☆ · ˚ PASSION / FRUIT.

she’s been pretending to sleep, because she enjoys the way buzz wakes her up: either it’s a kiss to her shoulder or a kiss to her inner thigh, but either way it comes with an accented, mumbled,  ‘  sloaney …  ’  that makes her wonder how she’s ever woken up to anything else. she waits that grumbled cadence, but instead feels his fingertip brush against the scar along her lower back. she’s seen plenty of bruises, cuts, gashes on buzz, but she’s different—-  she’s supposed to be perfect.

‘  it’ll fade soon, i promise.  ’  it won’t, having been two years since she received it, but who is she promising  ?  buzz  ?  the man who’s seen much worse  ?  herself, for allowing it to happen  ?  her parents, because they’d look on it with disgust  ?  how many times could she say sorry anymore  ?

‘  it’s nothing, i swear. some drunk asshole wanted me to do somethings i wasn’t down for, and when i left, he smashed a beer bottle on my head and got … creative. really, you should’ve seen the shiner i rocked for a bit.  ’  except she hadn’t allowed anyone to see her like that. sloane valentine with her baby blues couldn’t have a purpling bruise taint her face ;  she lost out on a week’s worth of money because of it.

buzz’s digit continues to repeatedly explore the length of her scar, and it’s almost calming, ‘til she remembers what it means.

‘  it’ll go away, i won’t always have it. i’ll be perfect for you again.  ’  when she says that, she feels his hand pause. the room is quiet, still, and she wonders if the facade has already been ruined. if the scar’s enough to send him running, wait til he sees what else she can do.

finally she hears the groan of the mattress beneath them and the shift of his large frame—- is he leaving ? grabbing her clothes to get the fuck out ?  the possibilities briefly make her sick, until … she feels his lips. he kisses above, below, then right on the scar. and for the first time in years, sloane allows herself to cry in front of another person. still too frozen to really sob, sloane presses her cheeks against the pillows and lets a deluge of tears slither down reddened cheeks.  i’ll be pretty again, i’ll be pretty again escapes her lips in quiet gasps, until she feels his hand take her jaw and their eyes lock under the early morning glow that washes over them ; sloane silently thinks he looks like an angel, twisted as it may be, but the lips that caressed her wound now press to her forehead and remain there while she trembles with sobs beneath him— from anguish to clarity to finally, resolutely, relief.

before the dashing groom can get swept up in more photographs and cake eating, sloane tugs him into a quieter corridor ; she knows he needs this, too—-  a moment to breathe, collect himself.

‘  hi,  ’  she murmurs, a soft smile hanging over scarlet lips.  ‘  i know we’re all supposed to give big speeches soon, and i’ll do the generic one for you guys, i swear, but … there’s something i just need you to hear. and only you.  ’

a delicate hand find its way to his cheek, smoother than she’s ever felt his before, and there’s a fondness in her eyes that’s a rare sighting for anyone other than the man who gave her the last name she’s held dearly.  ‘  you’re an amazing person, you look incredible tonight, and you deserve a lifetime of happiness. you have been more family to me than anyone else i’ve ever known, and i will do anything for you. okay ? i need you to know that, maks. you’ve always been there for me, and i will always be there for you. whatever our lives become, mine will always be better for having you in it. ’

You’re all I have in this world now, and that’s the only way I’d ever want it. Fuck the Valentines, fuck the whole damn name. It’s you and me, Sloane and Ben Barton, and I couldn’t be happier. No, really, it’s been twenty-three fucking years, and I’ve never smiled this much. The Bartons. The Bloody Bartons. Do you suppose they’ll call us that?

You’re the most incredible person I’ve ever met. Nobody’s been as good to me as you, and nobody looks as beautiful when they’re slicing throats. You’re everything in the world, baby. You and me, always you and me.

Come home to your girl, your wife, and let her give you lots of kisses, we can smear the red between us. I wanna spend my life singing our songs and fuckin’ destroying anyone who tries to come between us. I know I’m a rotten mess sometimes, but you’ve made it seem like the easiest thing in the world. I love you, Ben. Mr. Barton. My husband. That still gets me a little wet!

Alright, I’m rambling because I know you’re on the job and I’m already needing you. As always, get ‘em good, and let me kiss your knuckles when you’re back. I think I’m gonna be romantic and attempt to cook while you’re out, so given my history, be sure to pick up some pizza. Maybe this whole long ass love note was just an excuse to get you to bring me pizza?

Nah. I’m just crazy about you, old man.

Always,