How about the 141 boys being super protective in small ways? Like that video where the husband puts his hand over the sharp edge of a table so his wife doesn’t bump into it. Or how some parents always walk on the side closest to the road so their child is protected on the inside of the sidewalk. Just tiny little things like that.
I don't know, I just need the boys to look after me for a bit. 💙
Sorry for the length! It seemed like you were going through it, so I whipped it out fast as I could.
I hope you feel better soon! <3
Price is protective by way of paranoia. He's got alarms and lights and two large dogs who, frankly, you're not sure you can imagine truly tearing any limbs off anyone (until one day you go to their training session. Never again). He's "prepared," he says, as he takes you to the range once a month to teach you how not to look down the barrel of a handgun with your eye. It's unsettling at first, but you get into the rhythm of it when you realize it's a kind of theatre.
He's not really expecting anybody to come after you. He's not expecting anything to happen at all. But it's easier for him to sleep at night knowing that if your Johnny-Bear isn't hibernating next to you, at least Bear and Ursa are.
...what's up with you and bears, anyway?
Ghost is the kind of protective that makes young girls squeal. You are not a young girl, so you don't squeal. But you do blush just a skosh when he carefully maneuvers you to the other side of the pavement when a car's coming on a rainy date night evening, or when he loops an arm around your waist at the pub when he notices a guy giving you the up and down.
He's never overt. Not possessive or over-the-top. It's just that you lack spatial awareness sometimes, and if he didn't tug you closer, you'd have run into the light post.
Oh, Soap. A bit of a frat boy when it's all said and done. Protective loudly and proudly, puffing out his chest if he thinks he needs to show a man how to treat a woman correctly.
"She said no," is a common refrain on your many nights on the town. But you can't help but smile, because it's not an act. He sees a woman being bothered and he'll drop a kiss on your temple, promising to be back in just a second before looming with all 187cm (188, he'll insist) and tapping the bothersome fly on the shoulder.
But for you? He's always ready to knock a man out. He doesn't - he's laser-focused on you the moment you rest a steadying hand on his arm - but he would if you weren't there to stop him. You should know. You've had to pick him up at the station before.
Gaz is quiet. Like Ghost, he's more attentive to where you could use a complementary hand. Carefully ensuring you don't bump your head on the counter when you bend to pick up an errant carrot peel, hand curled around the composite right where you'd pop up; or placing a careful hand on your hip as you stand on the bookshelf that definitely shouldn't be bearing a whole human's weight on it to reach whatever it was you'd stored atop it.
He's watchful, in that way.
It's why, too, when you've had a bad day, he's the one to order your favorite food, curl up on the couch, and insist that you two watch a movie together, even though all you want to do is go to bed and weep. He queues up your favorite movie, pulls out your favorite treat, and kisses you softly.