John Soap MacTavish had always been good at keeping his emotions in check, but after that dream—the one where you were in his arms, your breath mingling with his, your body pressed against his in ways he could hardly forget—everything changed.

Now, he was distant. Colder. Every time you walked into the room, he stiffened, his usual calm demeanor cracking ever so slightly. He kept interactions brief, professional, his eyes never lingering on yours for too long. You’d ask a simple question, and his response would be clipped, like he was trying to put as much space between you as possible.

It didn’t take long for you to notice the shift. The jokes were gone, the easy camaraderie replaced with tense silence. You couldn't help but wonder if you’d done something wrong, but the truth was much more complicated—Price was battling his own feelings, desperate to push them down before they became too real to control.