Don't fear the reaper - Captain John Price

XVIII

The bright lights of the city were shining outside of the window. The cold wind of the winter was entering into the warm room through the opening in the window, reminding about the temperature outside. A dark curtain moved under the power of the wind, while the warm yellow light was not letting the kitchen fall under the power of the cold. The noise of the baking tray falling in the cabinet echoed around the room, as the smell of the dinner inside of the oven spread from one room to another. Price was an independent person, and had some good cooking skills that a man could finally put into use that evening. The heavy rain for the whole day changed the plans of the two when the dark car of the captain parked next to his house. If they were not coming to the restaurant – the restaurant was coming to them. Amelia let her own guard down when her feet stepped inside the cave of the captain.

A neat house with everything in its own place, not the mess a woman used to see in other places of the men who were present in her life before. Lack of details or any decorations were expected from Price. After all, the man was away the majority of the time, and keeping a pet or too many things in his own place was not the best option. Frames with photographs of his team neatly placed on the top of the wooden cabinet in the living room may be the most personal thing about John in the whole house. The memories from various missions or moments with his team were captured forever in small pieces of paper that were hiding in the captain's house. A light layer of dust was telling about the days the man spent away from the walls of his house. John never could describe a home in the way it would feel right for his soul. Herefordshire felt nostalgic, but nothing else to it. London always felt suffocating since the Piccadilly attack, as if the danger was hiding somewhere around the corner. Maybe, the only place John could feel at home was his own office.

"Would never think you're a romantic type of person, captain," A sip of cold wine disappeared in the red lips of a woman, as her eyes were focused on the man. The picture in front of her eyes of the captain cooking, being so soft yet tough in the walls of his house was breathtaking. For a moment, a brunette wondered how many women before were sitting on the same couch, listening to his stories and waiting for the dinner to get ready.

"Then what did you think, love?" A tea towel was sitting on the shoulder of the man, hiding the fabric of one of his dark green military shirts. Blue eyes found the hazy gaze of the brown, as the smirk was playing on the man's face while he was keeping all his attention on a woman.

"That you were the most stubborn and angriest man at the base who could do everything by himself," Knight didn't break eye contact with the captain even for a split second. John put his hands on the cold surface of the countertop, letting the veins show up even more along his strong arms. There was something different about Price in the walls of his home. He never did let his guard down, but some softness was added to the usually tense muscles of his face. The uniform finally wasn't covering his body, and letting eyes of a brunette noticed more of the scars years in service left on John's body.

"And an old man," A soft laughter echoed in the living room from the kitchen, as the man brought his attention back to the dinner from a brunette. The absence of the wall between the living room and the kitchen let her watch the man from the comfortable couch, as the glass of wine got emptier with each passing moment.

"I apologized for that a million times, John!" Amelia giggled, every time Price mentioned it a paint of blush was taking over her cheeks. Despite quite an age difference, John wasn't as old as she thought he was when they first met. An experienced man who went through hell and back every time on another mission to keep the world out of the mess and trying to stay on the right side of history.

"I'm just messin' with you, dove," The sound of the timer from the oven took over the kitchen, letting both of them know that the dinner was ready. The main dish was the only thing missing from the dining table. John grabbed a tea towel and removed the hot pan from the oven, checking if it was finally ready. "Want to give me a company?"