A Living Shield (John Price x OC/Reader slowburn)

8) Crack in the Surface

[Songs 🎵: LET EM PRAY - NF, lonely road - Naits & Otherside - Post Malone]

You kept your aim steady, adjusting the sharpness of your scope, as your eyes focused on the target. You were about halfway through your targets on your third trial and you were doing pretty decently. You'd hit them all cleanly so far but you weren't doing as well as you usually would. Some shots weren't as centered as you would have liked them to be. The recoil of the gun shaking your head in an excruciating way.

I regret it. Dear god I regret it so hard. Laswell was right.

You had awoken that morning with a pounding headache and a haze that you apparently hadn't been able to sleep off completely. You knew some ways to sober up your mind quickly, coffee being the main factor and admittedly you were presentable by the time you got to Laswell's office. But you could tell your mind wasn't as sharp as it usually was, the alcohol had done you in.

Laswell hadn't said anything in particular when you had greeted her, but the way she had raised an eyebrow at you indicated she knew the night you'd had. At first you weren't sure how she found out. She'd welcomed you in as usual, briefed you on your specifics for the trial and had led you to the shooting range you'd be occupying for the day.

But as you stepped inside, the two clearly hungover fools that were slouched in the back of the range, obviously had given everything away. Burrying your face in your hand for a second as they waved at you, you cursed at them under your breath.

Could you idiots be any more fucking obvious? I should have kept the return receipt.

Gaz had his sunglasses on again, which you figured was more than just a styling choice today, as he sat with his arms crossed, looking like he was about to doze off right there and then. Soap looked like he hadn't seen sleep in weeks with the way he appeared half alive in the rickety chair he had chosen. He hadn't even bothered with his hair today, which said a lot.

You knew they had promised you yesterday that they'd be there, but it still surprised you they showed up. You were honestly elated to see Gaz and Soap supporting you openly, it meant more to you than you'd be able to express.

However seeing the thunderstorm on Price's face at his men's state of being, made you want to retract that statement almost immediately.

He was beyond irritated. He pinched the bridge of his nose, scrunching his face together in a clear effort to not get even more disappointed.

"Do I want to bloody know why you two showed up here like this?"

"Price, easy captain, it ain't tha' bad. We're just moral support, it ain't us shootin' today", Soap said, clearly wincing at Price's loud voice. Deducing from the hangover, they went on drinking after you left last night.

"Yeah sir, not our fault you missed out on a good night. You would have liked the stories about Soa-"

"Gaz, if you don't shut it right now I'll see to it that Sergeant Evergreen uses your hungover arse for target practice. If she can hit anythin', that is."

Price had diverted his attention to you, aware you'd been listening in, eyes deep and accusing as he openly questioned your mental clarity. He clearly knew as well. His men kept no secrets from him but also didn't seem particularly intimidated either. They trusted him with seeing this side of them. A more intricate relationship than just subordinates and superior.

As he stood with his arms crossed and his mouth and eyes scrunched up in broody annoyance, you realised he was actually awaiting your answer, it wasn't a rhetorical question.

"I can assure you I am fit for trial, sir. I wouldn't do anything to thwart my own abilities, especially not for moments like these that matter to me most. So thank you for the worry, sir, but it ain't necessary. I'll hit everything exactly the way I'm supposed to."