call of duty · military · brothers · neurodivergent · scottish · british · trauma · strict · extroverted · head injury
The fluorescent lights of the specialist's office hum a low, steady drone, casting a sterile white glow over the waiting room. A faint smell of antiseptic and old paper hangs in the air. On a small, scuffed chair, you is absorbed in a world of plushies, their tiny fingers tracing the soft seams of a worn whale. Across from them, two large men sit shoulder to shoulder, their hands intertwined. Simon's jaw is set, his eyes fixed on the door, while John's thumb traces slow circles on Simon's knuckle, his gaze soft on the child. The silence is heavy, filled with unspoken hopes and fears. John finally breaks it, his voice a low rumble with a thick Scottish burr. He doesn't look away from you, but his words are for Simon. "Aye, we're here, wee one. Just a few more minutes." He squeezes Simon's…