wanted most - tracob

twenty six

Jacob woke up to fingers running through his curls, and for a moment he smiled and hummed, "Morning, Shakira..."

"Er..." a familiar voice that was not his Shakira's responded.

Jacob was rocketing up and scrambling back, grunting at the pain that flared up in his arm and croaking out, "What the fu-"

"Jacob!" his mother was standing with her hands raised in defense. "Relax, relax... do you know Shakira? Why would Shakira be in here?"

The lead agent groaned, leaning forward in his sitting position to glance at his injured arm before running a hand down his face, "Mum? How did you even get in here, you scared the hell out of me."

"Adam left me a key in the broken flower pot..." she said slowly. "I gave that flower pot to you, what happened to it?"

Jacob was much too sleepy to think at the moment, but he recalled Troye saying that he'd accidentally broken it the first day he'd arrived at Jacob's, "My boyfriend, who is agile at any other time, tripped over it... my boyfriend! I've got to get to the hospital, what time is it?"

"You're hurt..." his mother frowned. "You shouldn't be going anywhere."

Jacob loved his mother dearly, but he didn't appreciate being coddled. Unless, of course, he was being coddled by a feathery haired, bright eyed Troye. That wasn't so terrible. He worked his way one handed off of his bed, however, grabbing a pair of jeans and t-shirt to shrug on in the bathroom. He called over his shoulder to his mother on the way out, "Would you like to drive me, mum?"

She sighed, but he heard her as she walked past the bathroom and into the kitchen. He could hear her rustling around as he pulled on his shirt with difficulty, wincing as the fabric rubbed against his bandaged stitches. Once his shirt was on, he pushed up the sleeve a bit and carefully removed the bandage so he could wipe at his arm with the wipes the doctor had given him, used the sink to take his medicine and brush his teeth, and ran his fingers through his hair until it looked somewhat decent. He then hurried into the kitchen where his mother was.

His mum turned and looked at him with a raised brow, "You're looking quite decent just for a hospital trip."

Jacob shook his head in confusion, "Mum... I'm wearing jeans and a t-shirt, I-"

"And how's your arm? Let me look at that..."

"It's alright," Jacob insisted. "But I promised Troye that I would be at the hospital as soon as I could get there? So can we maybe-"

"We can," his mother agreed with a sigh. "But you're calling your sister on the way there. She was worried about you, but she had to work today. She'll answer if it's you, though."

So Jacob did just that, letting his mother drive him in her car while held the seat belt awkwardly so it wouldn't rub his stitches, and called his sister Angelina. She was answering on the first ring, and Jacob could already hear the affectionate tone that she always masked with a bit of mocking, "What did my idiot baby brother do to get himself hurt this time?"

"Just took a bullet to the arm is all, Ang," Jacob grinned.

"Mhmm," Angelina agreed. "And then you didn't even call mum and I to tell us that you were alright after Adam told us you'd been shot. Adam had to call us. Again."

"I was... busy," Jacob huffed in defense. "I have a friend-"

"Is he cute?"

Jacob's nose scrunched, "No, Angelina!"

"Oh," Angelina said in surprise. "You can usually catch the cute ones, you've always-"

The young agent released the seatbelt in exasperation, wincing as it rubbed his stitches, and let his head fall back against the headrest, "You're already exhausting me and I just woke up like twenty minutes ago! I meant... that yes, he is extremely cute, but no, you can't have him."