#anyways dragon is sabo's father figure and i refuse to believe otherwise

[kitswag]

A little art about a headcanon of mine for Dragon and Sabo, and a little fanfic about it under the cut

"Dragon-san," a familiar voice, Sabo's voice came knocking from the door of the cluttered office. Dragon perked up, putting down the pen he's writing with- just a follow up rough plan for the revolutionary's next strike.

The door was opened and there was Sabo with a bleeding arm. Instinctively, Dragon reached for the cabinet on his desk, pulling it open to grab for a roll of bandages and a bottle of antiseptic.

Sabo sat in front of Dragon, reaching out his roughed-up arm, his face not showing a trace of pain. (Dragon always knew the surges beneath his mask anyways.)

Dragon sighed as he saw the gnarly wound on Sabo's arm. The boy had a knack on being risky, sometimes even too keen on self sacrifice. Even though being a revolutionary always costed a price, Dragon couldn't help but worry about Sabo's knacks.

"I got a little reckless with my plans, " Sabo offered a little charming smile to Dragon (cut out the reprimands just this time?)

"I always told you to be careful. You're too good to lose, " Dragon said (again, Sabo?).

Sabo offered another cheeky smile, "Next time," he said, as if Dragon never feared for his name written on the list of fallen revolutionaries in a mission report.

When Sabo first arrived in Baltigo, still wrapped with bandages all over, not even able to move his wounded limbs freely, he would only turn to Dragon to replace his bandages, any nurses who tried to replace it would only make him flinch violently.

Dragon tapped a cotton smeared with antiseptic liquid on his arm, following it up with the roll of bandages. Soon, after falling into the familiar act of wrapping Sabo's wounds, Dragon couldn't resist the nostalgia that went flying right to his head.

But of course, they understood (despite being concerned) , that Sabo was a child, a child that had no one familiar except for Dragon in an unfamiliar, new building far far away from his home island.

When his burns healed, and when he finally got to trust the nurses, it still became a habit. He would knock on Dragon's door or tug at his coat, show his wounds, and Dragon would pull out his cabinet and fish out a bottle of antiseptic liquid and some bandages. And there it was, a repeating pattern of tapping a cotton smeared with the antiseptic against Sabo's wounds and wrapping it up with soft bandages.

Dragon always thought of it as a comforting habit.

It was not rare that he would receive reports about his fallen men, people that had died for his own cause. And being here, bandaging Sabo, feeling the warmth of his skin, reminded Dragon that his Chief of Staff, his son, was still here, still alive. Still able to go knock on Dragon's office and offer a smile and a wound.

Sabo's small hiss of pain suddenly brought Dragon abruptly out of his daze. He softened his pace and grip, finishing wrapping Sabo's arm with tying the end, cutting the excess bandage with a small pair of scissors.

"Thank you, Dragon-san, " Sabo smiled, softly.

Dragon couldn't resist reaching his hand out and ruffling Sabo's hair, "Be careful next time," he warned.

Sabo's smile turned into a grin, "This time is just a slip up. "

Dragon couldn't help but smile back. Thin, but soft with fondness for his son sitting in front of him. He pulled his hand out of Sabo's locks of blonde and hope that tomorrow, his name wouldn't be written on the list of the fallen.