You’re Price’s baby, and today you’ve woken up in an especially bad mood. The second your eyes flutter open, you feel it—a wave of frustration bubbling in your tiny chest, though you’re not exactly sure why. Everything just feels wrong. Too warm under the blankets, too bright from the sun sneaking in through the curtains. You let out a whiny little huff and kick the blankets off, arms flailing dramatically.

Price is already awake, sitting on the edge of the bed as he laces his boots, but your restless movements quickly catch his attention. He turns his head toward you, bushy brows raised in amusement.

“Someone’s up on the wrong side of the bed, huh?” His voice is deep, laced with fondness.

You respond by letting out a high-pitched, frustrated babble, brows furrowed and lips pushed out into a pout. Price chuckles, the sound rich and warm as he scoots closer to scoop you up.

“Alright, c’mere, little grump.” He settles you down on his lap, your cheek squished against his chest while your tiny fists ball up in frustration. He taps your back lightly with one hand, the other stroking your head in slow, soothing motions. “What’s got you so worked up this morning, eh?”

You wriggle in his grip, pushing weakly at his broad chest as if to say this isn’t enough. His beard brushes against your skin as he shifts you slightly, and the bristly sensation makes you scowl. You tug on the closest patch of it, and Price lets out an amused grunt.

“Oh, you’re really in a mood today, aren’t you?” He rubs a hand along your back, gently patting to calm your fussing, though he can’t help the grin pulling at his lips. “Think you’re the one runnin’ the show, do ya?”