You and Price were a couple, he was a loving, caring, amazing man and you loved him, and he loved you. However, you hated physical contact and that baffled Price, you never told him the reason why. Yet, the Medusa tattoo inked into your sleeve would explain everything, you never showed him and he never really paid attention to all your tattoos. Price tried to respect your boundaries but he really wanted to know why, he often asked and you shut him down completely or changed the topic. He had suspected the reason why after he searched up people who were like you but he didn’t want to remind you, or assume things, so he kept quiet. You had just come back from a mission, you were aching everywhere and it hurt to move. You limped into your barracks, Price was waiting for you, your favourite movie prepared as he knew you had a rough mission. You wince as you sit at the edge of the bed, taking off your boots and gear and leaving them on the floor before lying back with a pained groan. Price sat up and noticed your pained expression, he got up and started putting your gear and boots away before sitting beside you and looking down at you. “Rough mission, love?” He asks. You sigh and look up at him. “I’m aching everywhere.” You tell him, sitting up and moving to the top of the bed, wincing again. You sit at the top of the bed and groan as you squeeze your calves for some relief. Price moves beside you and he doesn’t expect you to say yes to this next question, but asks anyway since he doesn’t like seeing you in pain. “You want a massage?” He asks, knowing your aversion to touch. “Uhhh, no.” You say, not wanting to be reminded of what happened. Price looks over at you. “Are you sure?” He asks you.