A Living Shield (John Price x OC/Reader slowburn)

36) Calm Before the Storm

[Song 🎵: Nightmare - Halsey 🔂]

"It's pishin' it doon out there."

"English, MacTavish."

"S'riously, Lt? This again?"

Soap's disgruntled voice trailed off behind your back, his footsteps disappearing in the echo of what dampened everything else.

The rain came down heavily, drowning out most sound outside of the barn you were standing in. The evening sun nowhere in sight with the rainclouds and light fog shading everything in a dreary grey. You watched it with a solemn expression as you leaned against the open wooden door. Humidity meeting the uncovered skin of your face, hanging heavily in the air as you scrunched your nose against the sticky feeling. You expected a storm to roll in soon.

Lovely. Guess that can match the one brewing behind me.

The arguing that was muffled by the rain, could be picked up if you'd tried focusing on it again. Something you really didn't feel like. You had come out here to ignore it in the first place. If they'd get to a conclusion, you'd find out soon enough anyway.

You were currently staring down an old, stretched out sandy property, quickly filling up with puddles and water streaming down the hill it was located on. A rundown farmhouse off to the right, no longer inhabited, hidden away between thick forest, yet up high. 'The perfect vantage point' as Price had called it. You'd cleared it, and the barn you currently stood in, beforehand and had come to use it as a secret safehouse, in preparation for what would commence today. It was basically your local rendezvous point where you'd regroup once the mission had passed. With your next point of interest barely visible over the treeline, as you squinted your eyes at it. You could see it looming very faintly, down the hill far off in the distance. Faint light from high windows barely making it's way through the heavy downpour.

"And I'm sayin' no. End of story."

"Captain, come on now. You're making this harder than it needs to be. I just think me and the sergeant would make a great team. For old times sake?"

You could hear the ever annoying voice of Graves float through the hangar, making your eyes roll back for a second. That man would never fail to irk you.

"My mission. My orders. You'll do as I say. 'N that's final."

A small smile played on your lips at the absolute command in your captain's voice, your eyes following a group of crows shaking out their feathers in the rain as they called out eerily from high branches.

It was Price's first mission after officially being allowed out in the field again, with his shoulder now as good as it would get. A week had passed since that tense meeting with Shepherd after all, and Laswell wasn't stupid enough to try and keep him in for much longer. It wouldn't work anyway. Price was set on getting results today, the atmosphere heavy and serious ever since you all left.

Ofcourse, you'd be lying if that was the only reason why the air felt so thick, so loaded. You knew well enough what had spurred it all on.

A heavy sigh left your lungs, like you were trying to expell the dense lump that was stuck in them. As if limiting their ability to fill to their maximum potential. No doubt caused by the anxiety that hadn't left your crawling skin alone ever since the painful fight between you and Gaz a couple of days ago. And the awkward, avoidant mood that had clung to the entire team after.

The morning after what was one of the most intense nights of your life, for various reasons, was as harrowing as it could have probably gone.

Everything had been blatantly uncomfortable, with eyes glancing, accusing, avoiding. Soap and Ghost mostly confused, aware something had gone down yet neither you, nor Price, nor Gaz saying anything. You and Price in some sort of silent dance, eyes unwilling to lock yet running into each other unavoidably. Like two satellites incapable of escaping orbit. Attracted yet dangerously close to colliding and causing catastrophe.