This Wasn't Supposed to be a Closet {John Price X Reader}

Chapter 2

Notes: I had half an edible before this and the bitch didn't kick in, either it hasn't yet, or I am god. I pick the latter.

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You had run into the car, ecstatic that none of the others were in the car. You probably would have cried had Ghost been in the car, or Gaz. Soap would have just laughed it off, or made fun of you. All the outcomes were non-favorable.

Price ran to the driver's side, shutting the door and throwing the car into drive. You wanted to hide, having already unpinned your hair to hide your face. You had hidden behind your hands, trying to avoid looking at Price at all costs.

He still had a dumb smirk on his face, as if he had just taken down a terrorist organization single handily. He did not. Randolph was just some idiot who didn't know that he couldn't put his dick and money into everything.

"Stop smirking like that," you uttered, still trying to avoid eye contact. "What do you mean?" He questioned and leaned closer to you. You stared up at him incredulously, grabbing his face and pushing it back to look at the road.

"Like you just took down some big terrorist organization, accomplished something world-changing or some shit," you complained. He was getting on your nerves, which didn't usually happen after such a mind-blowing orgasm but that was neither here nor there.

He was getting annoying with how smug he was acting. "I did though," he commented like he was discussing the Sunday paper. "The fuck you mean you did? " you grunted, teeth clenched. John rolled his eyes, sighing and slowing the car down to a stop.

"Everyone on Las Vaqueros wanted to get in your pants. Soap'seen trying for the past 2 years you've been on the team. Ghost gravitates to you like your the sun, and Gaz has the 'older sister' crush on you." He stared at you, seemingly bored with your obliviousness.

"The hell does 'older sister' crush mean?" You were so confused by, not only that statement but the previous ones as well. "He acknowledges your beauty but respects you too much to do anything. What, dumb American school didn't teach you that?" He asked, teeth bared.

You were going to fight this man. You were going to tear his throat out with your bare hands and hang his head on a pike. You could say America was shitty, and you were a dumb American, and Soap could sometimes get by with it, but Price had no right to treat you like a dumb child.

It didn't matter if you lost, you would prove your point simply by fighting him, a way to call him out if you will. You stoned your features, merely turning away and getting out of the car. "Where are you going, Lieutenant?" He yelled after you, rushing to get out of the getaway car after you.

"Go fuck your damn self you selfish, British, prick!" You screamed back at him, taking your heels off and walking away. Price growled in annoyance, but followed after you. "You'll get lost Lieutenant," he spoke nonchalantly

He really hadn't meant to call you dumb, but your obliviousness to the whole situation had gotten on his nerves. He'd been dropping hints for two years, and nothing. He'd grown frustrated, having waited for two years.

And the only thing that drove the two of you together was being stuck in a closet behind enemy lines. "Sweetheart, can we please go back to the car?" He asked into the forest, not wanting to get lost himself. "Go call Soap sweetheart you prick!" You yelled from his left.

"Come on sweet girl, I'm sorry about what I said. I'll make it up to you if you just stop running." He really didn't want to lose his only chance because he was being a selfish bastard. "Again, Captain John Price, go fuck yourself!" You yelled again, but this time, he was closer.