Dom doesn't ask if she's alright, or whether she wants more bourbon. The look on Letty's face says it all: she's in pain, and stupid questions aren't going to help. Instead, he pours her two more fingers and slides the glass towards her. Alcohol will dull her senses and numb the pain while he plays battlefield surgeon and tries to get this wound closed.
"Can't believe I let myself be that stupid," Letty mutters, wincing as Dom slides the tweezers into her wound and starts to pry the bullet out. Another two inches lower and she'd be dead on the back seat of Dom's car — except she isn't. People like Shaw don't miss, Letty thinks, and if they wanted to kill her, the target wouldn't have been her shoulder. "I walked out of that building without even questioning what Shaw wanted."
"Trusting someone isn't stupid," Dom says without thinking. He trusted her not to kill him all those years ago in London and it turned out to be the right decision. He takes a sip of the bourbon himself, a little liquid courage can only help him after all, and slides the bullet free.
The good thing is she's not bleeding too much. It's mostly muscle damage and that heals pretty easy. Dom only needs to clean the wound, stitch it closed, and cover it with gauze and bandages for further protection.
"You couldn't have known what Shaw would do," Dom adds. He looks Letty in the eye seriously then leans forward, kisses her on the lips till she pulls back and smiles at him. "Pass me that bottle of saline, will you?"
"What would I do without you around to stitch me up?" Letty asks, and tilts her head. She slides the saline across the table and watches him intently as if the second she blinks he'll disappear. "Mi papi."
"You'd stand in front of that bathroom mirror and do it yourself." He teases her but it's the truth. Letty's never been scared of getting hurt, or shot, or punched. It's the life they chose. On the other hand, he can't blame her for wanting them to quit working with Hobbs. It's harder to stay alive when you have enemies that want your head. "The stitches would be neater than my handiwork too."
"I know. Your abuela would be horrified if she was here."
He cleans out the hole in her shoulder then stitches it shut and dresses it. All the while, Letty sits there squeezing the hell out of the bourbon bottle, occasionally takes a sip, and swears next time will be different.
As ever, Dom believes her. Letty doesn't let herself get screwed around, or over. Once she's all fixed up, they curl up on the couch and Letty lets him kiss her shoulder better. It's been a long day, he thinks, and she's going to need the extra sleep. They both will.
"How long do you think we can keep doing this, Dom?" Letty asks, wincing as she tries to push herself up and adjust positions. She needs to know there's an out. That if she asks it of him, they'll pack their shit, pack Brian and Mia's too, and disappear to the Dominican Republic. One day it'll all stop if she's lucky, and if she's not ... Letty doesn't want to think about what would happen then.
"It's only one more fight, I promise." He says the words but he doesn't believe them. Dom's been telling it to himself for years, since before they started hijacking trucks and stealing cargo. There's always one more job, one more fight; one more something that keeps him tied to this city. "I love you, Letty. You know that."
"I know, Dom." She turns herself around and lays awkwardly on the couch, rests her head on his knees and closes her eyes. But sometimes love isn't enough, Letty thinks, sometimes there has to be sacrifice too, and lines drawn. "We'll get through it like we always do."
"You want me to get you anything?" he offers, noticing how she shifts every once in a while. That wound is painful no matter how brave a face she puts on. Letty just won't let herself show how much it's getting to her. Not now, anyway.
"Nah." She pats his leg and smiles. "I got everything I need right here."