Just you and me
pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader
blurb: you clean Rafe up when he shows up at your house after getting in a fight
warnings: fluff, kissing, mentions of violence
wc: 1.6k
2:14 AM. The numbers flash on the alarm clock on your bedside table. You’re sleeping, nestled under your thick white blanket, wearing a muted pink satin button-up pyjama top with matching shorts. Rain patters against the window, loud enough to drown out the outside world. That’s when you hear a thud and blink sleepily, trying to adjust to the darkness. For a second, you think you imagined it, or it’s simply something that fell, but it comes again. A second time. More insistent. You turn to the source, your window.
Then you realise. Rafe.
You slip out of bed, alert now, padding barefoot to slide open the glass. You’re hit with a spray of cold water and a gust of wind, followed by the feeling of wet fabric against your bare skin, goosebumps rising. Rafe shuts the window behind him, sealing the chill outside, before slumping against you. He’s soaked, hair sticking to his forehead, his blue polo shirt glued to his toned torso.
You pull back to look at him, noticing the bruise on his left cheekbone. “Hey… what happened?” Rafe’s blue eyes are darker in this light as he shakes his head, before pulling you closer, his hands around your waist. His head drops into the crook of your neck as he breathes you in. You try again, brushing his hair out of his face gently: “Rafe? What’s going on?”
“They were talking shit about you. I couldn’t just stand there,” he mumbles under his breath, almost like he doesn’t want you to hear.
He got into a fight. Again.
You step back, keeping him close while fumbling to turn on your nightlight. You freeze when the room lights up, illuminating the cuts on his face and the blood seeping through his shirt in the shape of a gash on his stomach.
“Oh my God, Rafe…” you trail off, taking another step back to fully assess the severity of his injuries. That’s when you notice his hands, knuckles bloodied and bruised like usual after a fight.
“It’s nothing, okay?” he murmurs, his voice low and hoarse.
“It’s not nothing, Rafe. You’re hurt.”
“I’ll be fine. I always am.” He tries to add a smirk, but it falls flat. Rafe sighs before adding: “I just… I needed to see you. Needed to know that you’re okay.”
“Rafe, I’m fine. You are not.”
You proceed to grab his arm, still soft, and lead him into the bathroom, making him sit on the edge of the bathtub like always. Rafe finds it cute how you always boss him around when he comes to you like this. It doesn’t help that you’re in those cute little shorts as well.
You turn around to grab the first-aid kit that you keep in the bottom cabinet of your sink. For emergencies like this. Rafe showing up to your house half-bruised and bleeding has happened more times than you can count now. You pop the first-aid kit open and place it on the sink counter before grabbing an antiseptic wipe.
“Why do you always have to do this?” you sigh, pretending to be pissed off, but it comes out more as worried.
Rafe just sits there watching. Taking in the way your hair falls loosely around your shoulders, slightly dishevelled from sleep. The way you turn to him with those concerned eyes that you try to hide and stand between his parted legs.
You slowly reach up and press the wipe to the cut on his jaw, trying to be as gentle as you can while cleaning the wound. Rafe doesn’t wince; the cut isn’t that deep, but he clenches his jaw instinctively. He tries his best to stay still and let you patch him up.
“Maybe I like it when you take care of me like this.” It’s clear Rafe is trying to hold back a smirk. You press down just a little harder with the wipe, not enough to hurt him, just enough for him to notice.
“You think this is funny? What if you like… ended up in hospital or something!”
That just makes him try not to laugh. “They were talking shit about you, what was I supposed to do?” he says, putting on his innocent eyes.
You try to focus on cleaning his cuts, telling yourself his pout does not faze you. But it does. And he knows it.
“You can’t just go and start a fight with anyone who says something about me, Rafe,” you exhale, putting the used bloody wipe on the counter, grabbing a new one to clean whatever mess is hiding under his shirt.
“Why not?” Rafe asks like he genuinely doesn’t have a clue as to why it’s wrong.
“Because-” you cut yourself off, taking a breath before saying more quietly, “Lift your shirt.”
“So bold now, are we?” Rafe teases.
You just narrow your eyes, waiting for him to do as you said. Rafe groans, muttering under his breath, “You’re no fun.”
He slips off his shirt, revealing his toned arms and defined torso, along with a new cut across his stomach, red and swollen. It looks bad. Like really bad.
You freeze, staring at it. Sure, Rafe’s probably gotten hurt worse, which is why he’s unbothered by it, but that doesn’t mean you’ll ever get used to seeing him hurt.
“How… how did this happen?”
“We both kinda fell… on a glass table,” he shrugs. You don’t say anything. You can’t. You don’t know whether to be upset, concerned or pissed. Rafe notices your reaction. The worry bleeding into your eyes despite your conflicting emotions.
“Hey, don't worry, I'm okay,” he tries his best to reassure you. When you still don’t say anything, he pulls you closer by the waist, leaving you no choice but to look at him.
“I really do try not to get into fights. It’s just… I get so mad when they say stuff about you.”
Your voice comes out quieter now, the fight gone. “It’s not worth getting hurt over, Rafe. I’m not-”
“Don’t. You are worth everything, you hear me? I’d do anything for you.” His thumb brushes over your bottom lip before he leans in and kisses you, his mouth moving against yours, soft for once.
You kiss him back, wrapping your arms around his neck when his warm hands slip under your little singlet top, fingers brushing against your skin. Rafe’s tongue swipes along your bottom lip, and you take the invite, parting your lips. “Mm…” you hum, pulling back a few seconds later before things get too heated.
You still have to clean him up. “Don’t think this makes anything okay. I’m still mad,” you huff before grabbing a cloth and some disinfectant.
His smirk comes back full force. “You should’ve seen the other-”
He cuts himself off with a sharp inhale as you press the disinfectant-soaked cloth against the cut. “Fuck…” Rafe groans under his breath. It burns like hell.
“And this is why you shouldn’t get into fights,” you lecture, before grabbing some antibiotic cream, layering it carefully over the wound before wrapping it with gauze.
Rafe sighs as the sting fades, leaning back on his hands, braced against the edge of the tub. He runs a hand through his messy hair before looking at you with his usual smug look, “What would I do without you? Hm?”
You bite your lip, trying to hide a smile, looking down. Rafe catches it and tilts your face back up. “Thank you, baby,” he murmurs before kissing you again.
“You’re welcome,” you whisper against his lips, then: “But you have to make it up to me.”
“Of course,” Rafe laughs lowly. He stands up, towering over you now. His warm hands slide right back down to your hips, his voice a low rumble against your ear. “How about… we go shopping tomorrow? Just you and me?”
“I’d like that…” you whisper, looking up at him. He brushes a strand of hair out of your face before: “Can I stay the night?”
You can't help the small laugh that escapes you, the lingering worry finally melting out of your chest. "You think I’m letting you go back out in the rain to waste all of my effort cleaning you up? Come on."
You turn off the harsh bathroom light and lead him back into the dim, warm glow of your bedroom. The rain is still drumming a heavy, steady rhythm against the glass. Rafe wastes no time peeling back your thick white duvet and sinking into the mattress. He sighs heavily, the exhaustion of the adrenaline crash finally hitting him as he pats the spot right next to him. "Get over here, baby."
You slip into bed beside him, the satin of your pyjamas sliding against his bare chest. The second you're under the covers, Rafe hooks his leg over yours, pulling you flush against his side. His long arms wrap around your waist, burying his face right back into your hair, breathing you in.
"If you get into another fight tomorrow, I'm locking the window," you whisper into the dark, resting your head carefully on his chest, above his bandaged stomach.
"Mm... sure you will," Rafe mumbles against your neck, his voice thick with sleep. His grip tightens around your waist just a fraction more, completely content. "Goodnight, baby."
You close your eyes, listening to the rain and the steady beat of his heart. "Goodnight."
a/n: tysm so much for 100 followers!!! it's only been a month since i've started this blog and i cannot tell you how grateful i am for all the love and support. this is my first fic so and hopefully you guys like it. i've got lots more content coming soon including more short fics and headcanons!
dividers: @cursed-carmine @chrisssiren
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