Updated whenever I find something to my liking, this will be my collection of drabbles inspired by prompts pulled off of Imagine Your OTP tumblr. Ratings and pairings may vary, AU/canon are all equally likely to occur. :) Hope there will be something for everyone!

1. Imagine your OTP explaining their scars to each other (be they serious or silly).

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Out Loud: Of men and scars and tragedies that don't happen.

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Peter smooths a palm over Neal's thigh until the tip of his index finger rests on top of the healed scar of a bullet's entrance wound from a good four years ago. And there is still an anger that thrums on top of a rush of helplessness he has felt during those early days when Neal has ran to a place almost halfway around the world.

"Collins."

Neal looks decisive for a fraction of a second before he pulls his thin shirt over his head so he is kneeling on the bed with Peter in only his briefs. And it is finally another moment before Neal takes hold of Peter's hand and puts it to his chest, over the place where his heart beats as a reminder that Peter hasn't always been helpless, not when it comes to his ex-CI.

"Remember Striker's crossbow?"

Neal gives him a pointed look before he takes his finger and puts it to the center of his forehead.

"And Keller, and Adler and all those others."

Neal clasps Peter's hand in his and reminds him again, a little more firmly.

"Fowler." And the name brings back bad memories, Kate Moreau, and a bullet Neal nearly fires. "You stopped me when I would've killed him."

What Neal doesn't say is that Peter has blood of men, bad men but men nonetheless, on his hands for him. What Peter doesn't need to protest in reply, because Neal knows just as well, is that Peter would do it all over again to protect Neal from harm. In the same way that Neal will pull the trigger to save Peter from Keller or go undercover all over again, knowing the danger every time.

Neal drops Peter's hand back on his bare thigh, leans in with a smile before admitting. "This is nothing."

And it is a barely there graze of skin to skin when their lips meet, again and again, each time a little deeper than the last.

XXX Kuro