Scott Tracy woke with one hell of a headache. The first thing he saw was the ceiling of the infirmary. The second was his sleeping brother.
Virgil lay on the bed next to him, on his stomach, with his face smashed up against his pillow, snoring softly. Scott’s eyes automatically scanned him for injury but could find nothing obvious.
As to how either of them had ended up here…something must have happened on the last mission, but he was having trouble recalling exactly what the last mission was.
Virgil snuffled in his sleep, a frown briefly creasing his brow before settling again. Scott’s insides tensed. Sleep hadn’t been Virgil’s friend for some time. He silently wished for this moment to be quiet and undisturbed. It was relaxing to just share a room with the man.
He had missed Virgil. His youngest brothers were excellent rescue operatives and he loved them dearly, but Virgil…working with Virgil was seamless. They communicated without words, they knew each other so well, that they could anticipate exactly what was needed and when. And his quiet brother’s silent support was all he needed to face anything.
It had been like losing a limb when Virgil was injured. And he had been hobbled ever since.
@the-lady-razorsharp You inspired me with all your drawings (which are fabulous, by the way) pretty sure I haven’t done him justice, but eh, first fanart in a very, very long time and with very little reference material to work from.