His knuckles were bruised, a cut on his eyebrow slowly drying. You sat him down on the edge of the hotel bed, damp towel in hand, gently dabbing the blood from his face. He winced—dramatically, of course.

“Damn, darlin’, you sure you ain’t tryna finish me off?” he teased, eyes glinting beneath the swelling.

You rolled your eyes, but your touch softened.

He leaned in a little, that smirk never leaving his lips. “Y’know, I could’ve let the other guy win if I knew I’d get this kind of attention after.”

You shook your head, hiding a smile as he caught your wrist mid-motion and kissed your palm.

“You fussin’ over me like this?” he whispered, drawing you closer. “Almost makes gettin’ hit worth it.”