His vision dances as he drops to a knee beside you, trying to find the damage from the fall. It doesn't help that the trash storm is still raging, acid rain pelting around you. His umbrella opens again as you curl on your side towards him, coughs sputtering out your lips.
"We gotta get out of here (y/n)," He says, brushing a couple strands of hair off your face as you move to sit yourself up.
With a groan, he pushes himself to his feet, reaching for your hand before tugging you up too. You both wrap an arm around each other, leaning together as you survey where you've landed. Trash lays in heaps in every direction, but your eyes are drawn to the tall cliffs on either side of the ravine.
"There," you murmur, raising your hand to point at the shallow rock overhang in the near distance.
The umbrella sat solidly above, deflecting projectiles as you two shuffled through the trash piles. His injuries were well hidden by his uniform, but he accepted the help you offered, supporting and guiding them towards the shelter. His right arm was still over your shoulder, hand now clasped tightly by yours, your other arm snugly holding his waist. Each step seemed jarring and aggravated pain, though it was difficult to pinpoint where from.
With a deep sigh, he sadly discards the ruined umbrella as the two of you duck into the cave. Stepping further in, you're able to round the corner before the passage narrows. Your figures pull apart before settling into the rocky enclosure, dropping the bags of gear to surveil what you've got.
you pull a blanket out of your pack, smoothing it out best you could behind them. You dump the first aid out on one side of the blanket before standing. He's securing a spare tarp over the caves corner. Facing his back, you watch a tremor snake its way up his tense body. Your hands rose around his shoulders before grasping his uniform coat, gently tugging it down and off his large frame. He releases a shakey breath before resting a hand on the wall, quickly moving to help him rest against the blanket.
His golden eyes are focused on your ever so gentle touch, the worry in your eyes as they meet his half-lidded ones, the slight tremor in your hands as they rise to cup his face tenderly.
"Are you ready? This may hurt a little," Your eyes search his as he groans.
He motions towards his leg with a wince before chuckling,"You're stealing my line? Hopefully I say it better than that."
"Oh hum a little tune and you can turn it into a strip tease, " You grin cheekily at his faint blush, but he does as you say.
Humming a tune from the radio, he starts detaching his gear. You slip your shoes off before sitting beside him on the blanket, hands moving to unlace and pull off his boots. You hum along, clearing space as he deftly unbuckles his belt and undoes his loose trousers.
The rain is pelting against the caves opening, and the wind thrashes the tarp he had put up. It'd be a cold night.
Refocusing on your patient, it was difficult for your eyes not to wander and trace his exposed tattoos, ink vibrant against toned skin. Watching him move slow, you couldn't stop yourself from gathering the material out of his hands, carefully working the trousers off his battered legs. One hand places the garment in a biohazard bag while the other lightly presses against his chest to lay him back against the makeshift pillow, gold eyes latched to your every move. His hand found yours for a moment and squeezed before falling back to his side.
One leg was crossed beneath you while the other leg was outstretched along him. You worked your way up his exposed skin, starting with the acid burns around his ankles and shins, then digging out the shrapnel embedded in his lower thigh. Each brought a new pain and his hand reached for anything to ground himself, thinking of the plush keychain you sometimes kept at your side. You hadn't brought it though, since it was a gift from him you elected to keep it safe. Instead his hand encases your hip, palm resting against protruding bone, fingers brushing rough inked skin.
