Keith Kogane x Reader One-Shots

37 - Injuries

"I hate you,"

"You've said that three times in the past ten minutes, my love, and not once have you meant it,", Keith countered your theatrics, tutting softly. "Besides, it's not me who decided to re-enact the Pitch Perfect imitation scene, is it?", you rolled your eyes and flipped him off, cringing at the dull ache in your leg.

"It was a dare, okay? I couldn't refuse!", the memories of your mutual friend, Lance, a little tipsy and a little too obsessed with Pitch Perfect, flooded back in, and you felt your cheeks burn as you realised how dumb your decision was. Not that you'd admit that to Keith. "Please, just get the doctors to sign my release papers,"

"What's the magic word?", he teased, rubbing your cheek with his thumb.

"Bullshit,", you rolled your eyes, imitating a biting motion that made the ravenette retract his hand.

"Feral, you are,", he shook his head in faux disgust, though you could see the shadow of a smile upon his lips as he turned to face you once more. "It was actually 'abra cadabra', but I'll let it slide this time. I'll be back in a moment, darling. Don't miss me too much,"

"I wouldn't dream of it,", you giggled, now starting to feel the effects of the pain medicine they had administered fifteen minutes prior. Keith was going to be in for an interesting few months, he realised, but he'd love every moment of it with you.

---

Okay, never mind. He took it back. It had been okay for the first week or so: you were all drugged up, clingy and sickeningly sweet. Adorable. He could do this. But then, you started getting restless. You'd been taken off of the pain meds, and you could hardly move with your bulky cast, so you found yourself harbouring erratic emotions. Keith finally lost it when you got your period, though.

"Keith,", you whined, shifting to the edge of the bed as best as you could, and whimpering when you hit your leg on the side of the bed. It was 2:35 in the morning, and you had the worst bout of cramps known to man, so you knew what was coming. "Keith, baby, please wake up. I need you,"

"What now, y/n? Your crutches are--"

"Ten feet away, thanks for asking,", you finished, huffing at your boyfriend's pissed-off demeanour. "Forget it. I can get there myself, then I'll change the sheets when I get back,", you grumbled to yourself, your boyfriend too grumpy and half-asleep to realise what was going on.

"Let me sleep, woman,", your head snapped around, and you hung onto the wall for balance as you gawked. At the halting of your feet padding across the room, he lifted his head, eyes hazy as he adjusted to the dim light of the room. "What?"

"Nothing. Go to sleep. I'm sorry that I'm such a nuisance,", you paused for a moment, wiping your eyes, then added, "Actually, go to the spare room, please,"

"You're-- you're serious?", he stuttered, now wide awake as he realised how annoyed you were. You scoffed.

"Yes, really. I might be angry at you, but I don't want you sleeping on dirty sheets,". Before he had time to question, you had hopped into the bathroom, slamming the door behind you and leaving your boyfriend in a state of pure confusion.

"What the hell?", he muttered, flipping the sheets off of himself and rubbing his eyes. Slowly, he moved off of the bed, body aching from the training he had done, but he glanced back as if waiting for you to leave the bathroom. It was only then that he caught a whiff of it: blood.

Keith, although he didn't like to admit it, had an exceptional sense of smell, given his heritage, so he often picked up on changes that you went through hormonally before you. This time, however, he had been too stressed to notice, and he felt horrible.

"Shit,", he cursed under his breath, bundling the sheets into his arms and trudging down the stairs, chucking them into the washing machine hastily before making two hot chocolates, and retrieving a heating pad. Then, he made his way back up the stairs, dumped the items in the spare room, and made his way back to your room. "Darling, are you still in there?", he knocked softly on the bathroom door.

"Go away,", you fumed, refusing to open the door as you struggled to pull your new pair of underwear up. Tears swarmed in your eyes, and your hands shook, making the task that bit more difficult, but you were determined to do it by yourself and not annoy Keith any more.

"Let me in, please. I can help,", he received no reply, so he rested his forehead against the door with a sigh. "I'm sorry, baby. I didn't mean to snap at you. Just... let me help. I have the spare room all set up for us. We can cuddle, and prank call Lance,"

It took a few moments, but sure enough, he heard the quiet 'click' of the lock, so he took the liberty of opening the door. Glancing around the room, he took note of the bath, now filled with water and soap, your clothes heftily saturated and blotted, the murkiness of the water showing how you had attempted to get rid of the stains. Then, there was you.

Perched on the toilet lid, eyes red and puffy, adorned in little else but a pair of fluffy socks, your cast, some underwear and a small t-shirt. Beautiful as ever, he thought, but that was hardly the priority right now. No, he needed to calm you down, comfort you.

"What's bothering you, my love?", he asked gently, kneeling beside you, a hand caressing the soft skin of your thigh as your hands fiddled with the hem of your shirt, his other holding your cheek and wiping away any stray tears. "Talk to me,"

"I'm so sick of being so useless, and relying on you or a silly pair of metal rods to get me around. And now I've got my stupid period, my stomach hurts like hell, and these lights are hurting my eyes. I'm sick of hurting, Keith,", you sobbed, melting into his embrace like hot butter as he crouched, allowing you to put all of your weight onto him.

Cold skin against his bare flesh, he felt goosebumps rising, but he didn't care. Your hands slipped up his back, hanging onto him for dear life as he slipped his under your shirt, holding you by the waist as you quivered. Sweet nothings were murmured into your ear, into your hair, soft kisses being pressed against whatever piece of skin he could reach until you regained some level of composure.

"Let's go to bed, yeah? You're exhausted,", with a small nod from you, he scooped you into his arms and slipped out of the door, being careful to avoid hitting your cast off of anything as he made his way to the spare room. With his leg, he pushed the door open, then set you down on the bed, turning a small light on and letting Kosmo run into the room before he closed the door once more.

"I'm sorry about all this. If I hadn't been so stupid a few weeks ago...", you trailed off, words getting caught in your throat. Keith, noticing this, settled on the bed, hovering over you and kissing your forehead.

"If you hadn't been so stupid, then I wouldn't be getting all of this wonderful quality time with my girlfriend, nor would I be escaping my boss for a few months,", the playfulness in his statement made you crack a smile, igniting in Keith a sense of pride that he had been able to turn your tears to laughter. "You've got nothing to apologise for, my love. Just try to get some rest, and we'll talk properly in a couple of hours,"

"M'kay,", you whispered. "Thanks, Keith. I love you,"

"I love you too, darling,"

---

"What in the world are you doing?", you questioned, pausing the tv and peering over Kosmo's furry body. Keith had been messing with your cast for thirty minutes now, using the dog to shield whatever devious little thing he was up to. "I swear to all that is holy, if you break my cast, Kogane, I will hit you with it,"

"So violent,", he chided, tutting. "And I was trying to be romantic. See?", the sound of a camera made itself known, and then the ravenette showed you his phone screen, revealing your previously plain cast now littered with small hearts, all different colours.

"Oh, that's adorable! I didn't know you were capable of drawing hearts, of all things,", you teased, smiling widely as you zoomed in on the photo.

"My artistic flare extends to all sorts of drawings, I'll have you know,", a laugh was shared, and you ushered him closer, planting a delicate, appreciative kiss onto his lips, hands grasping his neck and fiddling with the small bits of hair cascaded in front of his face. "If doing this stuff gets me more of that, I might do romantic stuff more often,"

"Don't ruin the moment,"

"Oh, but that's what I do best,"