Work Text:
Price had heard a few of the recruits giggling about some online trend going around called the ‘Orange Theory.’ At first he thought it was similar to the ‘Olive Theory’ from the show, How I Met Your Mother, but upon research it was something else entirely. It was about asking a partner if they would be willing to take the time to do a simple task that the asking-partner was fully capable of doing as a sign of their interest and commitment to the relationship.
Initially, the Captain was skeptical. He could poke many flaws into this ‘theory’, like if one partner had disabilities, if one had a long day, if one already often did a lot of unpaid labor in the relationship. The rational part of him had poked way too many holes in this ‘theory.’ He walked away from his computer, thinking the concept was stupid. He picked up a few calls, worked on reports, but he kept thinking about the damned orange theory and how you would respond. He wanted to believe you would peel an orange for him. Sadly for the Captain, he could not just toss you an orange and get it over with. He had to spend the next two weeks getting shot at and only having chances for brief phone calls and texts exchanges during this time.
“Love, I’m not sure. It’s a 3 course meal,” It was a code system you and he had developed part way through your relationship. Price was not allowed to outright tell you when he was going to be back home, but through some clever word usage, you knew he would be back in three weeks. You both were not the pickiest when it came to dining, so you joked about using how many course meals it would be to say how many days until he would come home. You nearly wanted to laugh about him asking you to an 8 course meal once because it sounded so absurd.
“Well would you want the fish option, meat option or vegetarian?” You asked, knowing for your code words to continue to remain undetected, you needed to make it seem like an actual conversation. His deep chuckles and long inhale made you think of the smell of cigars, how you always insisted he not smoke in the small townhouse. The smell of them lingered on him and you could imagine the red-hot ash end of his cigars from when you were walking around together, cigar perfectly held between his lips. It was how even after he was gone for a mission, the lingering scent from his cigars would be in his pillow, which you cradled to your chest on the nights to missed him.
“When have I ever chosen the vegetarian option?”
“I’m just reading from the menu,”
“If they have a red snapper, I’d be over the moon love. I’ve missed it,” He said smiling, thinking wistfully of it.
“I’ll ask the restaurant.”
Price and you spoke about a little of everything, though never enough time. He always was getting pulled to paperwork or he was running drills or capturing a terrorist. He always felt guilty for having to end calls early because his job limited him. He occasionally would doubt why you would agree to marry someone who could not always be there, and he worried he was failing you as a partner. He looked forward to a time when he could be on the phone with you until you grew sick of him. Price looked down at the phone after ending the call, wishing he could see your amazing face. He loved how the corners of your mouth turned up into a smile and how he could always place a kiss on your forehead. He loved your laugh when his facial hair tickled your nose just before a kiss or the proud look on your face whenever you stole his hat. While your voice was enough to hold onto while he was gone, he wanted to worship you the way he knew you deserved.
He looked at his screensaver, a photo of you and him from a friend’s wedding. You both were dressed up and a little tipsy. He loved how flush your face was in the photo, finding it the sweetest thing, knowing he only had a few more weeks until he could spin you around and pull you into a dramatic dip. The thought of you safely curled up in bed was like a new motivation for his job. He wanted to text you, even though you just called, but Gaz was barging in with new intel. The calm you brought to him was snatched away once again by his job as he realized he would be pulling an all-nighter to arrange the attack.
–--
Price had been home for a couple hours, and definitely paid you plenty of attention in the bedroom after being gone for many weeks. He worshiped your body, trailing kisses all over you and whispering everything he loved about you. He loved to please, but most of all, he loved to hold you after a couple hours of fun and just brush your hair from your face as you fell asleep. He loved how the tension between your eyebrows would smooth out, and how you would faintly snore. He might be a light sleeper and it may make it difficult for him to sleep some nights, but after being apart for a while, he wanted to enjoy every little part of you. His eyelids were heavy, but he did not want to sleep just yet.
He smiled looking at the engagement ring on your finger, so proud to have put it on there. You were his. It was simple and he was happy to help set up whatever you wanted for the wedding, his only major request was to have it in England. He did not want to travel for his wedding, though he promised to take you to all the wonderful eateries he’s found during his deployments. Price kissed the top of your head, resting his chin over your head and closing his eyes. He just wanted to fall asleep with you in his arms, but like everyone else in the world he thought of that one thing just as he was about to fall asleep.
That one thing for him was not the tense weeks of missions or something embarrassing from his childhood. It was the bloody fucking oranges that you had sitting in a bowl on the kitchen counter. A bowl of hand fruits was not uncommon, but it was like this orange theory was going to continue to be thrust into his face until he finally tried it out. He groaned a little to himself, pulling you in closer, telling himself that he would do it some other time. For now, you were snuggling closer to him and that was enough for him. He did not want to wake you up with his active mind.
It was the next day, and somehow the world decided to go to shit again. You caught your fiancé cursing and calling people Muppets in the other room, but he was not shouting which only proved he was extremely mad. You did not hold this against him, it was not like you ever had asked him to pick you or his job. He was a great partner, friend, confidant, lover, support system, and would do everything for you when he was around. You felt like royalty around him, pampered and cared for by him, and you tried to make sure he felt that same comfort he gave you. You were quietly watching a movie as you folded the laundry, especially the sheets from yesterday. You were hoping to watch movies or plan the wedding today, but when the phone calls started to come in and you heard him mention Laswell you found ways to keep yourself busy. Occasionally, he would poke his head out the door to check on you flashing you an apologetic smile.
You had met Kate once, and she was trying to talk to him during a football match about a covert mission to take down some terrorist cell. He brushed her off, claiming that it was both a football game and a date. For someone so committed to his job, you always felt butterflies when you thought back to that day with both of you wearing bright face paint and sipping on pints. While Kate was persistent, so was John, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you in. You gave her a shrug before returning to cheering your head off. She tried again in a coffee shop, waiting to make sure that you were not around before she approached John. You harbored no ill will, and was the one who assisted in picking out a wedding gift when Laswell got hitched.
While your fiancé was occupied trying to put out small fires from work, you put on another movie to distract yourself as you folded laundry. You definitely enjoyed the action movies more than John did, especially since he would poke holes in most of it so while he was distracted you pulled up the Jason Bourne movies. You looked back when you heard his deep voice clear and you turned your head back,
“Uh, love, would you mind peeling an orange for me? It looks like I’m gonna have to do some paperwork already and don’t want it to get sticky,” he said with a soft tone, resting the orange in his palm. He seemed less confident than usual, but you quickly paused the movie and bounced up from the couch. There was not much for you to think about the question, just wanting to give him a hand.
“Course John,” you hummed, walking up to him and kissing his cheek as you grabbed the orange from his hand. You moved so effortlessly, leaning on the countertop as you smiled at him, just glad he was home. You were unaware of the orange peel theory, but knowing you could do something for the man who rarely asked for help made your heart soar. When he was home, he always attempted to ease your burdens so when a chance to do the same for him occurred you would jump at the opportunity.
“So the whole SAS goes under within 24 hours of your leave?” You teased, digging your nail under the skin as you peeled the skin off the orange delicately and piling the scraps up on the counter. He just grunted a laugh, though his eyes were trained on you peeling the orange. He was fairly confident that you would peel the orange, but something about seeing over believing just made him fall in love with you all over again. It made the nagging feelings and worries he felt seem silly now, as he leaned on the door frame just admiring you.
He walked up beside you and wrapped his thick arms around your waist, leaning his head down and kissing the back of your neck, mumbling something about the ‘bloody bureaucracy’ of the military. You laughed, leaning back against him, picking the stringy bits off the orange before taking his hand and putting the orange in it.
“Thank you love,” he whispered in his gravelly voice just under your ear, kissing the spot gently as he pulled a slice of the orange out, and slowly held it up to your lips. You parted your lips slowly and his rough hands, that could have committed extreme acts of violence mere days ago, delicately placed the fruit in your mouth. As you bit down and closed your mouth your lips brushed against his fingers as the orange slice burst in your mouth.
You spun around in his arms, your back now to the counter, and his hands rested on the counter on either side of you, his thumb gently rubbing up and down your sides. You smiled at him as he looked deep into your eyes, “I love you, I know I’m not always around enough to show it. But I love you with all of my heart love,” he said before leaning in and kissing you passionately. You were shocked, your cheeks turning red before kissing him back and resting on hand on his chest. You did not know where this came from, especially if he was just dealing with phone calls for the past few hours, but you would never complain. You just wished you could convince him that you loved him for his passion and commitment to both yourself and the job, and you would never demand he changes.
His hands slid under your thighs, as if he was about to lift you to sit on the counter top. His calloused hands felt strong as they squeezed your legs, pulling you towards himself before placing you on the counter like you weighed nothing, because compared to all kinds of equipment, you did weigh nothing to him. Those hands rubbed your legs as he pulled you up against him, your ass barely on the countertop when his phone started to buzz again.
“Fucking hell,” he groaned, pulling away and you pouted slightly, though you rubbed your hand up to his shoulder as he answered the phone in a terse tone. You learned to tune out his calls and you let your eyes look away from the man who somehow got hot and bothered by you peeling an orange. You laughed a little at the thought, looking at the orange on the countertop now, completely forgotten. Your mind wandered off as he spoke, his voice much more demanding as he made some orders or discussed intel. You only realized he was finally free when he started to kiss your jaw.
“I’m sorry love, where was I?” He asked and you looked up at him, taking his hands that were massaging your thighs and squeezed them gently. You kissed his cheek gently, though this affectionate act was not the same as the desire he felt for you. He wanted to show you just how much he appreciated all the small things you did for him, and his lips were tracing down your jaw to your neck.
“As much as I want to steal this moment with you, wasn’t that phone call important and didn’t you say you had to do paperwork? And if they’re already bugging you, when are they calling you back” You asked, though your voice was downcast, like you were just begging for him to stay a little longer. When his lips were teasing you like that, it took a lot of self control to bring back up work. You knew it was out of his control, but at times you wished you could have more uninterrupted time with him.
“Love, tell me the one thing you want to do right now,” he said, not leaving room for you to dodge around the question. The authority in his voice made it hard for you to back out of the question. You could never imagine what he was like with those in his unit when he really was in charge.
“Honestly, I want to get drunk, cuddle, and watch movies with you,” you said laughing a little, and his head dipped down to your neck and kissed it softly. You wrapped your arms around his neck, brushing your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. Your hands could feel the deep laughter coming from his chest as you embraced him closer, so your chest was pressed against his.
“I could really use that,” he smiled, his mustache tickling your tender skin, “You know what movie would be great?....Die Hard,” he said softly kissing down towards your collarbone and glancing up at you, gently nibbling on the spot. You knew the movie choice was for your sake, but it made you smile grow a little more. He was always such a giver, and you learned early on it was not worth resisting.
“What about the paperwork?”
“I could probably convince Gaz to do it, why don’t you pour our drinks and make some popcorn while I give him a call,” he said softly lifting your chin up with two fingers as he gave you a lazy smile. You just stared into his eyes, tilting your head a little and smiling. You would marry him right there if you could. The invitations, color swatches, and cake tasting you had already started working on did not matter as much as the pajama clad man in front of you.
He playfully smacked your ass gently as you slid off the counter, giving you a smirk over his shoulder as he left the room. John bargained with Gaz to take over the paperwork, explaining how the report was just all formalities. You gave each glass a generous pour as you waited for the popcorn timer to finish. Your heart did a flip as he returned and kissed the top of your head, “Mission accomplished,” he joked, “Gaz is taking care of it.”
“Really John, this means so much to me,” you said tilting your head back so you could look at him with a big smile, and he squeezed your sides, “Oh and even if you thought you could sneak off to work, I gave us each enough to have us drunk as college kids,” You laughed, and handed him his glass as you held your own. You raised your glass and tapped it to his, feeling all bubbly before you even took a sip.
“God I love you,” he murmured, peppering your forehead with kisses, wrapping an arm around your waist, turning you both towards the living room as you carried the popcorn and your drink to the couch. John looked down at the orange that was missing one slice and his shoulders relaxed. While it was a small and stupid trend, it reminded him of how much he could not wait until he could make your last name Price.