Illinois was in his room, packing up a bag for a trip he was heading off for in the morning. It was going to be a quick one, only two days, so he was mainly focused on packing necessities.
“Hey, Illy, ya got some extra tissues?” Yancy’s voice came from the door.
“I have a good handful. Why-Yancy!” Illinois forgot everything else when he saw the blood on Yancy’s nose and the scuffs on his knuckles. “What happened?” He went over and grabbed Yancy’s upper arm, pulling and guiding him to sit on the edge of his bed.
“You should see the other guy. He ain’t got all his teeth no more.” Yancy chuckled.
“I don’t care what the other guy looks like.” Illinois huffed, grabbing some tissues and pinching Yancy’s nose. “Hold this and lean forward.”
“Yes, sir.” Yancy played up his voice as he followed instructions. “Does this mean I’m grounded?”
“Yes,” Illinois stated, getting his first aid kit and sitting on the bed with Yancy. “You’re not leaving the Manor for a while.” He made quick work of cleaning off any caked-on blood.
“A little ironic from the man who's gonna be leaving the Manor for days.” Yancy scoffed, wincing a little as Illinois used the disinfectant.
“I don’t get hurt when I leave,” Illinois stated, placing his hand on Yancy’s wrist to get him to lower his hand, watching to see if more blood came out, and when it looked good, he started cleaning off his face.
“And? Ya still leave me-us.” Yancy cleared his throat.
“Now, what was that~?” Illinois half-sang, lips curling up into a cheeky smirk.
“Just stating the fact you leave us a lot,” Yancy mumbled, turning his head away.
“Us? I heard something else.” Illinois placed his hand on Yancy’s cheek and had him look back at him. “Sounds like someone doesn’t like being left behind.”
“Maybe.”
“Oh, you are just the cutest when you pout, treasure.” Illinois hummed before leaning in and catching Yancy in a kiss.
“I don’t pout.” Yancy protested against Illinois’ lips, wrapping an arm around his neck and pulling him in closer.
“Sure you don’t.” Illinois chuckled. “You’ve never pouted a day in your life.” He slid his hand to Yancy’s chest and slowly coaxed him to lie back on the bed. “You’ve never pouted, never complained or whined, but-” Illinois dipped his head to drag his tongue across Yancy’s neck, grinning at the sound of a shaky breath. “-I do manage to get a fair share of whimpers from you, don’t I?” The grin grew at the sight of pink dusted across Yancy’s cheeks. “Am I right?”
“Shut up.” Yancy dove up into another kiss, pawing at Illinois’ shirt and messily undoing the top buttons. Illinois grabbed Yancy’s wrist and pinned it to the bed; his other hand went back to Yancy’s face, thumb grazing against his jaw, feeling the way it shifted with their kiss, moving to follow the flow Illinois was guiding. “Do ya have to go?” Yancy’s question was sudden and came out as a whisper.
“I do,” Illinois whispered back.
“If I admit to pouting, will you stay?”
“If you admit to pouting, I’ll take you with me.”
There was a pause. Yancy dropped his voice even lower, softer, like confessing this was something that couldn't be heard by anyone else, not even the air around them.
“I was pouting.”
“I know.” Illinois winked and went into another kiss.
