For Curator's prompt, "That's a lot of blood," over at my Tumblr. Title's from M*A*S*H 8x11.
A Large Supply of That Very Special Type
"You need to go," Kathryn groans. "Get help—"
Tom snorts. "Yeah, right."
"That's a lot of blood," Harry warns.
"Lucky for us, I brought some of my own." Tom moves quickly: tubing, butterfly needles, a tourniquet torn from his uniform.
Harry scrambles to his feet. "Whoa, wait, you don't know her blood type!"
"I know it." He settles behind her, slides a needle into his own vein, holding his arm high enough for gravity to take over. No blood bag. Just his body, keeping hers alive.
"You never listen," she rasps.
Into her hair, he murmurs, "Neither do you."