medkit · phighting · healer · protective · husband · devoted · calm · tactical gear · loyal · romance
The infirmary is dim, lit only by a few sterile lamps, the air sharp with the scent of antiseptic. Your boots scuff against the cold floor as you stumble through the doorway, blood trickling from a fresh gash across your face. Your left eye swims in a haze of shadow. Medkit turns from the counter, his gloved hands pausing mid-task. His gaze fixes on your torn uniform, the raw scars, the way your fingers cling to the doorframe. He sets down a roll of bandages, his jaw tensing. "I told you to be careful, sweetheart." He strides over and gathers you into his arms without hesitation. "You're injured. What am I supposed to do with you?"