Requesting a Sanford prompt with + and ✿ wanna see him getting taken care of, if you'd plz 🙏 :3
Then again, neither is Doc, so he should be fine to take care of Sanford after a rough mission. His hands are kind of tied either way, but that thought process makes him feel better about it.
He doesn't know a lot about taking the medical reigns, however he does know that head trauma definitely requires aid. There's no way he couldn't know, head trauma is practically his middle name and he's heard the same spiel from 2BDamned about it at least twenty times over now. Rest, rest, and more rest. Sanford was really, really, really not going to like that treatment plan. Maybe he should've thought about that before letting an agent crack him over the head.
He'd been exceedingly careful taking Sanford out of the truck, guiding him down onto his feet and getting him to hook his arm over Deimos' shoulders to stay steady. The walk into base is slower than its ever been, each move slotted into a calm rhythm to ensure Sanford can match Deimos' footsteps safely.
Upon entering, he meets eyes with 2BDamned for mere moments. 2BDamned silently says he's busy and Deimos silently responds that he figured so. Hank's bleeding out right now, Doc doesn't have time for a measly concussion. Deimos does, so he keeps leading Sanford onward.
Sanford makes a low droning noise. "I know, Ford, I know.." Deimos coos at him so gently while leading him down the hall to their shared room, "You're okay bud.. almost there, you're doin' great."
It's difficult for Deimos to keep his pace steady when he finally gets Sanford close to their cot, wanting him laying down as soon as possible so he can recover as soon as possible. He knows better, thankfully, softly lowering Sanford down and plucking his sunglasses off of his face.
Sanford initially leans forward rather than back how Deimos had wanted, remaining seated when he finally attempts to speak, "Why ain't..?" he trails off, head lolling to the side beyond his control.
Deimos knows what he's going to ask, interjecting when he catches Sanford's cheek in his palm, "Doc's got a lot to do with Hank right now, that's all.. y'know it ain't personal." Sanford makes a noise somewhere between "I don't believe you" and "I still hate that guy." Yeah, that tracks.
He thumbs at Sanford's cheek. Sanford looks at him with dazed, tired eyes. "Don't tell me," his voice is low, velvety. "Ya really ain't wanna be stuck with me playin' your nurse for a little while?" he smiles, he's teasing. Sanford gives a crooked smile back.
"C'mon.. lay down," Deimos tenderly instructs, moving Sanford down to his back. After he's removed both of their boots and set them at the foot of their bed, Deimos sits beside him. He brushes Sanford's curls out of his eyes, "I'll stay here with ya, long as ya need.. aight?"
Sanford stares up at him as if he's seeing an angel, one calling to him from heaven during his last moments alive. He doesn't say a word, only closes his eyes and leans his head back into Deimos' touch.
