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It had been a couple of months since the events of the village, and Ethan had been through hell and back to get back to some form of normality. He underwent treatment and testing to ensure he was stable, had prosthetics fixed, returned to his job as a systems engineer, and even moved back to California with Chris. He couldn’t have done it without him. Hell, he probably wouldn’t even be alive to tell the tale if it weren’t for him being there.
Chris was a decorated soldier, and Ethan knew this. He’d heard of his accomplishments time and time again—even witnessed them first hand—and they never failed to impress him.
Other than countless awards and titles to match, Chris was also decorated with several wounds. There were scars on almost every square inch of the man’s body. Claw marks on his chest, burn marks on his arms and legs—even bite marks on his shoulders, which Ethan often joked about being his own doing.
On most nights, Ethan found his eyes were drawn to them, and the two often spent a good hour or so in a comfortable position with Chris retelling each story for each mark. Sometimes the stories were funny, and sometimes they were full of pain and suffering of a kind Ethan had yet to understand. Regardless, he found himself listening to every detail.
This was one such night.
Ethan had been thumbing thoughtfully over a white streak of tissue, which grazed Chris’ peck and ran up towards his shoulder. He wasn’t sure if he’d asked about that one in particular before, but found that asking anyway was a worthy gamble. He either got to hear the story again, or found out something new.
Looking up to Chris’ face, he found that the man was already gazing down at him, and adorably so. He was smiling that same smile Ethan was a sucker for, and his eyes were lidded just so. He looked tired. Ethan loved it.
“What’s that one from?” the man asked softly, briefly flicking his eyes down to the mark again with newfound curiosity, and settling his head further against Chris’ chest.
Chris adjusted his gaze to the mark in question, which prompted a soft laugh from the man as he sank back to look at it properly. “Think I got that one getting you out of that shithole, actually. One of those lycan fuckers got me pretty good,” he reminisced, bringing his hand to rest over Ethan’s as his other arm fell around him. “And god, was it worth it.”
Ethan could only laugh at that. The memories of the village were still fresh in his mind, and very much engrained. He had nightmares—constantly—but somehow...Chris managed to make the whole ordeal seem much better than it really had been. He always managed to make it seem like it had all been worth it, and in a way, it had. It had tied up a lot of loose ends. He had finally managed to move on from her, and it was for good. He also knew that—despite everything—he never wanted to see her again. And it was good for him.
“One of the best worst things to happen, huh?” Ethan mused, bringing his gaze back up to Chris’ face. The second he did so, he found the man’s face crowding into his own, stopping only once their lips touched. With a small hum, Ethan brought his hand from the scar, content with holding Chris’ face in his hand instead.
They stayed that way for a good minute or two, chastely kissing one another before parting for some air, of course not separating completely and pressing their foreheads together instead.
“To answer your question, yeah. It was the best worst thing ever,” Chris mused, gently pressing another kiss against the other man’s lips.
“That scar kinda just...I don’t know,,” Ethan began softly. “It’s gonna remind me how much you care about me. It makes you look brave. And strong. Because you are.“
“So do yours,” Chris answered sincerely, unable to stop himself from laughing at the confused expression he was met with from the other man.
“These ones,” he continued, shifting slightly so as to bring his fingers over Ethan’s top scars. “Shows how brave and strong you are. You’ve been through so much, Ethan. Don’t sell yourself short.”
With a small smile, Chris slid down to Ethan’s level so that they were eye to eye, framing the other man’s face in his hands. Before the man had a chance to respond, Chris began to graze his thumb—slowly—over his cheek, and wherever words Ethan had on his lips died out.
“You’re the bravest person I know, Ethan. And I love you.”
Ethan couldn’t stop the smile that found his face after that, leaning into the light touch of his partner’s hand. “I love you too. I really do, Chris. God, I don’t deserve you,” he concluded with a chuckle, earning himself a kiss to the forehead.
“Yeah, you do. Hell, you deserve better—“ he huffed in response, unable to stop himself from grinning at the playful glare Ethan threw his way. “But thanks for settling.”
“I’m not settling,” Ethan mumbled, lightly swatting the other man’s chest. “I’m in love.”
Without another word, both men settled into one another, content in the silence between them as they began to fall asleep.
There was no greater company to them than each other.