Secrets are what keep people close, or so you've heard, you never really understood what it meant. Everything you ever did wrong or that was morally questionable you kept locked up tight, secrets are best kept when no one else knows about them.
You kept Price's- supposing you had to go back to calling him 'Price' now- secrets on just what happened in that safehouse, in turn he kept yours. Even when Laswell berated him on where the hell he was and why he didn't radio back the second he found you, he made no mention of anything remotely devious- technically if a higher power didn't know about it, was it really a war crime or an honest mistake? He tended to beg the latter, it made things a lot easier in the long run. What people didn't know couldn't hurt them.
Overall a successful mission, from Laswell's knowledge.
Everything was starting to get a little brighter now, the world just on the tipping point of spring. It was still bloody cold and the heating around base still hadn't been fixed but at least it was slightly sunny. Some of the trees just outside of the perimeter started to grow pink blossom on, finally, a colour other than slate grey. Holy hell there is a god.
Whilst everything else around you was starting to get a bit of life back in them, Price wasn't among them. He managed to do a little more than break his right hand, damaging some muscle ligaments in his left too- that one you felt particularly bad about seeing as you almost definitely made it worse, but he insisted so it is his own fault- so the medic had both of his hands re bandaged and out of service for a while.
He was miserable. He couldn't write, he couldn't use a lighter, he couldn't use a gun, by his terms he was practically useless. There were ways around it, of course, you filling out paperwork for him and him dictating the more complicated things to you and you lighting his cigars for him: so, you, basically.
You were his way around things.
He fucking hated it with a burning passion. Hated it. Not you, of course, never the 'you' part of the equation in itself- although he did think that things would be a whole lot easier if he wasn't two fingers deep in you a few weeks prior.
When he started with the 141, Shepard advised he get an assistant then and there, a fucking secretary, and he didn't for two reasons: one, he didn't like people hovering and two, he was too bloody stubborn. He was seriously regretting that decision now since every single helpful thing you did for him went straight to his cock and he felt awful about it, at least if he had a secretary in the first place you wouldn't have felt the need to be so...well, you. Lovely, kind, helpful, sweet fucking you.
You, on the other hand, were having a blast. You honestly couldn't understand why he complained so much about all the paperwork, the stuff he usually kept to himself was interesting- kill counts and leads about people you hadn't heard of yet, it was exciting. Not to mention you got to stay inside Price's office with him whilst everyone else did drill in the cold led by Laswell, hell, you'd stayed in there so much you got your own designated chair at the corner of his desk.
He made you feel better by being so inadvertently close to you, hell, you didn't even notice how much attention he was paying to you when you worked with him or say with him in the food hall. One thing about being in the military was that your body had to be at top form at every waking moment, meaning that on base was slow burning carbs and vegetables that no one seemed to take other than you and Laswell as well lots and lots of protein- meat mostly.
Sausages, bacon, under seasoned hunks of mystery meat, the works. Hell, sometimes even the vegetables had bits of ham cooked in it in hopes that it wouldn't be on you and her to finish it. Just the smell of it made you feel sick. Even as you tried to stomach a nibble of some crispy turkey bacon- not even fucking red meat- all you could think of was the feeling of that Russian Soldier's skin breaking under your teeth. You promptly let Gaz and Soap hash it out for your food for the next few days until magically fully vegetarian options that didn't look like shit appeared the same day Price insisted you went to lunch earlier.
YOU ARE READING
I Wanna Be Yours (John Price X Reader)
FanfictionPrice was content with the life he led, putting his work before himself for years had made him the great man that he was today. But you just had to make him question everything with your soft voice and pretty hair, didn't you? Or, Price has a crus...
