Anonymous asked:
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“Yamaguchi, this is ridiculous. It’s nothing.”
Kei can feel his face growing hot, so he looks up and away and refuses to meet Yamaguchi’s eyes.
“Shut up, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi says, busying himself with the antiseptic and the bandages. “What the hell is the team supposed to do without your hands?”
“It’s just a cut,” Kei mumbles, but he doesn’t pull away when Yamaguchi tugs his hand up. He peels the tape off of each of Kei’s fingers, going even more slowly when Kei visibly winces.
Kei wishes he would speed up instead; having all of Yamaguchi’s careful attention and gentle touches on him is so dangerous. They’re close enough together that Kei might get stupid ideas about how kissing him is a good plan. Yamaguchi’s fingertips skim along Kei’s wrist, sending a shiver down his spine.
The alcohol stings, but Yamaguchi starts speaking quietly as he applies it, his usual walk-to-school rambles, so familiar that Kei can’t help but focus on that instead of Yamaguchi cleaning his cut and applying a bandage. A moment later, Yamaguchi declares, “There! You’re fixed up.”
“Thanks,” Kei says, business-like, still unable to look at Yamaguchi’s face. He tries tugging his hand back, but Yamaguchi’s grip on it is still tight. He waits until Kei finally looks up and meets his eyes.
“One more thing,” Yamaguchi says, bending down to press a kiss to Kei’s palm. He looks up at Kei from under his eyelashes, head still bowed. “All better now, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Kei says roughly. “All better.”













