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mochiwrites · 8 months

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“Scar?”

Grian pokes his head around their tower, squinting against the desert sun poking in through the windows. The recently turned red name is nowhere to be found, much to Grian’s confusion.

Things have been quiet since they returned to the desert after taking a few stops around the server. Grian had dropped off some things in a chest, stopping at the lilacs and poppies on his person. The flowers were carefully deposited in a pot before Grian moved to crafting up some more TNT.

Ever since getting back, Scar had been out of sight, and suspiciously quiet.

Grian had only lasted about thirty minutes of TNT crafting before getting up and going to search for his partner.

Which leads him to his current search, walking around the tower to find the red name.

“Scaaar?” he calls out to him, brows furrowing. He checks the main room of the tower before the smaller rooms and upstairs. Still, nothing. It leaves Grian confused and very bewildered. “Where on earth could that mad man be?” he questions.

There’s a bump that comes from above him, and he looks up. Ah.

Grian heads over to the ladder, grabbing the rings and hauling himself up until he reaches the very top of their tower and — Scar is right there, back facing him. Something in Grian relaxes at that, relief filling his lungs like it’s air.

“There you are, Scar. I was starting to wo—”

“Don’t take another step, G.” Scar’s voice comes out in a rush, cutting Grian off before he can move any closer to him.

Grian freezes where he is, words dying on his tongue as his wings snap close to his back. He stares at Scar, specifically at the back of his head, confused. “Okay?” he says. “Are you… alright, Scar?” There’s a crease between his brows forming, concern settling under his skin.

“Oh me? I’m just peachy! As good as can be, really!” Scar replies, but his voice is too grand, lilt just a bit too high pitched and forced and Grian knows he’s set his mask on.

(The thought of Scar wearing a mask when it’s just the two of them makes Grian’s chest twist.)

“You don’t have to worry about lil ol’ me, Grian. I’ll join you downstairs in a few minutes.” Scar waves him off, and Grian can imagine the way his lips curl into a placating smile. But that won’t work on Grian.

Instead, he takes a slow step forward. “Well when you disappear for an hour while being red it’s a bit concerning,” he replies. He takes another step, and as he closes the distance between himself and Scar, he sees the man stiffen.

“Just needed some fresh air! You know how it is, the air can all hot and stuffy down there!”

“It’s the desert, Scar.” Really, what did he expect?

Scar chuckles, but the sound rings hollow in Grian’s ears, flat. He doesn’t like it. “Right, right! Which is why fresh air is important! It’s not good for the lungs to be inhaling all those dust particles.”

The entire time Scar talks, he doesn’t look at Grian. Not once. He keeps his back to him, never glancing behind him or turning around to meet his eyes. Something that Grian knows is important to Scar when he’s talking to people. He always said managing eye contact and looking at people was a big component in striking deals with them. It’s how he reads them.

Perhaps Scar just doesn’t need to look at him, doesn’t need to read him.

Maybe he’d be more willing to believe that if he didn’t see the tension in Scar’s shoulders.

With a deepened frown, Grian reaches out to Scar, taking hold of his wrist. “Scar,” he says, causing the man to jump when they make contact. “What’s going on?”

Scar feels stiff under Grian’s touch. “What makes you think there’s anything wrong?”

“I’m not stupid,” he huffs, giving Scar’s wrist a soft squeeze, “you haven’t looked at me once.” Look at me, please, look at me.

The red name falls silent, stilling completely. He leaves his wrist in Grian’s grip, skin warm against his fingers. “You sure I can’t spin some fancy words and convince you I’m totally fine?” Scar eventually answers. “Because I am! Completely and totally fine.”

Grian doesn’t believe him. “You’re a bad liar, Scar.” He isn’t, not really. Scar is a master at weaving lies together, spinning the story the way he wants and pulling everyone along for the ride. But in moments like these, where it’s just the two of them, and Scar is trying to convince Grian of something he doesn’t believe, Grian doesn’t fall for it.

“Should’ve known it wouldn’t work on you,” Scar mutters, shaking his head. “You’re too good, G.”

“I’m just good at seeing through you,” Grian retorts. He squeezes Scar’s wrist again. “Now will you please just stop avoiding my quest—”

Scar cuts him off again, but this time it’s face him. His red eyes stare into Grian’s green ones, and Grian freezes where he stands. There’s a sad and solemn smile on Scar’s face, and when he speaks, his voice makes Grian ache, “I’m hideous, G.”

“What?” Grian breathes, staring at him with confusion. He’s still holding Scar’s wrist. “What are you on about?”

“Just look at me!” Scar exclaims, face twisting with conflict. “I’m all red now! And my skin is gray! I’m like a — a walking corpse!” His eyes drop to the ground as he hangs his head, and Grian can’t help but imagine an upset puppy. Maybe the comparison isn’t too far off. “I’m completely hideous, Grian. How can you even stand to look at me?” I didn’t want you to see me like this.

Grian stares at him, attempting to process what Scar has just told him and— no. This sort of look on Scar is all kinds of wrong. It just doesn’t suit him. It doesn’t belong on him. Grian certainly doesn’t like it. Not when… not when Scar is one of the most handsome men he’s ever met. Red or otherwise.

He swallows thickly, feeling his hands start to shake with slight nerves as he lets go of Scar’s wrist. “No. You’re not.” He speaks with finality, leaving no room for Scar to argue with him. “You are not hideous, Scar.”

Grian takes a breath.

And then he reaches out to cup his hands around Scar’s face. The man obviously startles at the sudden touch, wide red eyes lifting to meet Grian’s. His mouth is open in shock, a little ‘o’ forming. He stares, caught off guard.

“Far from it, actually. And you hardly look like a corpse, certainly not cold like one.” Grian stares at Scar as he says it. “I happen to quite enjoy the way you look, actually. Your eyes are—” he stops himself, trying to fight down his embarrassment. He already knows that Scar won’t let him live this down after he says it. He’s never going to hear the end of it. But he’s doing this for Scar. For Scar. “Your eyes are… pretty. I like the shade of red.”

Scar sucks in a short little breath, and Grian can feel his face start to warm. “You… think my eyes are pretty?” he asks, sounding a little breathless.

Embarrassed, Grian slowly nods.

There’s a matching blush that rises to Scar’s cheeks now, and his hands lift to take gentle hold of Grian’s wrists. His touch is soft, kind. He keeps Grian’s hands on his face, leaning into the touch.

“You aren’t afraid of me?” Scar quietly questions him, hesitant and fearful of the answer.

“Out of everyone Scar, I have the least reason to fear you,” Grian answers, lifting a brow. “You’re leading around a bee on a lead, for crying out loud! And you’re attached to a llama.”

“And an avian,” Scar mutters so quietly under his breath that Grian nearly misses it. “But I’m… I’m red now. You should be afraid of me.”

Grian shakes his head, trying to ignore how warm his face is. How Scar’s own face mirrors his. “I’m not. If anything I’m afraid for you.” Scar can die at any moment now and that’d be it. He’d be gone. Slipping right out of Grian’s grasp like grains of sand.

“Oh,” Scar says, and Grian thinks he could laugh. It isn’t often he renders Scar speechless.

He sees Scar relax then, watching the way he leans forward until their foreheads are pressed together. Grian doesn’t let go of his face, and Scar doesn’t let go of his wrists.

“You like my eyes,” Scar mumbles, something giddy in his voice as he speaks.

“Yeah,” Grian admits quietly. “There’s a bit about you I like.”

A wide smile splits Scar’s face, and he’s beaming at Grian, and Grian knows his words will come back to bite him. Scar likes teasing him with them, unfortunately.

“No take backs!” Scar exclaims, lifting his head up to grin at him, and Grian can’t help his amused little huff.

“No take backs,” he agrees, nodding. Scar is smiling at him like he’s hung the sun, and the attention makes Grian want to squirm. Instead, he fondly rolls his eyes and uses his grip on Scar’s face to pull him down. He brushes their lips together. “You’re not hideous,” he mumbles against them. “And if I ever hear you say that again I’ll beat you with my wing.”

Scar laughs quietly, nodding. “Aye aye, Captain Grian. Next time I’ll think about how pretty you think my eyes are instead,” he teases, but Grian gets the underlying message. Thank you.

“You better,” is all Grian says before catching Scar’s lips in a proper kiss. Scar is more than happy to lean into it, one of his hands slipping around Grian’s waist. “Red or not you’re still Scar,” Grian tells them when they pull apart for air.

Scar looks at him with wide, adoring and grateful eyes. Grian hardly gets a second to catch his breath before Scar’s lips are on his again.

#mochi writes #scarian #desert duo #trafficshipping #gf and I rewatched some of third life last night #and I HAD to do smth with scar’s ‘I’m hideous’ bit #how have we all collectively ignored that?????#we’ve done NOTHING with it #I had to fix that

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