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Leon felt Luis’s chest rise against his and his heart beat faster than it had in a long time. Even in his sleep, the man was so beautiful, so effortlessly gorgeous that it could take his breath away. Only clad in boxers, his body was nearly fully on display, and it felt sacrilegious to not drink the sight of him in.
His eyes drifted first onto the hair splayed messily around his head like a dark backdrop that accentuated his features. His unfurrowed brows, often a rare sight, rested atop his defined brow bone, the dark hair thick where it formed a peak just above the corner of his now closed ethereal brown eyes. His lips were ever so slightly parted, slightly swollen from the fervent kisses the two of them had shared before bed. His stubble had grown out far more than it had in Valdelobos now that it was growing back healthier and stronger, and Luis allowed himself to be lazy and put off shaving for a few days longer. It hit Leon in waves just how handsome Luis really was, striking in a way that no one else had ever been. He tightened his hold around his lower waist as if Luis would notice, would pick up on the adoration Leon was giving his body. All of it, all of him, was perfect.
The lean arms wrapped around his own waist were the next subject of his affectionate stare. He traced the peaks of his flexed triceps with his gaze until he found himself staring at Luis’s hands, then turned his attention to his chest. Well defined pectoral muscles were lined with raised scars, pale in comparison to the warm tones of his skin. If not for their entanglement, Leon would have felt obligated to trace them with his fingertips to feel the difference in sensation. He knew Luis’s skin was soft and pliable, warm and comforting, but Leon longed to know more of the different parts of him. Smatterings of chest hair covered his tan skin and tapered below his belly button, forming a happy trail that Leon was all too familiar with. It was hard to ignore the thick patch of hair on his stomach when it was exposed by Luis’s careless actions, his shirt rucked up as the result of some grand gesture, completely unnecessary as always but fitting when paired with the incessant smirk painted across his face. Leon chuckled quietly, afraid to wake his partner— he deserved the rest, after all. He preferred it now that his cocky behavior was more of a quirk than a survival tactic of sorts, an outlet of expression that had long lost its air of desperation.
Blue eyes returned to the peaceful expression that adorned Luis’s face when his legs twitched in his sleep, still tangled in Leon’s but restless as usual. A small burst of guilt erupted in his chest as he remembered the scar etched in Luis’s upper back. Krauser had seen him as nothing other than collateral, a conflicted man with nothing to offer anyone, but Leon knew better. He had done so much good in such a small amount of time, as if he had given more than he could have possibly mustered up to the cause, and leaving him to die had never been an option. His shitty first aid skills left much to be desired, of course, but with a plentiful supply of herbs he had managed to treat Luis well enough to effectively clot the bleeding. Part of him wanted to shake the memory free from his head, to banish it from his mind for at least some small amount of time, but the other part of himself wanted to hold onto it, how hard Luis had fought to persevere and survive.
Scars were just one of the many things that the two of them shared. Matching pairs from top surgery and the parasite’s removal along with their own individual remnants from the past littered their bodies. After many long days, one would massage into the rough and irregular patches of skin etched into the other’s body, sighs of relief exhaled into the air at the tender kneading of deft fingers into sensitive areas. Luis was the best at this, without a doubt. His knowledge of the underlying musculature of the human body leant itself to a more fulfilling massage, much to Leon’s appreciation. The starburst shaped gunshot wound on his left shoulder would prickle, all pins and needles when thumbs pressed into it and the tension would drain away as if it was only an overused muscle plaguing him instead of chronic pain. A soft kiss would be issued to it at the end, plush lips against hot skin, causing a shudder each and every time.
Despite all of the appraisal Leon had carried out throughout the months they had spent together, though, something simple had evaded his sight this entire time. He stared intently at his earlobe, closer to his face as it had ever been, and realized with a start that those were piercings. Not fresh, or even well-maintained, but piercings nonetheless. No jewelry was inset there, assumedly due to the fact that the holes appeared to have completely healed over.
Leon blushed. Of course they would share something this mundane, too. He wondered if their experiences had been the same, if overzealous parents— well, not parents, he supposed, but perhaps his grandfather— had insisted on the piercings at a young age too, when the boys wouldn’t remember the pain later. He recalled the deep green bejeweled earrings packed into Luis’s jacket pocket and wrapped delicately into a clean handkerchief he had retrieved on the flight to D.C., along with the simple explanation that they had belonged to his mother. For all it was worth, Leon thought he would have looked beautiful wearing them. He adored distinctive colors on Luis, the way they brought out the richness of his eyes and accented his long dark hair.
He carefully lifted a hand from where it rested on Luis’s waist and brushed the hair away from his face, then felt for the holes in his ears. As he had suspected, they were no longer open, the result of years of non-use, as were his own. Luis grumbled when his palm traveled down from his earlobe and laid to rest at his cheek. Leon sighed, finally assured that every inch of him was committed to memory.
Maybe later he would ask about them, ask to hear more about the story behind them if Luis was willing to share more with him. For now, though, Leon repositioned his head against his pillow, closed his eyes, and waited for a dreamless sleep to overtake him.