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If you’d ask him, Kyle would tell you he is unflappable in the face of danger. He is composed, cool headed, assertive. He is an incredible asset to the team in this way, because while everyone is incredibly professional, his teammates are sometimes too rash. Impulsive. Aggressive. He always sees the easiest path ahead; he follows orders without question but also offers his thoughts, lets the others know his opinion, isn’t shy about it. He is very aware of his strong points, and uses them constantly in his line of work. They have helped him rise through the ranks and have kept him alive.
He is all of these things, until he isn’t.
While on a solo mission, Price goes radio silent. The previously traced path for the mission had taken him closer to the enemy than they had previously thought, and he turned his radio off for his own safety.
Kyle knows all of this. He’s aware that this was the best option for Price to remain undetected and make it out safe. It’s standard, protocol, part of their procedures. He knows how capable Price is, how he can be as much of a ghost as their Lieutenant can, how if worse comes to worst, he is perfectly able to take about five men in hand to hand combat.
He is also aware that he is on the brink of a panic attack by the time the meeting with Laswell is done.
He manages to stay in one piece as he walks through the base and back to his room, but the second the door is shut behind him, he falls to his knees. His heart is beating a mile a minute, his breath is shaky, his eyes are filled with tears.
This is not the first time something like this has happened. Everyone in the task force has, at some point, been forced to cut communication to stay safe. It has never been for a long period, though; it has been 32 hours since Price’s last communication, and their standard was two hours. He tries to reason with himself that this is why he’s so upset: it’s because it’s the longest time someone has checked back with base, it’s because it was in a more dangerous mission, it’s because the stakes are higher.
It’s not because it’s Price.
It’s not because he has grown closer to his Captain. It’s not because of their late night talks on the base rooftop, a bottle of cheap whiskey shared between them. It’s not because Price is the first person Kyle looks to when he’s given an order, when there’s a new development on a mission, when he’s cracked a joke in the rec room, when there’s only a couple of his homemade brownies left in the fridge and he wants to share.
It’s not because Price’s reassuring hand on his shoulder is warm and grounding. It’s not because Price smells like cigars and whiskey and the scent is soothing. It’s not because of the way Price’s skin crinkles around his eyes when he looks at Kyle, always with a tiny, fond smile on his lips. It’s not because Price has praised his progress as a sergeant, always giving him talks to help him get better, tutoring him. It’s not because Price has pushed him to the side to protect him from bullets. It’s not because Price calls him son with that low, gravelly voice of his. It’s not because Price is the only one who still calls him Kyle .
It’s not because he’s completely in love with him, and is in denial.
+
52 hours later
Sleep has been evading Kyle. He has tried to keep his routine to the best of his ability, but as it turns out, the best he has been able to do is eat one meal a day and stay in bed when he’s not working. He has not been of much help to anybody. Everyone on base is understandably worried about the Captain, but no one is taking it harder than him. He knows the others have noticed, but he’s thankful they have not brought it up. He’s not sure he would be able to discuss it. Not his mood, not his anxiety, not his feelings.
He gives up on trying to fall asleep around 3 AM. He climbs out of bed, feet bare against the tile floor as he makes his way to the kitchen, willing to try any and all tricks to help him get some sleep. As he reaches the rec room, though, he sees there’s lights on around the base. The kitchen lights are bright and abrasive, but he doesn’t focus on that. He focuses on another room.
Price’s office. Where the lights are also on.
He breaks into a run, nearly colliding with the office door in his haste to open it. He crashes into the room, and sees a wide-eyed Price, sitting behind his desk, hands on a stack of papers.
“Sergeant?”
“You’re alive.” Kyle’s words are barely a breath, standing in the middle of the room awkwardly, eyes wild as if he’s trying to figure out whether he’s dreaming or not. Price nods in confirmation, warily staring at the younger man as he stands from his chair. He has bags under his eyes, and his skin is paler than usual, as if he hasn’t seen the sun in a while. His hair is out of place, and looks exhausted, but other than that, seems to be completely healthy. Kyle stares as the Captain moves towards him, taking in every inch of him, trying to trick his brain into believing that yes, this is real, he’s back, and he’s safe .
“Kyle?” Price wonders, stopping in front of the Sergeant, a hand gingerly poised on his shoulder.
That seems to be the trigger.
Kyle dissolves, his eyes filling with tears at an alarming rate, his hands fisting Price’s t-shirt to keep him close.
“You can’t do that to me! ”
Price looks confused, but doesn’t move away from his grasp.
“Do what?”
“Disappear like that. I know you had to, but— but— God , John, I was worried sick. It’s been over three days! I thought you were captured! I thought you were dead! I thought—”
Price cuts him off, wrapping his thick arms around the Sergeant’s trembling frame. Kyle buries his face in the Captain’s neck, breathing in his scent as he feels the tears spilling from his eyes without his consent.
“I’m here. I’m okay.” Price is whispering now, his lips pressed against Kyle’s ear, warm and comforting.
“Are you really?” His voice is tiny and weak, but he can’t help it. He feels utterly broken. He had tried his best to keep it together, but now the dam has cracked. He is unable to be anything but his truest self in front of the other man.
“I’m here. You’ve got me.” Price shifts back slightly, taking Kyle’s face in his hands to look him in the eyes, that soft smile that Kyle loves oh so much curled on his lips.
“I’ve got you.” Kyle whispers back, his gaze peering into Price’s eyes, trying to find any sort of meaning behind those words. Trying to figure out if he was alone in his feelings, or not. He realizes that he doesn’t know, but he needs to say his piece. He needs John to know. He can’t keep it a secret anymore. “I can’t lose you.”
“You’re not going to lose me.” He’s not being patronizing; he’s being sincere. As if he controls fate, and the universe. As if everything is as he wills it to be.
“You don’t know that. John, if I lost you and I wasn’t able to tell you how I—” He chokes on a sob, the final words lost, but John nods, as if he knows. He inches closer, pressing a soft kiss to Kyle’s forehead, his beard scratching against his skin gently.
“I know.”
Kyle stares at him, lips parted as he breathes through his mouth, trying to will his pulse to slow down. “ Please. ”
Even though he has no context, John seems to know what Kyle is asking for. He strokes Kyle’s cheek with his thumb before leaning in again, pressing a gentle kiss to Kyle’s parted lips, making his breath hitch and his heart stutter.
“You’ve got me. I promise.”