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The Eleventh Brother shuffled through the cabinets under the sink in the fresher, stopping when he felt the coarseness of the bandages against his scales. He snatched the bundle up quickly and placed it on the border of the sink, making a hiss of discontent at the fact that he, in fact, did not keep all his medical supplies in a first-aid kit like a normal person. Everything was just scattered about, much like most of the contents of his quarters.
Marrok was sitting in the heated tub, leaning against the side on his stomach, his arms folded on the rim. There were a few blood-soaked bandages wrapped around his body to stop the bleeding from earlier. They were peeking above the water. Earlier, Crow had attempted to coax, then directly order Marrok to go to the med-bay, but he had refused adamantly. They had somehow ended up in a slightly occupied break room instead of one of their bedrooms. And then, they had a yelling match in front of the other occupants of the room, the Third Sister and Seventh Sister, who were fresh from a training session (though Crow suspected it would not be long before the two younglings were sent on missions), playing cards while Crow and Marrok verbally sparred. After a minute or so of shouting, Seven told them to get a room and fuck the stress out. Three had somewhat agreed, but told Crow to help with Marrok’s injuries first. That was why they were doing this right now.
“Do you lack the ability to hurry up rather than staring into space?,” Marrok all but snarled, slumping forward in a rather unnecessary relinquishing of stability. With that, Crow was out of his melancholic musing session. He had blinked with a start and snapped his fingers once, twice, and went back to looking for the supplies. He opened the last unopened cabinet with the force, and of course, everything was there. No bacta, but a reasonable amount of medical products for injuries. He grabbed the gauze bandages, saline, and rubbing alcohol, which he could feel Marrok rolling his eyes at behind his back at the last one.
“It doesn’t work, you idiot,” the younger hissed. Crow walked back to the tub and poked his partner’s cheek with his sharp nail. Marrok scoffed and turned his body around. Crow unwrapped the bandages slowly, as if fearing blood may spurt out everywhere if he went too fast. After all, it did look rather gruesome, and with Lord Vader's presence possibly looming as the man was perhaps taking recovery time (no one was really sure if the man took breaks to recuperate), they couldn’t afford to show weakness. So Crow had haphazardly wrapped Marrok’s wounds with bandages he had kept around just in case.
“It’s only if we need it,” he replied, setting the dirty wraps down next to him and wiping the blood off with a towel, not wanting it to get into the water. He grabbed a large gauze pad. He screwed open the saline bottle and turned it over onto the pad, letting a generous amount seep through. Marrok sighed as his partner dabbed it onto his wound.
“Do you know anything about wound care?,” he asked with a small bite to his voice.
“I have not had to do this for a long time,” Crow said in retaliation, a sigh of resignation escaping him. He could feel his partner’s mirth and pride in the force at that.
“Simmer down,” the older chided in a teasing tone. Marrok laughed, his presence in the force less agitated now. That lifted Crow’s spirits as well. He set down the now dirty cloth and scooped some water into his hands, spreading it on Marrok’s back. He used the soap next, lathering it onto his wounds, cleaning it off with water, and then cleaning the rest of his body.
“Can I not be proud of my lover for his lack of injuries over the years?”
“It sounds like you’re making fun of me.”
“We’re rarely in good moods. We rarely have time to ourselves. Can I not enjoy it?”
Ah. That is where this came from. The refusal to go to the med-bay, the near clinging onto him as they made their way to Crow’s room. It was unwise of them both, but neither stopped Marrok from slinging an arm over his lover’s shoulder for support, despite a few troopers and one inquisitor almost seeing them. Luckily, if they were spotted, it certainly wasn’t by a tattle-tail. They’d both be on their knees by now if it were so, a limb or two cut off. No matter how efficient they were, Vader always made sure everyone had learned their lesson from their mistakes.
Crow sighed and began to drain the bath, standing up and walking to the sink. He washed his hands and grabbed the towel from the hanger. Marrok braced his hands against the rim of the tub and slowly stood up, moving up one hand to the wall to keep support. His partner walked to him and grabbed his hand, helping him step out of the tub and beginning to dry him off from head to toe. Just as Marrok was about to sneak a touch, he moved away and grabbed the bandages.
“Wait,” Crow said, unraveling a fair amount and beginning to wrap the bandages around his lover’s body from behind. Marrok tensed as the bandages were a bit tight. At that, they immediately loosened by just a fraction, perfectly snug. Crow cut the end of the wrap with his claws, tying the two ends together. Just as his hands were about to return to his sides, he felt strong, thin-ish fingers worming their ways around his. He let them stay, sighing and massaging the pair of hands.
“We cannot retire to bed if you don’t let me go, fool.”