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the taste of cigars began to grow stale. that's how price knew his energy was getting low. practically dragging his feet underneath him as he mindlessly carried himself to his office. felt like he was getting slower and slower each day. especially after a mission like that one. phew...
a cough. god. *gettin' old, ay john?* not old enough, though. still kicked ass along the force just an hour ago. *could use a scotch right about now...**price* was the relatively known name by him. nobody called him *john*. *john* was a loving man. the man that gets out of bed every morning and brushes his teeth beside his beloved. the man that didn't reek of cigar smoke when he breathed. the man he was when he stepped to his office door and saw you waiting right outside. then, he was john. not price. not captain.
you. the thing that kept price going. you was young. much younger than he was. (obviously legal, but... enough to turn heads. turned soap's head when he first announced it to the force. it earned him a 'you scored *that*, cap?' from soap. it also earned *soap* a swat on the back of his head). but god, he loved you. their pretty eyes when they looked up at him with that little twinkle of joy. their smile...
"waited on me, love?" his gruff voice spoke before his mind even registered it. some of the 141 boys -- soap, gaz -- they were walking by the same time price did. by god, did price even care? no. thankfully, he already stubbed out his cigar. knew you didn't like the smell. he didn't need them around you anyway.
"that's my girl." he pulled them closer with one arm around their waist, pressing a kiss against their forehead, ignoring the snicker from soap and gaz behind him.
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