AN: posted to lj a really long time ago. Mostly just reposting here as proof of life. I know... I have a multichapter story with about a million chapters long overdue and I promise I'm working on it. For now? I offer humor in a "bear with me" peace offering...

"C'mon. Don't be such a baby, Ian. Take off your shirt."

"... Christ Don, it's fucking huge."

"You were the one that wanted to do this-"

"I know, I know. Gimme a second, okay? This is gonna hurt like a bitch."

"...We don't have to do this. Maybe it would be better if-"

"No, I'm good. Really. Just do it."

"Ok. Here goes..."

"Oh! Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

"Shit. You're bleeding bad. You want me to pull it out?"

"No, Don. Just hurry up. This isn't exactly comfortable, you know?"

"I know, I know. I'm trying..."

Colby froze in place, hand on the doorknob, wishing desperately that there was a way for him to erase the last few minutes from his brain. What did Don and Ian think they were doing? And in the FBI bathroom? This was wrong on so many levels. All Colby had wanted to do was inform his boss of a possible lead and this is what he got. What they did on their off hours was their business, but here? In the public bathroom?

The more Colby thought about it, the angrier it made him. They were here to work, dammit. He burst into the bathroom, intent on giving the two senior agents a piece of his mind, but stopped short at the sight in front of him.

Ian looked up in surprise from where he was perched on the sink counter with his shirt off. Don was standing next to him holding... gauze?

Don whirled around, facing Colby and Ian howled. Colby's eyes were drawn to Don's right hand, grasping a large suture needle. Colby could see a thin thread connecting it to a bloody gash in Ian's bicep.

Colby gaped in surprise.

"Don! Shit! Would you pay attention!" Ian snapped.

"Oh, damn. Sorry, he startled me." Don explained, dabbing the gauze to Ian's wound.

"Jumpy, are you?" Ian snarked between gritted teeth.

Don's eyes narrowed. "Screw you, Ian. Why am I doing this again? Maybe one of us is a big fat baby, too scared of needles to go to a hospital."

"Not scared, I-"

"Uh, Don?" Colby interrupted. He had a feeling the two would continue bickering for ages unless stopped.

"Yeah?" Don asked distractedly, fishing tape from an open first aid kit.

"We've got a lead."

Don looked up, "Alright. I'll be there in a sec."

Colby nodded, but instead of leaving, watched his boss finish stitching and bandaging what looked like a fresh knife wound. Good to know that in a pinch, Don seemed like a competent medic.

Ian broke the silence. "That really hurt, Don."

"Poor baby." Don cooed, smirking. "Want Daddy to kiss it better?"

Colby snorted.

Ian glared balefully. "I'll hurt you."

"Sure you will." Don replied, patronizingly. He then leaned over, grinning mischievously, and pressed a swift kiss to Ian's bandaged arm anyway. Ian swatted at him, but Don was already moving towards the door. He gestured for Colby to lead the way out.

"Put that first aid kit back." Don called over his shoulder. "And try not to get stabbed again," he added as the door swung shut.

Colby heard a thunk, likely the roll of gauze hitting the door. His boss just laughed and headed towards the conference room. Colby watched his retreat then glancing at the closed door, shaking his head in bewilderment.

You know, the FBI bathroom really wasn't the place for wound care either...