A/N A short one this time, because I wrote it in a hurry and I'm exhausted. Excuse the shoddiness.
marble hands, marble toes
Chapter Three
For all the days he's spent watching over his boy, he's never managed to get so close. He's never managed to get close enough to count the smaller crinkles near his eyes that somehow make him look more youthful. He's never been close enough to see the way every lock of hair shifts and fades into shades of brown he didn't even know were possible. He's never got close enough to trace a finger over the little moles on his face, to connect them and make shapes. He's never been close enough to breathe in every breath his boy breathes out.
He's close enough to press his lips to Sam's.
His boy looks tired, dark circles under his eyes and a furrow in his brow that makes him look old and worn. He lies down next to him, moving slowly, like Sam's asleep and the barest of movements will wake him up. He runs a finger along his throat, over the soft-stubble curve under his jaw, the hollow of his collarbones, the cords of his shoulders, the fluttering pulse at his neck.
He puts his thumb on the inside of his shoulder again, where there's muscle and soft soft skin connecting his neck to his shoulders. He pressed down too hard, before, when he knocked Sam out. There's a bruise forming. It'll be a small one, but still. He places a kiss there in apology. He doesn't want to hurt his boy.
"You just got me so excited, Sammy." he says softly, like it's the middle of the night and he's whispering confessions to the stars. "I've waited so long to have you. Couldn't let you get away, not now."
Sam's breath hitches, and he holds his own, watching Sam's eyelashes flutter for a second before settling down again. He tucks the blanket back where it came out from under him. He smooths out the creases on the top sheet and eases a wave of Sam's hair behind his ear.
"Sleep tight, Sammy."
000
He remembers being nine and watching a family move in across the street from him. Remembers watching them carry their cardboard boxes full of old memories into a house that promised them new ones. He remembers watching the kids run around on the front lawn, playing cops and robbers with a plastic gun and a sheriff's hat.
He remembers being twelve and watching the police rolling the neighbour kids' dad out on a stretcher in a big black bag. Remembers seeing the kids hiding behind their mom, tugging on her skirt while she cried. He remembers peeking out from behind the window curtain and thinking that the red and blue lights were beautiful.
He remembers being sixteen and carrying a knife in his pocket because the old neighbour kids followed him home every day even though they moved away four years ago. Remembers thinking of the gleam in their eyes, watching every shadow and wondering if he'd really be able to use the knife on anyone. He remembers breaking out into a run when he's a block away from his house, locking the door behind him, and crying in the bathtub.
He remembers being twenty and drunk and alone in his dorm room, throwing darts at the board and never missing once. Remembers ignoring his father's calls, letting them ring out to voicemail and listening to them at dawn when everything was soft and fresh, and the quiet concern wasn't hard to hear. He remembers sitting in his criminology class and thinking of the gun he had hidden under his bed.
He remembers being twenty four and seeing his boy in a park and deciding that there were things that hurt more than the razor in his shower. Remembers seeing the dimples on his boy and wondering if he could carve that kind of happiness into his own face. He remembers seeing Sam and watching Sam and looking out for Sam and wanting to keep Sam safe and wanting to keep Sam for being Sam and just Sam and Sam and Sam and Sam.
A/N Let me know what you thought in a review! :3
