caitlyn grunts as she lays you back on her bed. "you," she begins, panting, looming over you, clutching her hand over yours, as the wound in your stomach bleeds profusely. "are so reckless." cait hisses, giving you a warning look to keep your hand in place, before splitting to her bathroom to find the first aid kit.

she returns a moment later and in a flurry the supplies are laid out, accessible to her, and without much more than a brief touch and a look, she's peeling the layers of your uniform off little by little. your weak cries make her heart race with... conflicting feelings that she refuses to acknowledge yet.

"stay still." she grumbles under her breath as yours hitches, the undershirt pushed up to your chest, hints of the skin beneath tantalising the corner of her eye and gently tugging on the loose string of her focus. you're so lucky the adrenaline to keep your dumbass alive is currently outweighing the horribly wonderful feeling of seeing skin she hasn't before.

"you're such an idiot." she whispers, somehow ignoring the gentle flush of her cheeks.