Art of War

When Sonic looked at his battle scars, he saw the events that had created them. When Shadow looked at them, he saw what they had created.

TAGs: One shot, Writing Exercise, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000, Established Relationship, romance, fluff, character study, sort of, pillowtalk

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from the Sonic the Hedgehog franchise.

Shadow liked to trace his scars.

With hands, mouth, it didn't really seem to matter. Neither it seemed like it were any particular scars that held the agent's interest, the dark hands never really lingering on each for more than a few seconds, fingers gently swiping from the start to end of the elevated lines in his skin a couple of times and then moving to another to explore it in the same way.

Again and again.

It was something Sonic had noticed only recently, but he supposed Shadow might have been doing that since the start of their relationship; he had years of scars littering his body so there was no body part of his that didn't hold at least a couple—literally anywhere Shadow could place hands on him, there would be at least a single scar there resting under his palm.

Sonic didn't really know where this fascination of Shadow's about his scars had exactly came from, but he had his suspicions; Shadow himself didn't really scar thanks to his ultimate healing factor, so no matter how deep or jagged his wounds were, the agent's flesh and skin would eventually over time knit together so perfectly you just wouldn't be able to tell Shadow had a run-in with a couple of blade-wielding Eggbots just few weeks prior. It only made sense that the agent would be curious about exploring the phenomenon on somebody else's body—and he couldn't really get a better study-subject than his own partner who had many lifetimes' worth of them.

When Shadow's interest didn't wane even weeks after Sonic became aware of it, Sonic still didn't thought much of it and simply kinda presumed was just trying to pick a favorite and was having a hard time choosing because there were just too many of them.

But regardless of how much time passed, Shadow never really seemed to lose his fascination. At some rare occasions, Shadow's hands would actually linger on his scars. Those rare times were generally reserved for post-victorious moments when they were patching-up after foiling Dr. Eggman's latest plan for world domination. When they had a Chaos Emerald at hand, Shadow would use that to heal him but when they didn't, good old bandages and some needlework had to do—and it was at those times that Shadow's hands would brush over his older scars and Shadow would seemingly get lost in thought for brief moments before resuming his medical care of him right where he had left off without anyhow acknowledging his momentary lapse.

At those times, Sonic would wonder whether there was another reason to the hands brushing over his scars than just fascination. Nowadays Sonic didn't really think much about his own scars anymore; he just saw them as mementos of his various adventures—just a bunch of souvenirs he didn't really have a way of throwing out but which he didn't really mind that much to have them somehow removed. After all, they were perfectly hidden by his fur on normal circumstances and it was actually kind of fun to recount most of the tales that stood behind them when someone actually asked about them.

However, he didn't believe that the tales were what Shadow was thinking about when examining them; after all, the agent only knew the background of those he himself witnessed being put there and the handful Sonic had told him about. The circumstances of the creation of the majority of them were unknown to the agent.

Therefore, it was only natural that Shadow's interest would pique his own interest. Even now as they were lying here in their bed, resting and catching their breath after the exertion of minutes prior, Shadow's thumb continued to softly brush at his side, where a single long line of scar decorated the dip of it. Like a pendulum it swung back and forth in a move so perfectly harmonic, Sonic doubted Shadow himself was really aware he was doing it.

And Sonic wasn't sure whether it was his curiosity finally losing its patience or the nice haze of afterglow that at last made him ask for an explanation.

"Why are you so interested in my scars?"

There was a small minute change in Shadow's expression, a brief moment of surprise flashing over the other's face—probably that he had finally noticed after so long—but it quickly gave away to something akin thoughtfulness. The hand on Sonic's side continued its silent motions.

"...They're beautiful," the agent stated simply, in the end.

"Huh?" Sonic blinked, confused. He would hardly call his own scars beautiful; sure, most healed really nicely, but others looked like a bad surgeon had gotten their hands on him. "Beautiful?"

Shadow made a small nod of his head. His thumb finally stopping its motions, but only so the agent could start run his hand over the rest of Sonic's side. "Your body's is made for speed, aerodynamic with slim build," the agent continued, almost thoughtfully. "You also have remarkable physique—you're slender, athletic and flexible. You have an immense stamina."

Slightly shifting on his side but not from the other's touch, Sonic furrowed his brows in a mix of confusion and curiosity. Sure, the way Shadow spoke one could interpret as the other complimenting him as partners should do from time to time, but the agent's tone spoke of something else; Shadow was stating facts and observations like a professor on a lecture—this wasn't meant to be flattery. This was...Sonic wasn't really sure what exactly it was, but he was way too curious to not listen to the rest of it.

"You're not muscular but you posses great power nonetheless." Shadow hand pressed slightly more into his side, not to cause pain but as if to better feel the strong muscles underneath. "There are hundreds of scars covering your body, dozens of healed fractures in your bones, years of pain carved into your flesh."

And again Shadow lightly brushed one of his scars, near his shoulder, a particularly nasty one that he had gotten when he'd first fought Perfect Chaos. The dark hand rested there, affectionately rubbing over the old injury as if that action alone could somehow erase the pain it had caused in the past.

"You have a body of skilled fighter who has lived his life on the front lines of the battlefield, injured and in pain but never giving up, purely out of your own will placing your life at stakes to save people you'll never know."

The hand stilled.

"Your body's a work of art—the art of war." Shadow looked up, locking their gazes and something—intrigue? Admiration? Sonic didn't really know— swirled in those crimson eyes. "And it's beautiful."

"I-I..." Sonic started, unsure how to reply to such speech. How was one even supposed to reply to something like this? To an ode about their body? "Whoa, that was...something."

Shadow gave a low chuckle, shaking his head as he brought his wandering hand back to his own side. Sonic wasn't really sure whether he wanted it to go or not at the moment. "Not the answer you've expected I take?" Shadow asked.

"No. Not in the wildest dreams. No." Sonic gave a small chuckle of his own, letting the sound help him back into familiar territory. "Man, you know how to give a compliment."

"Glad to know you're pleased." Shadow gave him a small content smile, one of those rare little things that only he ever got to see while the two of them were lying in the safe, familiar confines of their bed.

But then the red eyes glanced towards the clock and a slight sourness curled Shadow's lip. "I should head to work already," the other noted, unenthusiastically.

"Yeah, sure. Go ahead and get ready. I'm going to give myself a few more minutes." Sonic gave the other a wave to signify he didn't mind, Shadow giving him a single acknowledging glance in return before disappearing into the bathroom to freshen up after their morning activities. The sound of running water followed only moments later.

Sonic let himself roll over onto his back, green eyes gazing up as he mulled over Shadow's words.

On multiple occasions, people had said he had a 'sexy' or 'attractive' body, and with all the world-saving and running around, he was bound to have a great physique. But so far, nobody, except Shadow, had ever called it a work of art.

Sonic knew that beauty was in the eye of the beholder, but this...

It was odd that somebody would find beauty in war, but not that surprising when one considered what kind of life Shadow lead. In certain aspects, they had a very similar lifestyle, him fighting Dr. Eggman most of the time and Shadow facing all kind of enemies in the services of the GUN; they both spent a significant portion of their life on the battlefield and even though Sonic didn't know much about Shadow's 'childhood', from the snippets he had heard from Rouge and some more he had managed to lure out of Shadow, it wasn't something one would call a pleasant experience.

Shadow had had been fighting since his first days. And with him being partly Black Arms, a war-seeking species, it was most likely in Shadow's very DNA to find war attractive—to find power and strength beautiful. Warrior scars were proof of those.

Sonic turned his head towards the bathroom door, listening to the soft tapping of Shadow's morning shower. There were still many things he didn't know about the agent but this...

This helped him to understand Shadow just a little bit more.