Ā Ā Ā Ā ā Ā feelinā frisky, huh, coop?Ā Ā āĀ Ā heās not about to complain. sweet pea goes willingly, lets betty press herself up against his front, smirking when he feels her hands slipping under his shirt, sliding up his sides. she pauses right where he knew she would, and he takes a step back, holding up a finger in a waitĀ gesture when her face falls in a confused frown.Ā Ā ā Ā hold up, babe,Ā Ā āĀ Ā he murmurs, grabbing the hem of his t-shirt and dragging it up, over his head. he tosses it toward the hamper in the corner, figuring heās not gonna need it again tonight, no matter how this goes down. and he fights the urge to cross his arms over his chest, to hideĀ from her. heās not exactly a self-conscious guy, and heās not ashamed of his scars, but this one⦠this one he hates. itās long, and itās jagged and raised, and itās ugly. but he forces himself to leave his arms by his side, hands flexing, unable to stay still.Ā
Ā Ā Ā betty doesnāt look disgusted, or horrified, just⦠softly curious, maybe a little worried, and she reaches out to smooth her fingertips over it. the gentle touch makes him shiver, and heās the one to reach for her this time, to draw her in close. she wraps her arms around his waist, rests her head against his chest. he wonders if sheās listening to his heartbeat, because his heartās slamming against his ribcage hard enough to make him worry itās gonna burst.Ā Ā ā Ā got it during a fight,Ā Ā āĀ Ā he tells her, voice hushed,Ā Ā ā Ā some guy had a knifeā¦Ā Ā ā