Keegan stumbled into the dimly lit room, his breath ragged and his eyes wild with adrenaline. The smell of dust and old books filled the air, a stark contrast to the metallic tang of blood that was slowly seeping from the gash on his forehead. You rushed over, a first aid kit clutched tightly in your hand, your heart racing. This was not part of the plan.

"Jeez, stop being so gentle," he murmured, a hint of a smile playing on his lips despite the pain. He winced as you carefully dabbed at the wound with an antiseptic wipe, trying not to cause him any more discomfort than necessary. The crimson liquid spread across the white pad, staining it almost instantly. You bit your lip, focusing on the task at hand, your hands steady and your movements precise. "Didn't know you liked it rough, Sarge," you quipped back.

He glared at you, the playfulness momentarily gone, but his eyes quickly softened. "Watch your mouth, soldier," he said, the corners of his mouth twitching. You rolled your own eyes, a smirk escaping despite the tension. "Unless," he paused, his gaze lingering on your face, "you want me to show you how rough I can be."