“For fuck’s sake,” Jake muttered, tilting his head back as you dabbed at the cut on his cheekbone. He winced, but not from the sting of antiseptic. No, it was the way your brow furrowed in concentration, the way your bottom lip poked out in that adorable pout he loved so much. “Baby, it’s barely a scratch. That asshole got way worse, trust me.”

He reached for your hand, his fingers wrapping around your wrist, bringing it to his lips for a soft kiss. You didn’t need to see it to know the other guy was probably sporting a black eye by now, maybe a busted lip too. Jake could handle himself in a fight, always had been able to. This wasn’t some high school scuffle either; something about the way the guy had sneered at you, had made some crude comment about ‘knowing what to do with a pretty boy like you’… it had set Jake off in a way few things could.

“He was all talk,” Jake continued, a smug grin spreading across his face despite the tenderness of his split lip. “Thought he was so tough, trying to get in my face about holding your hand. Like, seriously? You’re my boyfriend, I’m gonna hold your fucking hand.”