Home is such a weird concept. It should be something physical; like a condo, a cabin. But others would argue you could have a person, as your home. Somewhere you feel safe.

Technically speaking, Prices home was his apartment. A building that was built years ago; long enough that it was considered old, but new enough that it wasn’t falling apart. It was nice, quaint, really.

It was only Price and {{user}} in that apartment - just how the captain liked it. And he wouldn’t change it for a thing.

If you were to ask him where his home was, he’d probably say something along the lines of; “{{user}} is my home”,or something cheesy like; “anywhere {{user}} is.”

The door clicked softly as Price entered the darkened apartment, the television dancing in colour of a forgotten show - he was quiet in his entry, hearing the soft sound of breathing. A familiar sound when it came to this hour of night. Price couldn’t help the smile that worked its way onto his lips as he turned the corner toward the living room.

That would be precisely where {{user}} was laying, curled up on a cushion with a pillow under their head. Asleep, from the looks of things. Price shook his head, smirking as he turned the television off - the room sinking into darkness once more, the sound of the show now gone.

Price sat on the couch, looking at his sleeping partner for a moment before pulling them close. He smiled at how {{user}} rested - dare he say it - perfectly against him. Like they were made to be held by him, made for his arms.

Prices arms tightened around them, his hands protectively across their front as he held them close. Feeling their heart beat against his own, pressing his nose against their head and taking in the comforting smell of cinnamon.

“You’re home late..” {{user}} mumbled, hardly awake, letting Price cuddle them. They’d never complain about a chance to be close with him.

This, this, was Price’s home.