𐔌 . 💌 TF141 TINDER DATE #Price.ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱
Tinder Profiles! Soap, Price, Ghost, Gaz, Alejandro, Rudy, Graves
Soundtrack: One Last Glance - Pause, maybe?
Character counter: 7002
Autor Note: Thank u for your interactions with previous posts
John had noticed for days that his men were spending way too much time together during breaks, all eyes glued to one single screen—Soap’s phone. At first, he preferred to ignore it, but seeing them so close (even Simon being part of it) made him realize something wasn’t right.
At the beginning, John only tried asking simple questions, something they wouldn’t suspect.
—What are you guys up to? You look pretty focused— Price said, holding his coffee mug while his eyes lingered on the comical scene.
Soap sat in the middle of the small couch, Gaz on the right corner, Simon on the left, all staring intently at the phone screen.
—Online casino, Sir. — Gaz answered quickly, leaving no room for doubt.
Soap looked up fast, nodding with strong conviction.
Price frowned again, unconvinced. —Simon?—
Ghost lifted his gaze, just as firmly as Soap. —Casino, sir.—
Price narrowed his eyes, expecting another kind of answer. But who was he to doubt his most loyal man? (And probably the most responsible one). What he didn’t know was that Price was being ambushed by his own men.
It all started one random night after a few drinks, when the old man was always the first to arrive and the last to leave, always alone, maybe too alone for a man of his type, but just enough for someone completely married to his work. So, in an attempt to make Price’s life more interesting, the boys created a Tinder profile for the Captain.
The mission was dubbed AGFTC (A Girlfriend for the Captain), whispered between Kyle, Johnny, and Simon with complete secrecy in the barracks, as if it were the extraction of a dangerous target or the capture of a narco-terrorist.
But what can you expect from three men who only think clearly when there’s a strategy in front of them? The first step was harder than they thought—getting a decent photo of the Cap.
Next came writing an attractive bio, something that could hook any woman. But once again, three heads weren’t better than one.
Soap’s proposal was too risky, too sultry, under the pretext of —Who dares wins.— Simon’s was too boring, robotic, empty.
So the best option was to let Gaz write the profile description.
Days passed as they refined their choices, and the three were shocked at how many women showed interest in the Captain’s profile—women of different ages, making the process tedious.
Every night, in the barracks and in hushed whispers, they worked on finding the best option.
But not all good intentions have good endings, and doing things behind John Price’s back always came at a cost.
The four of them ended up in the Captain office: Kyle staring at the floor like a child being scolded, Simon keeping his gaze straight ahead as if it were a typical military shock therapy session, while Johnny tried to persuade the Captain.
—Cap, I swear we did this with the best intentions!— Soap said desperately.
—No good intention comes with something hidden, MacTavish!— Price pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose, trying to calm his stress. —I’m a man happily married to my work.—
—You spend all day locked up in here! You need the warmth of a woman, not a damn office that reeks of cigarettes— Soap shot back boldly.
—He’s right.— Simon said flatly.
—Shut up!— Price barked, pacing the office like a caged dog. —I order you to delete that damn account now!—
Kyle swallowed hard. —We can’t, sir…—
Price froze, waiting for the explanation.
—In fact, tomorrow you have a date with a charming woman…—
—WHAT!?— Price’s eyes widened, his lips tightening as if his mustache was about to fall off.
—Don’t worry, Captain… We ran a full recon of the target area. The prospect matches the mission requirements,— Gaz explained the date as if it were a high-level military operation. —Deployment is tomorrow night. We’ve already intercepted the restaurant and marked the objective, sir.—
Price let out a heavy sigh, quickly snatching Johnny’s phone to see the “target’s” face.
His expression softened as he realized the images really did show a woman who seemed to be his type.
A minute of silence passed as Price read every message carefully, resigning himself to the idea that tomorrow, he had a date.
—You’d better not pull any stupid stunts tomorrow while I’m gone…— His warning was crystal clear.
—Yes, sir.— the three replied in unison.
And so, on a Thursday night, John stood in front of the old barracks mirror, fixing his hair, checking with meticulous detail that his beard was perfect, combing his mustache more than necessary, wearing a borrowed shirt, dress pants that probably hadn’t seen daylight in years, a touch of cologne, and a warm jacket.
The restaurant reservation looked expensive, and in his mind he kept repeating that the dinner would be deducted from those three idiots’ paychecks for conspiring against him like this.
When he arrived, his face wasn’t exactly welcoming—an expression of annoyance and discomfort (typical of someone surrounded all the time by paperwork and grumpy men), arms crossed over his chest, waiting.
A taxi pulled up in front of him, the classic black Manchester cab. The door opened, revealing the tip of a high heel touching the ground and a delicate hand gripping the doorframe. Instantly, he stepped forward, offering his hand to the woman who was his date.
—Here, darling, don’t hurt yourself, angel— he said with that raspy voice caused by years of smoking.
Her touch was soft, as if he were holding something so fragile that even the slightest squeeze might break it.
You smiled and stepped down.
Hands in front, clutching the small purse timidly, a gentle, polite smile.
John offered his arm, inviting you to walk, subtly escorting you inside.
On the reserved table lay a bouquet of pink peonies—elegant, unique, hard to find even in Manchester’s finest flower shops.
Price seemed like the most attentive man in the world, he always was. Attentive to details: pulling out her chair, listening to every word without interrupting, keeping a firm but not intimidating demeanor, unlike what he was used to.
Her words were like honey to John’s ears—that soft accent, that calm, measured, kind voice made him want to listen all night.
And if there was one thing John Price couldn’t resist, it was an smart, calm, and self-assured woman, not the overwhelming kind of confidence, but the quiet kind, shown through graceful, elegant movements.
She seemed to be the opposite of everything his life had become—the contrast to his bad habits, his foul moods, something that could actually fit into his routine and his world.
Time wasn’t an issue when the company was excellent, even though he kept remembering that the whole date had been orchestrated by Kyle, Johnny, and Simon.
The conversation flowed: hobbies, interests, work, pets, a bit of politics, comparing both worlds from a subtle perspective.
But John felt it was the introduction to something new and important in his life—someone important.
And for the first time in years, John Price felt that spark again—that maybe, just maybe, having someone waiting for him at home didn’t sound so bad after all.
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