One Wingled Shinigami asked for Zack/Aerith and 17 from a kissing prompt list on tumblr.
The problem with working in SOLDIER is all the injuries. Mako and materia are amazing, they've saved Zack's life more times than he can remember, but they aren't perfect. Sometimes they don't heal him back together quite right, sometimes they aren't fast enough. He's scarred in some places, skin twisted oddly in others, though his uniform thankfully covers the worst of the disfiguration.
It never bothered him—ladies love the scars, so obviously they're cool—except.
Except.
He never thought about how much it would hurt to see the sorrow in Aerith's eyes whenever he shows up at the church bearing the evidence of a new injury.
Today is no different: before the heavy doors have finished swinging shut, she's gliding down the aisle to meet him, as beautiful as the day he woke up to find her hovering over him. His smile is perhaps weaker than normal, if no less genuine, though makes his heart ache to see the way her steps falter, just for a moment, when she catches gets a good look at him.
There's a wide red line ringing the outer half of his upper arm, what remains of a recently healed injury carved into his flesh. It was an awful wound when he got it, a savage slice down to the bone, made all the more horrifying because it was caused by an out-of-position Third, not the griffon they were fighting.
It hurt like he'd had his arm ripped clean off, has ached with the imprinted memory of pain since they'd managed to collectively heal it, and although he can't quite keep himself from flinching when Aerith reaches for his arm, her hands are cool and soothing against the inflamed skin, a balm rather than an irritant.
"Zack, what happened?" she murmurs, fingers tracing the fresh, angry scar.
What happened isn't something he wants to talk about, not with her; she doesn't need to hear the violent details, so he shifts to wrap his arms around her. "Just training and stuff, these things happen. I'm totally fine, don't worry about me."
She doesn't look convinced, fingers still curled around his arm just beneath the new divot in the muscles. "You look tired."
He is, very—healing severe wounds takes a lot out of a guy, but he didn't come here to put a sad expression on her face, so he lifts a hand to rest it lightly on her cheek. "And you look even more beautiful than last time I saw you."
The way she blushes makes him smile, but it's the doubt lingering in her wide green eyes, darkening them, that makes him lean down to kiss her, trying to chase the shadows away.
"Zack..." But her protest is weak, almost as soft as her lips, and she doesn't resist when he presses closer to her, gathering her up in his arms, so very careful not to hurt her with his enhanced strength as he peppers kisses over her skin until she can't help but smile, which makes him smile back.
"Honestly, it's okay. I'm fine, the Mako's taking care of it. How's your day gone, what've you done?"
She gives him a too-knowing look but allows the topic switch all the same, leading him toward the bed of flowers nestled in the heart of the church, and as she begins to talk about her flowers and the people she encountered when she went shopping this morning, he relaxes, finally feeling like he's truly safe and at peace. He barely even notices his stinging arm, not when he has her to focus on, even more lovely than her flowers and better at making him whole again than all the Mako and materia in the world.