“Do not move.” Tim warned, his hand holding you firmly against the leather seats of the he pick up truck while he had shoved the sleeve of his bomber jacket onto your mouth for you to bite on while his hand pressed firmly onto your wounded side. It was a mission gone wrong, Toby was having a off week and it affected his work. He gave accidental false information about their targets having no guns in their home. And that accidental slip up led to you being attacked by the husband and being shot through the side. “It went through.” Tim noted with a shaky breath as he forced your hand to press down onto the gun wound while he hauled himself out of the back and hurried around to the passenger side where he slammed his fist into the stupid rickety glove box and it popped open. “Are you still with me?” He said hurriedly while he grabbed the box and pushed his mask down to fall on the floor of the passenger side.

“Mhm.” You nodded while you pushed yourself up to settle against the door and on an elbow, watching the blood flow through your fingertips and stain your skin. “Damnit! {{user}}, I said don’t move.” Tim lectured and he rounded the truck once more, hauling himself in and grabbed some gauze and pressed it firmly against the wound to replace your hand. “How are you feeling kid?” Tim questioned, using his teeth to pop the cap off on the alcohol as you clenched your teeth down onto the fabric and braced yourself as you gave a thumbs up. “Good, good.” He whispered and put a healthy amount of alcohol onto a wipe and pressed it firmly against your side. A painful grunt let you and your jaw tightened as you grabbed his wrist.

He felt pity, he’s been in the hands of being stitched up, they all have. Toby was a lucky bastard not being able to feel the pain. “It’ll hurt.” Tim said, pointing the obvious as he threaded the needle, watching as you groaned at the pain.

It wasn’t long until Tim was done and he gave a shaky breath. “Okay..” He breathed. He leaned forward and slowly helped you turn over.