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Samatoki hissed as Ichiro cleaned the cut on his cheek. It wasn't especially deep, and the bleeding had already stopped, but Ichiro could be such a nag about these things. If Samatoki didn't stay put while Ichiro patched him up to his heart's content, there would be no end to the worried looks Ichiro cast his way for at least the rest of the week.
Which wasn't a terrible fate or anything. Samatoki wouldn't complain about having the hottest third-year in school, the gorgeous captain of the basketball team, the beautiful eyes he could get lost in for hours on end… where had he been going with this again?
Oh, right.
He wouldn't complain about having Ichiro fussing over him for days after a fight. But he still sat still in the nurse's office and let Ichiro treat his wounds, because maybe he didn't want Ichiro to worry for so long.
"There," Ichiro murmured, once he'd gotten the worst of Samatoki's cuts cleaned and bandaged. There wasn't much that needed attention this time. Just the gash across Samatoki's cheek, a few scrapes littered across his knuckles. "All better?"
Samatoki hummed.
The first few times Ichiro had herded him into the nurse's office to get him patched up after a fight, Samatoki had bitched the whole way through. Insisting he was fine, complaining about being babied, even insulting Ichiro for having a weird-ass maternal streak for a teenage boy.
He hadn't wanted to be seen as weak, after all. Especially back then, when he was a first-year, a slightly scrawny one at that, who still lost half the fights he picked. He especially hadn't wanted to be seen as weak by Ichiro, the impossibly strong and annoyingly kind senpai who Samatoki couldn't ever seem to get off his mind.
But Samatoki had sort of come around to this sort of treatment. Maybe it had even become half the reason he still fought so much.
It was a chance, after all. To see Ichiro, to talk to him, to be alone with him. To be touched by him, even if it was all perfectly innocent.
Well, innocent from Ichiro's end, at least.
"Still hurts," Samatoki complained, lifting his hands to Ichiro's hips, holding on just tight enough to keep Ichiro in place. "Won't you kiss it better, nurse?"
Ichiro gave the side of Samatoki's head an admonishing flick.
"Senpai?" Samatoki corrected, with a cheeky quirk of his lips.
Ichiro sighed. He'd never really responded to Samatoki's flirtations, but didn't do much to put a stop to them either. He would always just look a little exasperated, like he did now, and tousle Samatoki's hair or something, like Samatoki was just a kid.
"You know," Ichiro started.
Samatoki's fingers twitched where they were curled in Ichiro's sweater. That was new. Ichiro didn't usually dignify his provocations with a response.
Ichiro shook his head and started to turn. "Forget it."
Samatoki tightened his grip on Ichiro, enough to make Ichiro turn back to him, if only to tell him to let go. Before Ichiro could, though, Samatoki demanded, "What? 'You know' what?"
Ichiro didn't answer right away, but didn't try to turn or step back again either. He sighed after a moment, shaking his head once more. "Nothing. It's just… I can never tell how serious you are."
This was different, and that difference was so exhilarating that Samatoki just about forgot how to breathe. Usually, Ichiro would tell Samatoki not to get into any more fights, and Samatoki would glibly reply that he couldn't make any promises. And that would be that, even if Samatoki wanted there to be something more.
This time… it was almost like they both wanted there to be something more.
"I'm serious," Samatoki blurted out. "Dead serious, Ichi."
"Hey."
"Ichiro-san."
Ichiro coughed and scrubbed his knuckles over his cheeks. "You don't have to go that far."
"Ichiro." Samatoki grinned when Ichiro met his gaze again. There was something there, something unmistakable. It was so obvious now that Samatoki didn't know how he'd missed it for so long. Maybe he'd been blind to it, or maybe it was a new development, but one thing was for certain.
Ichiro wasn't nearly as unmoved by Samatoki's advances as Samatoki had thought.
"I'm serious," Samatoki repeated, pulling Ichiro a half-step closer. He was sitting on one of the beds in the nurse's office, with Ichiro between his legs; there wasn't much space left between them to close. "I'm feeling fine. But a kiss would make it a whole lot better."
Samatoki forced himself to relax his hold then. He didn't drop his hands away from Ichiro's hips entirely, but made sure Ichiro would be able to step away if he wanted. If Samatoki was reading this all wrong.
But after a moment, a moment Samatoki spent waiting with his breath caught in his throat, Ichiro sighed, smiled, and bent to lean a little closer.
"Hopeless," he murmured, brushing his lips to the bandage on Samatoki's cheek. Then he pulled back again, taking Samatoki's hands in his own, lifting each one in turn to kiss Samatoki's bandaged knuckles as well. "Better?"
Samatoki made a distant, half-strangled noise, before coming back to his senses enough to claim, "They punched me in the mouth too."
They hadn't, and Ichiro laughed like he knew damn well they hadn't.
But still, he cupped Samatoki's face and leaned down to indulge him with one last first kiss.