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“Daan, it's okay, I'll take care of it.”
Marcoh said while looking in a pantry for a bottle of whiskey that they had found before settling in one of the many abandoned cabins of Prehevil.
Daan was leaning against a counter with his arms crossed, his brow furrowed but his uncovered eye held a worried gleam.
“Do you really think whiskey is good for treating a cut like that?” Daan points to his bare wound, a cut that stretched across Marcoh's palm, the wound appearing to be fresh and deep enough that drops of blood were staining the splintered wooden floor.
"Well... alcohol is used to disinfect wounds, right? You're the doctor" Marcoh said, shrugging his shoulders, approaching Daan with the bottle in hand and pointing with his injured hand at the label that showed that it contained 40% alcohol. A couple of crimson drops landed on Daan's Oxford shoes, but he decided to ignore it.
“And as a doctor I know that just because it has a percentage of alcohol does not mean that it is the best to treat a wound of that type” Daan mentions vaguely, letting out a sigh.
Sure, in times of need any kind of alcoholic beverage would do, but Daan had the necessary supplies on hand to treat a wound of any kind and found it unnecessary for Marcoh to want to treat him at his expense when Daan could take care of it.
“Come, sit down” Daan moves away from the counter to move a chair, motioning for Marcoh to sit there. Marcoh decides to simply obey, knowing that he would be in good hands.
Once Marcoh settled into the chair, Daan went to the dishwasher to wash his hands. One of the reasons why they decided to temporarily settle in that cabin was because of its accessibility to drinking water, which they found by pure luck exploring the surroundings.
Meanwhile, Marcoh silently observed his movements, perhaps due to Daan's profession as a doctor, but he noticed that many of his movements were precise, almost delicate.
When looking for a bandage or examining a corpse, it seemed as if he only took the necessary steps to complete any task. At one point when they went to a bar in Prehevil and Daan made him a drink, he precisely calculated the perfect amount for each drink, he mixed just what was necessary and did not seem to show interest in making an elaborate maneuver to surprise him.
Soon Daan finished washing his hands, and went to bring his first aid kit, leaving it on a nearby table, looking for another chair and placing it next to Marcoh's, he sits down and begins the treatment.
Without saying a word, Daan gently holds his injured hand, looks at it for a moment, checking the cut thoroughly, examining its size, depth, and whether any foreign objects are embedded.
“You're lucky you didn't damage any tendons” he informs after a few seconds. “The wound isn't deep enough to see your bone either, so for now I'm just going to clean and disinfect it” After his evaluation, Daan lets go of Marcoh's hand to look in his first aid kit for a bottle of saline solution and gauze. Marcoh simply nods, watching as Daan cuts a piece of gauze and soaks it with the solution.
Soon Daan proceeds to press the gauze against his wound, applying pressure for a few minutes to stop the bleeding.
At that moment Daan begins to notice other details about his patient's hand.
Marcoh's hand was noticeably larger than his, with thicker fingers and a wide palm that could easily wrap around his hand; He seemed strong, and Daan could certainly tell that his opponents would have a hard time in a bare-knuckle fight with him.
His skin looked thicker, and unconsciously, Daan, without stopping to press the wound, with his free hand explored his patient's hand, noticing how his hand was full of calluses and small wounds distributed all over his hand. He gently stroked the roughness of his knuckles, hard and misaligned, presumably from the repeated impact of his boxing practice.
Daan was curious, how often could he practice to the point where his knuckles shifted in and out of alignment like that? What would be the origin of each scar on his hand? Could he have had them in a fight? And how will he have cared for those wounds?
Unknowingly, Marcoh was also observing the doctor's hands.
Unlike his own hands, Daan's were much softer, his skin looked smooth, he barely had any scars on his hands.
His hands were perfectly manicured, his nails were clean, nails cut evenly and filed evenly.
His hand was smaller than his and on impulse Marcoh took his hand and held it gently in his.
As Daan had assumed, Marcoh's hand easily wrapped around his.
Daan shakes his head, pushing those thoughts away and continues with the treatment. The bleeding had reduced significantly, so he continued with the cleaning, which didn't take long and he quickly finished with the bandage.
Taking a roll of gauze out of his medicine cabinet, he carefully wraps Marcoh's hand, making sure not to leave it too tight or too loose. Once the wound is wrapped in gauze, Daan cuts the gauze from the roll and finally finishes the treatment. .
Marcoh's eyes slid from his hand to his gray eyes, there was a certain tenderness that Daan finds difficult to describe, a melancholy, as if he wanted something but it was elusive, Daan didn't want to assume what it could be, but the intensity from his gaze, from the slow way in which his long eyelashes closed without taking away his heavy gaze that wandered from his lips to his eyes, how he swallowed saliva and how his breathing hitched when he noticed that Daan had clearly noticed him.
Daan definitely knew what it was, Daan was not oblivious to the reactions of the people around him, especially when it was a sight he would recognize, especially in those years when he prayed and preached so fervently to Sylvian.
How many times had he seen such a reaction while he performed Loving Whispers.
Marcoh, still looking Daan in the eyes, held his hand and brought it to his lips, Daan felt his warm breath like the wind carrying a leaf before feeling a pressure against his fingers.
Marcoh had kissed him.
His strong grip was still there, clearly feeling his rough, hard skin.
But the touch of his lips against his hand couldn't have felt softer like a falling feather, with a subtle care and affection that he wouldn't expect considering his stronger, larger build.
There was a moment of silence before Daan interrupted.
“The treatment is over” Daan said sharply as he felt his cheeks getting hot, he let go of Marcoh's hand and prepared to put away his medical materials, getting up from his chair to put them in the emergency kit and leaving it in its corresponding place in a cabinet.
Daan, turning his back to Marcoh, could not notice how Marcoh's ears were equally red as his face.