Captain

As you work in the mission planning room, you hear footsteps in the short hallway behind you, until you feel someone enter the room.

You continue working - the 141 filters in and out all of the time - but you find it hard to focus with the light scent of cigar smoke and some type of cologne wafting around the maps you lean over.

"Sergeant," the deep voice of Captain John Price says. An acknowledgement, nothing more.

You turn to him, giving him a quick nod, not letting your eyes settle completely on him for fear of showing something more than just nonchalant acquaintanceship. 

You could swear that he hesitates; that he opens his mouth for a moment as if to say something, but it must be in your head, because in the next moment he's left the room and you're alone again.

It takes a few more minutes to gather your thoughts again, but you get back to work, and the day ends soon enough.

Soap claps you on the back as you both walk out together. It sends you a good couple of inches stumbling forward, but his light touch is on your arm to make sure you don't fall.

"Good day?" he asks.

You sigh. "A long day."

"Well, it's about to get longer. We're all going out tonight," he says, walking you to your car.

"We?" you ask, though you know you can't tell your best friend no.

"We," he says, opening your door for you. "I'll pick you up at eight."

------

You're dressed in an outfit that you'd feel ashamed to show your parents, but it's tasteful enough to go out with the men of the team - though you're comfortable in showing skin, you want to avoid being percieved too strongly.

You shift in your heels, moving your hair behind your back and applying more lipgloss in the screen of your phone, until you hear tires on pavement. You head outside, but don't see Soap's car.

You see Price's.

You falter on the doorstep, feeling all too bare, all too childish. Price is a good fifteen years older - though you're more than an adult yourself, right now, you feel stupid.

No, you don't, you remind yourself, gathering yourself up tall on your heels and walking down the steps to his car, right as he opens the drivers' side door and steps out.

He's wearing black jeans and a black t-shirt, one that slightly strains against the broad muscle of his chest and shows off his massive arms.

Before you can say anything, he answers your unspoken question.

"Soap asked me to pick you up since he's riding with Ghost," he says simply.

"Okay," you say, your voice sounding small.

As you stand there, glancing at the car and then back up at Price, you feel his eyes heavy on your body. To your shock, you see his gaze drag all the way down your body, and back up again. His face betrays no sort of opinion on his observations, which makes it almost worse.

He heads to the passenger side door, opening it for you.

"Thank you," you say as you slide in the seat. He closes the door gently and moves around the front of the car, and you don't think anything of it when he adjusts his pants before getting in the seat next to you.

It smells even more like him in here, and you try as subtly as you can to breathe as much of his air in as possible.

He shifts the car into gear and backs out of your driveway, heading down the street and onto the road off of base.