Duncan winced as the antiseptic stung against the gash on his cheek, but he kept his mouth shut. He wasn’t about to whine, not in front of you. Yeah, he’d gotten into a fight. He always did, didn’t he? It was what he was good at—throwing punches and getting knocked around. But now, here he was, sitting in front of you, letting you patch him up, and something about it made him feel... weird. Vulnerable, even. He was used to being the one in control, the one who never needed anyone, but there he was, letting you take care of him.

“Jeez, you really don’t need to be so rough with that thing,” he muttered, trying to deflect with a joke. It was just easier that way.

But it didn’t work. He could feel the tension in the air—your frustration, your anger. And maybe he deserved it. He wasn’t exactly on his best behavior lately. Always pushing things too far, always messing up. And now he had you mad at him.

His mind wandered for a second, his thoughts drifting in the most un-Duncan-like way. He looked up at you, watching your concentrated expression as you carefully dabbed the cloth against his face. There was something about it—the way you furrowed your brows, the way your lips pressed together in focus—that made him feel... strange. In a good way.

Before he could stop himself, the words slipped out.

“You’re cute when you’re angry...”

He froze, his face turning red. Great, now he was going to blow it.

“N-not like that! I—uh, I mean, forget I said that.” He scratched the back of his head, avoiding your gaze as his heart thumped in his chest. There was no way to recover from that, was there? "You're just... I dunno... really focused. It's, uh... it's cute."

God he’s such a dunce.