#cod dra

Indulge — Deer! reader x John Price

John Price never indulged in mundane things that could lead him into having weaknesses 

After years of being the captain of the 141, faced endless deaths of soldiers, piles of paperwork waiting for him after every mission, the uncertainty if there’s going to be a “next mission”, hell even a tomorrow seemed far from today, and the heavy burden of countless soldier deaths that weighed more and more with each passing day, he never seemed to cared about his own personal life besides work. The consequences of his job would haunt him until his death; he knew this since the day he accepted the responsibility of being a Captain of not of other but a special force. Death came along the job, and at the time it felt like it was calling him day and night waiting for him to make one wrong move.

After months of disagreements and abruptly ended phone calls with Laswell, John finally decided that retiring was the best option for his mental health, on his own words “his mental health was something that he couldn’t care less about” but Kate knew that John was on a tightrope that could cost his own life and the entire team, well-being in the years to come.

Needless to say, the first months felt wrong. Out of place in simple terms he couldn’t explain. The constant feeling that Laswell was going to reach out for his team and him to be shipped into a battlefield or a mission far away, the feeling didn’t go away immediately. He caught himself looking at this phone often, waiting for the call, but the phone never rang— or not with the call that he was expecting to get. 

The situation was infatuating. Each passing day he felt like there was no purpose to anything he did anymore. The routine, one that accommodated to his new lifestyle, did not feel right to him; wake up at 6 a.m. sharp, take a shower, brush his teeth, make a cup of coffee while reading the newspaper, sit in front of the tv waiting for the clock to strike 12 to start thinking about lunch, wash some laundry, clean the stove—

It was killing him alive. 

John never imagined himself longing to be a soldier, sensing the smell of gunpowder in his hands and clothes, and having to sleep standing in unknown places where his team and him would kill terrorist. He thought once he could finally live the normal civilian life he dreamed of time to time the memories of the battlefield would be shoved in the back of his consciousness, far life behind that didn’t belong to him anymore. 

So, he moved to the countryside to solve his overthinking problem.

Quiet. 

The previous owners of the farm warned him about some hybrids around the area, not all of them being dangerous but the caution was meant to be held by the surrounding residents. He remembered years ago, the government did many messed up experiment with humans and animals of all kinds, which the result being hybrid of part humans part animals. John never got to meet a hybrid face to face, not that he could really tell or paid any attention to it if he had in the past, but he knew they were all around the world— some of them embracing their wild side hidden in the shadows and nature protected by their respective government, some of them embracing their human part and deciding to live in peace around humankind. Price didn’t think much of it, the couple told him they had never seen a hybrid abrupt their property or other farmers around the area, so he let the information go away as soon as it came.

He never imagined himself as a farmer, having to take care of animals, which, as a joke on him, he just had to take care of animals who were so-called his team, keeping his little garden in a beautiful and healthy state with different vegetables, fruits, and plants. The surroundings of the farm were way quieter than his old, raggedy department in the urban area he had just moved to live. He swore the buzzing of the bees, and the movement of the far-away river were louder, and with time the feeling of adrenaline of a new mission went away. Jus for long enough, and he knew it. His routine now was filled with many task around his house and little farm through the day, almost living him with no time to think about his now old lifestyle.

After some months of being settled in his new home, he started to notice his garden less and less fruitful— something or someone was having a feast in his garden, leaving with a full stomach and coming for more the next days. He didn’t like it very much. While he knew many animals around the area were a must when living in the rural side, this was the first time since moving that he found himself having a problem with the unknown animal.

The rifle under his bed seemed to finally have a use after months of dusting.

He learned the animal schedule, but it seems he could never catch it on the act of stealing from his precious, now ruined into pieces, garden that he worked oh so hard on it. Every time he would wait on the porch of his house, waiting for the right time holding his rifle in his lap to shoot death the animal that was having the audacity to steal from John Price itself. His patient was running low with the animal each passing day, until one day he heard the careful but timid steps of something. He tried to approach as quickly and quietly as he could.

It was now or never to send to hell this animal he thought to himself.

Without second thought he pointed his rifle to the animal not expecting the sight in-front of him in a million years. A little doe hybrid standing in his garden with stuffed cheeks of his raspberries and hands standing still looking directly at him in utterly fear of the human in-front of her with big doe eyes basically pleading him to not kill her.  The gripped on his rifle eased, his eyes softened when he got to see your trembling legs barely making the work of keeping you standing- he swore that even the gentle breeze of the afternoon could knock you over. With one handle hand he let his rifle on the ground to then put both in the air to show you how he didn’t have any more weapons on him.

“Hey there, pretty little doe,” he tried to sound gentle but his raspy and rough voice didn’t help at all “I am not going to hurt you. I was just trying to see who’s being eating all my garden.” He tried to explain not knowing if you could understand anything he was saying or if you could speak at all.  He could see how your gaze wander from the bottom, from where his rifle that laid, to top where your gaze and his connected. 

You shocked your head in disagreement, a slow but confused movement. Your throat bob when you swallow the little raspberries on your mouth, while trying to hide your hands behind your back with the other portion of raspberries.

He chuckles to himself. So, you do understand what he is saying to some degree ”I know, little doe, I’m not going to use it if that’s what you are worried about,” his gazed dropped to the rifle, “you must be so hungry, am I right? You have eaten all my garden in the last months.” He could see you nodding in agreement, still a light tremble in your body and oh those big doe eyes not leaving him for a second.

John Price never indulged in mundane things that could lead him into having weaknesses, but just for now you may be the exception of his own rules.