29. scars

It wasn't like the years had left them unscarred and unscathed. They had fought for their lives countless times, fallen to the ground groaning and crying aloud more times than he cared to recall. Their suits only gave off sparks but when spandex and gear all faded away, there were always cuts and bruises to tend to. But that had been years ago - long enough to feel like a lifetime had passed, but not quite. Probably it was just all the things they had missed while being Rangers catching up to them at once.

Now their scars had almost faded, leaving only memories. Some less fun to remember, but some still enough to bring a smile. Every so often, Blake would wake one morning with Tori's lips at his throat, pressing a soft kiss to the faded line there. "Choobo's staff," he'd murmur and she'd smile against his skin before pausing at his shoulder. Blake would struggle against the vestiges of sleep and the cobwebs fogging his memories. "Motodrone," he'd say quietly, once they had cleared. "Before." Before meant Perry - good ole' rocket scientist safe Perry. The lips would continue their journey, pausing for a moment at his elbow, long enough for Blake to smile sheepishly and mutter, "A bush," before moving on.

Tori would always do the same thing when she reached his hands. She'd press a kiss to each tiny scar along his fingers before finally placing a kiss in each palm. He'd smile and try to draw her up into a real kiss but she'd always refuse - not until she was done.

It would continue - a gash across one collarbone, the result of a bad fall from his bike. A thin, long, almost invisible mark that curved across the width of his back all the way to curl around his hip - Tori never failed to trace it with silent fingertips. She knew them, all of his scars, all by heart - but this one was special. She'd name this one herself. "Ratwell," she'd whisper against his skin. "When you were under the spell and protecting me." Blake always tried to end the exercise here, but Tori would ignore him studiously and move to his stomach with a determination and stubbornness that he knew he could never match.

"Hunter," he'd say dryly as she moved on, not managing in the slightest to stay mad at her for ignoring him, "and an incident with a wheelbarrow and a soda can." Tori would always giggle against the short half moon of a scar, and thankfully she never asked.

"Lothor," was a sharp, nasty looking one at the base of his back and "Training with Leanne and Sensei," was the short slice of a scar that nicked his shin.

The last one was his favorite, an almost completely faded scrape - several straight lines right beside one another, across his ankle. "You," he'd crow gleefully as Tori rolled her eyes and laughed. "Making me learn to surf." Tori would wrinkle her nose and smile and say the same thing every time, even as Blake would haul her up to lay beside him.

"If you could call whatever you did surfing," she'd say teasingly and Blake would hold her close and finally - finally! - get his kiss.