Crossposted from AO3; I am not currently taking prompts.
Prompt: patching up a wound.
Sgt. Moffitt sat in the jeep, body turned towards the desert, trying to clean the huge gash on the side of his leg. It was largely a superficial wound-it wasn't even bleeding that much anymore-but it still had to be taken care of nonetheless. Behind him in the other jeep, Troy and Tully were pouring over maps, trying to figure out where the Germans had taken Hitch, who was undoubtedly in worse shape than Moffitt was right about now.
Moffitt stifled a hiss as he pressed a damp rag to the cut. He could feel tiny grits of sand that had gotten into the wound, and he knew he had to try to get as many of them out as he could.
He took a few deep breaths and started trying to brush them out with the rag, doing his best to ignore the rising nausea in his stomach and the tunneling of his vision at the sensation.
"Moffitt!"
Moffitt looked up, blinking at the bright sun, with the feeling that that hadn't been the first time his name had been called.
"Just what do you think you're doing?" Troy demanded.
"Cleaning myself up," he answered.
"Why didn't you report this?" Troy asked, snatching the rag away to do it himself.
"We have more pressing things to worry about," Moffitt said, leaning back and resting his weight on his elbows.
"Tully, see if you can find a pair of tweezers somewhere," Troy called.
"Sure thing, Sarge."
"You ought to be checked out by a medic," Troy said.
"I will as soon as we get Hitch," Moffitt said.
Tully came over from the other jeep and handed Troy a pair of tweezers. Troy thanked him, and Moffitt squeezed his eyes shut as Troy started picking grains of sand from his wound.
"I still don't understand why you thought you should do this on your own," Troy muttered as Moffitt stifled a grunt.
"Figuring out how to get Hitch is a little more important than a cut on my leg." Moffitt let out a hiss as Troy dug out a particularly stubborn grain of sand.
Troy glared at him. "Well, you're no good to us if you can't help us get him out. And even worse if we don't know about it."
"I would have told you if it became necessary."
"That's not good enough," Troy said. "I need to know if there's the slightest chance that any of my men might not be at a hundred percent."
Moffitt bit back a retort. He knew Troy was right. "I'm sorry," he said instead. "I won't let it happen again."
Troy nodded and grabbed the bandages. "Good." He started quickly wrapping the wound. "There," he said, tying it off. "That'll have to do 'til we get back to base."
"Thank you, Troy," Moffitt said.
Troy nodded in response.
"I'm getting something over the radio," Tully said urgently. He listened for a moment. "Sarge, we've gotta go! The Germans are on the move!"
Troy rushed over to the other jeep to help Tully clear away the maps and put away the radio. Once the equipment was packed away, Tully joined Moffitt in their jeep and Troy climbed into the driver's seat of his.
"Let's shake it!" he said, and off they went.