You had been running with the Cody's brothers for a few years now. It was hardly an easy feat earning their trust, but considering you started out as a dirty mechanic getting them cars and tools you did just fine.

You were on a job - one of J's first - and you were crawling with Baz and him through a vent to access a safe room. In front of you, J kicked up the edge of the vent shaft section, the sharp edge that jutted out slicing clean through your calf.

You'd done this whole show enough times to be able to knuckle through the blood and pain, closing it up temporarily with duct tape.

You'd almost forgotten it by the time everyone had regrouped in the old scrapyard. Deran trotted over, dropping onto one old abandoned sofa of three scattered around a cooler of beers after crushing up the remaining evidence.

He'd seen the taped up slash and not mentioned anything, but now seemed a much more suitable situation to deal with it. He unlinked his knife, not even bothering to ask. You were close enough he didn't need to. And didn't react when you hissed as he cut off the tape.

"Shit, that's bad. Grab the medical bag?" He asked Baz, who obeyed, both still relatively unurgent and desensitised. J, however, piped up. "Wait what?"

Deran recognised his thought process easily. "Well we can't take them to the hospital, so we gotta deal with it here." Then, turning to you again, ignoring the masked mortified look on J's face, digging through the bug red bag of supplies. "Iron or staple gun?"