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auspicioustidings · 6 months

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Firewatch Part 8

Summary: An unspoken ceasefire takes place and you struggle with sleeping arrangements.

Words: 2k

CW: as always, this fic is reader falling for captors, but nothing specific in this chapter

You just existed around each other the rest of the day more or less quietly. They treated you like a housemate for the most part and you finally felt like you were settling down. It had been the worst 48 hours of your life and there were only so many high emotional outbursts you could go through without needing some quiet from your thoughts.

When you got out of your frigid shower Kyle said Price had went to pick you up some things. Neither him nor the asshole with the mohawk sitting sipping away at his coffee mentioned the sudden cut off of hot water or how you had screeched about it. Price came back with bags full of clothes and toiletries for you. They were your size and you decided you were not going to get into the fight that you wanted to over the fact that the shampoo, conditioner and soap in the bag was what you had used at home. Maybe it was just a coincidence that he had went to the expensive store in the town where everything was handmade by what you were fairly certain was some sort of witch and somehow managed to pick out the specific products you liked.

It felt nice to be in soft new clothes that fit even if there was a small pang of something at stripping out of Price’s clothes. When you saw the wet spots you bristled and scrubbed at them, wringing out the offending item as best you could before folding it and leaving the bundle of his clothes on the bathroom counter.

You called Dosia a traitor at least 4 times before dinner for how she slunk over to get scratches off of Price. You cooed at her just as many for when Soap tried to pet her and she treated him with complete disdain.

“Ye should have got a dug” he grumbled after another failed attempt to endear himself to your cat.

“What? So you could have a litter mate?” you shot back before going back to coo at your cat.

“Woof!”

Kyle made dinner and you asked if he always cooked (“only when we want something edible” “oi! I’m a braw cook I’ll have ye know!”) before scolding yourself for the umpteenth time for being so casual and curious with them, but once again you just let it go. You could start thinking about how to get out of this situation again tomorrow, you really could not put any more brain power into being angry and pushing them today. It seemed to be an unspoken understanding that they felt a little the same way with nobody really pushing at you or getting into your space.

You weren’t about to look a surprise ceasefire horse in the mouth so you ate dinner, even gave Kyle a quiet thank you for cooking and Price an even quieter one for clearing away the table. There was one glaring issue that you were avoiding thinking about, the small matter of where you were going to sleep. Would they let you take the sofa or where you doomed to wind up in someone’s bed? You didn’t know how you’d fare with the threat to this shaky peace if one of these men nestled under blankets with you and held you the way Johnny had been when you had woken up.

You worried that as tired as your brain was from fighting and plotting and a thousand emotions happening at once today that you wouldn’t even stop them. That you’d take the comfort. And it would just make things so much worse when tomorrow came and you had rested and were ready to push at them again.

It had not occurred to you that there was actually a much worse option until Price told you that you could take Simon’s bed and left you in his room. It was simple but it had touches of the enigmatic man. A cute little crocheted skull on the dresser (had he been gifted it? Bought it himself? Made it?), a thriller book on the bedside table well worn (he must be the type of person to break books spines and dog ear them), a few sets of dumbbells in the corner that were disrespectfully heavy and a photo in a simple frame of him with the two Johns, Kyle and a man you didn’t recognise. If another handsome man walked into this cabin you would lose it, so he damn well better have just been a visitor.

The thing that really sent your heartbeat into overdrive though was right there lovingly pinned to a corkboard on the wall. Drawings. They were clearly from children and they showed their crude versions of him in his gear holding hands with them. These were what was taking pride of place in this simple room, these were what mattered to him.

You gently traced your fingers over one, trying to reconcile the drawing with the man in the closet who had left the mark still throbbing dully on your neck. You paused over a detail you had missed. The little skull sticker on the helmet. It made sense then the little crochet skull, but it also gave you such a vivid flashback that you heard a strangled sort of sound leave your mouth.

You had seen that little skull sticker before, on the man who had saved you. You thought it had been Kyle, but it was Simon. Simon was the one who carried you through the fire and laid you gently on the ground outside, whose eyes you had stared into and thought ‘oh, he is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen’ when you realised he was there and real and you were alive. It came flooding back with such force that you had to stumble away from the pictures and sit down.

It was only after a breath that you realised you were sitting on his bed and you flexed your fingers a few times, feeling the softness of the duvet. You wondered what blanket he would be using in the tower. It was boiling during the day but freezing at night, would he be cold? Certainly the sofa wasn't going to provide the same support as this mattress. It probably wouldn't even fit all of him, he'd have to curl in.

You couldn't. You could not sleep in this bed while he was in the cold, uncomfortable and barely getting any sleep at all, tossing and turning before getting up and looking out for any sign of trouble before repeating it again. No amount of telling yourself he was a bad person was going to let you do that with those kids drawings staring down at you.

So you stood, straightened out the duvet, wrapped yourself in the throw that had been draped over the dresser and curled up on the floor.

---

Price was on wake up duty. They had discussed sending Gaz since you seemed to trust him the most, but he had argued that in order to get you on side it was him you needed to trust the most. He reluctantly agreed when he thought about it, he was this teams Captain at the end of the day. And you were part of that now, his team.

He also did feel annoyed with himself at how he had dealt with you yesterday. He should have known better than to think it would all be easy and you'd be predictable. At least after a good night's rest he had settled a bit. It was strange how his feelings toward you had changed. They were more intense somehow, maybe a little rougher around the edges and complicated. But he was a problem solver and the way to solve this one was by trying to get on your good side, figuring out who you were when you weren't spitting mad at him.

There was a moment when he opened the door that he felt his heart stop. The bed was empty. And then he heard a soft sigh of discomfort and followed it to see you shivering away on the hard floor. It was then that John Price knew he cared about you. Not the you he had made up in his head, the you that had annoyed the life out of him yesterday and kept fighting him on every little thing. He hated seeing you almost whimper in your sleep from how cold and uncomfortable you were.

Why the hell hadn't you just slept in the bed? Were you trying to rebel by making him feel awful? Or could you just not stand the thought of sleeping in Simon's… oh. It was Simon's bed, you hadn't wanted to take Simon's bed. You felt guilty. Even through all that rage and exhaustion you felt guilty. Ah fuck, had to go and be a good person despite everything didn't you? You'd win the bet if he was a better man.

Soap and Gaz didn't question him when he emerged with you bundled in his arms still sleeping. It wasn't difficult to tell you hadn't slept well and while they did want to get you into a routine they had all the time in the world, one morning letting you sleep in wouldn't ruin everything.

He had considered just putting you into Simon's bed, but somehow that felt cruel. Instead he carried you to his room. Warmer than Simon's, more cluttered with years of knick knacks. It had a set of wingbacks with a table between that held a bottle of whiskey and some cigars. Price's room was where his boys could come for refuge if they needed someone to just listen.

You roused a little when he gently manoeuvred you under the blankets, instantly letting out a little sound of panic and trying to get up.

“Steady on little bird, it's my bed. Not making you sleep in Simon's. That a girl, go back to sleep” he said, as gentle as he could manage.

“I don't…” you murmured, not sure what you wanted to say.

You needed to talk to someone, you needed to get it off your chest, but there was nobody here but your captors. Nobody in this room with you but their Captain whose soft coaxing had made you relax despite yourself. It was pathetic and you knew that, but somewhere in the exhaustion it almost felt like this was a dream. Like what you said here didn't count in the real world.

“He's a good man isn't he? I could tell, from his room.”

Price hated how torn up you sounded, as if the idea of any of them being good men was breaking your heart. And while he wouldn't go as far as to call himself one, he knew with a fierce certainty that his team were the best of men. Would it hurt you to keep discovering that? Would it help you want to stay?

“Simon Riley is a good man” he confirmed, sitting himself on the edge of the bed and sighing as he ran a hand over your hair, soothing. “But he was rough with you for no good reason little bird, even the actions of good men have consequences. It isn't your fault he isn't here.”

Christ he should be trying to guilt you instead of this. He should be manipulating you into begging him to let Simon off of 24 hour watch. Twisting things until you loved them. He thought when they first decided to keep you that it would come easy. He never knew you'd be so hard to hurt.

You only made a soft noise in acknowledgement. You felt bone tired, completely wrung dry. You just couldn't find that fire within you right now that you had planned on stoking when you woke up. It wasn't fair for them to be good, for them to show you kindness. For them to be human.

You thought maybe a bit more sleep would help as you drifted off with John's hand petting your hair. That was what you needed, some proper sleep in a proper bed and then you could find that fight again. You hoped.

#mhairiwrites #cod #cod au #fanfic #tf 141 x reader #Noel is the big brain who suggested fire fighter Simon would have kids drawings in his room btw #I am nowhere near creative enough to have come up with an idea that cute #john price x reader

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