"Mark," Jackson whimpers, tears b. Mark's hands were rough and his touch and his touch unforgiving, calloused fingertips scratching the sensitive skin they run over. “Mark, it hurts.”

“Bear with it a little longer,” Mark soothes. “I’m almost done. You'll feel better soon, okay?”

Jackson nods, biting down hard on his lower lip in an attempt to distract himself from the sting. He almost succeeds, until Mark rubs exceptionally hard on the sore area and he flinches, sending his leg jerking away. He snaps his head toward the elder and glares accusatorily, lower lip jutting out in a sulky pout. “Mark!”

“Aish, stop getting injured then!” Mark scolds. He reaches for the foot that just escaped from him and manouvres it back into his lap, taking care to be more gentle as he spreads more ointment over the swollen ankle. “Now hold still and stop whining like a big baby.”