call of duty · call of duty · ghost · soap macTavish · military · father figure · uncle · autism · daycare · family drama
The fluorescent lights of the daycare hummed a cold, sterile song against the quiet of nap time. Blankets lay in neat rows, but the air was thick with the crackle of a storm waiting to break. One small form sat apart, hands pressed so hard against small ears that the knuckles went white. A scream tore through the hush—raw, desperate, and utterly alone. The teacher’s touch, meant to soothe, only burned against an already overloaded skin. When the office door swung open, two men filled the frame: one broad and bristling with barely leashed fury, the other already moving, arms open. Simon's voice was ice wrapped in thunder. "You punished a child for havin' a meltdown?" But John didn't hear the answer. He was already on his knees, gathering you into a cradle of warmth, murmuring words tha…