A/N: A couple of years ago I wrote a series of Max/Mariam kisses for Valentine's, and I wanted to do something like that again. I decided on several separate oneshots, centered on different ships, for Valentine's Day and the days after. There will be six in total, each based off of a different kiss cliché or trope. This is number two - Tala/Julia.

A Kiss on a Scar

Julia didn't comment on it at first.

Regardless of what her brother said on his poutiest days, she had some tact. She knew better than to ask questions when she had no right to the answers and, truthfully, the first few times she eased Tala's shirt off, any fleeting curiosity she experienced was driven away by the feeling of his skin against hers.

She might have never commented on it, content to let him broach that subject if and when he wanted to, if he hadn't inhaled sharply when her fingers brushed against a particularly nasty scar on his ribs. She made to pull her hand away at the same instant Tala grabbed her wrist. Judging by the look on his face, it was pure reflex.

"Are you all right?" Julia propped herself up on one elbow.

Tala nodded. His brow furrowed and the moonlight slithering through a gap in the curtains caught a scar there.

Julia remembered seeing him after Tyson's showdown with Brooklyn, white as his bandages and trying to hide the fact that he was leaning on Mr. Dickenson for support when no one was looking. There'd been band-aids on his face then, covering smaller cuts, probably from stadium debris. The bigger, nastier injuries were the ones he could hide.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked, before she could think better of it. He could say no if he wanted and she'd pretend nothing happened.

Tala rolled onto his back. For a split second, she thought he might keep going, roll out of bed, and leave her awkwardly waiting for an opportunity to get dressed and sneak out of the little apartment he shared with his teammates.

She was thankful when he stayed still, tucked his hands under his head, and stared pensively up at the ceiling. The sheets were at his waist, leaving his long, elegant torso – and every mark on it – free for her perusal. For someone in such a relaxed position, he seemed awfully tense under her gaze.

"I'm cold just looking at you," Julia snorted and shimmied closer, bringing his comforter with her. She cushioned her head on his bicep and draped her arm and the covers over his chest.

Tala let out a breath. After a beat, he dislodged the arm she wasn't resting on and placed his hand on top of hers in the center of his chest.

Warm and sleepy and safe in the afterglow, Julia was falling asleep to the rhythm of his breathing. She'd almost forgotten entirely about her question when he surprised her by answering it.

"That one…" he trailed off hesitantly.

Julia's eyes snapped open. She couldn't see his face clearly in this position, but something told her he preferred it that way.

"That was to save my life. Apparently. Sometimes it twinges." He guided her hand over so she could touch it, and didn't flinch when she did so tentatively. It felt thick and deep and she briefly wondered what kind of injury warranted inflicting something like that to save a life. "They told me that's normal."

Giving into curiosity, Julia twisted around onto her stomach. One of Tala's thighs ended up lodged in between her own as she lay half on top of him, but there wasn't a ghost of a complaint on his face. There wasn't much of anything there, actually. Julia didn't think he'd ever fully kick the habit of masking his emotions, but as long as he let her, she'd continue to accept the chances he gave her to learn more.

And she fully intended to never give him a reason to regret trusting her.

Gently, she leaned in and brushed her lips against his scarred eyebrow. She felt some of his tension fade and kissed several other small scars across his cheeks. You couldn't see them unless you got up closer than he let most people, but once Julia knew they were there, she thought they gave his picture perfect face some character.

"Julia," he mumbled her name against her lips when she tried to kiss him.

"Is it hurting now?" She brushed her fingers over the ragged scar, nestled perfectly between two ribs. She couldn't think of any other reason he would stop her.

"No," he muttered and reached up to brush some hair out of her face.

He left his hand lingering on her cheek, and Julia took that opportunity to snag his wrist. He looked mildly confused, but didn't stop her as she flipped his hand over in hers and examined it.

There were several scars there, probably from attack rings and IVs and throwing punches and catching himself when he fell. There were more on his arms, some cuts from battles and, others, marks from needles or cigarettes. For every mark she saw, she knew there had to be half a dozen more that healed without leaving a physical trace.

It made her sad for him, thinking of the hundreds of haunting memories hiding in plain sight on his body, but she knew he wouldn't welcome her pity.

Julia gave her head a shake.

When she'd kissed the scars on his face, her goal had been to relax him. This time, as she started at his fingertips and kissed every scar she could see, she didn't have one fixed agenda. She moved slowly and methodically, cataloging each one with her lips and appreciating them for what they were, proof he'd survived all his worst days.

When she finished with his hand, she worked her way up his arm, then repeated the process on the other side.

Tala lay supine beneath her the whole time. She didn't flick her eyes back up to his until she finished. She found him unreadable again.

"Is this okay?"

"I didn't ask you to stop."

It was a simple, matter-of-fact statement.

"Okay," Julia answered, and sought out the scars on his chest.

As her lips danced over his skin, counting scars from miscellaneous injuries over the years, she could tell he was forcing himself to breathe deep and even. She didn't think it was a totally physical thing, though that might have played into it.

Tala wasn't used to letting people other than his teammates see him vulnerable. Somewhere between his desperate attempt to bring down BEGA and the organization's defeat, he'd opened up enough to strike up a conversation with her during their next tournament together. She'd bet money that neither one of them predicted it would lead to a relationship like this; one where they could learn to love the ugliest parts of one another, inside and out.

It fed Julia's ego almost as much as it touched her heart that he chose to let her in. She was a romantic, but she was also a realist; she hadn't been banking on it being like this.

When she got to the scar on his ribs, his stomach tensed.

"Tala?"

Her breath ghosted over his skin and gave him goosebumps.

"You're fine," he answered and anchored one of his hands in the back of her hair.

Julia wondered if anyone else had ever paid this much attention to his scars before. She imagined the Blitzkrieg Boys sitting in silence and going to great lengths not to mention their injuries, but she didn't know any of them as intimately as she knew Tala. She felt like there would always be a wall there, keeping her from knowing what truly went on when they were all alone together. She was okay with that – everyone had their people.

"It's uglier up close." Tala's voice was lined with a barely-there apology.

Julia shook her head and said, "It's not. Sorry – got lost in thought."

Before he had the chance to change his mind, Julia pressed a string of kisses along the scar. She followed it along the line of his ribs, until it curled around and she couldn't reach. Then she followed it back and languidly kissed her way up the center of his chest. When she reached his clavicle, she gave it a playful nip to lighten the mood.

Tala snorted and tugged on her hair.

She took the hint and surged upward to give him one last quick kiss on the lips.

"Are you done?" Tala asked, a sarcastic amusement she'd grown pretty fond of twinkling in his eyes.

He flipped both of them over before she could answer. It was actually hard to think of a witty comeback when he was suddenly looming over her, all long, lean muscle and intensity.

"Why?"

"Because it's my turn."

Julia thought it would be a real short tour; as far as scars went, she had a few on her hands from her beyblade, one on her knee from a fall at the circus, and the tiny incisions they'd taken her appendix out through when she was small. Nothing gruesome or with a story behind it.

When she said as much to Tala, he had the audacity to chuckle.

"I didn't mean your scars."

Julia's confusion had to show on her face, because Tala pointedly trailed a finger over the crest of her hip and down her thigh. He did it several times, following the same nonsensical pattern, before she remembered her tattoo and the conversation they'd had by the pool the first time he saw it.

"Oh." He meant her stretchmarks. She'd covered some of them with roses, but there were others on her thighs, butt, and boobs that made her scowl every time she looked in the mirror. Cons of growing into her body fast. "You'll be at it for hours," she joked, even as butterflies fluttered in her belly.

Tala arched one eyebrow and replied, "I can think of worse ways to spend a day."

Julia knew he could.

As Tala dipped his head and pressed the first of many kisses into her skin, Julia hoped they'd both remember this the next time they caught sight of their imperfections.

A/N: Julia's tattoo and the talk about it are referencing Chapter 11 of Just A Moment. Sometimes I just can't help weaving fics together a little bit.

When I was thinking of kissing tropes, kissing scars was one of the first I thought of. Strangely enough, I didn't find it on TV Tropes, but maybe it's more of a fanfic trope than anything else lol That being said, I'm not sure how I feel about my execution. I'm still learning these two, I think.

In any case, thanks for reading! :)