Work Text:
"Is it bad?" Fjord asks, twisting to look over his shoulder as if that would help him see. "It don't feel good."
Molly makes a face as he wipes a cloth over Fjord's skin. Water droplets trace long, squiggly paths down Fjord's back. They're easier to look at than the long, bloody scrape left by a bullet. "I've seen worse." He dips the rag in the water again, swishing it around before wringing it out.
Firelight glints off Fjord's tusks as he looks away.
Molly applies a poultice and wraps a bandage over Fjord's back and chest, tucking in the ends. It'll have to do; they can't risk going to a doctor.
Fjord rolls his shoulders, testing his range of motion. His breath hisses out from between his teeth. "Thanks, Molls."
"Let's see how it heals before you thank me," Molly teases. "I'm no surgeon."
Fjord tries to pull his shirt on, but it's hard to do with one arm; Molly helps wrestle him back into it. Together they lean against the big rock by their bedrolls. Molly presses himself into Fjord's great, reassuring bulk. Fjord tucks his arm around Molly's shoulders.
Molly watches firelight and shadow play over Fjord's features. His eyes are closed, eyelashes glowing in the firelight. "Won't be long 'til we're in Oregon Territory."
The corner of Fjord's mouth turns up; his tusk casts a long shadow over his jaw. "I'm startin' to think that won't solve all our problems, Molls."
"No shit," Molly laughs. "But we could go to a doctor when we get roughed up, for a start."
Fjord chuckles. "I'd like that. I'd like that a lot." He kisses Molly's forehead; his tusks are cool and his lips warm. "Not that you don't take care of me, o' course."
"Of course." Molly smiles.