Steve pushed him gently back onto the bed. "Yeah, that's not happening. Sit down, sit still, and I'll be done quicker. I know you don't like it, but you got yourself hurt, and you won't go anywhere to get it looked at."
"How am I meant to walk in to the ED and explain the fucking gunshot, Steve?"
"You don't, not without questions. Come on, I just need this tiny, tiny cannula in, and then you'll be having a great time." Steve coaxed.
"Fine. Fine, just be quick." He sat back, offering his hand. "Just do it."
Steve hummed. It was the fifth time in as many attempts that Fred had said it, and he was far from impressed. It did make him laugh, though. The most up-and-coming crime boss in London beyond terrified of needles.
"Right, sharp scratch."
Fred tried, but his anxiety won out, and he jerked away. "Sorry, I can't do it."
Steve shook his head,unclipping the tourniquet. "Fred, I can't do anything if you're not gonna help me. You know what we need? A proper clinic space, not just a bed and a shitty light. Get some proper equipment in too, make life easier."
"Mm, maybe. We'd need to get more people in to help."
"Finn’s doing better, he wanted to get involved in all of this." Steve murmured, setting up again. "I'd happily get him sorted."
"I'd worry too much for him to be involved in all of it." Fred shifted to get comfortable.
"Yeah, but surely it would be better to get him involved this way,behind the scenes, than having him out there with a gun."
"That's true. Sheila would have a fit if she knew we were talking about it, though."
"Major crime boss and still terrified of his wife." Steve teased.
"Of course I am. You would be too if you had to share a bed with her."
Steve hummed, having found his vein. "I've shared a house, that was enough."
"It was nice when you stayed, especially when we were just getting used to Finn's…condition."
"I'm glad I could help out. He's doing amazingly well at the moment."
"Yeah, I'm really prou-Ow!" Fred frowned at Steve, instinctively having looked at the needle. "Fuck you."
Fred's swearing hadn't exactly been English, but Steve felt it. He held the cannula to secure it as he dropped the bed, Fred dead to the world. He laughed quietly to himself as he finished up, discarding the sharp and flushing. It seemed to work well, and he was happy enough with the placement to continue with it. Knowing Fred all too well, he decided to wrap it, and was part way through the bandage when Fred groaned at him.
"Oh, hi sleepyhead."
"Fuck you."
That had been more English, and Steve grinned. "Welcome back. It's in and working, the hard part's over."
Fred hummed, cracking an eye to look at Steve. "I feel like shit."
"You're gonna feel even worse when I get this ket into you, so we need happy thoughts before then.
"Happy thoughts?! You just stabbed me."
Steve laughed. "You know, I see where Finn gets his dramatics from."
"That's Sheila, not me." He grinned. "It's definitely not my fault."
