It's been decades since the Re-Establishment was taken down for good. Everyone grew up, settled down, had a few kids even.
What would happen if Aaron Warner and Juliette Ferrars' no nonsense son fell head over heels for Kenji Kishimoto and Nazeera...
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You ever think your lungs are closing up because you have never seen someone so gorgeous in all of your damn life?
Yeah, that was how I felt when I first locked eyes with Leo Castillo.
I hadn't given it another thought after he had collapsed. I ran over, my legs moving before my brain could catch up, crouching down next to Leo and pressing my hand over the wound on his stomach, checking for a pulse, just to make sure he was alive.
A steady pulse thrummed under my fingertips. Good, okay, he was alive. But he was still bleeding out and it was going to need stitching.
"Okay- Okay he's alive, but Will I need that sewing kit mom and dad keep in the second drawer in the kitchen!" I yelled, assessing the rest of Leo's wounds. His breath was becoming sparser. Damn it. He had a slice across his cheek that was bleeding slightly, a split over his lips, damn he had nice lips and he was covered in cuts and scrapes. "Oh, and a first aid kit!" I added.
We had to keep him alive somehow. I wasn't going to let someone bleed out on my front porch.
Will came running back with the sewing kit and first aid set, and he had a grim look on his face, probably already thinking he couldn't be saved. I was not having that.
I pulled a bottle of rubbing alcohol out of the kit, gently pouring it onto a cotton pad. "Sorry, this is going to sting," I muttered, wiping the outside of the wound with the fabric, blood soaking it almost immediately. The good thing was, Leo gained consciousness pretty fast.
He let out a soft groan that turned into a grimace as I cleaned the edges of the stab wound - it was definitely a stab wound. Too deep, too precise. I threaded the needle and got to work, slowly but carefully pulling it through the skin, pulling it together, which made him cry out, "¡Mierda, eso duele!" which roughly, if my spanish was up to scratch translated to holy sh/t that stings. Potty mouth much?
"Morning sunshine? Nice nap?" I asked, a sweet innocent smile spreading on my face as I stitched the skin, the wound closing.
"Mm, yeah, such a lovely way to start my day. Getting stabbed, passing out and getting stuck with a needle by a random girl I don't know," he said, his face contorting, wincing as the pain began to catch up with him. "Do you have a name, querida?"
My face flushed, a blush creeping up my neck. Querida? That meant dear, or darling or something, my spanish was a little rusty, but it was some form of term of endearment. I tied off the thread that was holding the wound closed, cutting the needle free. "There. That should hold that together. I will need to take them about in about 10 days though. More pain." I replied, clearly forgetting he asked for my name.
"More pain, woo!" he cheered sarcastically, raising his arms then dropping them when his stitches pulled. "So, name, queri.da?"
