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Shoot flinched at the slight sting of medicine against the cut along his cheekbone. A, sadly, familiar feeling, treating his own wounds whenever alone on missions and after battles. However, he keeps himself perfectly still as he is under his significant other's care, tending to all of the spots they could find on his newly roughed up and pale skin.
The woman before him was focused, careful, caring, thoroughly examining his person for anything her dark brown eyes missed during her treatment. She didn't want to hurt him, she even flinched herself whenever Shoot would at more of the painful ones he wore. Of course, she continued to whisper apologies to him with every wipe and dab of the cotton swabs and all.
_____ wasn't expecting her night to go this way. The evening was spent pampering herself with a much needed shower, a quick clean of the living space around her, and fresh loads of laundry. She had to run a few errands errands in town, but since it was one of her days off from work right before the weekend, she wanted the remainder of the evening to be peace and quiet. However, after she finished eating dinner, preparing to organize the freshly cleaned clothes, there was a sudden knock at the door that abruptly stopped her. Naturally, _____ was hesitant on even coming towards it, no matter who it was. None of the people she knew would show up this late at night.
She wasn't expecting her significant other to be behind the door, covered in patches of cuts, blood, bruises, and torn up clothes.
The poor man instantly watched her eyes widen in shock, listening patiently as she worriedly presses with questions, hearing how upset she was at seeing him like this. Shoot kept his calm and collected manner he always had, answering those questions, and trying to reassure her that he was fine. "Fine!? Shoot, you're bleeding!!" _____ wasn't believing it.
_____ took a quiet moment to take a breath in, telling him in a mumbled whisper to get cleaned up now with a heavily concerned tone, almost sounding stern. All he could reply with was a small, somewhat guilty, "Yeah…" His heart was sitting heavy in his chest. Why did he think this was a good idea, to go straight to her home as soon as the mission was over? Of course, she was going to freak out once she saw him in bad shape like this, obviously!
It had just been a long, rough, tiring string of weeks, what felt like longer than a year, of work on this awful mission. At least he was finished with it.
Shoot turns the shower on, adjusting the water to an agreeable warmth, carefully disrobing. All of his now ruined bandages are discarded in the trash, setting his slightly damaged purple robe beside the sink on the floor, folded as neatly as he could manage. A glance in the mirror near him and– Oh god, I do look awful. Now, the guilt is flooding him tenfold. No wonder _____ was hurt.
Once he stepped into the shower, relief immediately rushed over his whole body, regardless of the pressure against his sore, torn up skin in certain spots. He allows himself to relax under the steady stream, and takes his time washing away the mission from him completely. Long lavender hair cascades down his back, weighed down significantly, as he tugs the ponytail out of it and undos the braids against his scalp. He's had it up for days now, it needed a break from the tension. Even he got tired of tying up his hair every morning.
_____ tried to keep the bathroom tidy, though she had her usual gathering of body care products stuck in the corner of the shower. Currently, the only soap she had over there was a tub of sugar scrub. Shoot immediately recognized the smell as soon as he dips his fingers into it. A sweet brown sugar kind of smell, something that almost reminded him of hazelnuts or almonds. Baked goods, really. She always smelled good from all those scrubs and lotions she wears. He took care in using your products, looking forward to (hopefully) looking and smelling better as soon as he was done cleaning himself off.
He spots _____ sitting on the couch, looking as if she were about to continue where she had left off from her laundry. Shoot was thankful for the spare clothes she snuck him while in the shower, them being placed on the bed for him whenever he got out. A gray tee with a pair of black pajama pants, which he figured she had washed for him next time he came over. Once he takes his spot beside her, he sees her medical supplies along the coffee table. And, there was a cup of tea.
"I poured you some tea," she tells him in passing, focused more on grabbing things out of her first aid kit, "but it's still very hot."
Shoot thanks her kindly.
Promptly, _____ properly disinfects his wounds and covers them with fresh bandages.
Sitting close together, Shoot stares down at her to watch her curiously. _____ cuts the silence with a tone barely above a whisper.
"What made you come here?"
"...I wanted to see you," he quietly stated.
A smile tugs at the corner of her mouth, rather reluctantly. She pauses her tender care to place a soft kiss against his cheekbone, close to where the small bandage is along his cheek she had put there earlier. Sadly, she ends up scolding him for not taking care of himself before leaving to see her. Sure, he could see her, anytime he wanted. Not like this, he isn't. Shoot wasn't usually that careless, she thought.
"Shoot, you can't just show up at my door this late at night looking like this, or you're going to kill me. If you saw me hurt, you would be worried sick like I am over you, every single day of my life."
The man hated to admit it, but…_____ reminded him of Knuckle quite a bit. The temper was the biggest thing, but despite that, what an enormous heart and compassionate soul she contained inside her chest. A wonderful woman in his life, who supported and loved him with all of her being. Shoot was happily overwhelmed by it. He loved her just the same.
All he could do was chuckle at the fact. Stubborn, dramatic little thing she was. Overly anxious, too, just like him. He also saw himself in her significantly.
After all of _____'s work was finished, she cleans up her coffee table, offering him to stay the night to get some rest. Shoot heavily appreciates the offer. Maybe he can stay with her for the weekend, if she wanted.
"Oh, Shoot, there's food in the kitchen if you're hungry. I already ate, just haven't put it up, and it's still warm."
Though grateful, Shoot politely declines. He didn't feel like eating at the moment. Truthfully, all he wanted was to enjoy the quiet of the living space. His pale gray eyes linger on her figure, moving back to the couch right beside him to focus her attention on the clothes that needed organizing. Until she jumps right back up with a small "Oh!" and remembers that she needs hangers. Duh! Which makes him smile. Returning quickly and promptly, he gets a better look at her.
_____ looked nice, just in loungewear. Nothing he hasn't seen before. Tonight, she wore a pair of pajama shorts with a long sleeved top, wide neckline draped delicately across her shoulders in a cresent shape. Pretty elegant looking for a "wear to bed" outfit. Nevertheless, Shoot admired her beauty.
His eyes trail from the exposed base of her collarbone down to her careful hands sifting through the fabrics. Which made him a bit flustered. A blush starts to come forth along his cheeks as he watches her sort through her abundance of undergarments. It was just her laundry, why was he reacting this way? Again, nothing he hadn't seen before. It's just underwear. Shoot observed her quietly, face pink, and the various shades of neutral tones in the small pile she gathered. Some of them colorful pinks, he noted.
What Shoot didn't notice was, after tearing his eyes away from her, _____ staring at him the same way. Her deeply colored eyes linger on his own exposed skin, observing the newly placed bandages, and admiring his fresh out of the shower look. Oh, he looked so handsome, all natural and relaxed like this. His hair was fully down, hair brushed back behind his ears to see clearly, cozy in his lounge pants… _____ politely (and bashfully) had asked him to remove his shirt to check for more cuts or anything on him, which he did. Only a few, nothing too bad. However…he had left his shirt discarded, showing off the muscles along his torso, abdomen, and arm, rather pronounced and taut. Her body was warm, trying all she could do avoid his deeply focused gaze onto her and focus on chores rather than his half naked body. It was embarrassing how just looking at him made her react, or the other way around.
Eventually, the silence was getting to be too much. She felt guilty, even.
"I'm sorry…"
Shoot looks back over to her, wondering why she suddenly apologized.
"...For getting so upset with you earlier. I just worry about you. I constantly worry about you…" she trails off, setting the piece of cloth in a pile on the table to turn her full attention to him. Her eyes lock onto his, a sad tone still stuck with her words. "...I know you're strong, one of the strongest men I know, strongest hunter in the Association...but I just want you to come back home safe. Maybe not…bruised and covered in blood. Just…as long as if it's not an emergency. That's a different story. Okay?"
Shoot reaches for her hand, small, soft, and delicate against his bigger, slightly more textured one, gripping it tightly as he smiles down at them. "I promise I'll try."
A heartfelt smile appears on her face at that. _____ knew he always tried. Words full of warmth and affirmation were shared when they both say an "I love you." And he kisses her lips gently.
Shoot isn't a Hunter to worry too much over.