2:11 PM; CLINSTONE, SOUTH WALNUT AVENUE
“Warning,” Jacob said, slapping a hand into Jensen’s as soon as he was on the gurney. “I brought your husband with me.”
“You shouldn’t have.”
“What can I say? He’s my bestie.”
Jensen rolled his eyes, turning his head as Bo came up on his other side. “Hi, baby.”
Bo shook his head, grabbing Jensen’s hand as he walked alongside the gurney. “You’re pale, Jens. Where’d you get hit?”
“Eli, come on. It’s nothing to worry about.”
“Borakan, is it the femoral?” Bo asked.
“It sure seems that way, yes, sir,” the EMT said.
“It’s nothing to worry about?” Bo questioned in a whisper.
“Maybe… nothing is underselling it,” Jensen whispered back.
“I just don’t want you worry about me.”
“You’re my husband. It’s my job to worry, you asshole.” Bo stepped back as the paramedics loaded the stretcher into the ambulance.
Jacob clapped Bo on the shoulder. “I’ll meet you at the hospital.”
“Thanks,” Bo breathed. He squeezed Jacob’s arm before climbing into the ambulance. He sat down as Borakan closed the doors.
“You know what blood type he is?” Borakan asked as the ambulance started moving, sirens blaring.
“O-negative,” Bo said, squeezing Jensen’s hand tightly.
“I don’t… Last I knew, hospital was running dangerously low on O-neg.”
Bo sniffled, pressing a kiss to the back of his husband’s hand. “I’m O-negative. I’ll donate whatever he needs.”
Borakan offered a chuckle. “Damn good coincidence, Austen.”
“Mmhmm.” Bo knew it wasn’t a coincidence. Half of the reason Jamal had hired Jensen in the first place was for his blood type. If Bo ever got hurt, Jensen was on standby as a donor. Bo watched the monitor Borakan hooked Jensen up to. “Don’t you dare let his blood pressure drop any more than that,” he whispered.
“I’m doing everything I can, Mister Austen-Taylor,” Borakan assured.
“Stop worrying, Eli,” Jensen said, squeezing the blonde’s hand. “I love you.”
“Shut up,” Bo whispered.
Jensen chuckled. “I… love you,” he repeated.
“I love you, too, now shut up.”
“Mm.” Jensen looked up at his husband as the blonde smoothed his thumb over Jensen’s wedding ring. “We’re gonna catch him.”
“I know, love.” Bo pressed a kiss to Jensen’s knuckles. “Jake has Ramirez and Floyd out there, several cops, too. We’ll catch him, although that’s not my biggest concern right now.” He snapped the fingers of his free hand. “Blood pressure.”
“Working on it, sir,” Borakan said.
“How much longer did you keep running after he shot you?”
“Not long. I’m not stupid,” Jensen said. He glanced up at the ceiling. “I fell on my ass. That’s why I stopped.”
“You should’ve stopped immediately and called it in, applied pressure as soon as it happened. All you did was keep blood pumping quickly,” Bo said. He kissed the back of Jensen’s hand, squeezing his fingers tightly. “Jamal will kill you if you leave me.”
“I know, baby. I’m not going anywhere.”
“You better not.” Bo sniffled, resting Jensen’s hand against his lips. “Watch his temperature. Don’t you dare let hypothermia in here.”
“I know, sir.”
“You’re going to be okay,” Bo assured with a nod. “Promise.”
Jensen smiled. “And Bo Austen-Taylor doesn’t break promises. Right?”
“Right, love. Right.”
2:35 PM; CLINSTONE SPECIALTY HOSPITAL, WAITING ROOM
“He’s in surgery,” Bo whispered, sniffling as he paced the waiting room, phone pressed to his ear.
“What got damaged?” Jamal asked.
“Femoral. They’re going to take two pints from me, hope for the best.” Bo raked a hand through his hair. “Do you have anyone near Clinstone that’s O-negative?”
“I, umm… You know what? I’ll find someone.”
“I’ll find someone,” the older man repeated. “Promise. You just sit down with Mister Mason, okay? Keep me updated.”
“I love you, kiddo. Keep your head on straight.”
“Doing my best,” Bo said, his voice cracking. “And I, umm… I love you, too.”
“I know, kiddo. Sit with Mister Mason. Call me if you need me.”
“Okay.” Bo ended the call, letting out a breathless sound as he sunk back into his seat. “Femoral trauma… isn’t the easiest thing to treat.”
“Jensen’s strong,” Jacob said softly, threading his fingers through Bo’s hair. “He’s a fighter. You know that.” He tugged Bo’s head to his shoulder. “He’ll be okay.”
“That’s the hope,” Bo agreed, staring off at the wall.
Jacob wrapped an arm around the blonde’s shoulders. “It’ll be okay, brother. Jamal’s gonna be praying for him, I’ll be praying for him, and as long as he’s got you here, you’re putting out positive familial energy. That shit’s good for anyone.”
Bo nodded. “Yeah,” he breathed. “I love him so damn much, Jake.”
“I know, brother.”
“I can’t lose him.”
“You won’t. You kept me alive when Allie was in the hospital. She and I are both here because of you. Jensen’s gonna be fine, and I’ll do what I can to keep you functioning until then. Okay?”
“Okay,” Bo whispered with a nod. “Thank you.”
“You betcha, Blondie,” Jacob murmured. “You betcha.”
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