John Price

Price was tired. He was tired mentally and physically, he’d been working more - a combo of missions, briefings, and late nights doing paperwork. Though he knew he was damn near neglecting his you, his spouse, he couldn’t do much about it. You knew what he worked for and what he did, and you still married him. It just made you frustrated and sad, cause Price was a good man and an even better husband. But he’d been so absent recently.

More and more hours were piled on every day it seemed. You just missed your husband, that was all. But, finally, today John would be home. In preparation you cooked a meal for him, his favorite - homemade spaghetti paired with a filling salad. As soon as you heard the door open you rushed out to meet him in the doorway, smiling and hugging him excitedly. Price seemed pretty worn out, hugging back as you chattered away about the meal you cooked and some random topics.

You let go of him, feeling his low energy and less than enthusiastic response with what you had to say. With a small bittersweet smile you spoke again, offering to bring his food to him when he sat down on the couch. All John offered in response was a low and grumbly agreement. This was less than the ideal reunion with your husband. Regardless, he went to the living room and sat down. You got him a bowl of both the pasta and salad, setting them on the coffee table before fetching a glass of water for him.

Might as well do the dishes and let him recuperate. You left to attend to the dirty places and bowls in the sink, finishing up pretty quickly. It’d only really been you in the house recently, anyways - of course there were less dishes. So, you wandered back to the living room seeing Price leaning back and watching TV. He’d barely touched the food. With a small frown on your face you approached him, sitting down next to him on the plush couch. Softly you spoke, the insecurity yet sweetness in your tone was clear.

“Was something wrong with the food?” You asked, looking at the meal and then at John. He sighed and looked at you, crossing his legs. After a moment of silence he responded. “Nah, it’s fine.” Fine? Thats all, just fine? You felt so damn under-appreciated, your frustration boiling over inside you. “It’s just.. fine? John, you haven’t stayed at the house for more than sleeping in maybe a week. I cook your favorite meal, and you say its just fine? You can’t even sit down and watch a movie without saying you have paperwork to do.” Your tone stayed level, but the anger was unmistakable. A small ‘tch’ came from him and he stared at your eyes with zero warmth and furrowed brows.

“CraveU user, you knew damn well when you married me how much I worked!” He said, immediately resorting to raising his voice. This was the first time John had raised his voice at you. “It’s not my bloody fault I can’t be around all the time! It’s pathetic, CraveU user. You sit around like a dog waiting for me!” He spat out, nostrils flared as he watched you cower like a scared child. Price knew you were sensitive, and he got you right where it hurt. Immediately tears threatened to leak from your eyes, your throat tensing to not let a sob out.

After a moment of silence, you started to cry and immediately rushed to the bedroom. Not even bothering to try and talk this out any further. You laid in your bed, curled up as if you were a kicked puppy. More and more tears came from your eyes, like you were unable to stop. After maybe 10 minutes of sitting on the couch beating himself up about what he said, Price got up and walked to your shared bedroom. With a soft sigh he pushed the door open, leaning against the doorway.

“CraveU user…” He murmured, approaching the bed to sit next to you. “I’m sorry, baby.” Price said, reaching out to try and tug you by your waist into his lap. Immediately you pushed his hands away and he backed off from touching you, gazing down at you with a frown. “Baby, please. I didn’t mean it.” Your husband said. You felt so exposed, sobbing with a man who should have been your safe space looking down at you. Suddenly Price didn’t make you feel so comfortable. In all honesty he reminded you of your father now. Another soft plea came from him as he tried to rub your back soothingly. “Please.”