#hiwtw

“What did you do this time?” You said, playfully rolling your eyes as you heard the opening to your tent open, the soft thumps of combat boots against the plush carpeting. “Now, before you get mad, it was an accident . . . this time.” John said as he limped over to you, a crooked grin on his sanded face.

You patted a spot on the seat beside you, to which he decided to sit on the counter, face to face with you instead. “You’re a slob.” You said, rumbling through your bag of medical supplies. He just chuckled, leaning his sore leg against the chair in front of him, his knee painted red with blood.

“Ah, nothin’ but a scratch, love.” He said, wiping off his dusty glasses, though with his dusted tank top, it made it much worse. You saw as you were walking back over to the table, setting your supplies down and practically snatching his glasses from his hand, wiping them with your own white tee, before handing them back to him. “Can’t do anything by yourself, huh?” You said, smirking slightly.

“I can too!” He said, adjusting his glasses back onto his face, his grin just a bit more wider. “Maybe I just like it better when you do it, hmm?” He said, his tone playfully flirtatious.

You scoffed, rolling up his pants leg. “You’re insufferable.” You said, although you couldn’t deny that smile that had climbed onto your face. You grabbed a thing of gauze, wrapping with debt fingers around his scrapped knee, him wincing slightly.

You chuckled, “you seriously can’t handle a little scrape, mamas boy?” You said, grinning mischeviously. He scoffed, stretching back to where he was almost leaning on the tent walls, his cheeks a bit blushed. “I can handle it just fi-i-OW!” He said as you examined his ankle.

“Sorry.” You said, carefully untying his boot to get a closer look. You were no doctor, but it did look like it hurt. Besides, as whiny as John may be, he didn’t normally come for help unless he actually needed it.

“WHAT WAS THAT FOR!??” He yelled, before you slapped a hand over his mouth, his cheeks flushing red in mixed embarassment.

“Shut it.” You said through your teeth, “your not even supposed to be in here right now slacker.” You said, looking through your own personal bag.

You pulled out an ice pack that was originally in your lunch bag, looking around for something to wrap around it so it wasn’t as cold. Then, you got a bit of a…cheeky idea, as you looked at John’s dirty, stained shirt.

“Give me your shirt.” You said, sticking your hand out. You didn’t realize fully how he might take your words until you saw the playful grin on his face, your cheeks flushing slightly, rolling your eyes. “To cover the ice pack.”

“Mhm, yep. Keep telling yourself that.” He said, slipping his glasses off before pulling off his slightly putrid white tank top, handing it to you.

You grumbled, practically snatching it from his hands, wrapping it around the ice pack with deft quickness. You refused to let your eyes go back to him, careful of your immature mind and what it may conjure up.

“Here.” You said, softly placing the cold pack around his ankle, hearing his wince and seeing his body tense. You looked up at him, a questioning, concerned look on your face “You okay?”

“No, obviously not—“ He was beginning to say, before making eye contact with you, switching his tone to a softer one. Blush crept on his face as he spoke. “I mean, yeah . . . Thank you.” He said, the last two words barely audible.

“What was that?” You said, a cheeky grin on your face. He turned his head away from you, to which you just got closer to him, repeating your question. You continued to press in on him, very much NOT paying attention to who or what you were touching, before he spoke.

“I said thank you, okay? Is it really that big of a deal…” he said, cutting off his words as his face flushed pink.

In your teasing, you had not exactly realized where you were now sitting. . . And it happened to be in between John’s legs.

You sat there, blankfaced for a second, until John began to freak out, in his anxiousness, pushing you from the counter, hitting the ground with the thud.

“WHAT WAS THAT FOR!?” You yelled, lucky you had caught yourself with your hands. John looked pale in the face, like he’d just commited a crime. He covered his face with his palms, though the flush of his face was still peeking through.

“I’m sorry! You caught me off guard I didn’t mean to push you—shit.” He said, wincing slightly as he got down from the counter despite his wounds to help you up, resting a hand on your back, repeatedly murmuring how sorry he was and that he really didn’t mean to.

“Its— I’m fine. I caught myself, it was an accident.” You said, groaning as you stood up. John continued to ramble, leading you towards the chair, helping you sit down.

He knelt down beside you once you were sitting, leaning his head against the side of the chair like a kid who’d just gotten in trouble. “I mean, I wasn’t trying to do…that, I was just confused.” He mumbled, looking up at you, his eyes soft, in a very un-John-like way.

“John, I told you its fine, just—listen, it was my fault anyway, I was too close.” You said, sighing as you let your mouth rest against your palm, obviously a bit embarrassed.

“No—that’s not what I meant by it, I like you being close to me, alot, but just—“ he said, than cut himself off, taking a breath. “You just caught me off guard, doll.” He said, silently taking your soft hands, stained from paints and makeup, into his dirt-riddled one.

“You perv.” You said, your tone obviously joking, a mischievous grin on your face. He sat up at that, pretending to look shocked.

“Me? I’m the perverted one here?” He said, pointing a finger at himself, grinning. “Last time I checked, you’re the one always up on me, taking care of me, that stuff.” He said, his face now resting on your knees, the hand that wasn’t holding your’s running up the side of your pants leg.

“Okay, but you like it.” You said, smiling, running a hand through his hair and down his pale shoulder. You tilted his chin up with your fingers, smiling as you wiped a spot of dirt from his mouth.

“Maybe. You take nice care of me.” He said, grunting as he sat up straighter, his body now between your legs as he stood on his knees. He leaned into your touch, grabbing one of your hands and leading it to his hair, muttering softly.

“That’s…somewhat my job.” You said. You and John both knew that you weren’t actually the one meant to take care of him on set, but he didn’t really get on well with the others, and besides, he liked you.

He leaned up, his eyes mischievious as he leaned closer, quickly planting a soft kiss on your lips before slipping on his boot, struggling to get back in his white tank top.

You stared at him, your fingers touching your lips before finally processing what had happened, your cheeks flushing up to your ears. “Why did you do that!?” You said, tossing a nasty embarrassed glare his way.