#bandaging hands

[ldeag-art]

English/Spanish Ilvaria, preparing to face her new challenge... (Commission for TheParlourPoet on twitter) Ilvaria, preparandose para encarar un nuevo reto... (Comisión para TheParlourPoet en twitter)

[silvertonedwords]

Hand prompts 33, 40, 45 for Newt/Tina !!!

bandaging the other’s hand and not quite letting go

___

“Tina! You’re--”

Tina spins around just as Newt touches her right hand. He spreads his fingers across her palm as he gently turns the back of her hand to face him.

The touch sets off a pleasant jolt, her fingers shifting just barely against his palm.

She looks up, but his gaze is focused on their hands, his fingertip tracing a reddened mark that covers her knuckles and runs halfway to her wrist.

“--you’re hurt.”

She follows his gaze, then looks back out into the case: the magically setting sun and Frank’s recently-emptied enclosure.

“It’s nothing--it’s--” his eyes meet hers, and her heart inches up inside her chest. Merlin does it feel strange. And good. Her head feels oddly weightless. “When Graves and I were--Grindelwald--it’s from the debris, I think. Some of it was hot.”

“It’s burned you.”

Tina looks away. “It’s nothing.” It did throb for a bit when it first happened, but in the hours since, it’s subsided into a dull ache, almost possible to ignore.

“I have a bandage to keep the air off of it. Healing paste. I add billiwig powder as well. Makes it stronger. I have--er--some experience with burns.”

Tina smiles despite herself, hesitating only a moment before nodding her acquiescence.

Newt fishes his wand out of his coat pocket, and one accio spell later he’s catching the items out of the air, his other hand hardly shifting as it continues to cradle hers.

She does not manage to contain her gasp when his calloused thumb smoothes the paste across the back of her hand. It’s cold, of course, she thinks, and the burn is a little sore; that’s why. It’s certainly not the surprisingly gentle touch of his large hands, or the way he turns her hand this way and that to check for other marks, dabbing paste onto smaller burns along her thumb and wrist.

He does not look up from her hand as he rolls a length of cotton around her palm to keep the salve in place. His fingers brush her skin as he delicately unwinds the fabric. “There,” he says softly, tucking the trailing end into place.

His hand lingers, or hers does, or they both do, and Tina’s reminded again of the fact that he’s got a ship to catch in five days, and of the fact that, no matter how much it would’ve surprised her when they first met only two days ago, she really doesn’t want him to be leaving so soon.

They could write, couldn’t they? Keep in touch, just to--he lives in England, she reminds herself. And anyway, he probably doesn’t--there’s that girl, Leta, and--he probably wouldn’t want to--doesn’t think of her as--

“Better?”

It takes her a moment to return to the present, to anything other than her own thoughts and the warmth of his hand holding hers. “It is.”

He nods. And yet they do not pull away.

Tina thinks this might be one of those memories that she tucks far, far away, where Queenie won’t see it. And she thinks this also might be one of the ones where she fails.

At last, he pulls his hand away slowly and sends the supplies flying back to their shelves.

She catches him just as he turns away. Not with her hand, this time, but with her voice. “Newt?”

He spins back.

“Thank you.”

He nods again and returns to the pails of mooncalf food he’d been preparing.

Tina resumes her spot as well, sorting potions ingredients on the far wall as she’d offered to when she saw the state of them a few hours ago.

She wonders how it’s possible to feel giddy and lonely at once. She glances back at Newt, watching him add a pinch of this, a drop of that into each pail, and suddenly she has the ridiculous thought that she doesn’t want those hands to leave her life on Monday. Their power and gentleness; their deep callouses and deeper scars, and the way he cradles small creatures and pushes back into the excited shoves of the larger ones. The way he can use one finger to smooth the tiniest of feathers or stroke the smallest tuft of fur, and yet his occasional clumsiness in holding a teacup. 

Stop, Tina, she orders herself, trying to push the thoughts away, but, like his touch, like the tender, fragile moments between them, she finds she doesn’t want to.

[hopeless-loverboy]

What if we were across from each other, you in a chair as I knelt before you tenderly bandaging you’re hands? What if I kissed your fingers, the backs of your hands and your palms as I wrapped them up and whispered for you to be more careful? What if I held your hands in mine and looked up into your eyes with all the love in the world?💕

[crash-bump-bring-the-whump]

Prompt 2. for Mariano maybe? 👀 - whump-captain

YESSSS I had such a good idea for this, thank you @whump-captain!!

Prompt from this list: bandaging hands TWs: Burns

"You don't have to do this." Mariano said, watching as Manuel spread a thick salve over his freshly burned palms. The village they'd stopped in had been attacked while Bastian and Manuel had been away, helping to hunt and gather supplies for an upcoming festival. Mariano and the few remaining warriors had just barely been able to bring it down.

It had taken Manuel, Bastian, and the head of the village to convince him to finally sit down and get his hands taken care of, at the very least.

Manuel just smiled, smooth fingertips supporting Mariano's wrist as the salve was spread up over his fingers. "I know. But I'd like to." He said, attention going back to making sure the aching skin was completely coated. "It feels nice to let someone else take care of things like this for you."

Mariano glanced away, unable to keep his eyes on Manuel's thumb as it held one end of the bandages in place. Every loop was careful, deliberate. Manuel had done this countless times. In all honesty, so had Mariano.

But he had a point.

It made Mariano's chest warm and his face go red as Manuel worked his way towards his fingertips. When he glanced back, he accidentally met Manuel's eyes. Both of them looked away again, Manuel focusing in on securing the bandages and Mariano becoming fascinated with the grain of the wood that made up the walls of their inn room.

As Manuel tenderly lifted Mariano's other hand up to begin treating it, Mariano found his voice again. "It does. It feels...very nice. Thank you, Manuel." He said, swallowing down his nerves and managing to smile at him.

Manuel's returned smile almost rivaled the magic they both wielded. "Thank you for letting me help you out." Mariano couldn't find any more words to respond with, but he was starting to think he could get used to letting the other war mage help him out again in the future.