Much was grateful that Will covered Tuck's face. Grateful for his own steady hands, which wouldn't have been quite so steady if Will hadn't promised them the Sheriff's death in the very near future. Grateful for the electric light in the bathroom, so much brighter than firelight would have been. Grateful for Tuck who had the foresight to get a first aid kit complete with needle and thread.
Grateful for every story in his patchwork past that prepared him for blood, and torn flesh, and how to put aside the visceral reaction he had to sewing a mates throat shut.
He tied the last stitch, and looked up at Will, feeling closer to him now that he'd ever thought possible. There was an intimacy in shared pain, in working in unison to do what they'd done for Tuck, what they were going to do for Tuck. "You can get me another watermelon when this is over."