Wince
"Oh for-" Harry huffed, "Just wince already, you proud bastard!"
Severus glared at him, but did indeed relax the hard set to his features, allowing some of the pain he must be feeling to show.
Harry swept a hand lightly across the ragged edges of a gash on Severus' hip, assessing it familiarly. "What did this?"
"MacNair's bloody axe." Severus managed.
"Of course." Harry growled. "I can't use a spell, not with the potions you've got in you for the spell damage. I'll have to stitch it."
Severus sighed, setting his forehead against the cot. "Again? Fine."
"I'm sorry, love." Harry murmured, stroking Severus' shoulder soothingly.
"Well, it's hardly your fault." Severus snapped.
Harry fetched his suture kit, taking no offense at the nasty retorts. "I'm still sorry, Severus. I am allowed to be sorry you're in pain, even if I had nothing to do with it."
Severus groaned something that might have been assent. Or disagreement. Or possibly an imprecation on Harry's mind. It was hard to tell with Severus' face buried in the cushion.
Harry couldn't hold back an amused snort at his lover's behaviour, even as he began to stitch, feeling Severus' muscles tensing beneath his hands.
~Fin~
