300 dumps 250 on the sidewalk, fumbling for the phone buried somewhere in his jacket pockets. His bloodied fingers skid on the silk lining and bump against his mobile without catching. "Damn it!" Seizing the hem of his pocket, he rips it partway off and digs out the phone.

"300..." 250 attempts, one hand gripping his stomach as he sits up, blood oozing out from between his fingers.

Somehow 300 succeeds at flipping the damn thing open and speed-dialing the police department. Slapping the phone against his ear, he drops to his knees by 250's side. "Put pressure on it," he pleads, pressing his free hand against the gaping hole. "You need more pressure on it."

"300-" 250 repeats, but an officer picks up the call.

"Agent, for the millionth time, this line is for-"

"My partner's been shot," 300 interrupts, the words stumbling off his tongue. "Bleeding from the stomach; please, I need an ambulance."

The cop's shift in tone is immediate. "Where are you both?"

"In front of Gyldensted's recycling plant; I don't have a vehicle; please, please send help."

"I'm dispatching some cars. We'll contact the hospital; in the meantime keep him conscious and talking." He terminates the call, and 300 briefly stares at the phone as the dial-tone sounds.

"300," 250 says. The Scot tosses the phone aside and yanks off his dress jacket, pressing it against the wound in an attempt to staunch the bleeding. "300, look at me," 250 tries again.

"I told you to put pressure on this; why aren't you putting pressure on it?!" 300 snaps, pushing hard on the wad of ruined jacket. 250 winces, and 300's mouth pulls into a grim line as he presses harder, punishing the American for not helping his situation.

"300, please," 250 begs, and 300 glares up at him, pushing defiantly on the hole in his stomach.

250 looks straight at him, his eyes pained and regretful. 300's breath hitches. "300, I lo-"

"Shut up!" 300 shouts, jamming his knuckles into 250's abdomen through the jacket. "You bloody well shut up! Love confessions are for dying people! You are not going to die, do you hear me?!" 250 stares at him, and 300 stabs his partner with his knuckles again. "Do you?!"

250 leans forward and attempts to catch the Scot's wrists. "300-"

"No!" 300 pushes hard on the jacket, forcing 250 back. "You love me so much?! Then you stay alive!"

250 is bleeding all over the curb, but somehow a smile pulls at the corners of his mouth. 300 glares at him. "Alright," 250 manages. "I'll try."


Don't you know? Out of character is serious business! ಠ_ಠ

Ughhh, this. I've had it sitting for a while now. I've been tweaking and revising it on and off inbetween working on Secret Agent Men, and it's just not getting any better. Its publication is me officially throwing in the towel.

300 is just so OOC. Maybe in context of a larger scene it would work, but I like not knowing the exact details of 300's epic fight, and the "300 waits nervously in the hospital" scene has been done. So this is my paltry offering - the portion of that whole unportrayed scene that no one ever tried to depict!

Because it's really effin' hard to get 300 right when his mask has broken entirely. XD Nobody else was dumb enough to try, that's why. (That is a credit to you all, side note.)

But, weirdly enough, it got like 10 faves on dA, so obviously it resonates somehow.

Also, if you all are wondering why the officer was such terrible 9-1-1 responder, it's because 300 actually dialed the station desk directly. I imagine he has them on speed dial, and it drives them nuts.

Anyway, let me know if you think there's any way I can improve it and, as always, thanks for reading.