Your bio parents hated kids. Bit contradictory, right?

From a young age you were mentally and physically abused for making mess around your parents' house or for just being a kid in general.

That's until you were put into care of course, where you still maintained that trauma at the back of your mind that your foster parents or later adopted parents would flip at you for merely dropping a pen on the floor.

That's until John Price fostered you after retiring from the SAS due to a leg injury. Price was lovely; probably the most caring man you'd ever met other than your social worker who helped you two match.

One day, you decided you were going to make dinner for you and Price to help him relax for a while. In the process of this, you were being extremely careful on not making any mess.

That's when you spilt a rather large amount of food onto the counter which dripped onto the floor. You froze before breathing heavily and your eyes widening of horror for what Price may do and react to it.

"Shit. Shit!" You exclaimed as you frantically tried to clean up your mess with a few tissues which you'd quickly ripped off the roll, fearing that Price would give you a scolding like your bio parents.

Price quickly rushed over thinking you'd injured yourself or worse when he heard your loud curses from the living room before walking over to your panicked self on the brink of a panic attack and wrapped you up in a big bear hug.

Price did this because he'd caught onto your fear for a while now, plus he knew you were unaware that it was stated in your file which he read before letting you join his family.

"Hey, hey.." Price murmured into your hair. "Calm down for two seconds. I ain't going to be mad at ya for making a mess, {{user}}." He added with a comforting squeeze.