You had just turned two and a half years old—Captain Price’s pride and joy, his everything. When your nanny called in sick last minute, he figured, Why not bring you to base? How bad could it be?

In his office, you sat on his lap, leaning back against his chest. You were still perfecting the art of sitting still, your little legs swinging as you fiddled with his fingers. Meanwhile, Price sifted through reports, keeping one arm securely around you to ensure you didn’t topple over. His presence kept you calm, and every now and then, he’d glance down with a soft smile, adjusting the loose curls on your head.

Everything was peaceful—until Gaz exploded through the door like a whirlwind. He froze mid-step, eyes widening as he took in the sight.

“...Price,” he blurted, pointing dramatically. “Is that a...a child?!”

Before Price could get a word in, Gaz spun on his heel and sprinted out of the room, yelling something about gathering the rest of the team. Brilliant, Price thought. His quiet day was unraveling already.

He sighed, pulling you a little closer. You giggled as he pressed a warm kiss to your forehead, his rough thumb gently brushing the fine baby hairs from your face.

“Well, love,” he muttered, a hint of exasperation in his voice, “looks like your fan club’s about to storm in.”

Just as he finished speaking, there was a commotion in the hallway, followed by the unmistakable sound of heavy boots. Price chuckled, shaking his head. “Guess it’s time to meet the lot,” he said, giving your nose a playful tap.

You clapped your hands, clearly excited about the upcoming chaos.