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The monastery was too quiet for Kai's liking, which was exactly how he knew something was wrong.
Cole had come back from the scouting mission an hour behind schedule, waving off Zane's questions with a stiff shrug and a mumbled I'm fine, just tired, before disappearing down the hall toward his room.
Kai had let it go for exactly as long as it took him to finish his tea. Then he'd gone looking, because six years of fighting alongside Cole Brookstone had taught him that "I'm fine" from that particular idiot meant anything from a sprained ankle to a punctured lung.
He found Cole's door shut but unlocked. That was the tell. Cole never left his door unlocked unless he genuinely couldn't get up to lock it.
"Cole?" Kai knocked once, then let himself in without waiting for an answer, because manners were for people who weren't currently lying to your face about their internal organs.
Cole was sitting on the edge of his bed, black tunic peeled halfway off one shoulder, hand pressed hard against his own side. Even in the low lamp light, Kai could see the dark red stain spreading across the makeshift bandage — an old undershirt, wound tight and already soaked through in an ugly, spreading bloom.
"I said I was fine," Cole said, not even looking up.
"You're leaking," Kai said flatly, already crossing the room. "That's not fine. That's the opposite of fine. That's the textbook definition of not fine."
"It's a scratch."
"Cole." Kai crouched in front of him, and up close it was so much worse — the fabric was soaked through, dark and glistening, and Cole's face had gone the color of old parchment, sweat beading at his hairline despite the cool night air. "That is not a scratch. That is a hole. You have a hole in you."
"Technically the sword's not in me anymore, so—"
"Oh my gods." Kai pressed two fingers to his own temple like he could physically massage away the urge to shake some sense into the man. "You got stabbed and your plan was to wrap it in your pajama shirt and go to sleep?"
"My plan," Cole said, with as much dignity as a man bleeding through his shirt could muster, "was to deal with it myself so nobody had to worry."
"Great plan. Flawless. A+. Except I'm already worried, so it didn't work, and now you're going to bleed out on your very nice bedspread out of stubbornness, which is somehow a worse way to go than in battle."
Cole opened his mouth — probably to argue, because arguing with Kai was practically a reflex for him at this point — but a fresh wave of pain crossed his face instead, and whatever retort he'd had died somewhere behind his gritted teeth.
That took the fight out of Kai fast. "Hey. Hey, look at me." He softened his voice, put a hand on Cole's knee. "Let me help. Please. I'm not gonna lecture you the whole time, I promise. Well — I'm gonna lecture you a little, but mostly I'll just fix you up and then you can go back to being annoyingly stoic about everything."
Cole huffed something that might have been a laugh, if laughing hadn't clearly hurt. He was quiet for a second, jaw tight, eyes somewhere on the middle distance. Then, quietly: "...Okay."
"Okay?"
"Okay. Fix me up, Kai."
Something in Kai's chest loosened at that — at being trusted with it, at Cole actually, finally, saying yes. He didn't examine that feeling too closely. There wasn't time.
"Stay put. Don't be a hero. I'll be right back."
He was back in under two minutes, arms full — the first aid kit from the bathroom, a bowl of warm water, clean cloths, the good antiseptic Zane kept stocked for exactly this kind of nonsense, a roll of proper bandage instead of whatever poor shirt Cole had sacrificed. He kicked the door shut behind him with his heel and dumped everything unceremoniously on the little table beside Cole's bed.
"Lie down," he said. "Flat. On your back."
Cole raised an eyebrow, some of his usual dry humor creeping back in now that he had backup. "Bossy."
"You're bleeding, Cole, this isn't the moment for—" Kai caught himself, waved a hand. "Just lie down."
Cole lay down, wincing as his back met the mattress, breath hissing out between his teeth. Kai was at his side in an instant, kneeling on the bed next to him, already reaching for the ruined bandage at his torso.
"This is gonna hurt," Kai warned. "I'm sorry in advance."
"I've had worse."
"That's not actually as comforting as you think it is." Kai peeled the soaked fabric away carefully, wincing in sympathy at the sound Cole made — sharp, cut off, a hiss through clenched teeth. "Sorry. Sorry, sorry, almost there—"
The wound itself, once exposed, was bad.
A clean puncture just below his ribs, angry and deep, blood still welling steadily from it despite Cole's best efforts. Kai's stomach turned, just slightly, not from squeamishness but from something closer to fear.
"Okay," he breathed, mostly to steady himself. "Okay, that's— that needs actual pressure, and cleaning, and probably needs Pixal to look at it tomorrow because I am not a doctor, but I can stop you bleeding out tonight, so." He grabbed a clean cloth, folded it, pressed it firm against the wound.
Cole's whole body went rigid, a strangled noise escaping him. "Fuck—"
"I know. I know, I'm sorry." Kai kept the pressure steady, his other hand coming up almost without thinking to rest against Cole's uninjured side, grounding, an anchor. "Talk to me. Tell me what happened out there."
"Ambush," Cole gritted out, eyes screwed shut. "Thought it was — just a supply run. Guy came out of nowhere."
"And you didn't think to, I don't know, radio someone? Call for backup? Anything?"
"Was closer to home than to you guys."
"That is not the flex you think it is." Kai eased the pressure slightly, checking the bleeding, then pressed again when it hadn't slowed enough. "You could've died walking back here alone. Do you get that? You could've just — collapsed somewhere on the road and none of us would've known until morning."
Cole cracked one eye open, looking at him properly for the first time since Kai had walked in. "You'd have found me."
"That's not the point, Cole."
"Kinda feels like the point." A ghost of a smile, pained but real. "You always find me."
Kai's throat did something complicated. He looked away, busying himself with the antiseptic, unscrewing the cap with more focus than the task strictly required. "Yeah, well. Somebody's gotta keep dragging your idiot self back from the brink." He soaked a fresh cloth. "This next part's gonna sting worse than the bleeding did. Ready?"
"No."
"Good, 'cause I'm doing it anyway." He dabbed the antiseptic against the wound, and Cole's whole body arched off the bed with a sharp curse, hand flying out to grip the sheets in a white-knuckled fist. "Hey — hey, I'm sorry, I know, I know it hurts, almost done, you're doing so good—"
"Don't — don't patronize me," Cole gasped, though there was no real heat in it.
"I'm not patronizing you, I'm being nice, there's a difference." Kai kept his voice low, steady, even as his hands worked with quick precision — clean, disinfect, check the depth of the wound with careful fingers that made Cole hiss again. "You're allowed to make noise, you know. You don't have to be the strong, silent type every single second of your life."
"Not being strong and silent. Being quiet, there's a difference."
"You are so annoying," Kai said, fondly, and reached for the bandage roll. "Okay. This is the part where I actually wrap you up properly, so I need you to sit up a little — just enough that I can get around your back."
Cole grunted, pushing himself up onto his elbows, and Kai moved without thinking — one knee coming up over Cole's hips to settle himself more securely, straddling him so he could reach all the way around his torso with the bandage.
It wasn't until he was already there, already leaning over Cole's bare chest with the roll of gauze in hand, that he registered the position at all, and by then it felt strange to backtrack, so he just — didn't.
He focused on the task.
Wound the bandage snug around Cole's ribs, once, twice, checking the pressure over the wound each time, murmuring numbers under his breath like counting would keep his hands from shaking.
"You're staring," Cole said, low, and Kai realized he'd gone still, gauze wrapped halfway around, just — looking.
"Sorry. Just — making sure it's tight enough." That was half true. The other half was that from up here, straddling Cole's hips with his hands full of him, Kai had gotten a proper look at what six years of ninja life had actually done to Cole Brookstone's body, and it had stopped him cold.
Bruises.
Old ones, yellow-green and fading, new ones blooming dark purple over ribs and shoulders and the soft skin above his hipbone. Scars, more than Kai had ever really taken stock of — thin white lines crossing his forearms, a puckered mark just under his collarbone, a long jagged one running the length of his left shoulder that Kai didn't recognize at all.
"Finish the wrap," Cole said quietly, watching him watch it all. "I'm not gonna break."
"I know." Kai finished the wrap — tucked the end in neat and secure, checked it wasn't too tight, pressed his palm flat over the bandage one more time like he could will it to hold. "There. Done. You should be okay till Pixal can look at it properly."
He should've gotten off him then.
That was the obvious next move — climb off, clean up the supplies, let Cole rest.
Instead Kai stayed exactly where he was, straddling Cole's thighs, and let his gaze drift back over all those marks scattered across his skin like a map of every terrible day Cole had never told anyone about.
"How'd you get this one?" Kai's fingers found the long scar on his shoulder without really deciding to, tracing its length light as a whisper.
Cole shivered under the touch, chest rising sharp.
"Rock climb gone wrong. Sixteen. Fell about thirty feet, caught myself on a jagged edge on the way down." A pause. "Dad didn't even notice till I couldn't lift my arm for a week."
"Cole." Kai's voice cracked, just slightly, on the name.
"It's fine. Old news." But his eyes had gone soft, watching Kai's fingers still resting against the raised line of scar tissue, watching Kai's face like he was trying to read something there he didn't have words for himself.
Kai didn't decide to lean down.
It just happened, the way falling happens — no warning, just suddenly the ground rushing up. He pressed his lips, soft and brief, to the old scar on Cole's shoulder.
Cole sucked in a breath. "Kai—"
"Sorry," Kai murmured against his skin, though he didn't pull back. "I don't — I don't know why I did that."
"Didn't say stop."
That was all the permission Kai's body seemed to need, some dam inside him breaking clean through.
He moved lower, pressing another kiss to the fading bruise on Cole's ribs, then another to the darker one blooming near his hip, unhurried, reverent, like he was trying to apologize to every mark on Cole's body for every time nobody had noticed them before.
Cole's breath had gone unsteady beneath him, his chest rising and falling too fast, a low sound catching in his throat every time Kai's lips found a new spot.
"Kai," Cole said again, rougher this time, and Kai finally lifted his head, meeting his eyes.
"Yeah?"
"C'mere."
Cole's hand came up — the one not braced against the mattress — and closed around Kai's wrist, tugging, and Kai went easily, letting himself be pulled down and forward until their faces were close, so close Kai could feel Cole's breath against his own mouth, could see the small scar through one of his eyebrows he'd genuinely never noticed until this exact moment.
Cole shifted underneath him to get more comfortable and immediately regretted it — his face scrunched tight, a hiss of pain escaping through his teeth as the movement pulled at the fresh bandage.
"Okay, that's it, I'm getting up—" Kai started, already moving to shift his weight off him, guilt flooding fast and hot. "I'm hurting you, I shouldn't be—"
"Don't you dare." Cole's grip on his wrist tightened, other hand coming up to press flat against the small of Kai's back, holding him exactly where he was. "You're not going anywhere."
"Cole, your ribs—"
"Kai." His voice had gone soft, almost pleading, nothing like the gruff exterior he wore for everyone else. "Stay."
So Kai stayed. Let himself be held there, chest to chest, noses brushing, breath mingling warm between them in the quiet dark of Cole's room. Neither of them moved for a long moment — just breathing each other in, some silent conversation passing back and forth that neither of them had words brave enough for yet.
Then Cole tilted his head, just slightly, and pressed a soft kiss to Kai's cheek.
"Thank you," he murmured against his skin, "for patching me up." Another kiss, the other cheek this time, lingering half a second longer. "For always finding me."
Kai's breath caught somewhere in his chest.
He didn't trust his voice not to shake, so he said nothing, just let his eyes fall shut as Cole's mouth trailed lower — along his jaw, down the line of his throat, slow and deliberate, like he had all the time in the world despite the bandage wound tight around his ribs and the pain that had to be screaming through him with every small movement.
"Cole, you should be resting, not—" Kai's protest died into a soft, helpless sound as Cole's lips found the sensitive skin just below his ear.
"Let me," Cole murmured against his throat. "Just — let me."
Kai tipped his head back without meaning to, baring more of his neck, some instinct older than thought guiding the motion.
Cole made a low, rough noise at that — approval, want, something Kai felt more than heard — and kissed his way down the newly offered skin, open-mouthed and unhurried, until he found a spot just above Kai's collarbone that made his whole body jolt.
"There?" Cole asked, voice wrecked and amused all at once.
"Don't get smug about it," Kai breathed, though it came out far less steady than he intended.
Cole, predictably, did not listen. He returned to that same spot, mouthed at it, and when Kai's fingers curled into the sheets on either side of him, dared to close his teeth gently against the skin — not hard, just enough to feel the shape of Kai's gasp against his lips, the sharp little moan that punched out of him before he could stop it.
"Cole—"
"Yeah." Cole's voice had dropped low, rough with something that wasn't just pain anymore. "That's — that's a good sound."
Kai pulled back then, just far enough to look him properly in the eye — and whatever Cole saw in his expression seemed to steal the last of the air from his lungs, because he went very still beneath him, waiting.
"You good?" Kai asked, quiet, giving him one last out.
"Kai, I have never in my life been better." A pause, something almost vulnerable crossing his face. "You gonna kiss me or not?"
Kai laughed — soft, disbelieving, the sound catching somewhere between his throat and his heart — and closed the distance himself.
The kiss started slow, careful, like they were both testing whether this was real or some fever dream born of blood loss and too much unspoken want.
Cole's hand slid up from the small of Kai's back to cup the side of his face, thumb brushing his cheekbone with a tenderness that felt entirely at odds with the bruises and the blood and the whole terrible night. Kai melted into it, one hand braced against Cole's shoulder, the other coming up to tangle loosely in his hair.
It didn't stay slow for long.
Something unraveled between them all at once — six years of near-misses and almost-moments and words swallowed back down, all of it breaking free in the space of a single kiss gone deep and hungry.
Cole made a low sound against his mouth, tilting his head to chase it deeper, and Kai answered in kind, both of them chasing something they'd apparently been starving for without ever quite admitting it.
"Careful," Kai gasped, when they broke apart just long enough to breathe, foreheads pressed together. "Your ribs—"
"Forget my ribs." Cole's voice was wrecked, eyes dark, chest heaving beneath the fresh bandage. "Kai, I have wanted this for so long I genuinely don't remember what it felt like not to want it."
"That's — really not fair to tell me while I'm trying to be responsible about your injuries."
"Then stop being responsible." A crooked smile, breathless and open in a way Kai had maybe never seen on him before. "Besides...It doesn't suite you"
Kai huffed a laugh against his lips, something warm and helpless blooming behind his ribs to match the ache in Cole's. "You're impossible."
"You love it."
"...Yeah." The admission slipped out easier than Kai expected, easier than six years of careful silence should have allowed. "Yeah, I really do."
Cole's answering grin was blinding, and then Kai was kissing him again, slower this time but no less consuming, one hand splayed careful over the uninjured half of his chest like he could feel Cole's heartbeat hammering beneath his palm.
Cole kissed like he fought — full commitment, no half measures — but there was something else laced through it too, something soft and searching, like he was trying to memorize the shape of this moment in case it never came again.
They kissed until Kai's lips felt swollen and Cole's breathing had gone ragged for reasons that had nothing to do with blood loss, until the careful press of lips gave way to something deeper, messier, Cole's hand fisting gently in the front of Kai's shirt to keep him close, Kai's thumb tracing slow circles against his jaw. When they finally broke apart it was only because Cole winced again, a sharp inhale against Kai's mouth, and Kai pulled back immediately, guilt and worry chasing the heat from his face.
"Okay, that's it, we're stopping, you need actual rest—"
"Five more minutes."
"Cole—"
"Five more minutes, Kai, I mean it, I have been in love with you since I was seventeen and I am not wasting the first night I get to kiss you because of a stab wound."
Kai froze, staring down at him. "You've been— since you were seventeen?"
Cole's ears went faintly pink, which was somehow more endearing than anything that had happened in the last twenty minutes combined. "...Don't make it weird."
"I'm not making it weird, I'm just — that's six years, Cole, that's — I've liked you since roughly the same time and we could've been doing this for five years—"
"Then stop talking about it and kiss me again."
So Kai did — carefully this time, mindful of ribs and bruises and everything fragile beneath his hands, but no less thorough for the gentleness.
Outside, the monastery stayed quiet, unaware that somewhere down the hall two idiots who'd wasted six years being careful had finally, finally stopped being careful at all.
Later, much later, when the adrenaline had worn thin and exhaustion pulled at both of them, Kai finally eased off him properly, settling instead at his side, careful of the bandaged wound, one arm draped light across Cole's stomach.
Cole turned his head to look at him, soft and sleepy and thoroughly kissed, and reached up to brush a stray lock of hair from Kai's forehead.
"Stay?" he murmured.
"Wasn't planning on going anywhere," Kai said, and pressed one last kiss to the corner of his mouth before tucking himself against Cole's side, careful of the bandages, careful of all of it.
Cole's arm came around him anyway, solid and warm despite everything, and for the first time in longer than either of them could remember, neither one was pretending to be fine.
They just were.