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Tim, it seemed, was a man made of scars. Ben didn’t mean to stare but when he couldn’t sleep and the patchwork expanse of bare skin was stretched out in front of him what else was he supposed to do? Ben didn’t have a problem with the scars, didn’t consider them a turn off, they were a part of Tim and Ben liked Tim and so he would like the scars, even if the idea of Tim in pain was extremely distressing to Ben.
Ben stared at the number of marks that covered Tim’s skin while he slept soundly in front of him; he was sure that if Tim were awake he wouldn’t have allowed Ben to have such a close look at them. A part of him wanted to reach out and trace the marks but he feared that the touch might wake the man up from his slumber so he stuck with just looking.
There were marks of all shapes and sizes, some fresh, like the tiny half-moon marks made by his own fingernails sometime earlier, and some very old There were a couple of small cuts on his shoulder blade that didn’t appear too suspicious or worrying, same with the scrape Ben noticed on Tim’s right elbow. In the dim light Ben could just make out the slightly uneven skin on his left calf. He couldn’t guess what it was from when it was this dark but he thought it looked old. There was a small patch of skin on his hip where the skin was discolored and slightly uneven, like it hadn’t healed right. Ben knew what bullet wounds looked like from his time in the E.R. and figured it was a byproduct of his Army days or maybe even from some Marshal duty gone wrong. Unfortunately a healed bullet wound seemed to be the least of Ben’s concerns.
The most worrying marks on Tim’s back were three large welts that ran diagonally from just under his right shoulder blade to right about the left side of his waist. They were about the width of one of Ben’s fingers, smooth, and almost matched Tim’s skin color; Ben might not have noticed them if it weren’t for his close proximity. After a moment or two of staring at the large marks that took up a large portion of the young man’s back, Ben realized what exactly was so troubling about them. It wasn’t the size or the number, although that was upsetting too, but the age of the marks. They may not have been the oldest marks on Tim’s body but Ben knew they were nowhere near fresh. The idea of a much younger Tim being on the receiving end of such damaging marks made Ben stomach turn.
Going against his previous thoughts, Ben reached out and gently traced the long lines down Tim’s slim back. When he reached the end of the mark, Ben wrapped his arm around Tim’s waist and pulled himself closer to the other man. He pressed his lips to the base of Tim’s neck, jolting away slightly when Tim’s groggy voice sounded in the previously silent bedroom.
“You miss the sign where it says to look but don’t touch?” Tim mumbled as he buried his face a little deeper into the pillow.
“Must’ve missed it,” Ben mumbled as he curled himself tighter around Tim’s naked body and pressed his lips to Tim’s shoulder, right over a couple harmless-looking cuts. “I don’t have my glasses on. It’s dark. Can’t see shit.”
“Can you see this?” Tim grumbled before he lazily lifted a hand and waved a slim, middle finger at Ben, which made Ben chuckle against Tim’s shoulder.
“Here I need a closer look,” Ben grinned as he lifted his hand from Tim’s waist and gripped the offending hand. Ben tugged Tim until he rolled and faced Ben. He let of Tim’s wrist and moved his hand back to Tim’s waist. “Ah, now I can see.”
“Oh really?”
“Not really,” Ben shrugged as he let his hand dip toward Tim’s lower back, his fingers brushing against one of the many scars that littered his back. “Gotta say you look better without my glasses on.”
“Yeah well you look better in the dark,” Tim countered.
“Oh, touché,” Ben murmured before he began to absentmindedly began to trace his fingers up and down one of the smooth lines that formed one of the awful marks on the back.
Tim rolled his eyes, looking much less intimidating than usual with his usually perfectly combed hair a mess, before he closed his eyes and very slowly drifted back to sleep. It was interesting to watch, seeing Tim go from guarded and a little tense to sleeping peacefully, the pinnacle of relaxation, brow smooth and face free of the his usual scowl.
While Ben watched Tim sleep, he moved his hand from his back to his waist, fingers brushing up against the healed gunshot wound there. He thought about what Tim had said earlier, about him having baggage and how Tim figured it had scared Ben off. Truth was, everyone had baggage, but Tim’s was just a little more visible than others was.
And that was okay. It didn’t make Ben like Tim any less or any more; Tim clearly thought differently but even in the short amount of time Ben had known Tim he got the feeling Tim didn’t always know best when it came to himself. Ben knew that with Tim’s line of work and lifestyle it would be impossible for him to not rack up anymore marks on his body but damn if Ben wished this was a perfect world where he could stop it from happening.
Ben slowly reached up and gently brushed a lock of tousled hair from Tim’s face, thumb brushing against the almost healed cut he received from the collision the previous week. He thought of Tim in that examination room where they first met and how at the bar he had been worried when he noticed Tim in pain and after the bar when he had insisted they resist from doing what they actually wanted to do because it might make his condition worse.
He figured that it was impossible and completely ridiculous to think that he could stop Tim from being in any more pain but he sure as hell could at least try to help him heal.
“What am I going to do with you?” Ben asked quietly.
“You better let me get some damn sleep or you’re gonna be sleeping on the couch,” Tim growled into the pillow keeping his eyes shut while he tugged at the blankets and pulled them tighter around himself.
Ben chuckled before he let his hand fall back to its former place on Tim’s waist and he closed his eyes. As he fell asleep next to Tim, he hoped that he would be around long enough to help him heal his next set of wounds.