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"What's this scar from?" Ethan asked curiously, tracing an index finger gently over a scar across Chris's forearm.
They were sitting side by side on Ethan’s couch, perhaps only slightly closer than friends should. Chris had been reading as Ethan flipped through television channels before giving up and turning it off, but he set the book aside when Ethan spoke. He tried to ignore how Ethan's touch set his skin aflame.
"Recon mission," Chris answered stiffly, "I misjudged the stability of a small hut I'd ducked into. Half the roof caved in and my arm caught the brunt of it."
Ethan scoffed at him good-naturedly.
"That's so boring," he said, with a slight smirk. "I was expecting 'oh I fought off a pride of lions by myself and won', or 'I was carrying the weight of all my repressed trauma and my muscles shredded through my skin'."
"Morbid," Chris replied amusedly, attempting to suppress the slight tilt of his lips.
Ethan found himself to be pretty funny. Chris just loved seeing Ethan smile.
Ethan shrugged at him.
"I've seen worse shit," he noted.
Chris nodded in agreement. They both had.
"What's this scar then?" Ethan asked again, his finger sliding down to Chris's wrist.
"Dog bite."
"You are lying to my face."
"I would never," Chris argued, "Back in the old days, when I was a member of S.T.A.R.S., we went on a mission that ended up being a run-in with Umbrella’s mutant zombies. My team and I got attacked by zombie dogs."
"You should have led with 'zombie dogs'," Ethan nudged him with his shoulder. "That's way less boring."
"I’m sorry, I didn't realise my scars were meant to entertain you," Chris deadpanned, "Next time I'm on the field, I'll go up to another bioweapon and say 'hey, would you mind injuring me a little bit? I need a thrilling story to tell Ethan when I get home'."
Ethan doubled over, grasping at the edge of the couch as he laughed loudly. It sounded so different to the man's normal laugh that Chris found himself staring, with a small smile of his own. He'd never heard this laugh, with a force like it had come from Ethan's chest directly and was pushing the air through his lungs. Once Ethan had settled down a little bit, he glanced back up at Chris.
"Sometimes I forget you actually have a sense of humour," Ethan said.
Chris might have been offended, except that Ethan had sounded genuine. Chris supposed he had somewhat lost the humour he'd had at a younger age, but he hadn't meant to hide it away entirely. Especially not from Ethan. So Chris just shrugged one shoulder.
"It happens," he said.
"What's this scar?"
Ethan continued in his exploration, poking at a jagged and nasty looking scar on Chris's collarbone, rarely exposed due to his normally high-collared shirts and tactical gear.
"That was a Lycan," Chris huffed, "I used a med injector in time to stop the infection, but their teeth are- well. You know."
"Yeah," Ethan grunted, glancing down at his other hand that was missing two fingers almost forlornly.
"Sorry," Chris said awkwardly.
Ethan smirked up at him.
"You apologise too much."
"I do a lot of apology-worthy things."
"You're lying to me again," Ethan accused.
"I wasn't lying the first time," Chris countered.
Ethan simply hummed. Chris hadn't realised Ethan’s hand was still resting against his shoulder, a finger running over the scar, back and forth.
Ethan’s finger moved further up, until it rested gently against Chris's jaw, so close to his mouth his breath caught in his throat.
"And this one?"
"A knife wound," Chris responded, immediately having to withhold a flinch at how strained his voice sounded all of a sudden.
Ethan's hand and fingers continued to roam, but the man's eyes never left Chris's gaze.
"This?" he asked, pointing to another one.
"I got picked up by a giant plant creature," Chris answered quietly, too quietly. "When it dropped me, I landed on some broken glass."
That scar was on his temple, and it seemed that Ethan had no qualms about touching all over Chris's face.
"I'm sure there are more scars I can't see," Ethan noted.
"Yeah."
"... Can I see them?" Ethan asked, and it was the quietest thing he'd said yet.
Chris frowned at him.
"Why?"
"I'm curious," Ethan said simply, as if it were obvious. "C'mon, you've seen my scars."
"Don't make this a 'show me yours I'll show you mine' thing," Chris joked nervously.
Ethan chuckled, but he didn't say anything more, opting to wait patiently for Chris's move. That cocky son of a bitch knew he had Chris wrapped around his finger, somehow.
Chris sighed heavily, trying to express his annoyance and utterly failing at Ethan's bright grin. He sat up straighter and lifted up the hem of his navy blue t-shirt - civvy clothes, for the weekend - to showcase a deep scar that ran up the side of his abdomen. It was one of his oldest scars, and perhaps his worst.
"Shit," Ethan gasped. "What did that? "
Chris tried to answer, but then Ethan pressed a hand against the scar, against the bare skin of his stomach, and Chris lost his train of thought. He’d never been touched there by anyone other than the surgeons who’d stitched him up afterwards. Chris shut his mouth and swallowed. Ethan’s entire hand pressed firmly against the scar, as if his touch alone could heal it. Chris didn’t doubt that it could.
Ethan glanced up at him inquisitively, and Chris realised he still hadn’t answered him.
“It was a-” he cleared his throat, “another zombie. It had a fucking machete.”
“How did you survive that?” Ethan asked, his voice soft and so full of wonder it made Chris’s chest ache.
“My partner at the time patched me up,” he said. “Sheva. One of the best. She gave me hell over that.”
“Good,” Ethan chuckled. “Someone’s always gotta keep you in check, huh?”
“Guess so.”
“I’d lecture you about seeing your value, but Mia says I lack that ability too,” Ethan muttered.
Chris continued to stare at him.
“So,” Ethan said. “Any more?”
Chris rolled his eyes, but his soft grin gave him away.
“Why don’t I just-” Chris began, leaning forward and yanking his entire shirt off.
He refused to meet Ethan’s eyes as he did so, and instead turned so his back was facing the man. He waited for some reaction - there were more scars across Chris’s back than he could count - but it took Ethan a few seconds to suck in a surprised breath. As soon as he did, Chris felt Ethan’s fingers on his back, starting at his shoulder blades and sliding down slowly, catching each scar as he went.
“Those would take too long to explain,” Chris said, turning his head a bit, trying to catch a glimpse at Ethan.
“I still want to hear it,” Ethan responded, his fingers settling in the middle of Chris’s spine. “But maybe another time.”
Chris felt new pressure against his scars, softer than even Ethan’s hands, and it took Chris way too long to realise that he was feeling Ethan's lips on his skin. They started along his spine, and then moved to each side, before settling at his shoulder blades, where Ethan’s exploration had begun. Each scar on his back was kissed so lightly that Chris could almost pretend Ethan wasn’t there. He couldn’t breathe.
“Ethan?” he inquired, his voice coarse, “What are you-”
“Do they hurt?” Ethan interrupted him, his breath sweeping over Chris’s back.
“Do they- What? No. Why?”
Chris’s heart was racing too wildly to be safe. He’d survived so much shit and now he was going to die from a heart attack at the mercy of Ethan’s lips.
“I’m making them feel better,” Ethan replied simply, and placed another gentle kiss against a scar over Chris’s scapula.
“You-” Chris stammered, “They-”
A hand appeared over his bare chest, pushing him back. Ethan grabbed at Chris’s left arm and pulled it up, holding Chris’s hand against his chest. Ethan pressed a soft kiss to his wrist, the tenderness of it shredding Chris’s will to bits.
Ethan turned Chris back to face him. He was sitting so close Chris could feel his body heat against his side. Ethan placed his bad hand against the Lycan scar.
“Can I make this one feel better?” he asked innocently.
“I-” Chris inhaled shakily.
He wanted this so bad.
“Yeah,” he croaked. “Knock yourself out.”
Ethan grinned at him and ducked his head. Chris tilted his chin up to offer easier access, and Ethan’s lips pressed against his collar, soft as before, but lingering much too long to be necessary. He trailed kisses up Chris’s neck.
“I don’t have scars there,” Chris said dumbly.
He felt Ethan’s smile against his skin. He pulled back a bit, scanned Chris’s face, and then leaned in once more. Chris held his breath. Ethan kissed the scar against his jaw, so close to his mouth he felt himself begin to shake. When Ethan pulled away this time, he kept his right hand behind Chris’s neck, holding him gently, his fingers playing with the ends of Chris’s hair. Chris had debated shaving his head recently - he’d let his hair grow out longer than it’d been in years - but now, Chris was grateful his hair was at least long enough for Ethan to grab onto. Ethan’s left hand rested against Chris’s shoulder, and it began to trail down his chest, before it pressed against his abdominal scar again. Chris hardly caught the glint in Ethan’s eyes before he was leaning down, Chris’s breath becoming quick and shallow as he watched Ethan lower himself to press a kiss to the scar.
“Jesus,” Chris whispered shakily as Ethan’s lips made contact with his stomach.
“No,” Ethan said, sitting back up again with a smile, “It’s Ethan.”
Chris shut his mouth before he could embarrass himself further. Ethan’s hand hadn’t left the back of his neck, and he was going insane.
Chris was mortified when he realised it had taken him this long to think of Mia.
“Ethan,” he started hesitantly, trying to steady his voice, “Did- did you ask Mia…?”
His voice tapered off before he could think of how to finish the sentence.
Ethan raised a brow.
“Yes, I asked Mia if I could interrogate you on the origin of scars and then kiss them all better,” he stated, his voice heavy with sarcasm.
"Ethan," Chris felt his voice hardening.
“I told her a long time ago that I wanted to kiss you,” Ethan answered honestly. “She hasn’t stopped teasing me to get on with it since we got back from the village, though. I guess sometimes it’s nice to be reminded of one’s own mortality. Again."
“She,” Chris frowned, beyond confused, “But-”
Ethan pressed a kiss to his temple, effectively shutting him up.
“You really think I’d try something without talking to Mia first?” he asked.
“No,” Chris answered truthfully. “No, I don’t.”
“Good.”
Their eyes met, and Chris was overwhelmed with the intensity in Ethan’s look; but he didn’t shy away from it. For the first time in who knew how long, Chris wasn’t scared of someone seeing him. He wasn’t scared of Ethan seeing him.
“Any scars I missed?” Ethan asked softly.
“I’ve got one on my thigh,” Chris replied.
At the playful shift in Ethan’s expression, Chris shook his head.
“I am not taking my pants off right now.”
“But maybe later?” Ethan asked, his eyebrows raised in excitement.
Heat immediately rose to Chris’s face.
“I should’ve left you at that damn village,” Chris remarked, the affection in his voice giving him away.
Ethan snickered and leaned into Chris’s side even further, their faces just inches apart.
“The way you all but carried me back to the plane says otherwise,” Ethan argued. “You wouldn't have been able to leave me behind.”
“No,” Chris murmured, “No I wouldn’t have.”
His voice had softened beyond what he thought himself capable of, and he raised his left arm to wrap it around Ethan’s waist. He spread his hand across Ethan’s lower back; it was only because of this that he felt the shiver that ran up Ethan’s spine. Chris inhaled sharply.
“You know… You technically still haven’t kissed me yet,” Chris noted, regaining some of his confidence.
Ethan smiled, and his hands moved to either side of Chris’s face, holding him tenderly. Chris could have melted at his touch. It was all too much and still not enough. Then Ethan was leaning in, and every thought left Chris’s head.
With how soft Ethan’s lips had felt against his scarred skin, Chris half expected to hardly feel them against his own; but Ethan pressed in and kissed him firmly, his fingers still caressing Chris’s jaw, and all Chris could do was stare. But Ethan pulled away too quickly, and Chris blinked up at him.
“You’re supposed to kiss me back,” Ethan said, a teasing smirk on his lips.
Like a curtain ripped back to let the sunlight in, clarity washed over Chris’s mind and he pulled Ethan as close as he could and kissed him. Ethan went limp over him, letting his weight push them impossibly closer as he kissed back hungrily. Ethan’s arms wrapped around Chris’s shoulders, gripping him tightly, and Chris’s hands slid up Ethan’s back. Then Ethan was tilting his head and letting his mouth open, and Chris’s mind short-circuited again. He hadn’t kissed anyone like this since he was a goddamn teenager, and it awakened a kind of passion he’d almost forgotten he had. Chris sighed weakly and kissed Ethan with the fervour of a man starved, one hand pressing between Ethan’s shoulder blades as the other slid under the hem of Ethan’s shirt. Ethan shivered again and it drove Chris mad. Ethan’s good hand grabbed at Chris’s hair at the base of his skull and pulled, eliciting a groan from Chris that he could wait until later to be embarrassed about. Chris felt fire roar up his chest, so captivated by how perfectly Ethan fit against him, how perfectly Ethan’s mouth felt against his own. He’d wanted this for so long, had wanted Ethan for so long - never saying anything, never willing to get in between him and Mia - that now that he had Ethan so close, kissing him like a source of air, he was falling apart at the seams.
Ethan pulled away to breathe, and it was like plunging into frozen waters. Chris breathed heavily with him, and rested their foreheads together. Ethan’s hands moved back to cup Chris’s face, and Chris tilted his head to lean into Ethan’s touch.
“I’ve wanted to do that for so long, Chris,” Ethan whispered against his lips. “You drive me crazy.”
Chris breathed in deeply. His chest ached with how much he wanted; and here was Ethan, offering it all. Something like love grasped at his throat, leaving him light-headed and threatening to spill out.
“Right back at you,” Chris said instead.