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Your chest was stinging, warm blood rapidly staining your shirt, then hot and strong prickling sensations before feeling like it was burning, in an excruciating way. Shit. You’ve been shot.
As you fell to the ground, you saw Craig jump on the armed man, beating him up so he wouldn’t do any more damage. Your chest was burning so hard.
When you reopened your eyes, your ears were ringing, multiple voices screaming around you, overlapping. You had been moved into the back of the truck, tires screeching as it stormed away. You were held from behind by Pope, a strong arm wrapped around you to keep you steady, still, you felt each bump and sharp turn taken.
Someone kept slapping your cheek, Deran, trying to keep you conscious, calling your name. You looked down, his hand was applying pressure on your chest, trying to stop the bleeding. You felt like your flesh was ablaze.
You don’t remember much of the ride, you were so out of it. You didn’t miss anything special anyway. Pope was beyond stressed and angry at Craig, yelling, trying to understand how his stupid brother could screw up this much. He may have stopped you from dying on the spot, but you still got shot because of him. Baz was also screaming at Craig while also trying to calm Pope down, without much success. Deran was also on Craig’s ass before quickly yelling for a bit of help to keep you conscious and alive. J was the only one silent, focused on driving as fast as he could to the Cody’s. You would’ve laughed at the complete chaos if the pain wasn’t so strong.
When you came back to your senses, you were laid on a table in the garage, your shirt ripped off, chest still burning and stinging like crazy. You blinked hard, Pope and Baz were hunched over you in a tense silence, tweezers in hand as they dug into each bullet hole to pull out pellets. You grimaced, hearing Craig and Deran argue in the corner of your vision as J was silently observing.
You were nearly startled when you heard a voice. Smurf.
“Look, baby, he’s awake. He’s a tough one, I told you.” She said with lack of surprise. Either she strongly believed you wouldn’t die, or she didn’t care much.
Pope immediately stopped to look at your face, moving closer, a bloody hand resting in your hair.
“Hey.” His voice was a mix of roughness and softness, worry still evident on his face despite the relief to see you awake.
You tried to smile before quickly grimacing again.
“You okay ?” He asked.
“Fucking awesome.” You replied weakly, giving a thumbs up he didn’t see.
“Of course you do.” Baz said, briefly looking at you before focusing back on his task. “You’re not gonna die on us, right ?”
“If uh, you keep- digging into my flesh like that, I- I fucking might.”
“Sorry, I can’t. It’s the only way. Don’t wanna leave any of that shit inside you, unless you want a souvenir ?”
You groaned before looking at Pope. His lips were pursed, eyes drilling holes into Craig’s head who seemed annoyed by it. You grabbed his hand, giving it a weak squeeze, stopping him from starting another argument. He looked back at you, still displeased.
“Look, man, I said I was sorry, okay ?” Craig said after a while, before looking at you. “Glad you’re okay, man.”
“‘Okay’ ? Does he look ‘okay’ to you ?” Pope shot back.
“What do you want me to do !? Mh ?!”
“To do your fucking job ! If you hadn’t been so coked up you-”
“Enough !” Smurf shouted. “[Name] is alive, he is fine.” She said with a honeyed tone, trying to lighten up the mood. You are alive, this is good.
“He is not fine.” Pope countered, still glaring at Craig who gave him a ‘stop it’ kind of look.
“Baby, how are you feeling ?” She asked, approaching you, moving the hair sticking to your sweaty forehead.
“Like hell.” You said, voice growing quieter. Hissing at the feeling of tweezers digging in your burning flesh followed by a splash of alcohol to disinfect.
Smurf hummed as if you had answered positively. You were talking which means you were alive, so no worries.
Pope looked at her as she smiled, patting his shoulder, walking away.
“I’m gonna prepare the plates for the pie.” She said before disappearing.
You let out a long groan, head starting to throb.
“You done ?” Pope asked Baz, though it sounded more like an order than a question.
“Last one.” Baz replied, digging into your bloody flesh before letting the last pellet hit the table. “And we’re good.”
Pope checked Baz’s job, just to make sure, before grabbing some gauze, trying to wipe some of the blood away to clean you up. You grimaced, not appreciating the rubbing sensation on your open flesh.
“Can you sit up on your own ?” Baz asked and you hummed, weakly and slowly moving yourself, legs dangling off the table. Pope helped you up, one arm behind you to keep you steady, staring at your face to make sure you weren’t in too much pain. You were. Your head was throbbing harder than before, feeling lightheaded, your chest was ablaze, your body felt so heavy.
With the help of Baz, Pope placed more gauze on your wounds before bandaging you. The contact with your sensitive flesh made your skin burn even harder. You stayed still, not trusting your ability to walk yet.
They all stared at you with various levels of worry. J wondered how you weren’t already dead, Deran worried about the possibility of you dying and having to deal with an angry Pope, Craig seemed torn between guilt and denial, refusing eye contact. Pope was still livid, lips pursed each time his eyes landed on Craig. Baz seemed the happiest of them all. Simply glad they didn’t have to bury anyone, not thinking deeper about it. Or maybe he just didn’t care.
You shakily rubbed your face, feeling both cold and hot at the same time. Pope’s hand was between your shoulder blades, keeping you somewhat steady.
“Did you at least get the safe ?” You asked.
“Uh, yeah. He- he was sitting on 70 grand. 20 more than what we thought.” J replied.
“Oh. Neat.” You chuckled weakly, glad you didn’t go through that for nothing.
“That’s not how it goes. Generally, I mean.” Deran started. “You shouldn’t have gotten hurt. We're better than that.”
“That’s fine.” You replied, not caring or thinking much about it. The job was a success, end of the story. “We have the money.”
“No, it’s not.” Pope said, looking at you. “You could’ve died. You still can if it doesn’t heal correctly.”
“He got baptized. Next time should go smoothly.” Baz said with a smile, patting your arm as he walked away. “Want some pie ? Smurf’s waiting.”
“‘Next time’ ?” Pope asked, looking at Baz. “There ain’t gonna be a 'next time'.”
You gave a nod to the others, signaling they could leave.
“You hear me ? No more jobs.” Pope repeated, this time looking at you.
“Would you help me to bed ? Or couch. I need to sleep. Or pass out again.” You asked, closing your eyes, hoping the throbbing sensation would leave.
Pope stared at you, not pleased by your lack of answer before moving, an arm wrapped around you to hold you close, carefully walking you to his room. He helped you lay down on his bed, the throbbing in your head losing some of its intensity.
You sighed, eyes closed, and you rubbed your face. You barely had time to realize Pope was gone, that he was already back with a glass of water and some meds.
“For the pain.” He said handing you some pills. He watched as you threw them in your mouth and swallowed them dryly before drinking the whole glass. “You’re supposed to swallow them with water. Not… separate.”
“I always do it like that.” You replied, placing the empty glass on the nightstand.
“You’re gonna choke on them one day.” He argued, pulling away the sheets from under you, forcing you to move and wiggle to help him out. He should’ve done that before letting you lay down.
“I’m not the one choking on-”
He didn’t let you finish, throwing the sheet over your head in a swift motion. You chuckled before wincing, moving the sheet away from your face.
“I’m not choking on anything.”
You hummed, amused, watching him go to your left, kneeling and tucking you in.
“Lay on me.”
“What ?” Pope looked at you like you just said the stupidest thing. Maybe you did.
“Lay on me.” You repeated.
“No.” He quickly finished tucking your left side before standing up and going to your right.
“It’s just… to apply some pressure.”
“No.”
“It’ll help me.” You argued, grimacing.
“How ?”
“I don’t know. Each time I get hurt, I do it.”
He stared at you. Was he considering it ?
“Does it help ?”
“No, not at first.”
“Then why would I do that ?”
“Because it helps after.”
“How so ?”
“I don’t know. It just does.”
He stayed silent, looking at you.
“I’m not doing it.” He said. So one of your hands went to his hair, gently combing his curls.
“But that will really help me.” You replied, smiling softly. Your hand stayed in his hair, playing with a lock before going to his cheek, caressing his skin.
He seemed to think for a moment, or maybe he was just enjoying your touch.
At this point you didn’t care whether he changed his mind or not, you felt too tired to keep arguing over a stupid thing that would hurt a lot. You just closed your eyes and continued playing with his hair.
“Fine.” He finally said, tucking your right side in a swift motion.
You reopened your eyes, surprised.
“I just lay on top of you ?” He asked and you nodded. He seemed to hesitate for a few seconds before finally climbing on the bed and on top of you, he carefully closed the distance, his whole weight on you, his chin resting on top of your head.
You were grimacing vividly, a truly pained face as you tried not to scream. Your chest was burning harder, stinging so deep and horribly sharp.
“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” You hissed, eyes closed. You felt Pope move, wanting to ease your pain but you wrapped your arms around him to keep you on top of you. “Don’t move. Don’t move. Don’t move.”
It was so painful. Like your flesh was being squeezed like a wet sponge. Pope had no idea what to do, watching, waiting for you to tell him to move away. Was he slowly killing you ?
After a good minute you finally patted his back.
“You can move- please- move, quick.” You rapidly said, out of breath and as soon as he was off of you, you took a deep breath, relief washing over you, your pain lessening. It was back to normal after a few long seconds, yet it didn’t feel as harsh as before.
“You okay ?” He asked, worried, and still confused as he was kneeling next to the bed.
“Yeah.” You sighed, one hand blindly patting his shoulder. “The pain feels somewhat… more bearable now. Thank you.”
He stared at you, grabbing your hand, holding it tightly.
“No more jobs.” He said. As thrilling as it was to go on a heist, Pope refused to face the possibilities of losing you because of a mistake from him or one of his brothers or something unplanned. You’re gonna stay alive, and he’ll make sure of it.
You sighed, grimacing, knowing he wouldn’t change his mind.
“Fine. No more jobs.” You repeated, squeezing his hand.