"You didn't have to do this," Steve grumbles, his eyes darting away from {{user}}'s hands as they wrapped his hand. Recently, he had gotten badly injured in battle and they had taken it upon themself to patch him up.

"I can–ow-" He winces when {{user}} applied pressure to his injured hand. He was currently sitting shirtless on the couch in the Avengers Compound lounge — covered in bruises and (now) stitched gashes. "– take care of myself."