#broson

Jason paced the hallway, waiting for the rest of his team to finish getting geared up.  

Their time so far in Mexico had been a shit show and he was frustrated with what little they had to go on for this next operation.  A dying man’s confession of a safe house, and minimal time for a proper game plan was never a good foundation for an op, but this was the closest they had been to getting Doza this whole time and they weren’t going to miss out for a shower and some rest.

Catching a small whiff of his own stench, Jason almost second guessed his last thought, worried that the enemy might smell them coming before they even caught sight of them.

Nodding as each of his men peeled out of the armory, he fist bumped everyone as they headed towards their vehicles.  Hopping from op to op with little to show for it was extra exhausting; hopefully this would be the one to end Doza’s reign of terror.

XXXXX

Back at the base, Jason tilted his head back, running his fingers through his hair.  The hot water of the shower poured over him, rinsing the sweat away, the smell of gunpowder, and any traces of blood.  As he closed his eyes, he could still see Doza’s body laying on the floor.  Finally, he thought to himself as the water continued to pound down.

Stepping out of the shower, he wrapped a towel around his waist and headed into the changing room.  By that time, most of the team and other members of the Mexican Marines had left, Jason choosing to take a longer shower than most.  But as he started to pull on his shirt and pants, he noticed that Trent and Brock were tucked in the one corner.

Trent appeared to have showered, his long hair still dripping water on the back of his shirt.  He had his sweatpants pulled up on the left side, a fresh bandage covering the cut he sustained from the church siege.  He was talking, no he was arguing with Brock, who was still sitting on the bench, with his full gear still on from the operation.  

Jason hesitated for a moment, not knowing if this was something he should step in for or not.  But then he overheard Trent say something about an injury and before he knew it, he was standing next to Trent, looking down at Brock with a small frown.  

“Hey, I got this.  Go watch the door, okay?” Jason said, tilting his head in the direction of the exit.  Jason wasn’t surprised when Trent didn’t follow his orders immediately, checking in silently with Brock.  Even if he was Bravo 4, Trent would always be concerned with the health of their team members over whatever command Jason could issue, and that’s part of the reason that made him such a good medic.  

Trent moved towards the door, Brock must have signaled he was okay with Jason’s suggestion.  As soon as Trent was out of sight, Jason sat down next to Brock on the bench.

“What’s going on Brock?” Jason asked, resisting the urge to reach out and touch the younger man.  This was not the place or time.

“I...I don’t think I can take my clothes off,” Brock said quietly, almost too quietly.

Fuck it, Jason thought, and reached out to place a hand gently on Brock’s knee, not anticipating the flinch that it would cause.  Pulling his hand back quickly, he looked at Brock in concern and then the pieces started to come together.  

“The rocket launcher...you guys all dived out of the car, right?” Jason asked, thinking back to the ambush in the alley way.  He had noticed the incident of course, but had been more focused on taking out the man who was holding the rocket launcher and then ducking from the responding gunfire that followed than watching specifically how his team had gotten out of the vehicle.

Brock nodded.

“You didn’t say anything,” Jason said, anger lining his words, but then softened his tone, not liking how Brock had hunched down even further in response.  “Is that what Trent was arguing with you about?”

“Yeah,” Brock replied, lifting his head to meet Jason’s gaze.  “I...I honestly didn’t feel it until we stopped moving,” he explained, sitting up a bit more, wincing at the pull of his clothes against his skin.

Jason nodded, it sounded like adrenaline had kept Brock moving, and now that the operation was over, his body decided to stop hiding the injury.  Knowing what they had to do, Jason stood up, motioning for Brock to do the same.  He reached around the younger man, unclipping his vest and setting it on the bench, ignoring the loud rattle it made against the wood.  Jason then bent down to untie Brock’s boots.  Brock quickly caught on to his actions, and lifted each foot, so that Jason could pull the boot off and then his sock in one fell swoop.  

Jason had to pause for a moment, his breath catching at the intimacy of his motions.  They were in the middle of a Marine base in Mexico, and he was literally undressing Brock.  Shaking his head, he stood back up, trying to refocus.  Brock was injured.  That was the priority here.  

“Got a pair of scissors?” Jason asked, watching Brock’s eyes widen as he realized what Jason had planned.  But his hand didn’t shake as he pointed to his vest, and Jason quickly fished out the pair from the pocket he was indicating.  Jason then strode into the showers, expecting Brock to follow him instinctively and was glad when he was right. 

Signaling for Brock to hold back for a moment, he turned the shower back on, but at a much cooler temperature than his own shower had been.  He then reached out, planning at first to pull Brock along by his arm, but then thinking better of it, grabbed Brock’s uncovered, and uninjured hand instead.  Ignoring the warmth that radiated from Brock’s hand to his, he positioned Brock under the spray of cool water, still fully dressed.  

As the clothes started to dampen, Jason began to cut the fabric along Brock’s right arm, followed by his left.  His shoulder had taken the brunt of his fall, and Jason took extra care to pull the fabric from the burn, his fingers tracing over the wound gently.  Jason could feel how tense Brock was as he held his body still, preparing himself for the pull of the fabric away from his skin, trying to not let out any sounds or show any emotion.  

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s just me here, okay?” Jason repeated in a low tone, his hand resting briefly on Brock’s cheek, feeling reassured when Brock’s eyes met his and he responded with a small nod.

Jason then repeated the same steps with Brock’s pants, starting from the waist and going downwards.  Brock’s left hip and knee were the worst, and the little gasps of pain, the small whimpers that Brock now allowed out were daggers to Jason’s heart, but he knew he had to keep going.  Any fabric lingering could cause an infection, and so Jason was painstakingly meticulous with his process, even as his own hands trembled when Brock let out a sound.

Finally convinced that he had removed all the fabric, Jason nodded in the direction of the shampoo and soap.  “Do you think you can manage that?” He asked, trying to not succumb to the impulse to do it himself.  Even though Brock was injured, he was still stunning, and it was taking every bit of Jason’s self control to not run his hands over every part of his body, but for a different purpose than before.

Seeing Brock’s nod in response, Jason turned to leave the showers.  “I’ll go grab some dry clothes,” Jason added over his shoulders, and then headed out, feeling like he may be in need of another shower himself later, a cold one this time.

XXXXX

Now that Jason was no longer close to him, Brock could feel his whole body relax.  Jason’s actions had been confusing as hell, and he had felt tense during that whole encounter, both from the pain of his burns and from the compassion that Jason was showing him.  The handful of times that they had hooked up, Brock didn’t even think that they got fully undressed, and so to be fully naked in front of Jason, and by Jason’s hands...Brock let out a sigh, trying to commit the whole scene to memory.  He was just glad that he didn’t throw himself into Jason’s arms...or drop to his knees, which might not have turned out as well this time around.

Brock reached for the soap, his whole left side twinging at the movement.  He wished that Jason would have stayed, but also figured that helping him soap down might have been a step too far especially considering where they were.  Brock carefully but quickly washed his body, and then his hair, the cool water causing him to start to shiver.

But as he stepped out of the shower, and saw Trent holding burn cream, bandages, and a sweatshirt that he recognized as one of Jason’s, he couldn’t help but smile.  Maybe this was something more after all.