you and yours.

take care of you. [ trafalgar d. water law ]

You can handle anything that is thrown your way, but surgical needles are what will kill you.

A pained hiss rips from your throat as you dip the silver point beneath your wound once more only to feed it back towards the surface. The process repeats over and over as you hurry to close the gaping wound in your thigh, taking a minute to shove a towel in your mouth to hush your pained cries.

The stitches are messy and inconsistent, but you couldn't care less as long as the wound is somewhat closed. An inch of torn muscle is skin left till you're done.

"What are you--"

His words melt into the air. You peer up slowly through your lashes, a wincing grin tugging almost painfully at your cheeks. Law stands in the doorway, surprise and disappointment and about ten other emotions you can't name painted on his face to display personally to you. You should've expected this, really. You are in the place where he spends most of his day.

The room is quiet as you stare at each other. You hold up the hand with the needle and shake it back and forth, something you hope resembles a grin crossing your face.

"Surprise!"

Law sighs, letting his head drop towards the floor for a millisecond before crossing the floor. He pulls a chair up between your legs and props his tools on the table beside you before snatching the needle from your hand gently enough not to tear your leg even more.

"Thought you said you were fine." he spits. Oh, he's mad .

You chuckle nervously. "Funny story, actually. I thought I was until I tried to walk and then I realized I wasn't fine! How crazy is that?"

Law pauses briefly to glare at you before resuming prepping his tools. You swallow. So much for trying to lighten the mood .

He plunges the needle back into your skin and you flinch, a grunt clawing from your throat as you attempt to keep any pained sounds from escaping. He continues from a bit and you watch, admiring how precise and gentle his nimble fingers work. You can't help but watch as his tongue pokes out from between his lips, dark hair curtaining over his eyes and brushing against your legs. The temptation to push it from his eyes grows, but you can't afford to lose a hand currently.

Law exhales tiredly. "You know I hate when you do this shit." he grumbles, his voice soft in the silent room.

Your head tilts back, eyes trained on the ceiling. "I know."

"Then why do you keep doing it?"

"Don't wanna make you worry."

He snorts, his hand falling against your knee and you can feel his gaze burning into your neck. "Make me worry? Make me worry ?! Half the shit you do makes me worry, how's this gonna change anything?! I'm a doctor, it's kind of my job to take care of you."

The sudden raise in volume makes you jump, but you avoid eye contact. "I don't want you to think I can't take care of myself. I'm capable of first aid." Your voice stays level despite the lump in your throat.

He sighs, the mental image of him pinching the bridge of his nose burning into the backs of your eyelids. "And I know that, trust me. But with things like this, please let me take care of you. It's the least I can do."

Finally, you let your eyes wander down to his, surprised in finding his softened gaze. You know how important this is to him, and the guilt is quickly chewing you from the inside out. His pinky loops around yours, your fingers filling the distance by slipping between his. The feeling of his palm against you is warm and familiar, and you can't help the grin that stretches on your lips.

"Okay," you mutter.

It's Law's turn to grin, though his is much more teasing. "Sorry, could you repeat that?"

Your groan, eyes rolling before leaning in, your noses bumping. "Okay! Are you happy?"

He smiles, squeezing your hand. "Very. Thank you."

His fingers come up to drag your chin closer, soft pink lips connecting with yours. You hum against him, finally pushing your fingers past his soft tresses to pull him tighter against you, savoring the gentle groan he lets out. Sadly he pulls away, but the soft blush on his cheeks and grin is enough to forgive him.

"Now, I'm gonna finish patching this up and you're gonna pay back for it in... some way I have yet to decide." He jabs the needle in your direction. "Got it?"

You smile, raising your hand for a salute. "Got it, Doctor."

a/n ANOTHER