Captain John Price x Reader

Thirty-Nine

"Great, now she hates us.", you huffed and jumped up the stairs of the living unit to get up on the roof.

Price smiled.

"She didn't hate you already?", he asked.

You snorted.

"Can't say she didn't. Either way, hope she takes it serious."

"She has to. We're two top notch operators. She can't just say no after we requested code orange. Even Laswell has her limits."

He tried to open a door.

Locked.

Without skipping a beat you kneeled down and pulled out some special tools to crack open the lock.

He threw a glance at his watch.

"Fifteen seconds.", he said. "Impressive."

You grinned at him.

"The only thing I'm fast in.", you wiggled your eyebrows and stepped on the roof.

Curling his nose, he fought down the urge to give you a slap on the head.

"I know.", he mumbled to himself. "I've had the pleasure already."

Up on the roof a bunch of pigeons chirped. Frightened by the sudden visitors, they jumped into the air and flew off.

You hoped that nobody had noticed.

But the building wasn't far from the city halls, about a stones throw to the side.

Lots of people had gathered right in front of it.

It was the weekly farmers market.

Everywhere were people to be seen and heard who wanted to buy some fresh, organic food and handmade goods.

With a soft smile on your lips you crossed your arms to lean on them and looked down.

It seemed like a nice life, cozy, with many luxuries such as an own opinion and the ability to make decisions without having to think about every single consequence beforehand.

You imagined how it would be, waking up on a Saturday after sleeping in.

The sun would be up.

The smell of freshly brewed coffee in the air.

Someone would greet you with a smile and a kiss.

After a long and lavish breakfast you'd hop on a bike and drive to the farmers market to buy fresh food.

The vegetables looked criminally good. Even from far away they smelled of wet soil and vitamins.

Your eyes fell onto a van that was as bright and colourful as it was possible.

It was a flower van, selling fresh bouquets and small trees to grow apples and oranges inside a home.

"Which ones would you like?", Price suddenly asked.

He was leaning against an air circulation system.

While being busy to put together the rifle, he had noticed your longing gazes.

He wasn't really a man for flowers, but knew that most of the time the gesture was important.

Also, who didn't like pretty things?

No one had ever bought him one but if he'd receive flowers he surely wouldn't ditch them.

He was a manly man, but even he wanted to be treated right.

He wanted to know what you'd get.

Or what you wanted to receive after the mission ended successfully.

Torn from your thoughts you eyed his face for a moment.

"I don't know...", you shrugged. "No idea what the options are called."

He huffed and threw a glance through the telescope.

"Roses?", he asked and let his gaze wander over the faces of strangers.

He was still looking for that woman.

"Roses are for lovers.", you said in a dry manner.

"Tulips then?"

"Too plain. They don't send a message."

"Hm. I wouldn't have expected you to be the fancy type."

You shrugged.

"Maybe. Maybe not. I don't remember the last time someone brought me flowers."

For a moment he managed to tear his gaze away from the crowd.

You had a nice face, he noticed.

There was a hint of darker pigment in one of your (E/C) eyes, making them seem like two different ones.

The way your lips were curved reminded him of a certain night. The hint of saliva shimmered on the surface after you had moistened them with your tongue.

John had never had the chance to look for someone.

And if he was completely honest with himself, he also had never felt the urge nor desire to look for someone to call his.

But after talking he had realised that he was feeling left out.

Every time he was on a mission his men told about their wives and kids, how they wanted to return to them and how excited they were for certain events.

He had never been this way.

He had listened and smiled.

And now it felt like time was running out. Death was breathing down his neck. At the same time he hated the thought of just settling.

He wanted to find someone. Maybe even the one.

It was a cringy thought, really, but Price firmly believed that every person had another person waiting for them to meet.

You weren't what he was looking for at all.

You were loud and big mouthed, up to an extend that he would have titled rude. The never ending outbursts of energy didn't make it easier for him to get used to you.

And yet, he couldn't help but start to notice certain things about you that he didn't notice about other people.

The cheeky, lipsless smile appeared on his bearded face.

"You know what?", he asked and leaned towards you, completely forgetting about the people down below. "Once this is over I'll buy you a bouquet, eh? All the fuckin' flowers that you can't name."

A snort escaped you.

"As a reward for a job well done?", you asked, still smirking, but also feeling flattered.

"Sure."

Your gaze returns to the market.

"Then I'll buy you one too."

His eyebrow rose.

A soft breath escaped his lips.

But he didn't say anything against it.

Who was he to decline flowers?

For a moment the two of you just sat there, on the roof of this random house, while a soft wind stroked through the short strands of his brown hair.

Both of you were smiling softly.

Not a single word was said.

Neither felt uncomfortable nor the need to strike conversation.

You just existed in the moment.

All of a sudden, sirens tore the idyllic atmosphere apart. Blue light lit up in the distance.

"We've got support.", Price hummed and took position.

"It will work out.", you mumbled.

"It has to."