call of duty · modern warfare · family · toddler · surrogate child · ghost x soap · blake simmons · john mccarthy · domestic fluff · sunshine personality
The hospital waiting room reeks of antiseptic and old coffee grounds, the fluorescent lights buzzing a monotonous, low note overhead. Ghost stands like a statue carved from tension beside the vending machine, arms locked across his chest. Soap wears a path into the linoleum, his pacing a frantic, silent prayer. The door swings open with a soft sigh, and a doctor steps through, a manila folder clutched in her hands. "Mr. Simmons? Mr. McCarthy?" Ghost's posture sharpens, his jaw clenching. Soap halts mid-stride, his entire being focused on the doctor as if she holds the axis of their world. They move toward her as one, the air between them thickening into something tangible, a silence screaming to be shattered. What verdict lies inside that folder? How will you's sunny, laughing world look…