tequila ; s. paulson one - shots

rash (tammy)

Tammy was pure mama material. Period. Ever since Lou had introduced you to the gang as "My little sister", she had always been looking out for you, from making sure you ate on time, slept on time, and drank enough water.

You weren't exactly your sister's right hand man, that was Debbie, of course, but you were always there to bail her out if she ever got into trouble. Not that you weren't essential, you were one of the key players in the heist, the gymnast who lifted all the other pieces of jewelry from the exhibit.

Now, being a gymnast did not necessarily mean that you were magically aware of the extent of your body, Lou was your sister after all, so you were kinda taller than some of the others, and sometimes, you'd get into small accidents because you had no idea where your body parts were.

"Fuck," you swore softly as you hit your head on the countertop.

Holding your head in one hand and a brick in the other, you crawled back out of the space under the table, where you had been looking for the Lego you had dropped.

"Hey, Y/N- woah, what are you doing under the table?" Lou said upon entering the room accompanied by Debbie and Tammy.

"Apparently," you grumbled, "I dropped something."

"Did you find it?" Tammy asked.

You nodded slightly, scratching the back of your hands as you assembled the dump truck, "Do you guys need anything from me?"

Debbie shook her head, "Lou and I wanted to go out, but Tammy doesn't want to leave you here alone."

"It's cool if y'all leave me here alone, but can you get me some ointment when you go? My hands are itching like crazy."

"Let me see that," your motherly friend quickly took your hands in hers, and it was weird, to say the least, to feel the butterflies that erupted in your stomach while she looked over the rashes concernedly, "Are you sure it just itches?"

"Well, it kinda hurts when I wash my hands or use hand sanitizer, but it mostly itches, it's like small puncture wounds or something."

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I'm not a baby, Tammy. I can handle my own injuries."

"So," Lou interjected, "what ointment am I getting?"

"Just some Terramycin," the other blonde responded, "I'm going to stay home with y/n. Have fun, you two."

"Use protection!" you called after their retreating figures. Lou simply flipped you off in response.

Tammy laughed for a moment, before looking at you, "So, what do you want to do?"

"I don't know," you shrugged, scratching the red spots, "I'm pretty much done with these Legos."

"Stop scratching that. Let's play Dr. Mario to distract you," she chided.

"Okay! I'm going to beat you again!"

"Clean up those Legos first, young lady."

"Yes, mom."

Rolling her eyes at you, the blonde started to help pack away the Legos into a Ziploc, "Don't call me mom. It makes me feel old."

"Well, you aren't that old, Tam."

"Then don't call me mom."

"But you act like my mom," you pouted, "You're always so caring, I mean, even my older sister doesn't give a fuck about me."

"Shhh, no swearing."

"Why do you only tell me off? The others say more bad words."

"Well, you're the youngest here."