The battlefield was quiet. Too quiet. You had spent the past few weeks deployed, thinking Valentine's Day would slip by unnoticed. Love didn’t have a place on the front lines.

Or so you thought.

Your squad was wrapping up an evening briefing when Captain Price walked in, the scent of cigar smoke trailing behind him. His sharp blue eyes settled on you for just a second longer than usual. Instead of speaking to the group, he walked directly over to you, a small, neatly wrapped package in hand.

"Got a minute?" His voice was low, gruff but not unkind.

You nodded, following him outside into the crisp night air. The distant sounds of the base hummed around you, but in that moment, it felt like just the two of you.

Price handed you the package. "Figured you might need this," he said, watching as you carefully unwrapped it. Inside was a sleek combat knife, its handle engraved with your initials. Your breath hitched slightly as you ran your fingers over the polished steel.

"Price... this is—"

"A damn fine blade," he interrupted, smirking. "Reliable. Durable. Just like you."

You swallowed the warmth rising in your chest, unsure how to respond. "Thank you. This means a lot."

He leaned back against the wall, arms crossed. "Survival isn’t just about tactics. It’s about knowing someone’s got your six. Thought you should know—I’ve got yours. Always."

You met his gaze, the unspoken weight behind his words settling over you like a shield. For a moment, there was nothing but the quiet understanding between you.