[After talking with Izzy @tapcaftogo on skype about Sheres and his larger scars on his torso and how Mereel would act about them ([3/22/2016 9:17:04 PM] MI-REEL-GO ; fucking alien: don’t think about how tender Mereel would be with Sheres, even though he’s had them for some time already by the time he’s that comfortable with Mereel) I had to write this. :3 fluff ahoy! w/ a tiny bit of angst because well I’m me and I never see a work finished unless i have at least a line of angst.]
There wasn’t a lot that Sheres was subconscious about but the scars on his torso ranked pretty high on the list. Every soldier had scars, physical or mental. But the scars he had on his lower torso in particular were a testament to being just a little too slow. And his protective big brother streak. Better me than them was always the thought process.
So it was rare for Sheres to actually feel at ease without a shirt on and not taking a shower. Lying out on the bed in the safehouse that was their HQ for their current mission, Sheres’s hands were tucked behind his head while his shirt was nowhere to be found, instead he was sprawled out just in his skivvies. Mereel had returned sooner than he had expected but it had been far too late to try to get redressed. Instead, Mereel was stretched out next to him, silence covering the area like a blanket.
Sheres watched in his peripheral vision as Mereel–propped up on one elbow– reached out, slowly, hesitantly, with his free hand towards the scars on the Alpha’s abdomen that connected into a point aimed towards his head. He wasn’t exactly treating Sheres as if he were fragile, but rather wanting to give him an out, time to say ‘cease and desist’. When he didn’t get a protest nor did Sheres move away, Mereel took it as mute permission.
Fingers calloused from a rough life despite gloves being part of the kit traced around the scars. Scars that shouldn’t be there. Scars obtained through war crimes perpetrated against the owner of said scars. Scars that were sensitive to even the slightest of touches but not in a pain way. Scars that he knew, instinctively, that Sheres wasn’t fond of and not just because it had taken a while for Sheres to feel comfortable enough to have them visible to someone else.
Sheres could sense the curiosity his vod had. Mereel clearly wanted to ask the origin of the scars, but didn’t think it was right of him to ask, it felt like a subject that had to be brought up by Sheres himself. Sheres wanted to, he really did. But he didn’t want to verbalize it, to anyone, even Mereel. And he told Mereel a lot. As much if not more than he told Hyran.
Instead of offering up an explanation, Sheres simply allowed himself to focus on the barely there touch of Mereel’s hand on his bare skin. For now, both were content to not talk about it. For now, both were content to just enjoy the time they had before they went on separate missions again. And beyond that, it was soothing. He liked, nay needed, soothing.
One day we’ll talk about it, Sheres thought. What day was way beyond him, but he would talk about it eventually. Just not at that moment. Mereel understood, he hoped. It had nothing to do with trust or anything of the sort; but rather having to relive the experience in order to tell the story.
Sheres reached out, slipping his hand to the back of Mereel’s neck and up into his hair line. Fingers curled through locks the same color as his own then pulled Mereel in close. Foreheads touched, with Mereel’s palm flat against Sheres’s chest for leverage, elbow slightly bent for support though he made sure not to put all his weight on it.
They sat like that for a while, the only sound was their near-synchronized breathing. Eventually Mereel pulled back so he could lie down, his hand still atop Sheres’s torso where the two scars met into a point.
Sometimes you simply didn’t need words. Sometimes actions said far more than verbal words ever could.
