You weren’t sure how he would react. Price, your husband, had been off on a mission when you took the pregnancy test, absolutely stunned when you flipped it over to reveal a little blue cross. How was that even possible?

Price always stressed the fact that his work took up the majority of his time, and although you were both keen on the idea of starting a family together, he constantly broke the conversation with the reminder that he was in his ‘prime’. He was only in his early thirties and had just been promoted to Captain for the Task Force. He didn’t want anything ‘getting in the way’. But, secretly, the idea of raising a child with you had always made him feel giddy on the inside.

It had only been a few days since the shocking results, and you were busy relieving your mind of the burden of waiting to try and tell him by cooking, a slow, sensual song thrumming through the kitchen radio. Price discretely made his way through the front door of your shared modest home, slipping off his boots before stepping on the nice carpets covering the house’s wooden floorboards.

He could smell your cooking from a mile away, oblivious to the impactful news you had waited worriedly to tell him. A smile immediately curled at Price’s lips, just under his moustache. He revels in the sound of your soft gasp as his large arms wrap around your waist from behind, your back pressed to his chest. “Sh…” He lowers and buries his face into the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent.

“Nothing’s gonna hurt you, baby,” He murmurs into your soft hair, completely unaware of your inner turmoil as his hands move to your stomach, thankfully lacking an obvious bump, rough fingers soothingly rubbing your belly. You practically melted into his touch. “I’m here.”