. Price’s classroom. Your heart yearned to talk to him, but your brain begged you to stay in the shadows.

You felt silly for liking a fellow teacher you’d never formally met, but you couldn’t help it. You’d catch yourself mindlessly watching him across the hall, glimpsing into the open door and melting at the way he treated his students.

He was a large man, brutish and tough, but the way he was with his students was the complete opposite. He was attentive, always giving them his direct focus as not to make them feel unheard. His teaching style was fun, and you often heard his kids laughing boisterously with the activities he had planned for the day.

He was a wonderful teacher, and naturally, the longer you observed, the more your attraction grew.

God, you were hopeless. Hopelessly in love, that is. There’d never be a time where you’d muster up the courage to talk to him.

Forcing yourself to look away, you saluted Kyle, entering the confines of your own classroom and willing away the racing thoughts of the handsome teacher across from you.

The day dragged, and God gave you no mercy with your set of kids together. Whatever had riled up your students to be so hyper had cost you your sanity, and it felt like days until you were giving them all a loving farewell, helping them shrug on their backpacks and watching them leave for the busses so they could head on home and call it quits for the day.

As much as you wanted to join in on going home and collapsing into bed, you stayed behind to catch up on grading papers; which, really, you thought was a waste, considering your students were mere kids.

What grades did they need? They were barely at the age of comprehending ridiculous math equations, or what a mammal was.

Regardless, you set forth to work, flipping through an endless stack of papers until you felt your fingers would fall off.

It was only a couple of hours later when a grueling headache slammed against your temples, causing you to groan in the solitude of your classroom. You needed a coffee. Or a shot. Something.

You decided to go with the coffee for now, forcing yourself out of your chair. When you entered the quiet hallways, you noticed the lights off in Mr. Price’s classroom with no sign of life occupying it.

He must’ve gone home for the day. A pity, really. Another day, another failure.

Kyle was no where to be found, either. Even he wouldn’t be able to save you from your own painful misery.

Slumping in disappointment, you made your way to the break room. The coffee in the school tasted like shit, and you avoiding drinking it as much as possible, but you were desperate. Today hadn’t been very kind to you, and your kids had erupted chaos into your life.

You loved your students, but that shit coffee would be the only thing to get you through until tomorrow, where you’d do it all over again.

Upon entering, you shuffled into the break room with your goal set. However, the moment you noticed a familiar somebody sitting at the break room table, sipping on his own cup, it instantly slipped from your mind, forgotten.

“Oh,” Price breathed, looking up at you. He set his mug down, offering you a smile that had your breath catching in your throat. “Hello. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize anybody was still here. Didn’t mean to startle you.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. What were you supposed to say? You’d practiced endlessly on how to talk to him, memorizing a script in your head so you wouldn’t fuck up, but it didn’t entail this. You weren’t prepared!

“I—” You took in a sharp breath, panicking. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go, oh god, you looked so stupid—

“You teach across from me, right?” he asked, leaning back in the chair. “I never got to introduce myself. You know how it is with the kids and all, they’re always bouncin’ off the walls, so it’s hard to find the time.”

He cleared his throat, taking another sip of his coffee.

He… noticed you? Sure, it was hard not to, the two of you worked a mere few feet away from each other, but you didn’t know he knew you were there.

Fuck, what do you say? Your tongue felt tied up in a knot. Think.

“It’s okay, Mr. Price,” you said instead, stumbling over your words. “I know the kids get us all caught up.

His eyebrows shot up in surprise, unaware you knew his name. If only he knew the extent of it.

“Ah, well I suppose there’s no need for introduction, then,” he laughed, smiling brightly. You felt your knees buckle. “No need to call me Mister, though. You can just call me John.”

You could feel every part of your body warm up. This felt like a fever dream. You desperately needed Kyle to pinch you awake.

“John,” you breathed out, testing the name on your tongue. It was embarrassing how much you enjoyed it. “It’s, ah, nice to formally meet you.”

“Mm, you too,” John said proudly. He stood from his chair, grabbing his cup to empty it into the sink. “I’ve gotta run, it’s gettin’ late. You have a ride home?”

You nodded dumbly, silently cursing yourself for having a working car.

“Right then. See you tomorrow, aye?” He offered another one of those award-winning smiles, bidding you farewell and leaving you in the break room alone.

You didn’t move from your spot, your feet glued to the floor. Your heart pounded erratically, your mind blurring into a fog.

God, you felt like the school girl with a crush, not the teacher. You didn’t realize how deep your crush ran for the man, but now that you’d gotten a glimpse into conversing with him, it festered into you like an aggravating tick.

When two cups of coffee later didn’t help with the burrowing feelings, you decided to give up on grading papers, heading home to try and scrub your mind until tomorrow.

You were more anxious than ever today. You couldn’t stand still, constantly shifting on your feet while your hands wrung nervously behind your back. Kyle eyed you suspiciously from his classroom door beside you, saying nothing as his kids piled into the room.

Your mind was plagued with thoughts of yesterday, replaying over and over the kindness John had given you. You thought that maybe you were overthinking it.

He was simply being generous. After all, Kyle said he was a nice guy, and surely he wouldn’t have just ignored you when you came into the break room. That would’ve been rude, right?

“Good mornin’,” Price greeted you softly, blinding you with his smile that was nearly buried under his facial hair. “Hope you didn’t stay too late last night. Don’t drink too much coffee today, aye?”

You stared bug eyed as he stepped into the comfort of his classroom, greeting his kids enthusiastically while you stood in your doorway like a complete idiot.

“…What the hell was that?” Kyle whispered aggressively, eyes narrowing in on you. He leaned closer to keep as quiet as possible, but you shushed him anyway, begging him to keep his voice down. “You talked to him?”

“Only briefly!” you defended, resolve crumbling. “We ran into each other in the break room last night and he introduced himself. He was being nice.”

“I’m wounded,” Kyle gasped, feigning hurt. He placed a dramatic hand on his chest. “You finally talk to the man you have the hots for and you don’t even tell me, your friend.”

You groaned, sinking against your door, sulking. “It was a polite conversation, barely one of substance.”

Kyle tsked, shaking his head. One of his students skipped up to the door, greeting a ‘good morning, Mr. Garrick!’. “You’re hopeless,” he sighed, giving you a lazy wave before entering his classroom.

Frowning to yourself, you watched as your final students filed inside, giving you happy smiles. Oh, to be a kid again. Maybe then, you wouldn’t be so worked up over your coworker. You really did have to hots for him.

You stepped inside your classroom, turning to kick out the door stopper and seal it tight. As you did so, you couldn’t help yourself and you glanced over at Mr. Price’s classroom.

You nearly melted into the ground when you caught his eye, and he gave you a gentle wave, smiling kindly.

Quickly ushering the door shut, you hurried to your desk to hide your embarrassment. As your kids chattered amongst themselves, you took a few moments to mull over your pounding over, begging it to slow.

You didn’t know whether or not you wanted him to go back to not knowing you existed, or to greet you tomorrow morning, then the next. All you knew was that you were completely and utterly fucked.

#teacher price!!!#might make this into a fic bc i love it so much #call of duty #cod #cod x reader #john price #captain john price x reader #john price x reader #mw2 price #call of duty price #captain john price #price x reader #price cod #call of duty john price #captain price

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