Sol has an interesting face. Years of wear and tear has left his expression ragged and worn, his eyes sunken in a bit, dark bags forming heavily under them. His nose is crooked, the lower half of it leaning further towards the left than the center, probably broken at some point from all the fights he had been in; it's endearing though, possibly even attractive in its own way. Scruffy would be a polite way to describe the stubble on his chin from several days of not shaving - small nicks and grooves make a braille map over his tough skin. Every single piece of his face is unique in its own way, tells a story in another, and speaks volumes to Sol's character. Brown eyes flicker open - a telling warmth to their stare, and an even louder concern.

"Why. Are you staring at me."

His voice is gruff, scratchy and hoarse. Everything about Sol simply oozes masculinity and roughness, though his eyes are a warm chocolate, inviting and kind, showing through his true nature of selective sympathy. Just that alone is enough to make my heart's pace speed up, a bit of happiness and excitement spilling into my veins.

"I, well, I was just, making sure you were breathing - ha, had me scared for a moment!" I'm obviously lying, but he just grumpily sits up, cracking his neck with a sickening sound. Trailing behind him is the long section of hair he usually keeps up in a ponytail, by now it practically goes down to his rear -not like I was examining that. Even after a solid 9 hours of sleeping, his unruly mane is still fashionably intact, somehow or another.

I'm perched next to him, knees pulled up to my chest, hands eagerly gripped to the side of the mattress. Even though it's gotten to be a bit late in the day, bright sunlight still pours into the room, covering everything it touches in a warm, invisible blanket.

"Whatever, kid." Stretching out his arms, more gross popping ensues, and I can only cringe a bit in response.

Ever since I was little, I'd never been too fond of the sound of popping joints, cracking bones. All of it seemed to be somewhat, well, disgusting. Though that could have just been that I hadn't yet understood what any of that meant. I had grown up so much in such a short amount of time, it was hard for Sol to keep up with teaching me, especially with being a mercenary and having to hunt our own food.

After a few moments he stood up. From here I could see that he was only wearing his regular, white pants, and one of the belts around his left leg -the rest must have fallen off in his sleep, or he was simply too lazy to remove all of them before passing out. It's always been a wonder to be how he can bother with so many belts, but I've never openly questioned him about it, I'm sure he'd get pissed off and tell me that I have better things to be worrying about. That's how he always is, after all.

He stops, looking down on me for a moment.

"What's up with you today, you've been acting weird." It's not a question so much as it is a statement, even an accusation. I attempt to shrug it off, playing like it's nothing, but he grabs me by the shoulder, maroon eyes staring into mine with an intensity I can't hardly withstand.

"I-I guess, I-" Words stutter out of my mouth like I'm an infant again, and it's hard for me to take in what's happening. "I was just, lonely, I guess." My voice trails off, defeated, even borderline ashamed and humiliated. It's never been a part of Sol and mine's dynamic to really care about each other's emotions -well, maybe not for him. I for one have always tried to keep Sol in a positive state of mind, though after some time I've found he only has two moods: neutral and angry.

"You're a handful y'know that." Releasing my shoulder, he sits back on the bed, back against the headboard, legs tucked up a bit, relaxed. "C'mere."

"You mean, I can…?" I don't finish my question, and he doesn't answer, simply gives me a look that says 'if you don't do this right fucking now I'm leaving and you're not getting this chance ever again.' I don't take my time curling up on his chest, head resting against his rock-hard pecs, and while it's a bit uncomfortable and ever strange at first, I relax easily.

With a bit of hesitation, I wrap my arms around his waist, and he drapes his lazily over my shoulders. In this moment, the world seems to stop, everything falls into a comfortable silence, and I can't help but sighing a bit.

"Sol, thank you." It's only a whisper, and I can feel him almost physically freeze, internally flinching from my words.

"I think that's the first time you've called me anything other than 'old man' since you were a kid." For a moment I nearly chuckle, taking a moment to realize that's the most words he's said to me at a single time in a very, very long while. And even being as kind as the words are is even a shock.

I don't open my eyes at all, but I can feel on his back a map of braille made from scratches, scars, and blisters. Everywhere on his skin is a story of all of his endeavors, the struggles of his life, and the life he'd brought me into. It's in moments like these that I truly become sentimental, wanting to tell him how much he means to me, to my Dad and to Mom. Sol is such an important figure to me, and I can't help but want to hold him close, and tell him every kind word he deserves - even if he is a rude, stubborn, piece of shit.

"Hey, now…" Quiet, his voice barely registers in my over-emotional brain. It's only now that I realize I've started crying. Part of him seems irritated from this display, but I don't care. If he can handle Justice, he can handle a crying, sentimental kid.

"I'm not the best guardian, I know that. But, Ky told me to take care of you." He wraps me up tighter into his arms, almost to the point of crushing me a bit. "So I'm gonna do the best I can."

It was the closest I would ever get to Sol telling me with actual words "I love you", though him shoving his face into my hair and wrapping me tight in his arms was enough of a physical telling. He was always an easy read.

(x)

There wasn't anything of Sol/Sin so I had to fix it. It is my otp after all w