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baji's hands are not soft. the heels of his palms are rough and often scratched up. his fingers are callused and knuckles bruised. but when he kneels in front of you and takes your injured leg to inspect the wound, his are the gentlest fingers, the most tender palms.
he clicks his tongue, frowning. "how the fuck…" he turns your leg slightly, feeling you wince at the stretch of the skin on your calf.
"fell. didn't think that rock was so unstable." you're holding in the whimper as he gently touches the reddened skin around where the scratches bleed. "it's not that bad." you assuage him.
"looks worse than it feels?" he lifts his head to see you look down at him, awe in your eyes as he holds your leg in one hand and a wet cloth in the other. "tell me if it hurts."
you wouldn't dream of it. you let him dab softly at your scratches, a few long, angry red lines down your outer thigh and calf stinging with the pull of the movement. seeing him so caring sends a shiver up your spine, flipping the breath out of your mouth. it's almost always the other way around, you chastising him for getting reckless and hurt, while cleaning his wounds at the same time. that role is comfortable, you always leave tender kisses on top of his bandages and then crawl into his lap to kiss until he falls asleep with his head on your chest.
when you're the one on the other side, taking his mumbled comment on how you're so clumsy, you feel a little bit of shame creep up your cheeks and paint them red. he's only ever gentle, though, imitating your process but switching it slightly by bringing his lips to the surface of your wound before and after he bandages you up. baji snickers a little bit when you wince at the sting of disinfectant spray that he usually cusses out when you use it on him. it's endearing, seeing you take the same treatment as him, and seeing him get into a role of a healer.
"all done." he murmurs with a kiss to the bandages over your thigh, then does the same to the ones on your calf, and only then does he look up from your leg. "you're gonna be good and watch where you walk?"
you nod in response, looking up as he gets up from his knees and pulls you into his lap on the couch. at least this part never changes—you're cradled against his chest and your arms wrapped around his neck, making it easy to bury your nose into the crook of his neck and inhale the most comforting smell of all, his natural scent mixed with some cologne, sweat, and gasoline.
"you gotta make up a better story for that, though." he nods at your wrapped up leg, still throbbing a little under the bandages. "like fighting off a masked murderer."
"is fighting a stone wall and winning not cool enough?" you could hardly call that winning, not even when you managed to hold onto the edge of it instead of scraping along the whole height of it—which also hurt your palm a little, but baji already kissed the couple of reddened spots on it so they'll be fine.
"you think that was winning, babe?" he snorts, shaking his head. "i'd stick with the murderer thing. or wrestling a shark. or—"
you cover his mouth with your hand, effectively shutting him up only for a moment until he licks a thick strip over your fingers. you giggle as you pull it away, wiping it on his t-shirt while he kisses the top of your head.
"no shark?" he asks, quiet.
"no shark." you shake your head, turning your leg to the side and straightening it out.
"you're a badass anyway." he whispers, pressing his forehead to yours with a co-conspiratorial smile. you kiss him because he's right. takes a lot of courage and skill to take on a stone wall and come out with just a scratched up leg. "my awesomeness just had to rub off on you."
he chuckles when you smack his shoulder, that sharp canine shows as he grins at you the moment before he attacks your neck with kisses and bites.