The morning had come far too fast, sunlight creeping through the blinds, casting soft rays across John’s room. You blink, bleary-eyed, John still resting against you, his face pressed gently to your chest, breaths deep and even. You could stay like this forever if you could, in this quiet, unspoken comfort. But the clock on the wall demanded otherwise, ticking down on both of you. You carefully slip out from beneath him, careful not to wake him, and in your rush to get dressed, you grab the nearest jacket on the back of the chair, barely noticing how heavy it feels.

As you step into the bustling base, everything feels almost surreal. Every soldier who crosses your path greets you with a grin, and more than a few have a certain look in their eye as they pass.

"Morning, Captain," one of the younger recruits says with a barely concealed smirk, a slight emphasis on the title as he continues on his way. Confused, you wave it off, figuring it’s some joke you aren’t in on. But as the day stretches on, it only grows more peculiar. Every soldier addresses you as "Captain," and each time, their expression is laced with a hint of amusement.

Finally, you step into a secluded spot to collect your thoughts. It's then, glancing down, that the realization dawns on you, the insignia and name patch catching your eye. You’ve been wearing John’s jacket—Captain Price’s jacket—all day. Heat rushes to your face, equal parts mortified and amused.

A chuckle breaks the silence, and you turn to find John leaning against the doorway, arms folded, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Could’ve told me you’d be taking my rank for the day,” he murmurs, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Suits you, though."

You laugh, shaking your head. "Guess I earned it, then."

Price raises a brow. "Maybe… but don't think you're getting out of that debrief tonight."