Thinking about gaz who has a mortifyingly intense crush on the medic the 141 tend to work with.
Which usually isn't a problem, he can stumble through conversations well enough so long as he doesn't get distracted staring at your hands patching someone up. Gaz has made sure to keep his crush tightly contained, no need to humiliate himself with that.
That of course, all goes out the window when he's shot twice in the stomach. Blood loss and adrenaline have the sergeant fully convinced he will be dead before you manage to save him.
Might as well confess, right?
"Love, i– i need to tell you something–" he mumbles, trying to grab your arm but being swiftly held down so he doesn't get in the way. "I always liked you. Really liked you."
For a split second, like a fucking amateur, you freeze.
Gaz doesn't notice, already rambling further "you're perfect, yknow? Christ– nights I've spent thinnking about thos' hands of yours. Wanna feel them wi'out gloves–"
"You're losing blood, sergeant." You mumble quieter than you would, trying to rationalize his behavior as nothing more than momentary delusions.
"M no' lying—" gaz huffs, head tossed back but still lucid enough to catch your implication. Not lucid enough to stop himself when he says "can't fuckin' get off to normal shite anymore. All medical porn, innit? thinkin' about you, sometimes just imaginations enough—"
"Sergeant." You warn mildly, pressing at his wound just that bit harder. Retribution for your burning face.
"Mghh! Fuck— keep doing that, love. Need my last breath to be under your hands—" gaz groans, truly having lost it now because you can see the way his cock twitches in his trousers. "Press a little harder, please—"
Ah. The drugs worked.
Gaz goes limp under you, and quietly you thank whatever above that you were the only ones to hear that. Face burning, you finish patching him up to drag to emergency evac.
"Almost had me fooled you felt the same, sergeant." You whisper, completely unaware that kyles comms have been on the whole time.
