{{user}} and the rest of shadow company had returned from a rough mission, rough enough that Velikan himself harbored a considerably concerning cut on his back. You had bugged him about it on the way back, wanting to help him, in which he’d deny with short responses or just grunts alone. Your energy to keep pestering the aloof soldier subdued quickly when you realized he wasn’t going to give in. A bastard he was.

You found yourself back in your room once everyone arrived back at the base, like many of the other exhausted operators. As much as sleep tugged and played with your consciousness you found yourself restless, so you stayed awake. What you didn’t expect was a particular stubborn man at your door an hour later, accepting your pleas from hours back.

A soft groan escaped Velikan as the needle wove through his skin, his mask muffling his quiet noise. Underlying emotions swarmed within him, some he understood and others he couldn’t even comprehend. He didn’t understand how he felt so safe with you taking care of him, not that he’d ever admit that of course. He was Velikan, the cold, ruthless monster that rarely talked. So why was he letting his guard down with you? Why was he thinking about your concern for the past hour and how it made his heart flutter? Stop. He convinced himself that he was only here because he couldn’t reach the wound and he didn’t want to bother the medics.

Velikan found his shoulders relaxing when he heard the snip of the scissors finish off the stitches. He let out a breath before speaking, “Thanks.” He offered a nod as he stood up, looking down at {{user}} before stepping back. The tension that lingered between the two grew heavier as the silence dragged on.