Title: Year 2511 IX

Prompt: (17:00/5PM) "Insight to the self; communicating with spiritual guides."

Scars were a hard thing to go unnoticed when you started sleeping with someone. Their bodies exposed to naked eye and open to visual and physical study, Gabe's scars came in all shapes and sizes. Some faded with time and others remained more permanent fixtures on his body, oddly colored raised skin, a reminder of things past. Lexine's were minimal, but no less prominent, something he rarely noticed unless she forgot to pull the sheet over herself. Lexine's tendency to romanticize the unknown made them a point of interest the first time she saw his.

"What happened there?" Her fingers brushed the lower part of his back on the right side, trailing the rough edges of his keloid. Gabe questioned her proximity, but remained undaunted by her curiosity as he tried to cast a look over his shoulder. The hairs standing up on his back let him know where exactly she was staring.

Unconsciously he pulled his boxers briefs up above the edge of his hip bone, only partially obscuring the old scar that was wide in the middle and became smaller the closer it was to his abdomen, rising just above and old slug. "Nothing exciting," He remarked casually. "I got this covering for Williams on Hornet. I was playing sniper when one of the insurgents came up from behind and took a slice at by back. I couldn't feel a thing down there for weeks and had to lie on my stomach. This one-" he raised his right leg to reveal a diagonal scar that was barely noticeable in comparison with the rest them on his skin.

"-I got from seeker rifle; that's when I was Scorpio 6 with Nate. Most of the other ones you see- on my back-" He made a wild gesture with his arm when he attempted to reach behind him. "-Are shrapnel related. Then there's that one from Eckhardt." It was easy to mistake his nonchalance for dismissive behavior; had she not spent so much time in his company, she would've asked if they still bothered him. He kept the conversation up by deflecting the question onto her. "What about you, you've got any scars?"

Lexine stood flustered for a moment, unsure how to approach the question with a proper answer. "Well, uh, there's this-" She bent her arm so that the front was facing him. "I got this climbing into in an Atlas when I was sixteen." Gabe squinted. "What? This?" He tapped her elbow. She double checked her arm, and then pointed to the crescent mark on her arm. Gabe continued to squint at the scar. He scoffed. "Looks like dirt," He said finally.

She balked. "Dirt?!" Lexine rubbed her arm for extra measure, self-consciously double checking her own memory in the process. The scar remained and though she looked triumphant in her confirmation, Gabe maintained the playful look of skepticism. "Got anything else?" He asked. Lexine turned, tapping her shoulders. Across the tops he could see tiny marks or impressions that hadn't quiet healed properly.

"When did this happen?" He inquired, pressing one thumb against her skin. It looked as though a group of overeager puppies bit her. Lexine rolled her shoulders, swallowing nervously. "In the sewers, when we were on the ship and those things jumped on me," She answered.

Shit, really? He made a noncommittal noise, still looking at the scarring patterns. He'd been jumped on by those fleshy creatures before. Their bite was worse than anything he could think of in recent memory; the best comparison he ever came up with was pins and needles multiplied by a thousand. He complained for hours on end afterward, often eliciting exasperated responses from McNeill whilst down in the sewer system. The fact that Lexine sustained them and never complained impressed him. "Yeah, but, I'm alright now," Lexine turned to face him. "Dr. Howell patched me up while I was with her…" She shook her head.

"The doc was good people," It was all he could really say.

"She really was. I wish we could've saved her," Lexine mumbled.

"Try not to dwell on it," Gabe told her. "We should get dressed. There's no telling who might come in uninvited."

Lexine's mood shifted. She raised a skeptical eyebrow. "In our apartment, Gabe?" At his sheepish shrug she grabbed him by the waistband of his briefs, enticing him to move closer. "The door's locked, who's going try to interrupt us?"

"Gibson?" He volleyed a lame guess. Lexine shook her head and he tried to steady his breath when her thumb grazed his navel. She let them go, smiling when he allowed himself to exhale at the snap of his band against his skin. "You see? Nothing happened," Lexine said. "No interruptions at all."

"You're right, what was I thinking?" He wrapped one arm around Lexine and leaned forward. There were advantages to being just few inches taller than your significant other. Though he initiated it, Lexine's lips captured his in hungry kiss. Her arms wrap around his neck and he hoisted her off the ground, allowing her legs to wrap around his waist.

Stumbling toward the bed Gabe managed to set himself on the edge. He used one arm to try and pull hisself further up on the mattress while the other remained on center of Lexine's back. Difficult, considering the sheets constantly moved under him, halting movement. Lexine extended her legs and used her heels to help him, the best she did was agitate him. He moaned against her lips when she leaned forward against him, his arm slipped out from under him and he fell back on the bed. "Tired already?" Lexine chuckled, rocking back.

"Nah, just lost my balance," Gabe huffed, repositioning his hands on her waist. Lexine's fingers moved across his down his chest, she watched him close his eyes and mumble something to hisself. Moving so that she was positioned right above him, Lexine kissed him and they resumed their extracurricular activities. When all was said and done, Lexine was content to rest on top of him, one hand intertwined with his while the other was tucked between their stomachs.

Gabe was already fast asleep despite his promises to remain awake until at least 5PM - the inability to do "nothing" even on a Saturday compelling him to fight the lazybones in him -, his steady breathing lulling her into the arms of slumber.