Work Text:
"Ow," you hissed, flinching away from the rag that was firmly pressed against your leg. Rag worn, the texture making the cuts burn and itch. They were very deep, still spewing blood out onto the rag with every heavy press of Medic's hand. He pressed down hard, making you jump, scrambling back on the table a bit.
"Nein, still," Medic grunted, firmly dragging you back by hooking his hands around your waist. The rag was gone momentarily only to be pressed down again harder after a few short seconds. Medic looked exhausted, eyes still showing signs of exhaustion, heavy bags hanging down from them. He had apparently just finished work and was just falling asleep when you knocked on his door. He usually had a firm rule of not treating anything past midnight. Too many cases of coworkers waking him up in the middle of the night due to receiving alcohol-sustained injuries that they expected him to just fix without complaint. He just preferred to deal with those sorts in the morning. Even if it meant that Scout had to wait 4 hours once to get a head wound stitched up, he should have known better than to stand on that old rickety dining table.
The injury you have right now, he guessed, could also be related to alcohol, though he didn't assume. You, though, were an exception to all his rules anyways. Of course you are. Plus this injury was something far more serious than some drunken falls. This was pain, far deeper than something he could treat. Oh, how he wished he could, though.
He held your leg still, his hand still clamped down firmly to try and stem the bleeding. It hurt so bad, but it wasn't the only thing you could think about. Your heightened emotions making you more sensitive. Medic's blank expression making your thoughts race. He had been so quiet so far. At first complaining when you knocked on his door and woke him up, only to go quiet when you pulled up your pant leg and asked for his help with your own blood still smeared on your hands.
Your lip trembled slightly, your nails digging into your palms. A quiet whimper leaving you. "Are you mad at me?" You asked finally. The question running around in your mind.
"Nein," he answered almost immediately. Medic glanced up at you, staying quiet for a moment longer, finally pulling the rag away. The bleeding stemmed for now. The rag was stained red, no different from other blood-stained things in the man's possession. He grabbed a clean rag, wetting it quickly before returning to start cleaning away the leftover dirt and germs. He shook his head, not looking up from the cuts. "I am not mad at you, never for something like this." His words are a lot more careful than usual, not wanting the wrong thing to come out and upset you further.
You sniffled, the way Medic's eyes didn't meet yours starting to wear on you. You were not used to Medic being this quiet and solemn. "Then—then why won't you look at me, and—and why are you being so quiet—" You went quiet as Medic laid down the rag on your thigh, his gloves covered in your blood as they came up to cup your face. Fingers sprawling out on your cheeks.
"I am not mad at you," he stated firmer this time, a soft smile coming to his lips. "I would never get mad at you for being hurt. Is that not what I'm here for, ja?" He released you, grabbing the rag to continue to dab at your skin. His eyes leaving yours again so he could focus back on his work without getting distracted by you. "I am just thinking." He finished cleaning the first few nasty cuts, quickly moving on to the shallower ones and then to the superficial next ones.
"Can I leave you alone anymore?" Medic asked out of nowhere, not looking up from the questions. "Can I trust you around weapons for you to be able to fight in the match in the morning?" The question at first makes you want to answer no, half offended, but the memory of being alone in your room and the blade still on your bed comes into your mind. It sounded horrible to go back to by yourself. Those questions weren't the threat of punishments, as your brain at first picked them up as but simply just him trying to measure your safety.
You sniffled again your lip quivering harder as you shook your head. "No," you mumbled out, another sniffle leaving you as you started to break into tears much like you had been at his door. "No," you repeated, in a cry. The word felt so heavy on your tongue.
Medic patted your head gently as he continued on caring for the cuts. "Ah, psst, no need to cry for being honest," he shushed you gently. He pulled you close, letting you wrap your arms around him, your tear-and-snot-covered face smearing across his bare chest, the coarse black and gray hair scratching against your face. He had been too concerned to get properly dressed earlier after he saw your injury. Half dressed only in his pants, he had probably been too tired to take off before falling into bed. From experience you'd seen quite a few times he would be too exhausted and would just flop into bed fully clothed. There were many blood stains on his sheets from those incidents. "No more questions, ja? Too much for you right now." He pressed a quick kiss to your sweaty forehead. "Psst, no more thinking, just focus on me. Clear that little mind."
You blubbered, all the emotions from earlier when you sliced your skin open coming back up. "I can't." Your breath coming out as short, quick gasps and coughs. You must have looked like a complete mess. Probably not to him, but you felt like one.
"Yes, you can, Schatz," he murmured into your hair, setting the rag next to you on the table as he finished cleaning the blood away. "You're breathing too quickly. Deep slow breaths." He took an audible breath as an example, his hands moving to lightly sit on your chest. Trying to encourage you. "You're scared, I know." He tilted your head up, making you look him in the eyes. "Breath, look at me, I'm right here, ja?"
Your lips trembled, moving desperately in an attempt to mimic Medic, yours coming out much faster than you meant to. Those breaths interjected with barely there sobs. "Yeah," you answered. After a couple of moments of trying to focus on Medic, trying to mimic his breathing, they started to become more controlled, tears slowing down. Managing to stay calm even as Medic stepped away for a moment to collect a tube of some sort.
"Gut," he praised as he stepped back, still listening carefully to your breathing. He lightly slathered a thin layer of ointment across the cuts. "Do you need anything from your room after I'm done?" He asked, knowing you were a bit picky when it came to sleeping arrangements, only preferring one specific pillow and blanket. Needing them to sleep properly. You used to keep a backup pillow in Medic's room, though you stopped bringing it over not too long ago. In fact, sadly to him, you stopped sleeping in his room at all lately. "You will sleep in my bed for tonight. Is that alright?" He grabbed some bandages from the table, wrapping it carefully as he pressed a kiss to your forehead before focusing back on his hands. A reward for being able to stay still and calm yourself down in such a brave manner.
You nodded, hands anxiously drumming against the exam table. Still a bit antsy, knowing what was still sitting on your bed in the room. Your heart still beating fast, despite the tears nearly dry. "Yeah, I need my pillow, but—uh, can you get it for me?" You asked, rubbing away the tears under your eyes.
"Of course."
His hands were so careful and gentle despite the things you've seen him do with them. "Wanted to sleep in your bed anyways. I always love sleeping in your bed," you mumbled, tapping away shyly. "I'm just scared you'll get annoyed with me doing it, cause—cause I know you work late and probably don't want to come back to someone already taking up space in your bed," you rambled on through the sentence.
Medic raised an eyebrow as he cut the extra length of bandages off the roll, wrapping it tight. He taped it down. "Annoyed at you? For taking your place in my bed?" He squatted down, leaving a quick kiss against the bandages. "It makes me very happy to see you in my bed. Do you not think it's the best thing I can come back to, in fact?" He clutched your cheeks, squeezing them, smearing tiny drops of blood against your skin. "Meine Liebe, I will tell you as many times as I have to." He pinched the skin of your cheeks between his fingers with a chuckle. "Nothing you could ever do would make me despise your presence." He ran his lips against your forehead, to the tip of your nose. "I am so very infatuated with you that I see your wonderful face everywhere, even within the organs of our comrades when I'm doing surgery." His thumbs ran under your eyes, drying the skin there. "How could I possibly ever be bothered by you? Especially when you're seeking comfort from me?" He pressed his forehead against yours. "Those thoughts caused by the anxiety in that silly little brain of yours aren't reality. They're just made up."
You nodded again, staring down at the floor. "I know, but it's really hard to make it feel like that sometimes," you muttered. You wrapped your arms around Medic's neck, dragging him closer so you could bury your face in the man's chest once again. He smelled vaguely of blood from earlier experiments and of sweat from sleep. So lovely you could breathe it in forever. "I'm sorry."
"'Sorry'?" he sighed, patting the back of your head gently, fingers lightly massaging your scalp. "There you go again, Schatz, always worried and apologizing for things you don't have to." He tilted your face up to look at his, squeezing your cheeks again. "Listen to me, if you ever feel like something is wrong, you come to me." He peppered light kisses against your nose and cheeks. "I'd rather you ask me something you think is stupid than for you to get hurt." He pulled away after a moment, placing his hands on your shoulders. "Now, how about I get your things? Can't wait to be back in bed." He pulled back, giving you one last smirk before pulling away. "I sleep so much better with you next to me."