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John Price was a very busy man. He was
the captain of an extremely elite group of soldiers and was not only responsible for their lives and actions, but that of every single person on his battlefield at any given moment. He took his role as captain extremely seriously, dedicating his every waking moment to thinking two steps ahead of everyone around him at any given moment. Price had stopped counting his sleepless nights years ago, around the same time he got his first gray hair. He was used to running on minutes of tense sleep powering him through hours of combat.
What he couldn’t stand, however, was feeling dirty in his own home. Something about the filth that engulfed his entire figure made him feel almost inhuman. It made sense to him, logically. If he didn’t have to be dirty, why would he be? It was sound reasoning. He could not sleep in his bed if he was dirty.
Thus began his current predicament.
John stood in the entrance of his home, a two story beauty that’s cared for with a precision that he’s only seen from monks, all taken care of by his lovely partner.
John dropped his bags on the indoor welcome mat (specifically laid out for his often muddy boots) and made quick work on removing his shoes. His vision swam as he pulled at the ties and removed his feet, and he had to take a moment to breathe as the world shifted around him. He was over exhausted, again.
All he wanted to do at this point was kiss his partner and go to sleep. His eyes stung and he had to keep smothering yawns in the hopes he doesn’t disturb them from their sleep.
As John walked through the house, he noticed faint light from the kitchen, suddenly hearing soft humming he’s not quite sure how he missed before.
It’s an old love song, one of the things from the sixties that they swear they don’t listen to. It’s one of his favorites, making its way into every late morning they have spent together, with sex in the air and the crisp smell of the outside slowly overtaking it. The smell of breakfast always follows.
It’s not quite breakfast that they’re preparing, a charcuterie board of cheeses and meats, lined with crackers and grapes, the way he loves. John wonders how he got so lucky.
“Sweetheart.” He rasps, clearing his throat and mending the disuse. “Why are you awake right now?”
To his amusement, they slightly startle, though they’re quick to mask their shock with the smile that he loves so much. He always smiles in return.
“John.” They breathe, his name sounding like a prayer on their lips.
He watches with stiff posture and bated breath as they come close to him, scared that even after the years they’ve been married, they would reject the man that came home. They would see the Captain, in place of their husband, and he will have lost too much of himself on the field to be allowed back into this perfect sanctuary. He exhales as they wrap themselves around him, smoothing around all of his rough edges with a hand at the back of his head, and another at his back, pressing him as close as possible.
“I missed you.”
“I missed you too.”
“I’m filthy.”
They stepped back from the hug, and John felt himself mourning the loss more then he usually would admit to. His hands gently traced a way to their hips, wanting to keep contact, but never forcing it.
They were sure to stay close to him, wrapping his face in their gentle and warm hands. They leaned into him, unconcerned with the grime on his face and the smell he was definitely emitting. His eyes fell closed as he felt the soft touch of their lips, their favorite chapstick pressing strawberry flavored affection onto his lips.
“I’m filthy,” John repeats between kisses, but he doesn’t move as they bleed the stress from his shoulders and kiss the thoughts from his head. “You shouldn’t touch me.”
“Let me help you” They suggest, taking the time to remove his hat and gently scratch his scalp. He melts into the feeling of their nails in his hair, the final bit of stress that comes with seeing them after multiple month long missions finally melting from his eyes. They know that they’ve got him.
They step back completely this time, grabbing his hand and the cheese board before leading him up the stairs and into the master bedroom. They dim the lights before he enters, careful of the headache he is sure to have after the release of all the stress of his most recent mission. They encourage John to the bathroom with an order to get undressed before they place the cheese board on the bed, moving to their dressers and grabbing pajamas for the two of them before joining John in the master bathroom.
He’s already half way undressed, turned to the large shower and warming up the water.
As it warms, they strip too, though they never really take their eyes off of johns body, visually relearning the curves and creases as he moves around the bathroom. Tiredly gathering towels before stepping into the warm spray. He turns to his partner, catching their eye and watching as they fully take him in as he does the same. His gaze was always hot, burning through the heads of his enemies and scouring plans for even the slightest flaw, though he knew that it wouldn’t survive the enemy.
They join him, in the warm spray, taking his wash rag from his hand and moving it along his body. John turns away from the sight of war being washed off of him, instead leaning his head into the spray of the water. They finish lathering up his body, ghosting their shampoo covered hands up into his hair and massaging it in. He hums, breathing in the smell of his body wash and the shampoo.
They start off at the base of his skull, rubbing small circles into his scalp with the pads of their fingers and the tips of their nails. They move up, slowly, foaming up suds that drip onto his shoulders and down his back before being washed away by the water.
Their hands press him backwards, back into the warm spray, smoothing the shampoo and dirt out of his hair before applying more shampoo and repeating the massage. They take a healthy amount of conditioner next, finger combing it into his short hair. They pat his chest twice with the quiet command to stay still before they reach behind him, pulling out face wash, a brush, and a bottle of beard conditioner from a nearby ledge.
They squeeze a small amount of the face wash into their hands, rubbing it into Johns face and laughing at the contented noise he makes. After gently washing his face, they apply the beard shampoo, somewhat of an impulse buy the last time they went shopping together. They had stared at the bottle longer than they would have liked to admit, over the time John was off being Captain Price.
It’s smooth going on, and he can’t help but feel grateful that the smell is so unobtrusive. He was ready to grab the first bottle he saw, some kind of coconut smelling stuff, but they had insisted on checking the different smells that the brand had to offer. The two eventually decided on a light lavender aroma, something calming while not exacerbating a migraine, the migraines being common for John after all of the close calls and stress he’s had over the years. He silently thanks their thoughtfulness.
They guide his head to their warm shoulder as the conditioners sit, and murmur a mixture of things about both their day and some praises, only loud enough for John to hear if he were to completely focus.
It’s not difficult to dry him off and situate him in the large bed once he’s got comfortable sleep clothes on. That’s another thing he should thank them for insisting on. He was so used to sleeping in his boxers on cheap sheets before the two had moved in together, but now he doesn’t know how he could have stood to bare it.
John drifts on and off, as they encourage him to try various cheese and cracker combinations on their plate. Somewhere between his taste testing and their snacking, they finish the board. He breathes, feeling a nausea he had grown used to receding with his hunger.
They place the board to the side, moving closer to his prone figure as they smooth their hands through his clean hair. Quiet conversation flows through the air as John finally drifts off.
They look down at him, resting and fed and clean and alive, and they wonder how they’ll ever be able to bare living without him.