Auther name;

“She’s okay, Alby. Well, not okay, but alive,” Clint shrugged as Alby cleared his throat.

“Did Minho tell you what happened?” Alby questioned.

Clint studied your unconscious body as it lay on the single bed that was in the hut, somehow irritated that your blood had gotten all over the sheets. His eyes flickered back up to your shirt which was stained scarlet from a wound on your chest, uneasy and hoping Alby wouldn’t ask questions about it.

“Got too close to a Griever, I think. I dunno. But she wasn’t stung. Gave her something to numb the pain but she got knocked out cold instead. Too strong, I guess,” Clint blankly replied, hoping his less than sufficient answer would be enough.

“Were you planning on telling me why the wound on her chest is still bleeding and not patched up?” Alby shot back, raising an eyebrow at Clint who shifted his feet uneasily and crossed his arms.

Clint sighed as his voice dropped to a whisper after figuring he should just tell Alby his concerns. “Alby, she’s a girl and she’s got parts men can’t touch. You know I can’t..just..clean that up.”

Alby shook his head and took another look at you.

“Then find someone who will before she bleeds to death,” Alby replied with an almost bitter tone with dismay clearly ringing out as he stomped out of the Medjacks’ hut without looking back.

“Newt, Minho, Ben, Gally and,” Clint began as the four boys stepped into the hut.

“Woah, (Y/N). Is she okay?” Ben asked as soon as he saw you in your bloodied state.

The four boys stood around the bed with Clint on its left side, utterly confused as to why Clint had called them here when there were more important things to do.

“Er, not exactly,” Clint replied. “You see, I’m in a bit of a dilemma here.”

“Ugh, I didn’t even want to be here,” Gally groaned.

“Look! I need you to listen because I need your help.” Clint raised his voice over Gally’s.

“Well, where in the world could your bloody medjacks be? I don’t understand why you need us,” Newt argued back.

“Look, I’m chickening out, man. Alby’s telling me to clean up the wound on her chest but..” Clint’s voice trailed off as he turned to you again.

“But?” Minho roughly cut in, wanting to just have Clint finish his explanation so he could finally make up an excuse to leave and get back to the Map Room.

“I can’t do it! It’s- it’s at the p-part where, you know, boys don’t have ‘em a-and, I don’t think I c-could do it. For all the time I’ve been a shucking medjack all I’ve been treating are boys and this girl comes up and she’s out cold and I have to clean her wound and it’s around her boobs and and..” Clint’s eyes had widened as he threw the words out of his mouth at the speed of a runner being chased by a Griever. With a loud, exasperated sigh, he shut his eyes and buried his face into his hands.

“I can’t do it.”

He raised his head again as the four boys he had called stared at him with eyebrows raised in so much confusion that he could almost see question marks floating above their heads.

After a minute of awkward silence, Gally spoke up.

“Welp, I’m out of here.” And he was out of there before Clint or any of the other boys could object.

“Newt, Ben, Minho… it’s up to you. Please,” Clint was desperate to have you cleaned up. Just not by him.

“Bloody hell, Clint!” Newt exclaimed. “You’re a shuckin’ medjack!”

Clint’s eyebrows furrowed at how disappointed he was in himself and turned his gaze to the ground. He just couldn’t bring himself to do it.

“Let’s get Minho to do it,” Ben suggested.

“What?” Minho wasn’t listening initially and just wanted out of there but as soon as Ben said his name, the hair on the back of his neck stood on end and he wasn’t sure whether he should give a good, loud smack to Ben’s face.

“Makes sense, you were the one with her in there,” Newt mumbled.

“I’m not doing that! I’m not a medjack! I don’t know anything!” Minho objected.

“Sure, you do. We weren’t the ones who walked in on her in the shower two weeks ago,” Ben mischievously winked, earning him a punch on the arm from Minho.

He didn’t mean it. He didn’t know you were inside but needless to say, he saw a few things he shouldn’t have and profusely apologized for it. You didn’t mind. Living with boys had gotten you used to seeing them naked in front of each other and you were chill about it.

“I’m sure you’re well-versed in the knowledge of the female anatomy, shank,” Newt stifled his laughter.

Minho smacked a hand to his forehead and took a deep breath.

“Fine, I’ll do it.”

“Yes!” Clint cheered.

“But clear the room. You, shuck face,” he pointed to Clint. “Will direct me from the outside.”

“She’s on a drug that’s put her to sleep. You should have enough time to clean her up without waking her if you work fast,” Clint explained as he and the other boys cleared the room and shut the door behind him.

Minho stared at you and tried to take in your state. After a few seconds of getting himself together, he called out to Clint.

“Now what? How do I start?”

“You take her shirt off, duh!” Clint’s voice rang out from the thin wooden walls of the hut, followed by giggles from Newt and Ben.

Minho sat on the bed beside you and raised his arms to the first button of your shirt. Holding his breath, he fiddled with the small button and undid it. He let out a sigh, relieved that you didn’t wake up. Gaining a bit more confidence, he unbuttoned the second and third, exposing more of your wounded chest and bloodied bra. He was a guy, and just like any other guy he was. He could feel his focus slowly waning as he saw more of your upper body. With shaky hands undoing the last button, heat was taking over his cheeks and he was turning red.

“Then? Do I need to take out her bra?” Minho uneasily blushed as he called out after noticing that the open bloody gash on your chest was just right above it.

“ Not unless you want to!” Clint replied as Newt and Ben broke into a stomach-clenching fit of laughter. Minho made a mental note to squash their heads after he was done with you.

“Did you want to?” you whispered and broke into a silent giggle with your eyes closed as you felt Minho flinch and pull his arms back.

“(Y/N)? You were awake? Since when? I-uh, th-they asked me to..” he stammered and trailed off.

“I know, I know. I heard everything. How was I going to sleep if you shanks kept bickering? I’ve been awake since you came in, the drug already wore off but I decided to just pretend as if it’s still working,” you opened your eyes and looked at Minho who was as pale as the white sheets. Beads of sweat were forming at the sides of his forehead.

“D-do you want me to c-continue?” he shyly asked, flustered.

“Hey! Are you still there? Did you take off her bra?” Clint yelled, taking yours and Minho’s focus off of each other for a second.

“I didn’t take it off you shuck face!” Minho shot back, anger in his tone.

“Ignore them, Minho,” you laughed. “I’m okay with.. this. I mean, you’re trying to help and I appreciate it. And come on, you saw me naked two weeks ago. Don’t think we’ve forgotten about that,” you shot him a look that made his cheeks turn bright red and it was hilarious to you that he was obviously coming undone and just as cheeky, no matter how much of a badass he was.

“Just keep going,” you instructed.

Clint continued yelling out instructions as he kept dabbing at your wound with a cloth, unsure of where to focus his eyes on but you held his other hand and squeezed it, letting him know whatever he had to do was alright. The tension in his shoulders loosened at your action and he would glance up every once in a while and shot you a crooked smile as he applied the medicine and covered your wound up.

“You’re finished, aren’t ya?” Clint asked. “Well, whatever. I’m heading off to tell Alby all’s good. You can come out of there. Or not. You could..I dunno, make out or something.” Clint’s voice had reduced to a voice away in the distance as he rambled off.

“Thanks, shank,” you rolled your eyes at Clint and smiled at him.

“Uh, you’re welcome,” he stood up and dusted his pants, only meeting your gaze for a split second.

You sat up in the bed and grabbed his hands, leaving him surprised with his breath stuck in his throat. It was evident to you that he was still cautious.

You tugged at his hand hard enough for him to sit back down on the bed with a thud as you heard an audible gulp. With a giggle, you leaned in and placed a kiss on his cheek.

“I mean it. Thank you,” you whispered as you looked into his eyes which were beginning to soften.

A smile began slowly spreading across his lips as he shifted and moved closer to you. He was about an inch away from your face when he leaned in and you could feel his breaths on your lips. His eyes flickered down to gaze at them that back onto your eyes, then back to your lips again. He let his lower lip brush against it and when you didn’t flinch or pull back, he closed the gap and let his chapped lips get lost in the feel of yours.

Strong hands came up the sides of your face and your hands wound themselves onto his biceps. After claiming your lips with his and realizing he totally melted you into a puddle like butter on Frypan’s pan, he pulled back with a wider smile.

“Get better soon, runner,” he smiled as he walked out the door to leave you to rest.