| [Aug. 15th, 2008|12:10 am] |
"The nurses gave you a wash when they put you in your very stylish pyjamas," Kakashi answered, taking Ryouma's hand to balance it on his knee. "For which we were all very grateful. Mostly you smell like cheap soap." And stress giftwrapped in anxiety.
Kakashi studied the fingers trembling beneath his own, and rubbed his thumb absently over the back of Ryouma's hand; he'd only been awake for an hour; all things considered, they were probably lucky he hadn't tried to throw himself out of a window. Or something equally fatal. A case of the shakes didn't mean anything.
It didn't.
"I'm just glad I've finally stopped smelling me," Kakashi continued, tapping his stained armour as he unzipped the tiny medkit. "Try wearing a mask after running in it for eighteen hours and see how happy your life is..."
He found a tiny alcoholic wipe and stripped his gloves off to peel it out of its wrapper. Then, very carefully, he cleaned the dried trails of blood from Ryouma's skin, pausing at the puncture marks left by the needles.
Bandaid, he decided fuzzily, and found a small, circular one that did the trick. Ryouma was still shaking, but he wasn't pulling away. Kakashi rubbed the back of his hand again, calloused thumb tracing the branching pathways of veins beneath skin, and tried to work out what he needed to do next.
"Other hand," he decided finally.
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