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“Stop, that hurts!” Aaron grabbed Eric’s wrist and forced the sterile wipe away from the cut on his cheek, hissing from the burning sting in the cut.
The ginger lifted a sardonic eyebrow. “It’ll hurt worse if it gets infected. God only knows what you were exposed to with those people.”
“Those people might be exactly what we need to win this thing and get our lives back.” Aaron retorted, snatching the wipe from Eric’s hand and turning to look in the mirror to clean his own wound. “If Rick can convince them to join us.”
Eric crossed his arms over his chest, shaking his head softly as he watched the other man. “And if he can’t? How many more times are you going to come home with the shit beaten out of you? How many more times am I going to have to wonder if you’re even coming home?”
“Until this is over.” Aaron said with an air of finality, turning to look at Eric, his voice harsher than he intended it to be. “I know you don’t understand why I’m doing this, Eric, and I’m sorry that I’m putting you through it…but…”
“You’re going to keep doing it anyways,” Eric finished for him.
Aaron nodded softly. “Yeah. I am. I’d really like to have you by my side in this, but I won’t make you fight.”
Eric sighed and looked at the floor. “I’m afraid you’re going to get yourself killed. I don’t think I could stand to lose you.”
“I would rather die fighting than to live hiding,” Aaron told him, cupping Eric’s face and bringing his gaze up until their eyes met. “But I have no intention of dying.”
Reaching up to hold the back of Aaron’s neck, Eric pulled Aaron down until their foreheads touched, letting several moments of silence pass between them. Aaron was right. They could spend their lives serving the Saviors, living in fear…or they could fight. Besides, who would watch Aaron’s back if he wasn’t out there with him?
“Okay.” His voice was barely more than a whisper and he could feel Aaron’s brow furrow against his.
“Okay?”
Eric pulled back, searching the curious, azure eyes. “I’ll fight.”
“You don’t have to fight, Eric. I told you I wouldn’t make you.”
“You’re not making me do anything, babe. I’m choosing to fight. For you. For us.”
Aaron felt a wave of emotions hit him all at once—pride, fear, relief—they coalesced into an all-encompassing feeling of eternal love, and he pulled Eric’s lips to his own, kissing him with fierce passion. Eric’s fingers slid into the mass of curls adorning the back of Aaron’s head as he returned the kiss with equal fervor. Aaron’s hands began to lift Eric’s shirt, but the redhead made a noise of protest and put a palm against Aaron’s chest, easing him back.
“I’m taking care of that cut first.”
Groaning in protest, Aaron leaned back against the bathroom vanity and held up the sterile wipe. Eric plucked it from his fingers and moved back in, pressing the wipe firmly against the cut. Aaron hissed again, cutting his eyes at Eric. “You did that intentionally.”
“Maybe that’ll keep you from getting yourself hurt out there,” Eric retorted, quirking an eyebrow.
“Brat.” Aaron muttered with no real malice.
Eric merely smirked in response.