@sorte-de-vida cont’d from here
Long, deft fingers take surprisingly gentle hold of a stubbled chin as sharp green eyes inspect the newly formed gash on his cheek. It's not too deep— or he hopes it's not, and he can feel the warm sticky slow trickle of red roll downwards from the wound. Truly, it's exactly what he'd deserved, a lesson learned quickly in being cocky while practicing with real swords.
Arthur was just as good as he remembers, both at swordplay and the tending of wounds.
"Will you kiss it better?" He asks, lips moving in a way that indicates he's trying not to smile or laugh as long lashes flutter towards his longtime friend. He's not sure if it's out of retaliation when the burn of an antiseptic-soaked cotton ball presses into the wound firmly, drawing a sharp but quick breath through nostrils. He pats himself on the back for hardly flinching.
"Ah- so rough! You'd make a terrible nurse with your—!" He stops for a short second, clearly having not planned what he'd say before starting his line of complaints. "Your- cold hands, and terrible bedside manner!" Despite this whining, he still rests his head, puppy-like, into Arthur's newly tightened grip. He's no longer hiding his smile anymore, gazing as best he can out the corner of his eye at the Englishman, a twinkle of amusement hidden in the depths of hazel.
"I suppose I was wrong when I said that you had lost your touch, huh?"
It’s not on purpose—or scratch that, it’s just a smidge on purpose. João can handle the slight burn of anti-septic on an open wound in retaliation for a stupid remark, just as much as he can handle having his arse kicked at swordplay by yours truly.
“Uh-huh,” he replies, just vaguely holding back his own amusement. “Well, fortunately, a nurse is the last thing I’m trying to be. Just taking care of this so you can’t say I’m a bad friend.” With the wound now disinfected, he picks up a gauze pad to cover it up. He keeps a steady grip on João’s chin to keep him from moving, and maybe he does try to be a bit gentler when he presses the gauze pad against his cheek this time around. “And of course, I need to show how honorable I am, even when I win.” Now that was far from the truth. Honor be damned; he fucking loved winning, and when he did, he was bound to be vindictive and rub it all over his opponent’s face.
“But yes, plenty wrong. I suppose you’ll be wise and think twice about challenging me now, hm?” He teased. Having finished applying the gauze pad, he quickly inspected his work once more, humming in approval. It had been a long time since he’d patched someone up for anything. It was a warm and familiar feeling, in a way. “All right, you’re all good now. Don’t touch it until it’s time to change it.”
