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dutiful-wildcraft · 7 months ago

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Secondhand News

John Price/ plus size F!OC

John Price chases after his sergeants sister, a soft and sweet wildlife rehabilitator in the rural south.

Tags: domestic fluff, critters, poor flirting, and eventual smut. There is also some background romance between the rest of the 141. Please Enjoy <3

Price bounces gently in the back seat of the old SUV, his hand curled over the rain guard from where his arm hangs out of the window. Content to let the warm wind wash over him as they speed down the bumpy gravel road to Darren’s home. Pleased to see the landscape shift from seemingly endless plains of agricultural fields and miles of 2-lane highway, to dense and muggy bottomland filled with oaks and hardy cypress.

Ghost is sitting passenger, mask temporarily pulled down, scarred lips pulled into a knowing smile as he watches Darren fuss stubbornly with the worn out radio. Ghost eventually grows tired of the annoying swap between static and too loud classic rock, giving the knob a quick smack. He reaches over, tugging at Darren’s ear. “Jus’ listen to the wind.” he chastises warmly. Rolling his own window further for added effect. Darren wrinkles his nose in displeasure, growing antsy in his excitement to get home, but holding back his chatter. Price gives him about 5 minutes before he touches the radio again.

This was a well needed “vacation.” Rather, they had been bullied into taking temporary leave, signed and expedited by Laswell herself before the boys could get swept up in another ultranationalist regime. They had been running for months, beaten and exhausted after Makarov. The near miss with Soap had worn heavily on them all, and another group was being pulled online to clean up the aftermath. After a few weeks of huddling with Soap, John had intended to go home to his empty flat in Liverpool, drink himself silly and wait for a call, maybe binge the football games he'd missed in the chaos. Pay his mum a visit.

However it had been Darren’s casual offer that brought him to this portion of the rural united states. Darren, the last to join his task force. A good friend and former teammate of Alex Keller. Price had been pleased with the man’s skills, stealing him like he had done with the others, and Darren’s presence had been invaluable in the hunt for Makarov, securing himself as part of the team as well as snuggling him in just as nicely with his other teammates.

Darren spoke fondly of his home, particularly of his baby sister, whom he fretted for and praised in equal measure. “Ruby’s sharp, smarter than me by a long shot,” he tells them, the 5 of them crammed into their favorite booth of the local pub, “She’s just on her own out there, I know she does just fine, but still.”

Price knew of her, had met her before, years ago at an awards ceremony. She was a pretty thing, all big soft curves and dark freckles on her round cheeks. He’d stolen her to his side most of the night, dancing and laughing, but circumstance had them parting without exchanging contact. Their time together had been brief, but he’d be lying if hadn't layed in bed that evening, hand on his cock as he thought about how the pretty warm thing would sound mewling underneath him.

And maybe some more nights after that.

Price had listened intently when Darren spoke of her. From what he could gather, she was in fact doing just fine. Having been the first to snag a college degree, something to do with animal sciences if he remembered correctly. According to Darren she ran her own small scale wildlife rehab. “Nuthin’ crazy, mostly just the critters folks find hurt or without their mommas” he’d explained in his soft southern drawl. Showing them videos of a fawn trying and failing to walk over his home’s hardwood floors, as a familiar feminine voice encouraged the babe to give it another go, biting off giggles somewhere off camera.

Her laugh was just as sweet as Price remembered, and he’d decided then and there that he would travel to the asscrack of southern america just to hear it again.

It had already been discussed that Soap and Gaz would go to London, spend some time with Gaz’s family while Soap waited for his checkup with a neurologist. Darren would return to his shared home with said sister, Ghost in tow. “You should come too Cap, take a break for a while, it’s outta the way, and we got plenty of space. Ru won't mind!” he’d beamed.

Price had pretended to contemplate before agreeing in mock reluctance, hiding his smirk behind his glass as he downed the rest of his scotch. Sure, why not?

Price’s attention is pulled again as Darren makes another turn down an unmarked road. They trundle along the long gravel drive, through the trees until a house blooms into few.

It’s a two-story, rustic looking thing, with off-white paneling, and dark shingles. The paint is chipping and weeds grow tall around the foundation. What looks to be tractor tires lay on their sides in the front yard, acting as makeshift flower beds for soft purple irises and yellow coneflowers. He figures the place has been around long enough to see several generations come and go.

Price watches curiously as a gaggle of guinea fowl mosey around the front yard, pecking at the ground, unperturbed as the 3 men pile out of Darren’s vehicle. It’s quiet, save for the sound of rustling trees and the soft clucking of more fowl in the back. However, it only takes one slam of the car door to shatter the peace. A loud and vicious snarling and barking comes from inside the home. Something large and apparently very displeased knocking itself against the windows and door of the old house. Price half readies himself as the front door opens, a bulky gray pitbull barreling out and launching over the steps entirely in its haste to reach the men.

The slobbering dog’s demeanor rapidly shifts from violent snarls to whining excitement as he recognizes Darren. Lacking a tail to waggle, the dog’s whole ass-end shakes wildly as it bounces and sneezes around the sergeant, leaning against Darren’s legs bodily.

“Hey, Blue” Darren chuckles, leaning down to give the goofy dog a pat.

Blue breaks away, wiggles turning shy as it snuffles carefully at Simon and Price’s boots, dodging away intermittently at any shift in movement, only to get distracted and start bouncing again as Darren coos. Simon is the first to earn the pup’s trust, angling his body away slightly and crouching. Hands clasped in front of him as he lets the dog get some more sniffs of his t-shirt, eventually Blue settles his heavy head on Simon’s tattooed forearm, trembling slightly in excitement as Simon gives him a rub between the ears.

Next was John, who also crouches, offering a hand palm down for the beast to sniff. The dog obliges, standing stock still as it investigates very seriously. Snuffling with the fervor of a hog at every inch of Price. Eventually Blue sucks in one long drawn out whiff, gears turning as he processes.

The moments tick by as Blue finalizes his decision. Giving an answer in the form of a big bodily sneeze to the captain’s hand.

Scan complete: Test passed.

Pleased, the goofy mutt circles him happily, leaning most of his weight onto John’s legs as he stands. The white’s of Blue’s eyes visible as he cranes his head back to stare at John, wishful for a pat. Of which John obliges after wiping the snot from his hand with a good natured laugh.

“Blue!! Sorry he's a slob!” comes an apologetic call in the distance.

John looks up, heart fluttering like a teenager at the sight.

There she is. His pretty thing, swinging her way out the door and into the yard, looking slightly embarrassed. John tries not to stare at the way her soft body bounces as she trots down the steps.

Darren is quick to snag her up in a bear hug, squeezing her hard enough to knock the wind out of her. She returns with equal fervor, the pair of them grunting with the force of it before setting her down, ruffling her hair to be a shithead for added effect.

She's just as he remembered her, standing a foot or so shorter than her brother. Bulky in the shoulders like him too, albeit much softer. All of her is really, with round freckled cheeks framed by wavy red hair that spilled down her back. Full frame on display in a plain tank and shorts for the humid summer air.

She fixes her hair with a huff, elbowing Darren sharply before grinning at the men with an innocent smile. Fucking adorable. John can't help but smile back.

Darren makes reintroductions, gesturing between them.

“I’m tickled to see you boys again.” she chimes, and John wastes no time, stepping closer and offering a hand.

“We appreciate the hospitality, Miss Martin” John replies warmly, his eyes crinkling in the corners as she accepts. Price’s hand engulfs hers, and he gives her a gentle squeeze, holding on a bit longer than necessary, taking brief pleasure in the way her cheeks flush.

“Ruby’s just fine” she corrects with scrunch of her nose, pulling her hand away to greet Ghost as well. “Sorry about this, I promise I got manners. Darri just told me you guys would be in later.” she says pointedly, giving Darren a look. The soft drawl of her accent was more prominent than her brothers, melodic and laid-back in a way that put Price at ease.

“But I did fetch groceries” she chimes, jabbing a thumb to the black SUV. “Just got back with em’, just need them loaded inside and I can fix us some lunch. You okay with sandwiches Captain?”

“Just John” he corrects easily, “And that sounds perfect.”

“Well alright ‘Just John’, gimme a hand?” she fires back, “You two also, more hands is less work and this midday heat is the worst”

John gives her a curt nod, glancing at Darren who is giving him an unreadable look, and Simon who eyes him knowingly over Darren’s shoulder.

John stares at the back of the SUV. The woman had quite literally bought enough groceries to feed a whole army. Not to mention the extra large sacks filled with various feed for the animals. John wasted no time loading as many plastic sacks along his arms as he could, Darren and Simon following suit. Hauling them in without a sound and dropping them on the kitchen table before fetching more. Ruby hurriedly putting away groceries as an assembly line of men deposited plastic bags along the floor.

John also loads the bags of feed over his shoulders dutifully, trotting back inside, Simon close behind.

“Oh, hey! I just needed the groceries in, I could’ve got that!” she exclaims upon seeing them, eyes wide as both men stand there. Carrying the bags with easy expressions, as if they weighed nothing at all.

“Well I’ve got them, now where do they need to go miss?”

“Ruby” she corrects again, moving closer as if to take them herself. Neither one of them budge.

“Okay, where do these need to go Miss Ruby?” he tries again, cracking a smile at her exasperated expression.

Ruby shoos them outside, pointing to a corner of the porch for them to be deposited, before herding them back inside and to finally sit down at her small round kitchen table.

The kitchen is outdated, with old floral wallpaper, and several well worn rugs placed over scuffed laminate flooring. Faded red plaid curtains hang in the window, illuminating the plethora of cherry themed knick knacks and kitchenware she has displayed along the tops of her cabinets and countertops. He finds himself charmed by the cozyness of it, a welcome change from off white walls and overhead lights.

Darren sits between them, chatting lightly about how the place was once his aunts, passed down to them after she met that fella in vegas. Price's eyes flicker between Darren and the pretty thing puttering around in the kitchen beside him. He loses himself a bit in fantasy, thinking how she would look with a ring on her finger, or wearing his clothes. He wonders if she loves antique malls and shady hole-in-the-wall burger joints.

One step at a time. If Price could do nothing else, he could certainly execute a plan. He would just need to tread carefully. This was one of his sergeant’s siblings after all.

He continues his scan, looking for more clues when a rather curious sound hits his ears. He shifts his attention behind him, watching Ruby pluck store bought grapes from the vine and into a bowl with various other cut up fruits. She examines each one, placing the grapes she deems suitable onto the tray and lowering the unwanted grapes into what he assumed to be a trash can at first. However, shortly after she brings her hand back, a loud and intense smacking follows, seemingly coming from the kitchen floor.

For a split second he is about to tell her it isn't good to feed dogs grapes before Blue comes waddling around the corner, looking properly dejected. The smacking, however, continues, making his brows furrow.

What the hell?

Was there another dog he hadn't spotted?

Price sits up straighter in his chair, straining to see around the little mobile kitchen island. By now the noise has caught everyone’s attention. He gives Darri a questioning look, who only meets him with a mischievous grin, shrugging his shoulders. Look for yourself.

Curiosity gets the better of him, and Price eases himself up, leaning around the kitchen island carefully to finally spot the noisy offender.

Chomping messily on the kitchen mat is a chubby little thing, with wirey white and grey fur, tinges of pink painting the tip of its little black ears. Its white mouth stained pink from its fruit eating. Is that a bloody possum? It rises to its haunches, tugging at Ruby’s pant leg insistently before she lowers it another piece of fruit. It’s tiny pinky fingers snagging it clumsily before it shovels the fruit into its maw, chewing with comically loud smacks and tilting its little head back to help the food slide down. Blue sits around the corner moping, waiting patiently for his own grape that Ruby forbids in a soft voice.

Price watches Ruby wrinkle her nose as pieces of fruit fall in a sticky mess to the floor before clearing his throat politely.

The redhead jumps at the noise, whirling to face him with wide eyes. She stands sheepishly, frozen as her eyes flick between Price and the very obvious possum sitting on her kitchen floor.

She presses her lips together firmly, trying to seal in her laughter as she takes in Price’s bewildered expression. He raises a brow at her, tilting his head to the side in question, and stifled giggles break into a laugh, full and loud, the force of it making her soft body shake. Price laughs too, easing a little closer to get a better look.

“Y’gonna tell me what you got there? Or was I not supposed to see em’?”

“Well you see” she drawls, like a child trying to explain why she shouldn't get in trouble. ”I was gonna give a more formal introduction, but the little shit snuck in once he heard the plastic crinkinlin’.” she laughs, scooping the animal up with a flourish and stepping closer to Price. “This is Cotton, got him when he was just a baby. He’s not fit to go back into the wild, so he just stays with me, does ambassador stuff for the Game and Fish when they need him.” she explains, bouncing the giant rat in her arms like a baby.

She shifts him to her soft hip, its pink tail twisting around her arm for security as it snuffles the air. Ruby scoots close enough for Price to smell the shampoo in her hair, flashing him a grin and swearing Cotton doesn't bite (most of the time). Price studies the animal with an amused expression, letting it sniff his hand before scritching between his ears. He’s much softer than Price expected, the critter grabbing at his hand with cold little fingers, presumably looking to see if he has more fruit to part with.

Price watches as she takes a little tour to the table. Darren giving the possum a familiar, too rough scrub to the head before Ruby rounds to show Ghost. As she approaches the little bastard wiggles from her arms and onto the broad soldier. Scrabbling onto Ghost's shoulders and snuffling in his ears and hair.

Ruby begins to panic, reaching for Cotton frantically, but Ghost holds up a hand, utterly unphased. He sits still, letting the little beast inspect him for a moment before snagging Cotton by the scruff and plopping him in his arms. There is a little amused huff from the large man, who lets the possum settle against his chest as if it were a house cat and not an oversized rodent.

Price smiles at the sight.

What a fun stay this will be.

#john price x oc #price x oc #john price #oc: ruby martin #oc: darren martin #simon ghost riley #call of duty #secondhand news #wildcraft writing #captain john price

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dutiful-wildcraft · 4 months ago

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Secondhand News Pt. 2

John Price/ plus size F!OC

John Price chases after his sergeants sister, a soft and sweet wildlife rehabilitator in the rural south.

Tags: domestic fluff, critters, poor flirting, mentions of disordered eating and food insecurity. Some background romance between Ghost and another oc.

Ruby's alarm clock startles her into the waking world at a crisp 5 am. Immediately followed by a deep hollow dread somewhere in her chest.

She'd scrounged up enough sick time to request the full week off, get Darren and the others settled in, plus have a few days prior to clean the place top to bottom. Get her shit together.

She'd buzzed around the house on autopilot, cleaning and ordering groceries. Figuring out good sized meals to keep them all fed. For once she looked like the pinnacle of efficiency. Having scrubbed away the evidence of weeks old dishes, and mold staining her old plastic shower curtain. She’d even had time to let the place air out so it wasn't obvious she'd soaked everything down with bleach and lemon disinfectant. Even lit a candle for a little extra pizazz.

She loved her brother, wanted him home, but it'd been some time since Ruby had an actual person in her house. A person who wasn't going to just stand on her front porch and chat; but stay the night, see her all day.

She was busy, what could she say? She managed the animals in her care all day, on top of working full time for the emergency veterinary clinic overnight. She didn't have time to make friends, let alone take care of her home, herself. Socializing regularly was on the bottom of her to-do list.

Some days she didn’t even have the strength to brush her teeth, shower, eat something other than microwave pizza.

She loved the animals, regardless of the toll, but it was still work. She barely made a dime doing it, and some months even lost money.

Hence why she worked the second job, not that she necessarily had to do that either.

Darren would gut her if he found out the money he sent her did her no good. Not that it wasn't enough, she simply didn't use it. She'd set up a savings for him a while back, put every dime he gave her in there for when he retired. There was no sense in using his money to pay for bills in a house he hardly lived in. Nor would she dare put his money toward the animals, those were her responsibility. He’d refuse if she asked him to stop, so she put it towards a good cause. Her brother broke his back to care for her when they were kids, he deserved to rest when the time was right, and a little cushion for when he came home for good was the least she could do.

He was certainly going to be upset when she broke the news about returning to the clinic next week, but she’d make the most of their free time this week, and spend what time she had during the day with him and the other’s during the rest of their stay.

Price and Ghost had admittedly been another worry of hers.

Not only was her brother coming back home, but bringing a couple of near strangers with him too. She’d met them before, briefly at the same awards ceremony, but they were still unfamiliar enough. She would need to play host, another layer to add to the show she was already putting on for her brother.

Thankfully the men were not the stereotypical loud and rambunctious types she’d been afraid of. The last few days had been calm, a bit noisier than usual, but nothing to pitch fits about. The two English soldiers made her and Darren look like heathens by comparison.

Simon didn't have much to say, mostly chiming in on Darren or Price on occasion, or asking her where things went.

And Price?

Her cheeks heated at the thought of the broad captain, like a dumb teenager. She’d met dear Price at the awards ceremony as well. The big handsome man had gravitated toward her instantly, and rarely left her side the whole night. He’d been charming, funny; whispering gossip to her about a few of the others in dress uniform, the bristles of his facial hair tickling the shell of her ear. She’d done her best not to make an ass of herself, but she’d certainly played too. Clinging to his offered arm like she belonged there. Keen to make up stories about the strangers neither one of them knew, preening when he’d bent down to listen. She’d been proud of the amount of chuckles she’d gotten from the man.

That evening had been the most fun she’d had in some time. She’d felt like a prize on the captain’s arm, something almost precious as he guided her around, warm palm on the small of her back. She’d been more than disappointed when they parted ways without exchanging contact. Later she’d felt even more disappointed, silly really. Realizing the soldier was probably just being pleasant, entertaining his sergeant's pudgy little sister like a gentleman.

She’d brushed it off then, reminding herself that she’d more than likely never see the him again, maybe in passing at another ceremony if she were unlucky.

But now he was in her house.

And still just as gorgeous. He still sported the chops that surprisingly suited him, a few gray hairs peppering through the brown. With tender blue eyes and shoulders wide enough to fill a door frame. The rumbling timber of his voice had her eyes flicking to him every time he spoke, made her stomach flip when he spoke to her specifically. Using the same warm tone she’d quickly grown so fond of those years ago.

She might as well be writing in a pink fluffy diary, glittery purple gel pen in hand with the way her brain gushed over the man’s attention. For christ’s sake she was a grown ass woman.

Dear diary, today Captain Price looked at me. <3

Ruby sighs, flopping over fitfully in her sheets, scrubbing her hands over her face.

C’mon Martin, get yourself together.

He is just a man in her house. A pretty man. Quit it. Her brother's friend, captain, specifically. She would just need to hang in there for a little while, she could hold it together for a little while right?

With a few yawns and tired groans she’s padding downstairs wrapped in her favorite blanket, a god awful thing with howling wolves printed on cheap fleece. A gas station gift from Darren that they’d both had a good laugh at. She’s greeted by Blue, dutifully waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs, the gray pitbull wagging its rear end slowly as she descends, mindful of his own rambunctiousness in the wee hours of the morning. She’s cooing at him when she catches something in the corner of her eye, blood turning to ice as she freezes in place. Heart hammering in her chest as she tries to decipher the very large masked figure sitting on her couch.

Her brain scrambles with potential ways to fight. But something occurs to her.

Blue isn’t alarmed. And Blue barks about everything. He’s been her security guard for years, and a damn good litmus test for danger.

As if on cue the figure turns, dark brown eyes reflecting the pale light of her TV as he looks back at her. Finally, her brain catches up.

Ghost.

Darren had explained the man’s proclivity towards the garment. When she’d first met the illusive lieutenant he’d worn a simple balaclava tucked up around his dress uniform, and over the past few days he’d worn an inconspicuous black medical mask. She hadn’t been prepared for the full thing, especially not this early in the morning. She stands there like a deer in headlights, greeting him with a slow wave. He doesn't speak, simply jerks his chin up in return before turning away from her once more.

She stands there a moment more, brain still struggling. She should have known better really, sharing a house with 3 soldiers. Honestly, she should be surprised that not all of them were awake.

The morning was meant to be her sanctuary, her time to sit in the quiet and transition into the waking world. Time for her to simply exist, prepare her armor for the onslaught of noise and staring eyes.

She pads away quickly, letting Blue outside to potty before hiding away in the kitchen. Mechanically, she prepares a pot of coffee, plopping down in a seat away from the view of Ghost, she doesn't have the capacity to have eyes on her just yet. She just needs to sit, yawn into space, let time slip by as she stares into laminate flooring.

She waits long after the coffee is done before dumping it into a mug, contemplating for another moment before leaving an extra mug on the counter for the large man in her living room. She lets Blue back in, playing their morning game of chase as he scampers around, leaving dewey paw prints and wet grass across her floor. She finally catches him in a fit of giggles, tucking him between her calves to dry him off as he tries to lick her face.

Only the commotion must have startled Simon, because he nearly scares the shit out of her when she stands again, the behemoth standing silently in her kitchen doorway, amusement crinkling the corners of his eyes. He still doesn't speak, only raises a brow at her.

Need help?

She brushes it off, apologizes for the wet floor as she tosses the towel underfoot to get the rest of the mess.

“Coffee on the counter, left you a mug out,” she gestures to the counter. “creamer’s in the fridge, sugar in the cabinet.”

She doesn’t wait for a reply, simply smiles awkwardly and slips around him. Blues nails clicking against the hardwood behind her.

After changing she trots back downstairs. Still whirling a bit from her morning disruption, but makes a mental note of the mug in the sink, and the now missing Simon. She smiles a little, collecting her earbuds and stepping her way out into the humid summer morning.

She takes the same path everyday. Starting with the makeshift shed for the smaller rescues, followed by the small pasture, barn, and coops. Patrolling the path around the small acreage of her home, ensuring nothing was out of place.

She's thankful the spring had passed and most of the babies in her care were old enough to fend for themselves throughout the night. She passes through the cages, greeting everyone in a soft voice, peeking into each to make sure everyone made it another day.

Armadillo with a bite wound. Good.

Baby squirrels, still wobbly, but hydrated.

Barred owl with injured wing, still mad.

She moves on, feeding her own personal animals, moving between gates and tossing feed down for the chickens, dumping out the trough sized bins of water for the goats. Scrubbing and refilling them to keep the mosquitos from settling. Blue trots along behind her, giving what animals that will tolerate him a sniff before moving on to the next.

Her ducks love him, honking pleasantly as she opens their pen. She laughs as Blue goes still as stone, letting the ducks inspect him before he can’t take it anymore and starts bouncing, scattering ducks hither and yon. It takes her another minute to settle everyone down, gather them up for their morning walk down to the pond.

The Goofy Parade, she calls it. Ruby leads the show with two of the more stubborn ducks tucked under her arms, Blue coming up second, with a handful of other ducks frantically trying to keep up, nothing but quacks and webbed feet thumping against the grass as they all descend the small hill together.

She tosses the ducks in the pond with little preamble, giggling to herself at their indignant quacking before they happily paddle off. Blue would chase after them if the water was not his mortal enemy. And while that made bath times a nightmare she was thankful she only had to toss ducks in, and not fish Blue out.

She’s halfway back up the hill, already panting and sweaty as she spots a little blur of white and black, familiar tiny bleating trilling though the air.

She’s made a terrible mistake, one that she blames on Simon’s little scare as she continues her ascent, coming face to face with a little goat buckling that should certainly not be out. As a matter of fact several of the goats are out, grazing easily off in the yard. One stands proudly on Blue’s dog house, staring at her with blank eyes as it chews a heap of grass lazily.

Fuck.

She takes stock, glaring at the gate she'd left open, closing it again to prevent any more escapees before getting a plan together. The older ones go easy, stubborn to move but easy to catch, standing dumbly as she pushes them along. The kids are a different story, one that involves running in circles like a fool and desperately trying to hold on to a baby that kicks and flails and bleats like you're killing it. Not to mention a certain gray pitbull thinks her chasing is a game, and is hell bent on getting under her feet at every turn.

She’s soaked in sweat by the time she collects most of them, hair sticking to the back of her neck as she huffs under a shade tree. The one clever buckling that greeted her earlier still remains, proudly toddling in the grass a few feet away.

Ruby had taken to sitting at this point, ass in the dirt as she desperately tries to coax the little shit to come closer with a large sprig of hay when she hears the screen door open. She nearly melts from the heat and embarrassment as John Price steps out, dressed in well worn jeans that hug his thighs just right. She sucks her teeth as he looks between her and the goat with a knowing amusement crinkling his pretty blue eyes.

Kill me now.

“Looks like you’ve got your hands full” he greets with mock casualty, nodding toward the baby goat off in the yard as it jumps and kicks, quite literally parkouring off of Blue and bleating in its little revelry.

Mocking her.

She glares sourly at the little beast as John takes a well timed sip of his coffee, trying not to laugh as her pout intensifies. She directs her ire at him instead.

“How much of that did you see?”

“Just a bit.” he smiles wryly, “ you had most of them rounded up before I spotted ya.” He bends down, handing her his mug. “Keep an eye on this will ya? I’ll fetch him for you.”

She gives him an incredulous look but takes the mug. Go for it Bud.

He rolls his shoulders, stalking towards the babe with confidence, slowing his steps as he approaches. Ruby watches the shift from civilian Price to Captain Price: swift and silent on his feet. He hunkers a bit, walking heel to toe as he glides across the grass, easily creeping up with the efficiency of a predator as he lunges for the critter.

A miss, but he was close. Stumbling slightly and correcting gracefully. Looking back to her with surprised look, “Bloody fast isn't he?” Without delay he's back at it, stalking the kid who's now watching him with big blank eyes.

“You're gonna bust your ass” she calls with a giggle, earning her a playful smile and finger held up in her direction. Just give me a moment young lady.

He snags the little critter on the second try, deft hands securing it against his chest as it cries.

She stares at him, mouth open in confused shock as he walks past her, plopping the buckling down over the fence before returning, silently plucking his mug from her hands and taking another sip.

There is a long pause between them. Where Price pointedly looks out into the yard and not the dejected woman sitting in the grass beside him, hiding his grin behind his mug as she glares mildly into the side of his face.

“Do you need help with anything else?” he dares, earning him a swift pinch to the calf as soon as the words leave his mouth. But they both end up laughing, Ruby shaking her head in disbelief as she tries to pick herself up, Price meeting her with an offered hand to ease her out of the grass.

God she wishes she wasn’t sweating like whore in church.

He does ask again though, genuine in his offer to help, and while she isn’t particularly keen to make the man work, she does want to show him the animals. So she’ll humor him today, show him around. Everybody loves animals, and who is she to deny him that?

It’s not soon after that she’s leading him through the large building she’d had dedicated as a hospital of sorts for her foster animals.

She goes through each cage, quietly explaining each animal's situation, watching his face for any signs of boredom only to be met with rapt attention. The larger man nodding along and asking questions regarding their care and outlooks. It made her little heart happy to explain, and she had maybe lost herself a time or two. Chattering away about foods and behaviors, ways to heal, before catching herself and wrapping it up quickly.

“You wanna help me feed ‘em?” she asks tentatively, nodding toward the cage of clumsy twin squirrels.

“Absolutely.” he replies, Price’s sweet cheeks rounding as he smiles down at her. She turns quickly in an effort to hide her own goofy blush. Her brain oscillating between He’s so cute and That’s a grown ass man.

She leads him toward the counter, getting the twin’s meal prepared before fishing out one of the pups, carefully unswaddling it and handing it to Price. The man looks positively chuffed, holding the baby in his large palm, twisting to get a better look at it as it digs little nails into his fingers, snuffling and wiggling frantically to get at its lunch.

Ruby pulls out the other twin, and shows Price how to cradle the pup between her fingers, prop it upright, laughing as the babe scrabbles greedily, claws slipping and sliding to get purchase on the syringe as she brings it to its mouth.

“They’re big enough now that they nurse well, but you got to keep them upright and push slow or they’ll choke and blow it out their nose” she explains, gingerly pushing down on the syringe. She coos at the little thing and gives it a sweet scrub along its spine once it’s finished.

She sits next to Price next, tensing her thighs as best as she could to keep from accidentally touching the man. She pushes the new syringe into his hand and walks him through the same procedure. He does perfectly of course, brows pinched, staring at the little thing with the intensity of a man trying to defuse a bomb.

Sweet fella, she coos internally, he's trying, and Ru can't help but feel her heart pitter patter at the care he puts into it. A soft smile creeps]ing onto her face as he relaxes a bit, chin tucked to his chest as he cradles the baby closer, self assurance softening his shoulders as he pets a finger along its chest.

She is content to just sit there with him in the quiet, relax enough for her own soft thigh to fully settle against his. He lifts his head at the touch, smiling at her so warm, shy even.

And all her thoughts pop right out of her head, flutter around her noggin like big pink cartoon hearts.

She just barely fights off the urge to giggle and tuck her hair behind her ear, trying valiantly to shake the glassy look off of her face. Struck dumb by a pretty man with a baby animal.

Captain. Captain. You're brothers captain. Don't flirt, don't flirt-

“I'm gonna make you a little squirrel feedin’ medal to put on those dress blues of yours” she teases.

Price grins at her, petting the little squirrel with a gentle finger beneath its chin. “Can you fashion it to look like a big acorn for me?”

“Oh, expect nothing less. How else will your big wigs know your true talents? I'll have it at your door by the end of the week” she swears, hand over her heart.

The fond look he gives her is damn near mesmerizing.

“I'll be waiting”

°°°°

After finishing up with the remaining rescues the pair emerge, Ruby leading him down the well worn path to the barn where a cacophony of disgruntled clucking can be heard.

Blue is stationed just outside the door, looking to Ru nervously as they approach. He stands quickly waggling toward with a nervous gait and looking back to the barn door pointedly as the chaos continues. As if to say: Look momma, not me this time.

Upon further inspection is Darren, kneeling and huffing exasperatedly to the fowl around him, baby blue egg apron tied around his waist. It's dirty, covered in hay and errant feather fluff, happy little chickens printed all over the stiff fabric. It's tacky and comically out of place on the big boy with skull pajama pants underneath.

“You ain't got no babies in there anyway, plus you eat scrambled eggs! And you're mad at me! For what!?” he challenges, gingerly pushing another hen out of the way to pluck eggs out from underneath her.

Not far from Darren is Ghost, ass on a hay bale and cradling a rather docile tawny hen in his arms, she's snug as a bug, eyes closed as the giant strokes his fingers over her feathers. The unlikely pair undisturbed by the other hens caterwauling. Ruby huffs.

“Quit workin’ Darri, this is your time off, I would've got it”

“You just wanna hog up all the time with the animals. I'm onto you Rubella” he points sternly, a hen flying onto his bent form as he attempts yet again to root through the nest boxes.

“You eat em’?” Ghost grunts, looking up, startling both Darren and Ruby at the sudden question. He blinks between them in the silence, and Ruby hears a long suffering huff from Price over her shoulder.

“No.” the siblings hiss in unison, and Ghost only shrugs, continuing to cradle the bird in his arms.

“Not turning you into pies are they then? Best keep makin them eggs, yeah.” he murmurs to the bird, setting her down gently in the hay.

“Darri doesn't have the heart to slaughter them-”

“Like you do” he bitches.

“-so we just keep the eggs, eat em’, trade em’, give em’ away,” she explains, moving over to help her brother.

In no time, all 4 of them are shuffling back inside, eggs in hands as they drop them off at the sink for washing. The rest of the afternoon passes easily. The little group resting in the safety of air conditioning in the worst of the afternoon heat.

Darren finds this the best time to drag out the baby pictures, hauling a large tote out from the spare closet and plopping down next to Ghost.

Ruby watches from the kitchen counter as he digs, prepping up for dinner as he naturally searches for the most embarrassing photos he can find.

He yanks one out and immediately starts in. “Awwww look at her.” Darren coos, holding the picture up to Ghost and Price.

Ruby couldn't be any more than 7 or 8, grinning proudly at the camera with tear stained cheeks. She's clad in a gaudy purple sequined swimsuit, posed next to an even bigger catfish. An older man holding it by the mouth just above her, looking just as proud.

“Dad taught Ru about noodling that day,” Darri laughs “She was so excited until one got ahold of her, pops didn't tell her they had teeth. She cried and cried, but paraded around like a big badass after Dad helped her drag it out.”

Ru sniffs, “A big ole snappin turtle could've taken my arm in that mud hole and he didn't even care.”

“Oh shut your face, you came outta there fine. And you still poke at animals you shouldn't be pokin’ at.”

Price takes the picture between his fingers, smiling down at the ginger’s proud buck toothed grin. She slinks around him, rolling her eyes at the amused look on his face and starts rooting through the tote to find her own ammunition.

“Here it is. Edge lord~” she sing-songs, passing the picture over to Ghost.

It’s a photo of pre-teen Darren, all soft and doughy. Still round-faced, trying to look hardcore in a nu-metal t-shirt, too long basketball shorts and a clunky cd player attached to his hip. Devil horns thrown up to the camera with his fist.

“Look at tha’” Ghost coos, reaching over to pinch Darren’s cheek. Darren only laughs, of course he would, the good natured shit. “That's what peak performance looks like.” he snickers, pressing a smooch to Ghost's wrist instead, grinning at him like a big cheeseball.

“If ya think that's bad, check this one out.” Darren dives back in, laser focused on fishing out another particular memory. Ghost watches him fondly, dark eyes crinkled in the corners revealing a mask-hidden smile. It's a tenderness that almost feels too intimate to witness between the pair, and Ruby feels both longing and relief as she turns back toward the counter.

Ghost loves him, odd as he is.

It's written plain as day on his face, mask or no. And if the other's love him half as much as she thinks Ghost does, then her big brother will have enough to fill his cup and then some.

To her it would never be enough, but she could rest easier knowing someone is making him smile and laugh. Feel safe enough to dance and play and be the biggest dork. Be the kid he didn't get the chance to be.

Darren finally procures his prize, his highschool prom photo, and whips the picture in front of him like a scholar. Adjusting imaginary glasses for added effect. “You see here Simon, the dollar store eyeliner, check, black nail polish, sharpie, check, stretched ears, check. Peak. Performance.”

“You lads would've gotten along in school” Price chuckles, leaning over them to inspect for himself. And it doesnt come as a surprise that the goth phase was something that Ghost had never really grown out of. Dorks, the both of them.

Ruby takes this as an opportunity to slip back into cutting vegetables on autopilot, let the boys entertain themselves for a bit, ignore the ache in her chest at the softness of it all.

She's only a few peeled potatoes in when Price leans in beside her, voice just shy of a whisper. Did he see the distant look in her eye?

“Need a hand?”

She flips the switch back to “entertainer.”

“I think I've got it, thank you though.” She follows the script. Next he should say Are you sure? And next she would say Of course! Then Price would head back over to the table.

Only Price doesn't say that, and he doesn't leave.

‘D'ya mind keeping me company then? Lovebirds are going to make me sick if I stay too close.” he grumbles, but it’s half hearted. Price must feel the same relief she feels underneath it all, that all his boys care for each other. The thought that he might feel the same ache in his chest occurs to her too.

Her locked and loaded reply tumbles stupidly out of her brain, and she tries and fails to pluck out another phrase as he watches her with honey flecked pools of blue. Instead she concedes, shimmying over slightly to make room for the broad captain.

She can’t shake away the look in Ghost’s eyes as she and Price talk. It’s nothing of importance, just chatter, generic sentences that Ruby knows all the right words too and the appropriate times to give a sensible chuckle. His voice is honey smooth, easy, slowly distracts her brain from its spiraling and pulls it towards him. She’s only half listening to his words, instead basking in the pleasurable purr of his accent, the clipped consonants and low gravel of his tone. Feels just a little bad for grasping the tiny thread, using him as a lighthouse in a sea of melancholy waves. She’s always been more of a listener anyway.

She hadn't noticed that he'd smoothly started peeling potatoes with her, having somehow snuck a knife from right under her nose.

“Hey!” she barks upon realization, giving him a sour look. He only raises a brow in challenge, nudges her arm playfully.

“More hands is less work.” he recites, mimicking her from days prior. She wrinkles her nose at him, displeased to have her own words used against her.

“Yeah but-” he turns to her fully, eyeing her with a knowing twinkle in his eye, as if whatever argument she is about to make was going to mean jack shit. She powers on,”-this is yall’s vacation and I’m not about to sit here and make you work.”

Price huffs through his nose. “I’m not treating your home like a vacation get away, or you like a maid, you need something you just say the words, understood?”

She blinks at the sudden sharpness of his words. They aren't harsh, like she’s in trouble, but there is finality, one she doesn't argue with.

At least not today.

“Sir, yes sir” she sasses lazily, quickly scuttling away to avoid any ire, yet when she steals a glance over her shoulder it isn’t annoyance written on the captains face, but something hungry and patient wading in the pools of his eyes, arms crossed as he leans his hip against the counter.

It’s intense, pinning her where she stands.

Too much, too much.

She quickly whips back around. Fussing with the skillet on the stove top and decidedly ignoring the heated stare at the back of her head. A small jolt to her heart that has her giddy and tapping her foot.

And of course she can't help but steal a few more little glances at him while dinner finishes up. Price moving around her to dig out silverware and plates wordlessly to help. Some kind of minuscule smirk on his face, meeting her gaze at every turn. John Price appears to be a difficult man to get away from.

Soon they're all seated, chowing down on one of Darren favorites, sans some of cooked vegetables the recipe called for, the texture unfavorable to both of the Martin's who preferred it a little more simple.

All 3 soldiers eat plates practically rolling over with meat and potatoes, and Ruby is thankful she went apeshit with the grocery haul. Something like pride warms her chest as the table goes quiet. Either the food is really good or really bad, and judging by the way all three men are too busy stuffing their maws Ruby assumes it’s the latter.

She watches with amusement as Ghost yanks over the pitcher of sweet tea, pouring himself another large glass before going to town once again. She’d thought the 2 englishmen wouldn't touch the blasphemous tea with a 10 ft pole, yet the biggest boy seems to have a sweet tooth that rivals even Darren. He’d nearly scared the piss out of her (again) earlier that afternoon, hovering deathly quiet just behind her back, watching how she added the sugar and more water to top off the pitcher. He’d been nursing on a glass ever since.

She'd scooped herself a much smaller portion by comparison, ate slow, not daring to go for seconds. All purposeful. She wasn't about to be the fatass surrounded by beefcakes while she shovels food down her gob. Now way, no how. It didn't matter if this was the first real meal she's cooked for herself in weeks or not.

She takes her opportunity to sneak her plate into the sink as the boys begin to chat, and Darri busts her out immediately.

“Oh huh-uh, I know you ain't done eating.” he barks.

“What does it look like?”

Darri continues giving her the stink eye. Neither one of them are shy about food. They've gone without it plenty. Cereal dinners and microwave soup. She can't bullshit him.

She changes tactics.

“I'm makin’ sure you boys have plenty before I help myself, I know this has gotta be better than the military gruel. ‘Sides I can take this for work.”

“Work?”

Ruby turns fully to hide her guilt. She was going to have to tell him eventually. Might as well rip the bandaid off.

“Yeah, the good thing is that I'll still be here during the day. They just need help covering 2nd shift since one of the girls went out for maternity leave.” she lies smoothly, “she wasn’t supposed to have him for a few more weeks, but I guess the little fellar was done cookin’ early.” she tries to joke, only Darren continues his sour look, hell even and Price and Ghost seem displeased with the information.

Darren crosses his arm, shifting from goofy big brother to interrogator. “Second shift is late Mumps.”

“That’s why they call it second and not first.”

His frown deepens, “And who is with you out there?”

“Gayle.” and as Ruby suspected, the name eased the tension in her brother’s shoulders, he huffs, still displeased, but relents just a smidgen, brotherly tone slipping between the crack again. “Are yall gonna stay out of trouble?”

“Oh no, we’re going to raise hell in there actually, party all night with all the dogs in cones. Might even get some glow sticks.” she snarks playfully, shaking her head at her brother’s question.

She faces a few more questions, surprisingly from all three men who have apparently decided to put in their two cents into her welfare. Like she hasn’t been doing this for the better part of a year unsupervised. (Not that they would ever know that).

What was the schedule? How long does it take her to get there? Does she have service? Wi-fi? She can already see the silent conversation happening between them in the event that Operation Save Ruby were to occur, and with Darren’s urging all of the men now had her number stored in their phone, as well as the address to the veterinary hospital in case of emergencies. A plan of action already filed away in each of their heads, like service dogs that can’t stop working.

Her brother seems a bit more at ease after the conversation, but there is still a watery worry hanging in his big brown eyes as they all disperse from the table, John and Simon leaving the siblings alone. Darren breaks first.

“I know it seems like a lot. I just worry about you.” he tells her softly. Tender heart beating on his shirt sleeve.

“I know you do, but I’m telling you, it’s no big deal, I’m just helping out for a few weeks.”

He nods, something flashing across his features before he wraps her up in a big hug, squeezing her hard enough that he trembles with the effort.

“M’proud of you kid.”

The words hit her like a freight train, guilt welling up in her chest and pouring into her limbs. Ruby fights the stupid tears welling up in her eyes as he hugs her close. If only he knew the half of it, how their home looked like hell in a hand-basket just a week ago, how she scraped her hair back into a greasy ponytail for days because she wouldn’t wash it. How taking care of the animals was the only reason she went outside. How she lied to his face.

“Proud of you too bub, glad your home.” she murmurs into his shoulder, squeezing him back with equal fervor.

Ruby goes to bed that evening, stewing on Price’s words, to ask for what she needs. Then she thinks of the worry in all their eyes, the tired lines from sleeping on cots, or in corners on the field, of raining bullets and chemicals. She thinks about the gray creeping into her brother's soft brown hair, silvery highlights of stress and worry that she can’t take away.

She thinks if a little white lie would spare her brother just an ounce of more worry, she would do it every time.

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