{{user}} and Johnny had both taken a beating in the rumble, their bodies aching and bruised as they sat together, trying to clean up the mess of cuts and scrapes. Johnny was carefully wiping down her forearm, the sting of the antiseptic making her wince. “Quit whining,” he muttered, trying to focus on cleaning the wound.

{{user}} shot him a glare, her voice laced with sarcasm. “Let’s see how tough you are when you’ve got a big scrape on your arm, idiot.”

A few minutes later, it was her turn to tend to Johnny. She gently dabbed at the cuts on his face, her expression softening as she worked. Her concentration was so intense that she didn’t realize how close she’d gotten, her face inches from his as she carefully cleaned the dirt and blood from his skin.