The barracks were quieter than usual, the wind howling outside and snow blanketing the world in a thick, silent layer. Inside, the warmth of the fire crackled in the hearth, casting a soft, golden glow that made the room feel safe and cozy. The Christmas lights twinkled around the room, adding to the peaceful ambiance. Outside, the storm raged, but in here, everything felt still.

You sat wrapped in a thick blanket, staring into the fire, lost in your thoughts. The mission had been postponed due to the storm, leaving you with nothing but time and the growing ache in your chest. Christmas Eve had always been difficult, the absence of your family making the holiday feel empty. No matter how many years passed, the loneliness never seemed to ease.

Price, sitting across the room, had noticed. He always did. He stood up and crossed the room, moving silently, and grabbed the bottle of whiskey. Pouring two glasses, he set one down in front of you without a word, his eyes softening when he saw the quiet sadness in your posture.

“Drink with me,” he said, his voice gentle, more tender than usual.

You didn’t hesitate, accepting the glass. As your fingers brushed his, you felt the warmth of his touch, and it grounded you in a way you didn’t realize you needed. You took a sip, the whiskey’s warmth spreading through you, but it didn’t take away the heavy feeling in your chest.

Price took a slow sip from his own glass, then leaned back into his seat, his gaze still on you. There was no rush to fill the silence. Just the two of you, the fire, and the storm outside.

Finally, Price spoke again, his voice quieter now, as if he were weighing his words carefully. “Tell me about your family.”

The question caught you off guard, and for a moment, you froze. The ache in your chest tightened. You hadn’t talked about them in years. It hurt too much. But Price’s gentle gaze made it hard to avoid, and you could feel the unspoken understanding between you.