"Damn it, Angel," David grumbles. Â "This is why I told you to be careful." Â He kicks the cabin door closed, his mate cradled to his chest. Â They hug his neck tightly, smiling in spite of the pain in their leg and the furrow of his brow.
"Good thing I have a big, strong boyfriend to carry me home."
"I wouldn't have to carry you if you didn't insist on racing Asher up and down every hill like a couple of little kids," he replies, no actual heat in his voice. Â After a moment, he quietly adds, "But I like carrying you. Â I like being close to you, if that wasn't obvious by now."
They reach the sitting area where the fireplace is still somewhat warm from earlier, and he places them gently in one of the plush chairs. Â "I'll be right back. Â Don't get into any more trouble while I'm gone, okay?" Â He kisses the top of their head, smiling when they laugh.
"No promises."
When he returns, first-aid kit in hand, they have mostly gotten their outer layers off--jacket shed, scarf spilling over the back of the chair, one boot thrown across the room--and David rolls his eyes at the sight of them. Â His perfect, accident-prone mate.
They look up as he approaches, face bright with affection.
"Hi, Davey."
"Hi, Troublemaker. Â How does your ankle feel?"
"I don't think it's broken, but I'll never be a professional sledder now," they lament, one hand thrown dramatically over their face.
He snorts, shakes his head. Â "What a tragedy." Â He settles on the floor in front of them, dragging an ottoman with him, and stares at their still-booted foot. Â "Can I...?"
They nod, finally looking serious. Â He gingerly removes the boot, and they wince and hiss when it drags against their sore ankle. Â He makes little apologetic noises as he goes, resting their leg atop the ottoman and opening the first-aid kit. Â Thankfully, he rarely has need of a first-aid kit; most injuries obtained on the job are either minor or quickly handled by a healer. Â But that also means that when something like this happens, he's a little out of his depth.
He bandages the swollen and tender ankle to the best of his abilities--it looks alright, and some of the tension has left their body, especially with the addition of an ice pack--but he refuses to leave it like that. Â He shoots a quick text to the pack's only healer, hoping that it won't be too much of an imposition (though she's probably used to it by now.)
He starts fussing about, stoking the fire, bringing them pillows and blankets and food and drink, checking his phone, kissing both their cheeks, putting away the first-aid kit, replacing the ice pack--only pausing when they grab his arm and give him a playful pout.
"Sit with me?"
His heart and expression soften.
"Of course, Angel. Â Scoot over." Â They scoot, and with no small amount of wiggling and laughter, the two of them manage to fit in one chair, though they are sitting mostly in David's lap. Â He wraps his arms around them, finally feeling like he can relax.
"I love you, David."
"I love you, too, Hannah."
~*~*~*~
@sunsable Happy holidays, bro <3 Don’t think I’ve written for David and I’ve little experience with self-insert, but I hope you like it!
