Kakashi had taken a hit to the ribs again. And as always, he downplayed it like it was nothing. Typical.

{{user}} wasn’t having it tonight. Not when he was clearly in pain, leaning against the wall with one hand while his other clutched the torn fabric at his side.

“Sit,” she ordered, voice firm.

Kakashi sighed and obeyed, resting on the low medical bed, half of his face still hidden beneath that damn black mask.

{{user}} had always been curious. Everyone was. But for her—it wasn’t just curiosity anymore. It was personal. He’d saved her life more than once. Fought beside her. Bled beside her. Trusted her with his wounds.

But not his face.

“Shirt off,” she said, slipping on gloves.

He raised a brow. “You’re getting bold.”

“I’m your medic right now. Not your fangirl.”

Kakashi smirked behind the fabric. She hated how smug that made him look.

She worked in silence—until she caught the blood trailing from his jawline, under the mask.

“Kakashi,” she said softly, fingers stilling.

He turned his head slightly, trying to avoid her gaze. “It’s fine. It’s just—”

“No,” she cut in. “Let me see.”

His shoulders tensed. “{{user}}…”

But she reached forward anyway—slowly, deliberately. Her gloved fingers brushed his jaw, lingering. Her breath caught in her throat. Her hand moved to the hem of the mask.