#cubguy

Idly, from the crack of his ajar bedroom door, Cub watched Scar through gentle eyes, the other sitting at the couch, ever so slightly slumped as he watched the news, or maybe watch was a strong word, because it looked a bit more like he was sleeping. An awake Scar was never so still, so relaxed, the rise and fall of his shoulders never so slow. An awake Scar typically knew when he was being watched, a strong internal sense, and he would turn around, arm draped over the back of the sofa with a lazy smile, and Cub might greet him, or he might just shut the door, the observation not nearly as fun when the other knew he was there. Cub smiled, basking in the opportunity to simply look without being known. Scar’s hair was a certified mess, more than it usually was, the funny little cowlick at the back of his head completely out of control. Not that Scar ever tried very hard to tame it anyway. But today he didn’t have to try at all, because today he was here, and there were no cameras, no scrutiny. Well, maybe there was a little scrutiny, but Grian wasn’t home right now. Just Cub. Just Cub.

Scar’s legs were in the shop today, routine maintenance and things, but instead of spending the day in town as he typically did on these types of off days, he asked to spend it here, to just hang out, relax. Take off the mask and not think at all. And who would Cub be to deny him?

There was something so deeply satisfying seeing him here, out of uniform. He had arrived in it out of necessity; very few people had no legs and wheelchairs decked out in HotGuy merchandise, but Scar had changed once inside, visibly reveling in the luxury of being Here. In a place with people he trusted. No mask. No legs. No uniform. Being.. Scar. Given the nuclear identity crises Scar had been experiencing lately, this was nothing short of the ultimate freedom. And what an honor to be able to provide that, to be trusted enough that even a man so deeply insecure of his place in the world could find it in himself to just relax around you. To be himself. To fall asleep on the sofa without the fear of sharp edges.

Cub ducked out of his room, tip-toeing over to shut off the news. He didn’t care to hear it, and didn’t think it was too good for Scar either, not today. The scene reimagined to his liking, Cub slunk back to his room then walked from it again, normally, and draped his arms around Scar’s neck, humming. Scar roused, and Cub got the pleasure of seeing him blink away sleep.

“Ello,” Scar mumbled, leaning back to hit Cub’s chest with his head, and Cub closed his eyes, a small smile forming across his lips (maybe. Sometimes when he thought he was smiling, he didn’t look any different at all, his mind’s eye only playing tricks on his physical sense of self).

“Hi. You tired?”

Scar gave the question a moment of thought, endearingly, trying to push back further into the couch, like the barrier between them was a great frustration. Cub didn’t make any move to be closer, internally amused. Scar sighed, “Not really. Just got a bit bored, closed my eyes. Was still listening.”