You’re honestly not surprised when you hear your infirmary door open with an aggressive pull and a certain redhead enters the room. He’s disheveled, shirt stained with blood, torn, and even burned at some of the edges. Clearly he’d been through some heat during the battle with the Marines.
The scowl is evident on his face, but you wait to say anything. It was best not to lecture him so hastily when he was in one of his moods, after all. The moment he sits himself upon your examination table, he shoots you a half-hearted glare.
“I don’t need you nagging me about this, alright?” He says in aggravation, shrugging off his black coat and tossing it to the floor. “I already heard enough lip from Killer. Bastard took me by surprise, is all. Wasn’t quite paying attention…”
You raise a silent brow, waiting as he took off his shirt to reveal the wound he’d been referring to. Keen eyes trace the gash that slants across his shoulder, and the second one that cuts left across his pectoral. They’re bleeding more than you would have preferred, but it’s clear that the worst of it had already soaked into the fabric of his shirt.
“It looks worse than it is.”
“Honestly, that doesn’t make me feel any better.” Is your dry reply, already working to grab the things you’d need to treat him. “Seeing you injured at all is concerning.”
“Battles are dangerous. It happens.”
“Still not making me feel any better, darling.”
Your back is turned as you rummage through your cabinet for a clean cloth and some your cleaning solution, so you hear rather than see the roll of his eyes behind you. Kid was always a grump, especially when it came to treating injuries.
One would think that because it was you, his partner and lover, he’d act a bit less cold about things. But no. You couldn’t help but wonder if that fact only aggravated the behavior.
“This will sting.” You say, hovering the cloth soaked in cleaning solution over the cut.
“Like I don’t know that by now…”
“Kid.” You warn, pointing your own stale gaze at his. It’s a battle of wills for several seconds, but as expected he looks away and gestures for you to continue.
“Sorry…”
You nod in satisfaction, expression softening as you lowered the cloth. “Tell me if it’s too much.” You say, nonetheless knowing his pride wouldn’t allow him such an out.
You feel his muscles tense beneath your hand as you gently swipe at the dirtied skin around his injury. You’re careful and cautious around the edges of the wound, not wanting to cause unnecessary pain. But the enflamed, redness that edges the cuts are no doubt tender and painful to be touched.
Kid takes it like a champ, jaw clenched tightly and breathing coming steadily through his nostrils. His eyes stay affixed to you, perhaps using the sight of you to ground him in one place, to focus away from the fire shooting across his nerves.
“Just a little more…” You mutter encouragingly, and for once he doesn’t bite back a witty or sarcastic retort. His hand grips the edge of the examination bed tightly, holding on until you finish cleaning his injuries.
His grunt of pain when you touched the widest part of the cut made you reach out your other hand, steadying his uninjured shoulder and to provide whatever comfort you could without pausing your ministrations. One might think he’d push you away, but he makes no move at all, not wanting to hurt you in return. It wasn’t your fault that he was in pain, after all.
Finished, you step back to look at his expression, to make sure that he wasn’t on the verge of passing out–Kid’s ego was too great for him to tell you that himself–and nodded when you didn’t see any risk. “You alright?”
“Yeah…”
“The salve should soothe some of the pain. It has numbing properties.” You say tenderly, setting the cloth down and retrieving the small jar of your homemade remedy.
Kid only gave a silent nod in understanding. The aggression had all but left him, replaced only by an acceptance that he needed to allow you to do whatever it was you had to in order to get him on the path to healing from the injury. It always ended this way, with quiet words and unspoken gratitudes.
The tension was still there in his muscles, but remarkable less so than the way they’d strained under your touch earlier. His breathing had steadied, eyes closed as he let you apply the cold salve across the cuts. The only indication he could feel pain at all was the twitch of his brows every so often.
He let out a tired sigh when you set the jar aside, reaching now for the bandages you’d wrap the wounds with. You make quick work of the coverings, careful not to brush or pull at any one point too hard, just in case. The wound would still be tender for several days at least.
“They’re a little tighter than what you’re used to, but that’s intentional. Don’t move your arm around too much, alright? Take it easy.” You instruct, eyes looking over your handiwork as he slowly rotates his shoulder, testing the limitations of his movement.
“Don’t have to tell me twice.” He grumbled, though the bite in his words was barely there.
Your job as a doctor finished, you clinical exterior sheds away, and you reach up to place your hand against his cheek. Kid’s eyes raise to your own.
“Must you always make me worry so much?” You ask in a whisper.
“No need to, Y/N.” He says, pressing his cheek further into your hand. It’s a rare moment of affection. “You know I’m strong, that I can handle anything the world might throw at us.”
Your head shakes, a sad smile lifting the corner of you lips. “It’s my job to worry about you.”
“As my lovely nurse?” He jokes, huffing a laugh.
“That, and as your partner.” You state, staring into his face another moment before lifting yourself on your toes and placing a sweet kiss to his lips.
For once, Kid doesn’t guide it into anything more than what you choose it to be. It’s soft, chaste, and tender. A quiet reminder that you are always there, concerned for his well-being no matter how strong he may become.
ns 15.158.61.54da2
