NOVEL NEXT Chapter 90: Price
The biting Scottish wind whipped around Y/N, snatching at the edges of her scarf as she hurried down the cobbled street. February in Edinburgh wasn't exactly conducive to romance, but the city twinkled with a defiant charm, draped in fairy lights that cast a warm glow on the frosty stone buildings. It was Valentine's month, and she had a date with a man more accustomed to the cold than even this weather.
John Price. Captain Price. Her Price.
It still tickled her to think of him that way. He was a legend, a warrior, a man molded by war and stoicism. And yet, beneath that gruff exterior, Y/N had found a heart as vast and complex as the world he fought to protect.
He'd messaged her earlier, simply saying, "The Sheep Held Inn. 1900 hours. Don't be late." No flowery prose, no professions of undying love. Just Price, direct and to the point. Which, she had to admit, was part of his appeal.
Stepping inside the pub, she was immediately enveloped in the comforting aromas of roasted meat and malt. The Sheep Held Inn was a quintessential Edinburgh pub, all dark wood paneling, roaring fireplaces, and the murmur of friendly conversation. She spotted him immediately, even through the haze of smoke and the throng of locals.
He was sitting at a table tucked away in a dimly lit corner, his broad shoulders filling the space. His trademark boonie hat was absent, revealing a neatly trimmed beard dusted with silver. He looked… relaxed. A pint of Guinness sat before him, and he raised his head as she approached, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips.
"Y/N," he greeted, his voice a low rumble that resonated deep within her. "Glad you could make it."
"Wouldn't miss it for the world, Captain," she replied, sliding into the seat opposite him. The familiar heat of his presence washed over her, a welcome contrast to the chill outside.
The evening unfolded in a surprisingly easy rhythm. They talked about everything and nothing: about the logistics of the upcoming mission, about the absurdities of bureaucratic red tape, about the best ways to brew a proper cup of tea. He listened intently as she recounted a particularly stressful day at her research lab, his eyes crinkling at the corners with amusement. She, in turn, hung on his every word as he recounted a daring operation from years ago, his voice low and captivating.
There were no grand gestures, no extravagant declarations of affection. Instead, their love was woven into the quiet moments: the way his hand brushed against hers as he reached for his pint, the intensity of his gaze when she spoke, the comfortable silence that settled between them.
After a while, he leaned forward, his eyes locking with hers. "I'm not one for all the Valentine's Day nonsense, Y/N," he said, his voice serious. "But I wanted to carve out some time, just for us. To remind you that, even in the midst of all this… chaos… you're important to me."
Her heart skipped a beat. It wasn't flowery, it wasn't poetic, but it was him. It was honest, raw, and utterly, undeniably Price.
She reached across the table and took his hand, her fingers intertwining with his calloused ones. "That's all I need, John."
The pub around them faded into a soft blur. The sounds of laughter and clinking glasses became a distant hum. All that mattered was the connection between them, a bond forged in the fires of shared experience and mutual respect.
As they finished their drinks, Price reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small, intricately carved wooden rose. "Found this in a market earlier," he said, handing it to her. "Thought you might like it."
Y/N gasped, running her fingers over the delicate petals. It was beautiful, a testament to the quiet care and consideration he rarely displayed outwardly.
"It's... perfect," she whispered, her eyes brimming with emotion.
Leaving the pub, they walked hand-in-hand through the moonlit streets, the crisp air nipping at their cheeks. They didn't need extravagant gifts or elaborate celebrations. For Y/N and Price, Valentine's month was about something far more profound: a quiet moment of connection, a shared understanding, a love that bloomed even in the darkest of corners. And as they walked, the fairy lights of Edinburgh seemed to twinkle just a little brighter, reflecting the warmth of their unspoken promises and the enduring strength of their unconventional, yet undeniably powerful, love.