kittewrites.bsky.social
Kitte's writing account (mostly COD)! | 27 | she/her | MDNI | pfp by @rowanartist.bsky.social
#pricegaz #kittewrites
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Accidentally stumbling into a great AU is fun
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This is like me writing two separate pathologic howl's moving castle AUs, completely forgetting i'd already done it once before
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Is it too conceited to repost it here lmao
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This is AMAZING, Gaz looks so beautiful - love him teasing Price too xD
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Thank youuu i love offering these two a little moment of comfort and closeness <3
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and when he feels the first hot tears against his skin, he closes his eyes, and keeps holding Gaz.
//
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Gaz closes his eyes and burrows closer to him, clutching at his shirt. “I’m not broken,” he says.
Price squeezes him tighter, like that could keep him from shattering. He doesn’t reply, lets the gesture speak for itself,
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“Come to me earlier with this stuff,” Price says quietly. “I’m here to take care of you.”
“You’re my boss,” Gaz chuckles, but his voice is still shaky. “Or do you get paid for this?”
He bloody well should. “I’m here for you,” he says instead. “Will always be. Broken or not.”
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He’s warm. He’s shaking. Price brings one hand to cradle the back of his head, presses Gaz’s forehead against his neck, and feels rather than hears the shuddering breath Gaz lets out at the contact.
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“Come here,” he says, pulling Gaz by the shoulder. Gaz stands up willingly, steps into his arms like they’ve done this before, and presses against Price’s chest as Price winds his arms around him.
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Gaz swallows thickly, nods reluctantly. “No,” he says. “I can’t.”
Price watches him, feeling helpless. Gaz, his Gaz, is usually so steady, and he doesn’t know what to do with this broken shell of him. He wants nothing more than to…
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“I keep seeing him everywhere,” Gaz says, blinking away unshed tears, “that pool of blood, him just lying there… I have to stop thinking. If I work, I can’t think about it.”
Price rubs his thumb over Gaz’s shirt. “Can’t work if you collapse.”
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Price reaches out, waiting for him to flinch but he lets Price invade his personal space and lay a hand on his shoulder.
“If we had been faster…”Gaz’s voice is barely audible, “If we’d just been faster and got there on time, maybe he wouldn’t…”
Price squeezes his shoulder, waits for him to continue.
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“You’re all the same, my boys,” he says. “So what is it? Nightmares?”
Gaz shakes his head. Then he parts his mouth, as if to say something, but nothing comes out. Instead he just looks at Price with helpless eyes.
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Gaz’s mouth closes with a click of his teeth. His walls come up again and Price sighs, getting up from his seat. Gaz’s eyes follow him as he rounds the table and leans on the edge of it, his shoes nearly brushing Gaz’s.
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“You know I don’t mean it like that,” Price says. “You’re feeling guilty over what happened. I know the look.”
“Really?” Gaz gives him a sarcastic reply. Price doesn’t reprimand him for it.
“I see it in Ghost too.”
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Then something in Gaz’s eyes makes it click. “You’re not blaming yourself, are you?”
Gaz barely conceals the flinch. Price just knows him too well.
“No,” Gaz says slowly. “It’s not like I shot him myself.”
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Gaz is the one to open his mouth first: “We’re one man short. I have to make up for his absence. That is all.”
Nonsense. There’s more to this.
Price tilts his head, tries to peruse his sergeant, figure out what it is that’s lurking underneath.
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Price isn’t going to force him if he truly can’t get anything out of his sergeant, but he wants to get this over with. To get his Gaz back. His unwavering, steady Gaz. Instead he has this man at his breaking point, and he can’t leave him like this.
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“We’re going to.” Price isn’t giving him any outs. Gaz looks like he’s ready to bolt from the room, only his adherence to rank and politeness stopping him. Just how reluctant is he to have this talk?
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“I’ve done some overtime, yes,” Gaz replies. “But nothing unusual—”
“I know that you’re overdoing it. I know you.” Price gives him a significant look. “It’s for Soap’s sake, isn’t it?”
Gaz’s expression shuts off instantly. “I don’t want to talk about this.”
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Gaz narrows his eyes. “Alright. Am I actually in trouble?”
Price huffs. “No, you’re not. Or a little. Not in too much trouble.”
“I see.” Gaz shifts in place uncomfortably. “So what have I done?”
“You’re exhausted,” Price says. “Overworking yourself.”
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Gaz raises his brows but does as told. “Am I in trouble, sir?” he asks, going for humour but landing somewhere in wary and careful.
“No,” Price says and leans forward to rest his elbows on the desk. “And you can drop the ‘sir’ for now. I want to have a chat.”
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Before Gaz can turn around to go, Price raises his hand. “Wait.”
Gaz halts, looking at him questioningly. “Cap?”
“Gaz,” Price says, then gestures at the chair across his work desk. “Sit down for a moment.”
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“Can I help you, at least?” Gaz offers, but Price shakes his head.
“Above your clearance level, I’m afraid.” He crosses his arms, then. “What do you need?”
“Nothing,” Gaz says quickly. “I was just… going to bring you a cup of tea, if you want.”
“Only if you’re making some for yourself.”
“Yes, sir.”
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“How can I help you, sergeant?” Price asks, though he knows. Gaz gives him a dry look and then nods at his laptop.
“You done for the night, sir?”
“I don’t think so,” Price sighs, rubbing his beard. “There’s still much to do and I’m running out of time.”
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So when Gaz appears in his office late into the night, as Price is still going through the endless void of his email inbox, Price isn’t even offended by Gaz’s reprimanding glare. He glances up at Gaz and then sits back.
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He would be a hypocrite if he didn’t acknowledge that he was working overtime as well, trying to keep up with all the running responsibilities, but he still finds the time to worry about Gaz. Always finds the time.
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The sergeant is still in recovery and to Price’s understanding, from what Ghost has told, he seems to be getting better day by day. Price doesn’t know if Gaz has visited him. It seems unlikely. He wouldn’t be like this if he had.
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It’s why it’s so heartbreaking to see him like this. Price should have known that Gaz was overworking himself, was running himself to an early grave, just trying to keep up with Soap’s absence.
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It seems like he’s not shaken by much. Sure, he can lose his cool when he’s faced with something unexpected or especially heinous, but he has calmed down over time, no longer the angry young man he used to be.
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Gaz is usually the steady one. Price has learned to trust that steadiness over the years – no matter what life or the job throws at them, Gaz keeps a cool head, unwavering in his position, falling into danger without hesitation.