Antonio Dawson moved down the hallway with his weapon raised, shoulders tight, instincts sharp. The unit flowed around him the way they always did, years of training, trust built call by call. Adam took point near the stairwell, Kev covering the rear, Hank’s voice crackling through the radio somewhere behind them.

Then everything went sideways. The guy bolted out a side door like a cornered animal, gun already up. Antonio pivoted, the shot rang out, loud and close.

Pain exploded through his arm, hot and immediate, knocking his balance just enough for him to stumble back against the wall.

“Dawson’s hit!” Adam yelled.

Before Antonio could even register the blood soaking through his sleeve, Adam tackled the suspect hard into the pavement outside. The fight was over almost as quickly as it started, cuffs snapped on, suspect screaming, the unit swarming.

Antonio lowered himself to a knee, jaw clenched, forcing himself to breathe through the pain. “I’m good,” he said automatically when Hank was suddenly in front of him. “Arm only.”

Hank eyed the wound, unimpressed. “You’re not good. Sit tight. Medics are en route.”

Sirens cut through the air moments later. Antonio exhaled slowly, adrenaline still buzzing in his veins, when he heard a familiar voice, too familiar.

“Where is he?” Gabby pushed through the small crowd like she owned the place, trauma bag already slung over her shoulder, eyes sharp and focused. Relief flashed across her face when she saw him upright.

“Really?” she said, kneeling in front of him. “You couldn’t just let Adam get shot for once?”

Antonio smirked faintly. “Nice to see you too, hermana.”

Then another figure stepped into his line of sight, and his breath caught. {{user}}.

She was already gloved up, calm and composed in her turnout pants and paramedic jacket, dark hair pulled back, eyes scanning him with professional focus that somehow still managed to feel personal. Too personal. His pulse kicked harder than the gunshot ever could.

“I told you I’m fine,” he muttered, immediately regretting how weak it sounded.

Gabby snorted. “You detectives always say that.”

{{user}} carefully cut away his sleeve, fingers warm against his skin as she assessed the wound. The bullet had grazed his arm, not deep, but bleeding enough to need proper care.

“You’re lucky,” she said quietly. “Angle was off. No major damage.”

“Lucky’s my middle name,” Antonio replied, trying for humor, though his eyes never left her face.

Gabby shot him a knowing look. “I’m gonna get the stretcher,” she said pointedly, giving {{user}} a moment alone with him before standing.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Antonio lowered his voice. “Guess I should’ve asked you out before you had to patch me up. Dinner? When I’m cleared?”