Archive of Our Own

You hear some footsteps approaching, soft clicks against the ground, you turn to the source of sound hoping for Sabo. Yes, it was him. You let out a soft exhale from relief, glad it’s him since you're in no shape to fight. He approaches you slowly, almost gracefully. “Looks like you're done as well”, he says softly standing near you. His gaze flickers to your foot which is hovering above the ground, not really touching it, and the way you're leaning against the tree. “Are you hurt?”, he asks softly, slight concern evident in his voice.

You nod, “uh, yes. I sprained my ankle” , you reply not really meeting his gaze. His gaze flickers to your ankle and then to your face, “Want me to carry you?”, he asks, almost teasingly. Your cheeks heat up at the thought, “No! Just support me!”, you reply instantly. He let out a soft laugh at your response, he couldn't help but grin slightly. He wanted to carry you, and wanted to have you in his arms. How could he let such a perfect opportunity go to waste?

“Alright then, as you say”, his lips curling in a small grin. You knew he was up to something but you couldn't tell what, besides you had no choice. You wrap your arm around his shoulder, leaning your weight on him. With a swift movement of his arms, without warning he lifts you up from the ground. A soft gasp leaves your mouth, your arms instinctively tense up. Cradling you against his chest, his arms are lifting you up with ease. He has a wide grin on his face, “Hey! Let me down! I didn't ask you to carry me”, you protest, swaying your legs in the rebel. It's not what you asked, you don't wanna be carried back to the ship; it's embarrassing.

Besides, his scent is spinning your head. The smell of his cologne and something of him is filling your senses, you don't exactly hate it. “We don't have enough time to let you walk, y/n”, his voice a bit rougher and serious. He wasn't joking, he meant it. Though, he would love to tease you right now, but the situation doesn't call for it. You both have to leave before anyone starts chasing you guys down. You sigh softly, there was no choice, you thought, “Alright fine”. His lips curl up in a grin, he was enjoying this wasn't he?

He starts running back towards the ship, not walking. “I must say, you're very light. Do you even eat something?”, he teases. You knew he was gonna tease you. “Shut it. I weigh fine!”, you reply with a frown forming on your face. You hated this situation, you were too close. Close enough to hear him breathing as he ran with you in his arms like it wasn't a big deal, like it was something normal. How could he run this fast with you in his arms? You didn't know. The way he adjusted his ever so slightly in between makes your heart jump. Ugh, it was embarrassing. However, you couldn't lie about how warm and comforting being in his arms felt.

“By the way, how did you sprain your ankle? You're absolutely careful. It's surprising to see you even have a scratch”, he asks curiously. It was true, you were absolutely careful with everything but most of the time, you hid them. You didn't want anyone tending to your wounds. They would find it annoying and too much, you had presumed. You hated the idea of people finding you too much to take care of. You didn't want to be a burden. You don't want them to feel like you always needed help. They didn't need to treat you, it wasn't much. You could take it.

“I just did! There was a stone in the way and I didn't see it”, you reply hoping he wouldn't ask further. Your grip on his shoulder tightened, involuntarily almost. He understood from your tone and your grip that you don't want him prying further. He obliged your silent plea, but he could tell there was more to it. He can't get himself to ask you when you had your walls built up so high.

~On the ship~

Once on the ship, he doesn't immediately let you down. He carries you in, and lets you down gently on the couch. His moves were too gentle as if he was handling a glass that could break anytime. He was too careful even when just letting you down. You look at him in surprise, the gentleness in his actions wasn't uncommon but it felt different. Nothing like you have seen before.

He gets first aid from nearby immediately, soft clicks of his boots against the floor as he comes back in front of you. Kneeling down, his hand reaches for your foot, you reflexively pull away, just slightly. “What are you doing?”, you ask. It was obvious what he was doing but why was he? He doesn't have to. You can take care of yourself, you were not a child. “Tending to your ankle”, he replies softly. His eyes flicker up to you before moving back to your injured foot. His hand reaches for your foot again, carefully, with feather like touch he takes off your heel. “You don't have to”, you pull back your foot, again, socks still on.

Your brain runs into panic. You can't let him. No, you just can't. If he does, he will know; it's not a sprain. Why couldn't you have told him the truth before? That your opponent blocked your kick and twisted your ankle. That you hadn't gotten a sprain from falling over a stone but rather you had your ankle twisted by your opponent. You run a hand through your hair, anxiously almost. How will he react? You don't know. You're not even sure if your ankle has marks of it.

“Let me help, y/n”, he pleas softly, looking at you with eyes that shine with concern. You shake your head, “No! I'm not a kid. I can do it myself!”, you reply crossing your arms hoping he would get you. But, he sighs softly, reaching for your foot again. “You're a kid, so let me do it”, he replies, almost selfishly. He can't deny he was asking for too much but he doesn't like the idea of you tending to yourself alone, in silence. “I said it's fine!”, your voice came out rougher and sharper than you intended it to. His hand stops mid-air upon hearing your voice. His eyes search for yours, but you are avoiding his gaze, unable to meet them. For a while, you both don't speak. The silence fills the air around you.

“You're hiding something”, he says breaking the silence. You flinch at the words. He was right. You couldn't get yourself to reply, you didn't have a comeback. “Sorry, I'll have a look at your sprain”, he speaks softly with a tone sweeter than honey. A voice you couldn't rebel against. You just sit there in silence as he gently, with his feather-like warm touch takes off your sock. As the sock came off, the full extent of your so called “sprain” came in view. Though, there wasn't specifically a clearly visible mark, he could make out that a forceful grip was used in the area.

You expect him to bug you with questions and how it was careless of you. But, he doesn't let out a word. Biting on his glove between his teeth, he pulls out his hand from it. He silently, takes out an ointment, takes up a generous amount and applies it on the area affected. His touch is warm, gentle and soft. You almost can't even feel it. Was it because of the throbbing pain or was it because of how lightly he was touching you? You didn't know.

“Aren't you gonna ask?”, you bury your face in your hands, afraid of his comment, his words that might be it was annoying, his thoughts that might be it was too much work. “Will you answer if I ask?”, he replies softly. He doesn't want to pry you with questions you don't wanna answer but he wants to be there for you, help you as much as he can, take care of you if you allow. “I am not going to bug you with questions you're not willing to answer. But let me do this”, his voice low, it pierces right through your heart. Why did he want to do this? “Don't you find it tiring? To tend to wounds? To take care of someone? To help? To—”, you trail off afraid of his answer.

“No, why would I? You fought gracefully, and you injured yourself while doing so. Obviously, I'd tend to every wound of yours”, his words ring in your ears. It's something you haven't heard in your entire life. He said it like it was something obvious for him to do but, no one ever said that to you before. What you had always heard was complaints, of how annoying it was, how tiring it was, how much work it was, how frustrating it was.

“Isn't it annoying? Isn't it too much work—”, he cuts yup off mid-sentence. He didn't want to but hearing such things from your mouth made his heart wrench. “Of course not! Why would you think that? That's how it's supposed to be! Not the other way around. It's not annoying, frustrating, or too much. Who told you that?”, he replies in a frustrated tone, not at you but the person who had filled you up with such absurdity. “I— uh, everyone used to..” , you reply. He knew what that meant. Not just a single person, but everyone you had come across in your life had made you believe you so.

“Is that also why you lied about it being a sprain?”, he asks. You nod in response. You didn't want anyone having to worry about you every time you fought. It would be annoying, right? It would be better to think it was something stupid as you tripping over a stone. “Look at me, it's not too much work, frustrating, or annoying at all. Never think like that again. Got it?”, he says softly with a reassuring smile that fills up your heart with warmth and fluffiness. You almost feel like you're dreaming, you nod appreciatively. “mhm”

“And don't lie to me again, please”, he pleads softly with a smile. You nod in response, “I won't”