Archive of Our Own

It's been three days since he last saw Price properly leave his office. 

And by properly, he means long enough to eat an actual meal from the mess, or to sleep , more importantly. 

The few times he has left have been to hit the lu, grab a cup of coffee, or some shitty protein and energy bar that comes standard in most MRE packs.

How the bastard hasn't collapsed yet, is beyond even him. 

So he doesn't feel a bit bad when he barges right in without knocking; the only warning his dear friend gets is the sound of the knob clicking. 

"Enough of this." His tone isn't unkind, but it brooks no argument as he strides into the room toward the startled, clearly frazzled out of his mind Captain. 

He hates seeing him this way, bruises so dark under his eyes that they look more like makeup than sleepless nights, exhaustion so heavy in the way he holds himself that he looks like he's barely able to sit up straight.

“Nikolai, what?” And he probably should offer an explanation, should slow down and give the man a moment to wrap his head around Nikolai’s entrance alone. Instead, he chooses to take advantage of how exhausted he is, how slow he is in the moment. 

He promptly drops the mess tray on his desk, right over the bundle of paperwork he’d been working on before he settles himself into one of the plush leather chairs on the other side.

When Price only stares at him, Nik returns the look with a gentle glare. 

“You need to eat, and you need to sleep.” He’d think it would be simple , but perhaps Price is the simple one here. “So I am going to sit here until that plate is gone. And then, I am going to walk you to your room, and you are going to sleep. There is no room for argument in this.” Firmly, he crosses his arms over his chest and settles himself back into the leather as Price just gapes .

“Nik, I can’t just, drop my work and-.”

“When was the last time you ate?” He glares at him, harsher now, as he squares his shoulder and sets his jaw.

“I had something to eat earlier; you saw m-.”

“A proper meal, Jonathan. Christ, he is stupid; you will eat that now.” He points sharply before tucking his arms back to his chest, glare unrelenting.

Price continues to gape gormlessly at him for a long moment before he finally gives in, picking up the fork he’d been left before he begins to eat. It’s a simple meal, some plain chicken, mashed potatoes, and something that's far too British for Nik to recognize. But it’s food , proper food. 

So he won’t complain. 

More than once, Price attempts to work between bites, and Nikolai is quick to redirect him back to his task of personal nutrition.

Only once the tray is fully cleared does he finally allow himself a moment to just relax and process what he’s eaten.

But the moment he goes for a pen and paper, he’s quick to push himself up, snagging the offending utensil from his hand and dropping it back onto the desk.

“No, up, let's go.” And he doesn’t even give him a moment to argue, wrapping a firm hand around his bicep. The man simply stares at him, blinking again as if he doesn’t understand just how serious Nikolai is. “I will carry you if you make me.” He grunts, knowing full well that he can.

That seems to do the trick.

Price allows himself to be pulled to his feet, huffing a bit but not fighting when Nikolai pulls him toward the door. “I really can’t afford to not finish this paperwork Nik; it’s due-!”

“It’s due in three days, I checked. You will sleep for at least eight hours, and finish it tomorrow, understood?” A grumble meets his words, but Price smartly keeps his mouth shut on the subject, allowing the other man to practically haul him into his room. The moment the door shuts, Nik begins to work him over, starting on his shirt collar and working the buttons one by one until it’s hanging loose and open. He plucks the hat off his head and tosses it onto his bedside table, ruffling his hair before pushing him back toward the mattress. 

“Nik, I can undress myself.” Another soft grumble, the other man's cheeks darkening as Nikolai drops to his knees and pats his thigh. 

“I know, love; now shut up and let me take care of you.” Then he begins to unlace his boots, tugging them off and nudging them under the edge of the bed before he slips off his socks and tosses them toward the hamper. 

Next, he moves to his pants, unbuttoning and pulling the zip before shimmying them down his hips. 

And maybe, had Price not looked exhausted enough to fall asleep sitting up, Nikolai might have let his thoughts and hands grow naughty. But for today, he’s simply going to put him to bed. 

Once he’s fully stripped him, he stands himself up and does the same, setting his close in a pile to deal with later as he nudges Price back toward the wall. 

“Sleep, John, I’ll be here, and your work will happily wait until tomorrow.” He presses a light kiss to the man's cheek, smiling at his sleepy, already drooping eyes. Still, he manages to grumble before rolling onto his side to tuck his face into his neck. 

“Thank you, Nik.”

“Of course, Jonathan, of course.”