Captain John Price x Reader

Thirty

You've had gathered your fair share of headaches over time.

But this one was a challenge of its own.

It wasn't just pressing against your skull, but violently pounding as if it were a prisoner that wanted to escape.

The feeling of liquid dripping out of your ears crawled over your skin.

Pulling a face, you reached out but couldn't feel anything.

Moving hurt. It made you feel sick to your stomach.

If it were for you, you would have liked to empty your stomach right on the spot.

But you couldn't.

Throwing up would have been so much better, but your body refused and instead insisted on keeping all the toxic liquids inside for your stomach to rot in.

At least you were laying in bed.

Only the devil know how you had managed to do it, but you did.

The bathroom wasn't too far either.

"Ugh...", you whined and wanted to turn to the side.

But a wave of nausea made you turn back on your back immediately.

Next to you, someone moved.

"Prick.", Price hummed.

A deep groan filled the silence.

"Shut up, John...", you growled and clenched your teeth.

A large hand suddenly hit you.

"It's Price or captain for you, mate."

He was also heavily suffering the consequences of his actions from last night.

The alcohol had taken the deep voice and had turned it even darker, harsher. Mixed together with the typical mining voice of a man, he sounded like one huge, lovable grizzly.

His tone did indicate he wanted to kill you though.

A snort escaped you.

"Yesterday it was John.", you reminded him, smirking to yourself. "And you didn't seem to mind."

Wiping his face, he managed to get his head up. With a deadly glare he eyed you.

"Just so we're clear, this never happened.", he forced one leg out of bed. "We will never speak of this again."

You chuckled.

But deep down inside you knew that this approach would be better.

Even though it hasn't been your intention at all, you still had managed to sleep with him. Now, there was only one professional approach to this.

As to not threaten the missions success you two needed to act as if nothing had happened.

This hadn't been because of some kind of feelings.

"It was the alcohol's fault.", you said in a dry manner and watched as he rose from the bed.

He was still wobbly on his feet, but at least he managed to reach the minibar to pull out some water.

"Deal.", he offered you one of the bottles.

You took it, not saying a single word, and chugged down the first half.

It was sparkling water.

"Hell!", you coughed. "What's with the Germans and their obsession with sparkling water?"

Price shrugged.

"They aren't allowed to use gas otherwise anymore.", he said.

You froze.