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“This one?”
“Ah,” Hunter cringes at the memory – not one of his finest moments – and knows Crosshair is going to give him shit for it. “Bar fight on Ord Mantell. Guy got a lucky hit.”
Crosshair looks every bit as unimpressed as Hunter expected. “It looks like you got stabbed,” he points out in a dry tone.
“It was a lucky hit with a knife,” Hunter concedes. Crosshair’s expression morphs into one of frustration, the same one he used to give Hunter when he was yelling at him for something reckless the sniper had to watch him do through his scope in the field. Hunter didn’t realize how much he missed that, or the familiar eye roll that Crosshair gives him next.
But then the exasperation melts away into an impossibly soft smile and Crosshair does something Hunter isn’t expecting – he leans down to press a kiss to the scar just under Hunter’s ribs. Hunter’s breath catches at the easy affection.
There were days when it felt like too much to hope that Crosshair would find his way back to the squad after the war ended. To have him here now, in Hunter’s bunk again, feels like a dream he might wake up from any second.
They shooed Wrecker and Omega off to help Echo so they could steal an afternoon of privacy together on the Marauder. They’re expected to join the others for dinner later, but there are hours yet to go. Hunter’s pretty sure they can manage at least two more rounds before then.
There’s no rush though. In the meantime, they have a different sort of catching up to do.
Crosshair stretches lazily before pillowing his head against Hunter’s bare chest. His eyes fall shut as Hunter trails his fingertips down Crosshair’s arm to rest featherlight on a silvery scar that cuts across his forearm. “What happened here?”
“Weapons factory on Diorda. Commando droid broke my vambrace. Hurt like a bitch.”
Casual irritation creeps into Crosshair’s voice at the memory, but his face remains peaceful and calm, as though getting his arm sliced open by his own broken armor was nothing more than a mild inconvenience. Hunter almost smiles. So much has changed but at least that is still the same.
“Does it still?”
“No.”
Hunter’s fingers continue down Crosshair’s arm until he finds the back of the sniper’s hand. Absently, he begins to trace lazy patterns across Crosshair’s skin, reveling in the opportunity to touch him again and marveling at the way Crosshair allows it.
Crosshair used to shy away from these soft touches most of the time. He could be coaxed into accepting them, but it was never this easy. Hunter wonders if this is temporary, a void he needs to fill after being alone for so long, or if this side of Crosshair might be one he gets to see more often. He wants to hope for the latter but this much already feels like a greater privilege than he deserves.
Crosshair flips his palm over to lace his fingers through Hunter’s and drags both their hands up to cover the scar in the center of Hunter’s chest.
“How did you get yourself shot?” he asks, not bothering to open his eyes.
Hunter manages not flinch at the question he knew was coming. The scar on his chest is very obviously from a blaster. Both their bodies are littered with similar marks, despite the katarn plates they used to wear. Crosshair picked up a couple new ones in their time apart – one on his shin and a superficial graze on his shoulder – but this is the only one of Hunter’s.
So far, they’ve avoided asking about the scars that clearly carry the most significant stories – Hunter has a pretty good idea where Crosshair got the burn on his temple and he knows without asking that the scars dotting his chest are from Tantiss, as are the smaller ones over the veins in the crook of his elbow – but even they can’t avoid the questions forever.
“Bounty hunter,” Hunter says, honestly but not completely. It’s not Bane he thinks of when he sees the scar; it’s losing Omega and Crosshair trying to kill them.
Crosshair must hear the hedge in Hunter’s tone. He opens his eyes to study Hunter in that way that always made Hunter feel like all his secrets were painted across his face as plain as his tattoo.
“How did a bounty hunter get the drop on you?” Crosshair asks. “Where were the others?”
“Got separated,” Hunter says noncommittally.
“What, were you running from something?” Crosshair narrows his eyes when Hunter doesn’t respond to that. It’s as good as confirmation. “What were you running from?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Hunter tries.
The quiet peace between them evaporates. Crosshair sits up and fixes him with a glare. “Hunter.”
Hunter sighs in defeat and sits up too. Even if he refuses to answer, Crosshair will just get it out of one of the others. He forces himself to meet Crosshair’s eye and says simply, “You.”
The heat in Crosshair’s eyes vanishes as he sits back to consider that, his face an unreadable mask.
“Bracca,” he says after a moment. It’s not a question but Hunter nods anyway, his eyes flicking involuntarily toward the burn marring the side of Crosshair’s head. Crosshair tracks it. “Yeah,” he mutters, answering Hunter’s unasked question.
So neither of them left Bracca unscathed.
“Is that also when –”
“Yes.”
Hunter swallows hard, not sure how to feel about that. It’s sort of nice to know that Crosshair didn’t try to roast them all in an engine of his own volition. But a lot of shit happened after Bracca that Hunter wishes he could blame on the chip.
He still can’t quite wrap his head around the fact that the man who did those things is the same one he’s loved since they were kids. In a way, having him back now just makes that harder to reconcile.
He could almost make himself believe Crosshair had simply changed. But now that he’s back, Hunter knows that’s not true. This is the same Crosshair he’s always known – a little broken after what he’s endured, maybe, but fundamentally the same.
“This was a mistake,” Crosshair mutters, eyes darting around for an escape route.
Acting on instinct, Hunter grabs his wrist before Crosshair can move to get out of the bunk. Crosshair glares at him but doesn’t pull his arm free.
“Cross –”
“How can you be okay with what I’ve done?” Crosshair hisses.
Hunter doesn’t have an answer for that. The truth is that he’s not but he’s missed Crosshair too much to let that stop him.
“Could ask you the same,” he says instead. “Not like I’m some kind of saint.”
He never was but since the war ended, his sins have been stacking up. After losing Tech and half a year searching for Omega, they probably rival Crosshair’s by now. Lines he never thought he would cross have blurred or been erased entirely. Maybe it shouldn’t surprise him that Crosshair could do the same.
Crosshair scoffs and looks away but he still doesn’t pull his wrist free from Hunter’s loose grip. Hunter takes the opening and slides his hand around to thread their fingers together.
“I haven’t told you everything,” Crosshair admits quietly.
“So tell me,” Hunter says, already knowing that nothing Crosshair could say would make a bit of difference to him. “We have a few hours till dinner. I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours,” he adds, aiming for something a little teasing despite the heaviness in the room.
It works. Crosshair huffs half a laugh.
“Might take a little longer than that,” Crosshair says.
“We’ve got time.”
Crosshair appears to consider that for a moment. Hunter squeezes his hand in gentle reassurance and the hesitation in Crosshair’s features falls away. He gives Hunter a tiny, almost imperceptible nod of agreement.
Then, a suggestive smirk spreads across his face. “And if I can think of something I’d rather be doing until dinner?”
Hunter grins and tugs the sniper back down to the bed. Crosshair goes willingly, settling himself over Hunter and leaning in.
Hunter stops him with a hand to his chest. There’s still something he needs to say.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Hunter promises, bringing his hand up to cup Crosshair’s jaw, his thumb stroking lightly over the lowest point of his tattoo. “You get that, right?”
Crosshair’s expression softens. “Starting to,” he answers.
“Good.”
“Can I kiss you now or are you going to keep talking?”
Hunter laughs at Crosshair’s deadpan impatience and leans up to close the distance between them.
When he feels Crosshair smile against his lips, he knows everything will be alright.