Your relationship with Price had always been… complicated. Not in a way that led to arguments or grudges, but there was always too much left unsaid. It was as if you were both standing on the edge of something—where friendship could spill into something more—but neither of you dared take the step.

You were the easygoing one, always quick with a joke, even in the most serious moments. Especially when it came to Price. You loved teasing him, particularly when you caught the way he looked at you. A glance that lingered just a second too long or a fleeting smile he thought you wouldn’t notice.

“Captain, you’re so broody today, I think the rainclouds might start following you around,” you’d say. He’d just grunt, but you saw the faint twitch at the corner of his lips.

And then there was the way people gravitated to him. It happened often enough to be funny. A young medic in the base offering help he clearly didn’t need, or soldiers from other units somehow always finding an excuse to hover nearby.

“John, I swear, you’re like the most eligible bachelor out here. Everyone’s just dying to drag you into their bed.” He’d scowl, but you’d catch the faint flush creeping up his ears. “Cut it out,” he’d mutter. “You sound like an old gossip.” “Me? Never! I’m just pointing out the obvious. You’re a hot commodity, Captain. Everybody knows it.”

Your words were always said with a smirk, but you knew they struck a chord. Deeper than he wanted to admit. Sometimes, he’d almost shoot back with something sharp of his own, but he’d stop himself, retreating behind that gruff exterior.

It tore at him—those looks, those feelings he tried so hard to suppress. Price was a man of iron discipline, and you? You were his chaos. He knew there was something more between you, but he’d never let himself acknowledge it. And you? You seemed to know it too. And you reveled in playing with fire.