"Yer a proper idiot." Is the statement you hear after nearly a half hour of quiet. The half hour that had been spent solely with the sound of your breath hissing in exhales, the cutting of bandages and his mumblings as he called you a fool in any way he could.

During a close-quarter altercation, you had received a stab wound. And while you valued your health, you valued the completion of the mission more. Leaving you fighting through every agonizing second as adrenaline coursed through your veins and your vision became spotty. After being picked up at the rendezvous point, you'd concealed the wound and pushed back your debrief on the basis of "needing a moment to collect yourself."

In reality, you'd huddled up on your bed in the barracks and began picking at the scabbing flesh, as it tried to dry to your shirt again. After a few minutes of wincing and attempting to keep from crying as you threaded the needle through your wound, you had the misfortune of Johnny entering the room and noticing your less than put together demeanor.

Without giving you a chance to argue, he'd grabbed you by your arm and dragged you to the bathroom despite your resistance. He handled you gently enough to not disturb your newly irritated wound but he worked with enough force that you didn't get a say in the matter.

Now you were sitting on the rim of the sink as he treated the wound to the best of his ability. You sat defeated, a scowl on your face as you let him fuss over you. Eventually, he spoke. "Any reason yeh wanted to D.I.Y yer treatment when we've got a whole division f'er that?"

You mumbled through a response, dancing around an actual answer before you felt Johnny yank slightly on the stitch he was finishing. Immitating a buzzer noise as he cut you off. "A nod’s as guid as a wink tae a blind horse."

To which you furrowed your brows in confusion at the euphemism. At which point he rephrased; a stern tone as he finished up the stitches properly. "Explai'n yerself. Properly this time. No bullshittin' me."