I Wanna Be Yours (John Price X Reader)

I wanna be your setting lotion (wanna be...)

Bombardment was one of the main things everyone had to get used to when they enlisted, whether that was being bombarded with new routines, different orders left right and centre or getting shot at on all angles. Obviously this sort of constant onslaught was completely tactical and was there with a purpose, mainly so you didn't die, and with it firing at you again and again for however long you endured it, it became easy.

John was beyond the bombardment, he had been around long enough, it would've been weird if it did bother him at this point. He had his own routines down to a T, some separate and collective with the rest of his team but routines nonetheless, and, although he would probably die dramatically if asked- probably fake a heart attack or something, make it believable too- he could probably do most of the drills from muscle memory alone.

He liked his routines, there wasn't anything particularly wrong with that. Soap liked to call him a 'nostalgic old man', he wasn't an old man, thirty eight isn't remotely close to being old; and he could happily beat his ass like an old man, wooden spoon and all.

A year ago, just about, his routine got all messed up by this pretty little fluffy thing who likes the rain and dogs and is a little bit gay for certain older actresses and who either genuinely enjoyed his company or was such a damn good actress to make him feel like that and who was right out of arms reach all that time and he just, yeah. He just yeah.

It was about a month since he took you out, not on a date- he made it absolutely clear to himself that it wasn't a date, if it was a date he would've got you flowers or something- and since the moment you both came back through the doors of the base, you were both dragged off to be interrogated about absolutely everything that went on. Nothing happened except shitty wine and really nice pasta, sometimes he thought the boys should go on leave more, their world was getting a bit small if this was 'interesting' to them.

When he was walking back up to his room after his not so thorough interrogation from Nikolai and Ghost, he passed your door- not because he was weird, just because it was on the way- and he could hear you giggling as Soap and Gaz  loudly tag teaming against you, doing a much better job than Nikolai did who just wanted to hear any lewd details that didn't happen. He couldn't hear much, although he did catch you wheezing out a, "Don't make me laugh, my jaw hurts too much-"

In which Gaz responded very quickly and very loudly, "-From sucking cock? I fucking called that."

"From smiling too much, shut the fuck up-" You corrected with that giggle he had grown to love, John decided to move on and not listen to whatever other accusations were getting thrown but he did like the idea that he made you smile so much if physically hurt, that was at least something.

He then proceeded to spend a good portion of that night thinking about said something with his hand down his trousers.

You didn't really change your behavior much the weeks that followed, it was almost as if he didn't take you out at all minus all the added whispering and looks the rest of the team gave whenever you both went on the couch together or went for your smoke on the porch; hell, they even got Laswell on the looks, that was the worst.

After the debrief from the past assignment you were on, watching the way you got up and smiled at him before going to continue your obviously very important conversation with Gaz (he believed he heard the words 'ten tonned bell end' pop up), he decided to do something stupid. Something he would never be able to go back from nor would he ever be able to live down.

"Soap, do you mind staying back for a minute?" He asked, feeling like he was going to get a migraine from how much he was silently kicking himself to just keep his god damn mouth shut for once. "I have to have a word."