This is a drabble based on the song Trade Mistakes by Panic at the Disco. I love the line "gracing your skin with the side of my hand", so that's basically what I built this around. (Also, this will be my SIXTH story, rendering me eligible to sign up to be a beta reader! :D) Enjoy, s'il vous plait! 3
Fang graces Max's face with the side of his hand. She's close to sleep; she had a long day working with foster kids. Fifteen years and two kiddos later, touching her still sends thrills through his body. She loves you, they say, and not just like a best friend.
She murmurs his name. She smiles, nudges her face into his calloused palm, presses her lips to the pulse at his wrist. The spot tingles pleasantly.
He counts the scars on her face. Each one is a reminder of their past life. Any other guy might think they marred her features, somehow made her less than perfect. But Fang knows that the scars display her strength. They prove that she's been through battles and won. He finds that incredibly sexy.
Max's strength and independence are some of her best qualities, but Fang can't help but sometimes think that she shouldn't have as many scars as she does. He should have had her back more. He should have protected her better. On moonless nights, he replays old fights in his head, trying to figure out where he could have blocked her from an Eraser. He wonders where he could have thrown himself into the way of injury, so she wouldn't have to feel the pain. The mistakes he had made were sheep he counted, wishing for sleep.
Max's eyelids flutter. Her beautiful brown eyes find his dark ones. Her whole face lights up with a contented smile and Fang mirrors the expression. When she smiles like this, Fang feels like maybe he didn't fuck up quite so much as he thought he did. He draws her close. She buries her face in the spot where his wiry arm meets his well-defined chest, breathing in his scent.
They settle comfortably together. Max succumbs to slumber at once. She knows she's safe with Fang. Fang thinks he might not sleep tonight; he might just lie awake and enjoy feeling Max next to him. Her love is practically burning brightly enough to keep him awake anyway.
Tonight, there are no sheep. There are no ghosts of imagined mistakes. There is only trust and protection and above all, love.
Fang decides he wouldn't trade his mistakes for better circumstances. After all, Max seems to love him. And ultimately that is all that matters. Love.