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Yor never thought she’d ever be in a standoff with an outlaw. For starters, that’s more Yuri’s forte, considering his position as the town sheriff. Yet here she was, staring down the man before her in what perhaps is and will ever be, the most intense stalemate of her life.
Though, if she’s being honest, she didn’t imagine it’d be like this.
“You need to.”
“I’m perfectly fine like this!”
“No, you really aren’t .”
“No, really, I am!”
The blond outlaw sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose with a gloved hand. It took him a few moments before he could turn his attention back to her. “Look, sweetheart,” Loid starts, gaze a mix between exhaustion and concern, “if I don’t clean out your wound, chances are it’ll get infected and you’ll die. I’m not letting another innocent life get taken because of me. Let me clean your wound.”
Yor pouts, staring down at the dark, crimson stain seeping across the fabric of her white shirt. She was perfectly aware of that; how could she not be when half the time she was the one patching up his wounds after getting into yet another brawl? A little wound could easily turn into a big problem out here, where medical personnel and supplies were limited, if they even existed to begin with, that is. After all, her town primarily relied on the collective knowledge of the older settlers when it came to dealing with the health hazards that came with living on the frontier.
However, infection wasn’t her primary concern. At least not at this moment.
She sat silently for a few moments.
“Do I really have to take off my shirt?” She asks, glancing at him.
His answer was a solemn nod.
“I wouldn’t be making you if there was any other way.”
With a sigh, Yor admits defeat, “Turn around then.”
Without another word, he turns to face the other side of the shared little tent.
Yor unbuttons her blouse, shuddering as her skin is exposed to the brisk night air. She stares at the blood-stained fabric in her hands, an annoyed tsk escaping from between her lips. Just her luck; he’d just gotten this shirt for her in the previous town they’d stopped in. Seeing as how it’s not exactly easy traversing the desert in a dress, he’d insisted on buying her a change of clothes. A simple shirt and pants, nothing fancy, sure, but for some reason, it had made her giddy beyond compare. Which made her all the more upset it had seen only a day of use before being put out of commission.
Accepting the loss, she balls it up, holding it beside her as one arm crosses her body to cover her chest. She feels a blush rise to her cheeks as she chews on her lower lip. “O-Okay, I’m done.” She huffs, looking past him as he turns around, not daring to make eye contact in such a state of undress. She didn’t expect him to react of course; he could be pretty stoic when the mood struck.
“Alright, don’t move too much or it’ll just make this harder and drag this out longer than it needs to be,” Loid instructs, fishing a small bottle from his bag. She recognized the label; her brother often used the very same concoction whenever he needed her to clean out a wound back home whenever he got off patrol. Smelled disgusting and probably stung like hell.
Wonderful.
“Won’t that ruin the fabric?” She questions, watching his diligent fingers dab some of the liquid onto his bandana. “Done this more times than I can count; if this was going to ruin the fabric, it should’ve done so long ago.” He chuckles, fingers on his free hand slowly moving around the wound. She winces in response, quickly sucking in air to keep from moving. “You’re lucky the bullet only grazed you, you know that right?” He remarks idly, dabbing the cloth against the wound, hand holding her in place.
Yor hisses loudly, free hand moving to grab a fistful of her shirt. “I don’t feel very lucky at the moment.” She mutters, adjusting the arm covering her chest.
“You don’t feel lucky being stuck with me?” He teases lightly, hand reaching for the bandages and unwinding the material.
She feels her cheeks burn once more, looking away. “I’m only stuck with you ‘cause you kidnapped me, remember ?” She huffs, ignoring the warmth radiating off her face. Glancing back at him only confirmed he was enjoying this exchange a little too much.
Loid grins, straightening out the material with a muffled noise. “Sit up straight so I can bandage you up.” He directs, gazing at her.
She straightens out her back, looking down as one hand presses the material against her wound, a leg straightening out as the material makes contact with her skin, eliciting another whine from between clenched teeth. “It’s alright, just don’t move okay? It’ll be over in a bit.” He says softly, his other hand bringing the material around her back.
She nods roughly, face contorting into a series of expressions as she fought the urge to squirm out from under his grasp. Torture, this was torture. This was some sort of divine punishment, stuck traveling with a handsome not-so-dangerous outlaw with a heart of gold. She would go mad before he could ever take her back home.
But did she even want to go back home? Yor hadn’t thought about it in all honesty; it was rather difficult to think about when the majority of her day was dedicated to avoiding criminals and the local officers to keep Loid from being discovered and tipping Yuri off to their current location. Despite the difficulties that come with hopping from town to town, evading the authorities by never remaining in one place for longer than a day, she’d long grown used to this lifestyle. She was free to do whatever she wanted out here without her brother constantly worrying about her. It was incredibly refreshing, and she’d learned a lot from him. No other girls back in town knew how to hunt except for her! Or shoot a gun! Although she was still working on getting the “hit the target” part down…
Did she want to leave him? She wasn’t even sure anymore. Go back to a comfortable home surrounded by someone who cared for her but kept her sheltered, or roam the country living as she wanted? A few days earlier the choice would’ve been simple, but now—
“You alright?”
Pulled from her thoughts, her gaze flickers back down towards Loid. “Y-Yeah, I’m alright.” She reassures him. Whether he believed her, however, was a different story entirely.
He smiles, gaze softening as he peers up at her from his spot on the ground. “You know, you had me worried back there.” He admits, “You’re gonna be alright now, but try to keep the running into the middle of a gunfight to a minimum, understand?”
Yor rolls her eyes, smiling down at him. “Don’t you worry about me, I’m not the one with a bounty on my head.” She giggles, nose scrunching in amusement.
Loid chuckles, “Suppose you got a point there.” The sound of his laugh felt alien to his ears. It felt nice to laugh; he couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed in earnest.
His fingers twitch against her skin, hands still resting on her hips from treating the wound. For a girl roughing it on the frontier, her skin was still soft to the touch despite all they'd experienced. Not to mention incredibly pale against his sun-kissed tan from days spent under the harsh desert sun.
Loid stares up at her quietly, eyes gazing over her. Was she always this...red ? The blush that had seemingly taken up permanent residence on her cheeks had seeped down her neck, slowly blooming across her chest. His gaze stops at her lips, slightly ajar, and for the first time in a long time, his mind draws a blank. He doesn't know what to say, or do, or think, or feel. He feels anxious, or something akin to it. He needed to move, do something instead of sitting there like an idiot before her, but before he can even think of what to do he feels himself leaning forward. It feels good, it feels right. If he could just hold onto this moment for a few more seconds—
“Loid?”
Snapping out of his stupor, blue hues meet scarlet. “Yeah?” He says softly, unsure why (or when) his voice had grown so gentle. Her arm shifts again as she quickly averts her gaze. “Remember that bottle we picked up earlier?” She speaks up, lowering her voice before adding, “Do you think I could…have it…?”
He lowers his head, nodding solemnly as he removes his hands from their spot on her hips, something that proved to be more painful than he’d been expecting. If the woman wanted to drink, surely he’d spooked her with whatever the hell he’d tried to do before. Kiss the sheriff’s sister?
Hilarious.
After all, she’s not his to keep.