Title: It can wait
Prompt: "What trouble did you get into this time?!" Sakura asked as she hurriedly opened a storage box filled with medical supplies. She wanted to be angry at him for being stupid, for not being careful, for coming back to her life just like that. When she opened her front door a few minutes ago, he was the last person she was expecting to see. She would've slammed the door at his face if she hadn't seen the blood that soaked the front of his shirt. Now he's bleeding out on her couch and all she can do to stop herself from worrying is to reprimand him while setting up the supplies. "A normal person would go to a hospital, Sasuke. Not a private residence! I don't have enough supplies here!" He managed to crack an eye open and gave her a tired smile. "then that'll just have to do," he rasped.
Idea: Anonymous on Tumblr
Note: To the Guest who asked about my tumblr I go by Ombreecha on there. There's also a link to it on my profile on here.


There's only the smell of the lit apple cinnamon candle, and the warm ginger tea within the air as she sits upon her couch fully intending to immerse herself within the romance novel she had picked up from the store. It holds some small weight, and looks all the more enchanting as her fingers run across the cover—Sense and Sensibility—the title had been what had grabbed her interest.

The flip of the pages come within time, and she barely recognizes when her fingers grasp the handle of her mug to bring it to her lips. The taste is one she enjoys, but it's not even noticed as she's immersed within the Jane Austen novel.

There's no concept of time within these pages before her, and it's all the more welcoming with how long her week has been. There's a sound, and at first she barely notices it. The more it happens though the more she realizes there's someone at her door. The sound has finally brought her back to the here and now. Pale green look to the clock sitting upon the wall. It's almost eleven at night, and she cannot imagine who it is or why they have come. It's not the hospital—they surely wouldn't have come to her small apartment complex to get her seeing as she had a pager. It couldn't possibly be the neighbors as most of them are old. It could be her blonde best friend though with her latest relationship details.

There's the shift of her mouth—it's a pout of she's being honest—with this new disturbance upon her evening of books, and tea. Placing the book upon her coffee table left open to hold her place she can't help but let a disappointed breath fall. Whoever is at her door it can't be good.

She's quick to answer the door in an effort to stop the repeated knocks that come, and ready to scold who would dare bother her this late at night—there's obsidian locks, obsidian ocular windows, and pale skin that greats her. His arm sits upon the wall as he stands within her door frame. Fingers clutch his side revealing he's not just obsidian, and pale before her—there's red and it's soaking through the white t-shirt under the black blazer. The air she had been so easily enjoying is no where in sight at that which floods her pale green.

Of all the things she could have thought to grace her in the dead of the night he was far from the list. There's a flush of anger, and then there's the concern that follows in its place. The grip upon the door is one that cannot decide if it wishes to slam the door within his face—the concern for his health, and state beats the anger. Fingers grip the arm that had remained propped upon the wall allowing him to lean within her door way. His low breathing is concerning, but the anger is feeling mighter than the concern right this minute. She's not rough, but she's not gentle in dragging him in and shutting the front door behind her.

They hadn't spoken in years. He had sought out a job that held promise of danger—he had always dreamed of being a police officer. She had sought a job that would let her help those in need—she had always dreamed of being a doctor. Their ambitions, and their wishes within the adult world had separated them far easier than they had thought possible. College was were they met, and for a time until this very moment she had thought that is where they would stay.

The anger has found its way back within her throat. It's begging for release upon the injured male that she forces to the couch as she makes her way down the hall in search of her medical kit.

Was this man stupid?
She cannot recall him being so.

Had this man never heard of a hospital?
She cannot figure out how he knows where she lives.

Was this man trying to give her a heart attack?

She's sure he is if he's decided to seek her out in this state.

"What trouble did you get into this time!?" There's no stopping the lividity from escaping her with such thoughts. The anger and the frustration do wonders at hiding the worry behind every bitter remark that starts to fall from her lips as she rummages through her storage closet seeking the medical kit, "You absolute moron. Did you lose your brains after college? Are you stupid?"

Fingers find it soon enough, and he has yet to answer her within her calls to ask if he is, in fact, stupid. The lack of a sarcastic response is one that sends light fear through her. He had yet to open his mouth since she opened the door.

Her pace is quick and she's forgotten to close the closet door behind her as she makes her way to him. Her heart beat quickens as she takes in his appearance upon her couch. The pain is unmissable within those obsidian that gaze upon her ceiling only to slide upon her in slowed movements. His head lays back within the back cushion as harsh breaths fall from his lips in discomfort. Those fingers of his continue to cling to the wound that soaks not only his shirt, but now stain her couch. The shakes his legs have fallen into cannot be missed as they sit spread before the coffee table.

There's no hesitation in sliding the tea and book down the coffee table, and away from where she had once sat, and where he now sits. Taking her spot between his legs and sitting atop the coffee table takes no thought. There's a grunt of pain, and lashes close as she forces his hand away from the wound, and she slides the shirt up his person. The wound is deep and upon current inspection he needs stitches—yet here he sits in her living room and not within a hospital, "A normal person would go to a hospital, Sasuke—not a private residence! I don't have enough supplies here!"

Pale green catch one of those paler than usual lids slide back open as the tiniest of smiles comes within the corners of his mouth, "Then that'll just have to do."

His voice is a rasp and it's sending her into more practiced motions, "Hold your shirt up for god's sake." she's desperate to keep her fingers from shaking as she opens the cleaning solution and begins to sterilize the tweezers within her medical kit. Chanting the practiced steps within her head is what keeps the worry from taking over. She's done this all before. She's done this more times than she can count, but never had she ever had to do so within her home upon a man she hadn't seen since graduating college.

Mild saline solution is her go to, to flush out the wound, and keep from damaging the tissue. Blood continues to stain her couch, and coat her hands with each thing she does. There's something heartbreaking about seeing his skin painted within the deep rich red that sends a touch of panic through her. She knows what she's doing is the right way to go though because it means the area is less likely to become infected—as long as he continues proper care after she's done what she can.

The wound is deep but not as deep as she had thought after flushed out. Relief floods her senses at that she will be able to do at least something with what little supplies are in her medical kit. Clean gauze is the next thing she grabs to wipe the surface, and begin to applying pressure to lessen chances of anemia. There's sweat upon his brow and she hopes it's just from the pain. He's grunting with the applied pressure, and dragging his hand up to grip her arm. Lips parts and even harsher breaths leave him. Wadding and medical tape is what she uses to cover the wound with what little supplies she has. He needs to keep it moist to get faster recovery, but hydrogel isn't something kept within this small box of medical supplies.

"Sasuke, what have you gotten yourself into?"

"—kun." He whimpers out between the series of pants that fall with each hurried rise and fall of his chest.

"What?" She's bending closer to make sure she's applied the tape and wad correctly upon the wound even as his fingers tighten upon her arm, "Sasuke—"

"—kun." He hisses between gritted teeth in what sounds to be like agitation, "You're leaving off the 'kun'."

Pale green can only widen at his words halting her fingers for only the briefest of moments before curling her own fingers upon the arm that has allowed him to grip her. She cannot let this man distract her with things like this while she's treating him. He's heavier than she expects within her pull to bringing him to her. The groan that comes from him is hot upon her neck, and she finds it hard to ignore the curl of his free hand within her baby blue night shirt. The pants shower within her ear making her heart ache with the obvious pain he is in. There's a small mental note of his loud heart, and the warmth that comes from his skin as fingers begin to wrap the gauze around his waist—it's smaller than she remembers.

The croak that comes from him is low as she sets him back within the couch, and make her way into the kitchen to clean her hands of the deep rich red liquid that coats them. He needs to keep his torso from bending, and she's running through her head all the ways that she can do that.

He cannot sleep on her couch with it in its current state. Infection and bacteria would find their way into his wound, and possibly harm him more. The last thing she wanted was to see him in more pain. She immediately she decides that he's taking her bed as her fingers work the soap she's covered them in off her skin.

"Come on, you need to sleep." Her voice is far weaker than she intends suddenly finding herself unable to keep the flush lividity she had felt in the beginning within her tone.

Those obsidian are even slower to look upon her as sweat slides down his face. It only seeks to increase the ache within her chest as she helps him from the couch to her bed. He's doing his best to pull his own weight in making it down this hall, and yet the sharp breaths, and inhales do nothing but make her brows pinch harder, and mouth dip further within her unspoken worry.

Watching him lay within her bed gives her some form of comfort as she lingers her gaze upon him. She's going to have to leave him to go clean the mess that is her living room. The smell of iron is strong upon her shirt, and from the living room making her head swim at how much blood he had lost tonight. The doctor in her already is deciding he needs blood when she takes him to the hospital in the morning. Turning to leave she is unable to make it far from his side—she's only made it to the door—before he speaks her name within a wheeze. Pale green cannot stop themselves from looking within his obsidian.

"Sleep." her fingers run within the rose-colored strands that have managed to stay within the ponytail she had placed them in earlier that night.

He lets loose another one of those raspy replies he's been making since he's been within her care, "Not without you."

Her mouth parts in desire to respond, and yell at him for his stubbornness and ridiculous requests. She doesn't though. Doing that is helping neither her, nor him. Fingers find themselves within the locks that spill across her pillow hoping it provides him with some form of ease, and peace. She can only muse within her head as she rubs soothing circles upon his scalp that he truly was always far too pretty.

She's still angry, she's still hurt that he would come to her after so long in such a state, she's still scared out of her mind that she hasn't done enough, and she's beyond glad that the worst of it seems to be over. There's so much she wants to say, and there's so much she feels within her that echos in her mind threatening to find its way into the air. There's the demand of what has obviously caused this state. There is the urge to yell at him for not being careful in whatever he's gotten himself into. There's the need to ask him why he knows where she lives. There's the desire to know why he's obviously kept tabs on her. There's the longing to know if he intends to stay within her life.

She's no longer the twenty-two year old he walked away from. He's no longer the twenty-two year old she allowed to walk away from her. They're adults. They've been adults for a long time.

It can wait though. It can wait till morning. It can wait when she's had time to process all that has happened. It can wait till he no longer is fighting to keep those obsidian open. It can wait till the small fever that's made it's way upon him has lessened. It can all wait.

Her fingers stay within his hair as she settles for the floor and leaning her head upon the bed to keep her eyes upon the slow drag of those obsidian. Those lashes of his finally no longer raise and his breathing while weak sounding only helps to confirm his sleep.

A hum of sorts escapes her as her own lids have started their own heavy fall. They're dipping closed and opening with the slowest of movements as she tries to watch over him.

Sleep sounds wonderful.