No one suggested anything so...more Death x Spirit. A little weird, and more on my take of what Death would look like without his cloak and mask on. As always...PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW! The song mentioned is Burning House by Cam.
I do not own Soul Eater in any way.
Warm hands slid over dark, painful bruises, contrasting against otherwise pale skin. Fingers traced over the thick ink lines of the familiar angel wing tattoo, half covered by an ugly, fading bruise that vaguely resembled a fist, maybe a hand that shoved him too hard. His wandering hands paused at a slim waist, and Death turned to give his unusually quiet lover a questioning look. Spirit could only smile down at him, down at those searching golden eyes, and swallow down his concern...
He bruises so easily.
Spirit hums as he rests his chin on Death's shoulder, listening to the opening notes of a song - Death had pulled out his music player to fill the uncomfortable silence. The silence neither wanted to break.
I had a dream about a burning house
You were stuck inside I couldn't get you out
I laid beside you and pulled you close
And the two of us went up in smoke
Death tuned out the music, instead focusing on the steady sound of Spirit's heart beating soundly in his chest. The sound was more comforting than he'd admit. He figured, if anything could say "I love you" more than actual words, it was the synching of two heart beats when alone together. His breath slowed to match the other man's pattern, and he felt more than saw the redhead's smile.
The front door opening and the sound of voices broke the moment. Death slowly stood as he heard Kid's voice calling out for him, and he sighed and turned, frigid fingers tangling in blood red hair. He dipped down, Spirit leaned up, their lips met half way, and the God couldn't help but chuckle as warm fingers skittered over his sides, as if attempting to pull him back into his weapon's warm embrace. He was tempted, but he could hear the agitation in his son's voice, and with one last, nearly desperate, loving kiss; he grabbed his shirt and started down the stairs, the music turning off a moment later to leave Spirit in silence, simply thinking.
About dark bruises on pale skin, about angel wing tattoos, about pale pink lips and messy black hair, about cold hands and teasing eyes. He still couldn't get it out of head...
He bruises so easily.