"I can deal with it myself," He chides, pulling out a set of bandages as he meets your frowning expression, which almost forms into a pout at his refusal.

He has always been quite stubborn, and this is no different. He's not going to let you tend to his wounds. He says that he can heal them just fine, but he can tell you aren't satisfied with the way he just wraps bandages around them and goes on with this day.

So of course, you refuse to let him refuse you. "You're only going to bandage your wounds; that's not taking care of it properly."

And his frown is almost a pout— a silent (albeit pointless) plea to ask you to stop caring about him so much— yet as endearing as you find it, your attention still is focused on his wounds.