Chapter Text
The rest of lunch passes in a John Price-induced blur.
Johnny, Kyle, and you keep the conversation flowing while Simon adds in a dad joke here and there. John just stares.
The team seems to notice his lack of conversation, questioning eyes flitting to each other with concern for their captain. Even Johnny asks if he’s okay, and John just says “Long night,” and takes a pull of his beer. You try not to watch the muscles of his neck move as the drink works down his throat, only looking away when you’ve been caught staring. “Long nights” seems to be a good excuse as any for this group, as there’s a collective understanding in the eyes of the men around you. You want to jump into John’s lap and ask him why it feels the way it does with him. Why it couldn’t just have been a regular hookup. You want to pound on his chest and ask why he had to be your brother’s captain, why you can’t just have this one thing, this one person, for yourself. Instead, you smile and nod your way through the longest lunch of your life.
Once you get back to base, Johnny shows you around his haunts. The barracks (“How do you and Ghost fit in one bed?”) make you wonder where John sleeps. Does he have his own room? You quickly banish the thought. Instead, you dedicate the rest of your time to your brother, the right John, nodding at his thoughts and laughing at his stories. Ghost bobs in and out, and after you make a particularly funny joke, he tells you to call him Simon. You see why Johnny’s enraptured by him - once you have his attention, it’s like basking in the sun. The thought of Simon as a future brother-in-law fills your heart with hope.
Your flight is early the next morning, the pass on your phone burning a hole in your pocket. Johnny decides to come back to your hotel for one last sleepover, so you say your goodbyes to the rest of the men before you leave. It’s a long hug for Kyle and a quick one for Simon (with a squeeze to your shoulder). With John, you try for a handshake but he pulls you in for a hug, your hand awkwardly squished between you two.
“Get back safe, yeah?” You nod against him and just breathe for a second, memorizing his scent of pine and musk. And then it’s over, Johnny arranging for someone to drop the two of you back at your hotel, rushed footsteps to leave before traffic hits. The three men walk you out, standing at the edge of base while Johnny talks about an ice cream shop he wants to take you to. You allow yourself a singular look back, just a second to meet John’s eyes and trade a small smile, before being shoved into a car with your twin at your side.
On the way back, your hand fishes for your phone in your pockets. Instead, you find a slip of paper. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what it is, but you have to restrain yourself from peeking at what he wrote.
You and Johnny end up getting ice cream and bringing it back to your hotel room, watching trashy reality TV shows in your bed like old times. The note is still in your coat, currently flung over a chair, but you tell yourself you can only look once you’re alone.
“So.” Johnny turns to you with a grin that spells trouble.
“So?”
“Ye spent a lot of time w’ Kyle.”
“He’s nice!”
“C’mon, hen. Ah ken he’s pretty.”
“That’s not- no. We’re just friends, there’s nothing there.” He shakes his head, settling back into the pillows. “Well Price is too old an’ jaded, and ah ken some others that are out of the question, so it’s just Kyle f’ ye, hen.” You nudge him, then tuck yourself against his shoulder. “What about you and me?” You whisper. “Yer right. ‘s you an’ me.” He’s quiet in thought. “I like Simon. He’s sweet.” You murmur. He rubs his fist against the top of your head until you squeal and push him away. “Me, you, an’ Simon, then.” You tell yourself it’s enough and focus on that thought until your plane leaves.
-
The minute you get home, your phone rings. Bags still in hand, you answer it without looking at the screen, having a feeling it’s your overbearing twin. “I literally just texted you five minutes ago. You’re such a mother hen.” Instead of answering, Johnny’s silent on the other side. You drop a bag and glance at the screen, an unfamiliar number blinking back at you.
“Who is this?”
“Good flight, sweetheart? Saw you got delayed a bit.” His baritone is smooth and sends a shiver down your spine.
“John? What- how’d you get my number?”
“That’s need-to-know.” He looked in Johnny’s file. You wonder what else he saw, how uneven the playing field is now.
“Well I need to know why you’re calling me. And how you know my flight was delayed.” You start making your way through your apartment, dragging your suitcase to your room and unpacking. “Don’t worry about it, had to know you were safe.” You hum, taking your time to answer. “Ok. I’m safe. That it?” He’s quiet on the other end, the sounds of you unpacking filling the silence. “Tell me about your flight, sweetheart.” It’s almost a whisper and you imagine him in his office, calling you after a long day. Your treacherous heart flutters once again.
“It was okay. I tried to sleep but there was this toddler behind me who kept kicking. I was about to commit a felony, I swear, John. But the flight attendant was nice, think she saw me struggling and slipped me an extra cookie. I started this show, don’t think you’ve heard of it…” You ramble on as you unpack, starting a laundry load and putting your toiletries away. John hums and grumbles on the other end, chuckling once in a while at a particular anecdote.
You find yourself wanting to please him with every word, trying to up the ante on funny instances and go further into detail on mundane activities. You tell him about the car ride home and how the rain streaked your window, how you need to go over to your neighbor’s and get your plant back since they plant-sat. You dig out your headphones so you can feel the groan of his voice, pick up his breath on the other end. He tells you about an annoying fellow captain he had to deal with, how he didn’t have time to get lunch so he had to eat the mess hall food. How Kyle got himself into a love triangle with two of the base nurses and is trying to escape it by pleading to go on a mission. Some of his information is probably confidential, but he seems so trusting of you that he doesn’t care. When you order your takeaway online, you glance at the screen and realize you’ve been talking for two hours. A smile starts, but you quickly remember the reasons you can’t be together. Your brother, mainly.
“John, I have to go.” He sighs on the other end. “I’ve been done with my paperwork for half an hour, sweetheart. Jus’ been in my office when I could’ve left already. Didn’t stop me from talkin’.” Ugh. He’s so annoyingly sweet and condescending at the same time. “I’m sorry, I just- I need to eat dinner. You should too. Thanks for calling.” You hang up before he can reel you back in, turning off your phone before digging into your food. You settle into a trashy TV show, the same one you watched with your brother, and try to forget about John Price. In a moment of weakness, you find the note he left in your pocket. It’s his number and a message. Call me if you need anything. Still call me if you don’t.
He worms his way into your routine. He doesn’t call every night, but when he does, it’s for hours. You talk about your childhood, his father, your mother, the messy lines of family. He’s on the phone when you find a cat in the dumpster of your apartment and you learn how he used to have a dog. He was engaged once, when he was a rookie, and your breath catches to think of how everything could have turned out differently. Weeks pass by and all you do is talk, his voice following you into your dreams. You almost forget that you hooked up with him, all his conversation never referencing it once. Until you bring it up.
In the week before your period, desperation sinks its claws into you. You’re hornier than usual, thoughts turning to John almost every hour. He hasn’t called you today, and you usually think nothing of it, but now you’re tossing and turning in bed, needing him.
“Sweetheart? You ok?” You almost never call first so you understand the shock in his voice. “Hi John. I’m fine, just wanted to talk. Wanted to hear your voice.” You can hear him driving even though it’s late and you wonder where he’s coming from. A night out? A date? There’s so much you don’t know.
“You in bed? Got a story f’ you, this one new sergeant on base…” His tone turns low and soft. You can’t help the hand that travels down your body. You squeeze your tits as he talks about yelling at a recruit, imagining how anger brings out the lines on his face. Your hand travels down to your mound, fingers running back and forth between your slit, the gathering wetness making it an easy journey. John’s still talking, but he notes how breathy your voice is, how all you’re doing is humming. “Sweetheart?” You stop to catch your breath, almost whining at the pet name. “John?” He’s quiet on the other end, the sound of his car turning off echoing through your ear.
“You touching y’self, baby?” You nod, then remember he can’t see. “Maybe.” He swears under his breath, unlocking and relocking his apartment door. “Give me a second, pet. Just five.” You wait patiently at his command, fingers sticky under your pajamas.
“Alright. How y’ feelin’, baby?” You whine loudly. “I miss you. Is that weird?” He chuckles on the other side, the sound of a zipper loud and clear. “‘s not weird. Don’t get shy now, spread y’r legs an’ tell me what you’re doin’.” Your face flushes at the command.
“I’m touching myself.”
“Touchin’ where, baby? Gimme a picture.”
You sigh. Here goes nothing. “Touching my cunt. I used my vibrator earlier but…” You trail off, rubbing faster at the sound of John breathing. “But wasn’t enough, right? Y’r cunt’s missin’ me. Tell ‘er I miss her too.” Your fingers find your clit, circling slowly. Your core aches viscerally at the memory of your night with John.
“You touchin’ y’r clit now?” You moan at how straightforward he is. “Yes. John, fuck.” He chuckles in your ear. “Put me on speaker an’ squeeze y’r tits, baby. Make ‘em nice an’ pointed f’ me.” You do as he says, laying the phone near your ear so your other hand can caress your nipples. They’re sore, begging for attention. A whine escapes you at the first squeeze, and John matches it with a moan on the other end. “Been thinkin’ ‘bout you every time I fuck my fist, pet. Thinkin’ ‘bout how soft ya were for me. What I’m goin’ to do to ya next time.” His accent gets stronger as he continues, the wet slap of his cock in his hand barely coming through the speaker. You rub harder at his words, thinking of how his abs tensed when you rode him in the hotel. How he gripped you hard, whispering commands in your ear. Your orgasm comes fast and easy, your body finally giving you release as you moan.
“Fuck, baby.” John’s gruff on the other end and you can hear him stop as he comes too. You imagine him coming in you instead of pulling out, how it would feel to be filled completely. “Jesus, sweetheart. You make me feel decades younger with this shit.” A laugh barks out of you unbidden. “I’ll take that as a compliment, John. I haven’t done this in a while either.” The silence is sacred between you, your breaths syncing.
“Goodnight, John.”
“Goodnight, sweetheart.”
A week passes with no contact. Then two. Then three. Johnny hasn’t called either. You’re a bit worried, but your new cat takes up most of your time. There’s a knock at your door when you’re trying to wrangle her into her new carrier to see if she likes it. You let her win, this time, and move to the door. “Coming!” There’s no reply. You open the door slightly, half for safety reasons and half because your cat is a runner, and your jaw drops. It’s him.
“John, I- what? What are you doing here?” You open the door for him, smiling to yourself. He came for you. You turn to kiss him, something you’ve been dreaming of for over a month now, but he stops you with a hand to your forearm. “Sweetheart, we need to talk. It’s about your brother.” Your heart drops. “What about him?” John takes a deep breath, shutting your door before he answers.
“He’s missing.”