Title: the Death of Chivalry
Prompt: Historical: Medieval Europe
Medium: Fic
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Adult Language, Sexual Situations
Summary: Buffy finds herself caring for a wounded Knight whose not exactly what she expected – but that could be a good thing

This wasn't turning out like she had expected.

When Buffy found a wounded knight on the ground outside of the inn, she had thought that he would be a perfect gentlemen, one that made her heart go aflutter and went out of his way to protect her in a strange sense of gratitude.

"Oi, you dozy bint, what's takin' so long?"

Buffy sighed heavily and rolled her eyes. Oh, he definitely made her heart do something, but one out of three just wasn't cutting it. She rose to her feet with a huff, pan of clean water under her arms. She grumbled under her breath as she approached the wounded knights room – she found herself tempted to kick the door down and pummel him, regardless of his wounds.

Oh, lord, how was she going to survive this?

She opened the door and slid inside, gently shutting the door behind her but not bothering to keep the scowl from her face. She faced the wounded man and her heart gave that unwilling lurch she was becoming to hate.

He was handsome, no doubt about it, with a lean form laced with muscles that made her heart speed up and her thighs quiver. His lips were almost always curved into a delicious smirk that made his ice blue eyes sparkle and his bandaged eyebrow quirk up. Lord, she was never going to make it through the day.

"Could you be ruder?" she asked bluntly, setting the pan on the floor and kneeling beside it. She pulled a wet cloth from the basin and twisted it as she said without looking up, "Take off your shirt."

She didn't have to look up to see the smirk curving his lips and his sinful tongue peek out between his heavenly – no, sinful, for there was nothing heavenly about this man – lips. Her thighs quivered slightly as the image penetrated her mind.

"I don't think I'm quite well enough for tha'." He said slyly, "I think I need your help."

Buffy looked up at him then through narrowed eyes before she gave a short nod. She draped the cloth over the edge of the basin and leaned over to grab the hem of his shirt and tug it over his head. It was when he gave a sharp wince and a groan that she realized he was being serious behind the flirtatious tone, and he truly was wounded. She slowed her movements and gently pulled the tunic over his head before placing it on the floor. She winced at the state of his chest.

He was littered with blue and yellow bruises, and she knew that a few of his ribs were broken simply from experience. She softened and lifted the cloth to gently dab the various cuts that accompanied the discolorations. There was a particularly nasty cut along his hip bone that dipped under his pants, but she didn't dare wander down there. From the tent the fabric her touch was affecting him quite more than she had anticipated.

He hissed sharply as she pressed the slightly stained clothe against a nasty cut along his shoulder, and she dared a look at his face. Her heart almost stopped.

Lord, he was gorgeous.

"I'm going to have to tape your chest." Buffy said quickly, turning her eyes down to the basin as she drenched the cloth, "You've got some broken ribs."

"Really, now? I never would of guessed." He snapped sarcastically. Buffy felt her spine stiffen, and when she began to dab at his wounds again she didn't try to be gentle. He hissed and flinched away from her, but after a steely glare from his nurse he settled down.

Buffy sighed slightly and shook her head. This was going to be a long, long week.