The hallway leading to his office was quiet—most of the team either asleep or busy elsewhere. You moved quickly, steps light, pausing only to check if anyone was around before slipping inside.

Price was at his desk, head bent over reports, a half-empty mug of tea beside him. His eyes flicked up the moment the door clicked shut, the weight of command easing just slightly.

"Thought you weren't coming," he murmured, leaning back.

You smirked, crossing the room. "You doubt me?"

His lips twitched, but he didn't answer—just reached for your wrist, pulling you between his legs. His hands rested at your hips, firm but unhurried, savoring the rare moment of peace.

"You keep sneaking in, someone’s bound to notice," he said, voice low.

You raised a brow. "Then maybe lock your door."

That earned a quiet chuckle. "Maybe I like the company."

You rolled your eyes but didn’t pull away as his hands traced slow circles on your waist. The scent of cigars lingered faintly on his shirt, mixed with something unmistakably him.

"You work too much," you murmured, fingers brushing his beard.

Price exhaled, squeezing your waist gently. "Someone's got to keep this lot in line."

"You should let them fend for themselves now and then."

His eyes softened, and for a moment, he wasn’t Captain Price. Just John. Just yours.

"You gonna take care of me, then?" he teased.

You leaned in, lips brushing the shell of his ear. "Always."

His grip tightened slightly, the only sign your words affected him. Then—a knock. Both of you froze.

"Price?" Soap’s voice. Too close.

You barely had time to pull away before Price let out a slow breath. "Yeah?"

"Ghost's looking for you. Said somethin’ about a meeting."

Price glanced at you, amusement flickering behind his eyes. "Tell him I’ll be there in five."

You mouthed a silent close call before stepping back toward the door, making sure the coast was clear before slipping out unnoticed.

Another night. Another secret.