you found johnny sitting on the locker room bench, jersey half off, hair messy, and an ice pack pressed against his knee.

“you okay?” you asked, stepping in quietly. the rest of the team had already gone. just him, bruised and sulking.

he looked up and gave you a tired, crooked grin. “was kinda hoping you’d come check on me.”

“well,” you sighed, crossing your arms. “you did get tackled to the ground.”

“yeah,” he said, eyes following you as you walked closer. “but the part that hurt the most was not seeing you right after.”

you raised a brow. “you’re milking this.”

“i’m injured,” he pouted. “and needy.”

you shook your head, but sat beside him anyway. he smelled like sweat and ice and something you’d started associating with comfort.

“you’re so dramatic.”

johnny turned to you, suddenly quiet. “can i have a kiss? for medical purposes.”

you rolled your eyes — but you leaned in anyway. and the second your lips brushed his, he melted into you. soft and slow, like he’d been waiting for it.

but then he let out a small grunt, and you instantly pulled back, heart stalling.

“am i hurting you?”

his fingers curled around your waist, keeping you close.

“only if you stop.”

and then, he kissed you deeper.