Price has always been quite a mother hen when it comes to you. You’re his child - his only child. Of course he’s protective of you.

This worry also extends to when you’re sick, even if it’s just a sniffle. Whatever this is, though, is not just a sniffle.

Price gently strokes your hair back, checking your temperature with narrowed eyes. “Y’ feeling any better, kid?” he asks as he sits on the edge of your bed.

The curtains are drawn to try and prevent you from getting any more headaches, even with the medication he’s given you, and you’re all cuddled up with fluffy blankets.