Work Text:
Xander hisses as Arturo hastily slaps a bandage on Xander’s cut. “There,” Arturo says, muffled through his mask. “Done. Stop being the clumsy, hideous oaf that you are and stop getting hurt. I’m not your personal nurse.”
Xander beams. “You’re so reliable. Thank you, Mr. Beauty Pageant. I always know I can count on you.”
Arturo’s groan gets louder and bitchier. “You don’t listen to me, do you? You’re just… like…”
Arturo’s pause is noticeable, but Xander coughs and rescues him. “You really are quite kind. I mean that. I know you’re not a doctor, but you always do your best.”
Arturo blanches rather visibly. Ah. Xander isn’t doing a good job of saving the conversation.
The surgeon pinches his nose. “You be quiet.”
So Xander is silent. Arturo rolls his eyes. “Nevermind.”
“Mr. Arturo, you’re being too hot and cold. You should be more straightforward.”
Xander’s friend stiffens. “Your sincerity is so disgusting. I'm leaving.”
He hears: Your words are the ghost of the things I regret.
When Arturo shuts the infirmary door, Xander lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.
“Being cared for like that, being scolded… I wanted...”
To do those things for them.