Chapter Text
Sp2 couldn't believe it when Sp8 walked in: bruised, tired, and bleeding slightly. Sp2 immediately stood up. Sp8 glanced up at their movement. “Crap.” they muttered while slowly walking backwards out the door. They never liked how Sp2 always tried to care for others. Just as they took another step backwards, Sp2 started walking towards them. “You’re limping.”
“I’m walking.”
“I wasn't asking a question.”
Sp8 kept moving toward the door anyway. Before they could reach it, Sp2 grabbed the back of their coat and yanked them backward hard enough to make them stumble. “Sit down.”
“I’m fine.”
“I said sit down.”
Sp8 turned sharply, irritation flashing immediately. “You always this bossy?”
“Maybe, maybe not.”
“That supposed to be charming?”
“No. Effective.”
That almost made Sp8 smile, which was irritating on its own.
Sp2 shoved a first aid kit against their chest. “Take the jacket off.”
“You ordering me around because you enjoy it or is it cause you have a savior complex?”
“Both.”
Silence.
Then Sp8 snorted quietly through their nose and finally sat down.
Sp2 crouched in front of them to look at the injury properly. Their hands were annoyingly gentle about it. Sp8 hated noticing that. “You do this for everybody?” they muttered.
“I don't know, do I?” Sp2 mumbled sarcastically
Sp8 looked down at them properly then. And suddenly the room felt a lot smaller.
Sp2 reached for the antiseptic without looking up. Their fingers brushed Sp8’s bruised arm as they peeled back a torn sleeve. A tiny spark, like static in space.Sp8 flinched.Not from pain, but from contact.
From how warm Sp2's hands were. How careful they were being despite all that sass earlier. They opened their mouth to say something sarcastic again… but nothing came out this time. Just silence. Then Sp2 dabbed alcohol on a cut near their elbow and pressed it gently with cotton swab...And damn it, It stung. They hadn’t even realized they let out a hiss of pain.
Sp2 looked up. “Sorry. You okay?”
“I don’t need your pity.”
Sp2 didn’t flinch. Didn’t even get annoyed. Just exhaled softly through their nose, like they’d heard that line a thousand times. “I’m not pitying you,” they said. “I’m cleaning your wound.” They dabbed the antiseptic again, slower this time, careful on where it stung most.
Sp8 clenched their jaw, refusing to make another sound… but their fingers curled tightly into the fabric of the couch cushion beneath them.