Fic: Under My Skin

[csi_sanders1129]

Title: Under My Skin
Chapters: 1/1
Author: csi_sanders1129
Genre: Romance.
Ratings: T
Word Count: ~2000
Pairings/Characters: Jason/Spinelli
Synopsis: Jason and Spinelli both have scars that tell of the events of their pasts.
Comments: For suerum . Ugh, the interpretation of Spin’s family history is mine, but all recognizable characters belong to GH. Enjoy!

 

Jason lies shirtless on his bed, Spinelli sitting beside him in a similar state of half-dress. The morning sun is leeching in through the shades on the windows on the other side of the room, but neither of them minds. They’ve had a long day – near death experiences and kidnappings and police – and all they want is to relax for a bit in the aftermath.

 

Spinelli’s fingers run over Jason’s stomach, ghosting over a starburst shaped scar that can only have once been a gunshot wound. “What was this one?” He prompts, as he lays down, his head pillowed on his lover’s shoulder.

 

“Ugh, that was the Tin Man. In July of ’97.” The elder explains.

 

“The Tin Man? Might I presume that Stone Cold is not referring to Jack Haley’s portrayal of L. Frank Baum’s ‘Tin Woodsman’?” Spinelli frowns in confusion. He has certainly never heard of any other Tin Man.

 

Jason laughs at that. “No, different Tin Man. He came here to kill Sonny, but obviously didn’t manage it.”

 

Spinelli nods, and lets his eyes wander again; trying to pick out a scar he doesn’t already know the story behind. The one’s most recent – courtesy of Jerry Jacks, are on his leg and shoulder. Another, from Sam, inflicted by accident, on his shoulder, obtained during the hospital fire. Then there are the scars on his hands from when he nearly destroyed them saving Elizabeth.  And the one on his leg that he got because of Spinelli – he ran when they were supposed to be turning themselves in. But he hadn’t trusted Jason, then. Not like he does now.

 

Similarly, Jason doesn’t ask about the scar from the surgery that removed Spinelli’s spleen. Nor does he question the couple of gashes courtesy of the preceding hit and run.

 

“Mm,” Jason hums, shifting. He flips them, hovering over Spinelli like he has countless times before. “My turn.” He says as he drops his lips against Spinelli’s neck and moves lower, to a jagged scar he’d previously taken note of on the younger’s collar bone. “This one?”

 

Spinelli hums in thought. “Strangely enough, I gained that one in 1997, as well. Though under much less dramatic circumstances than your tale of the Tin Man’s bullet.” He pauses long enough to kiss Jason for a long moment before he continues. “I was riding my bike to the library down the street and ended up hitting a rather inconveniently placed crack in the concrete. The bike flipped and your Jackal found his fall resulted in landing with considerable force on his shoulder. I managed to break my collarbone in several places. The scar is from the surgery to fix it.”

 

Jason sits up, now straddling Spinelli’s pajama pant clad hips. “You were, what? Ten? That had to be a pretty scary experience.” Looking at the wound now, knowing what it is, it does seem less jagged and more clinical in nature.

 

“Indeed it was, but again, it likely does not compare with any of the wounds you have obtained throughout the years.” His hand lands on Jason’s chest finding yet another starburst shaped would – Jason has quite a few of them, this time a little higher up than the Tin Man wound. “I don’t suppose the Scarecrow was responsible for this one?”

 

“No, Reese Marshall. She was an FBI Agent that ended up involved with Sonny instead. She died in the train wreck a year before you got here.” He explains. “That was February, 2005.”

 

Spinelli frowns, sits up, too. “Are you sure you want to continue with this?”

 

Jason nods. “Yes. In fact,” he pauses long enough to climb off of Spinelli, “come here.” He leans against the headboard, and Spinelli acquiescently moves to sit in front of him, his back to Jason’s chest. His hands land on the younger’s back, rubbing persistently at tense and sore muscles. “This one on your back, where’d it come from?”

 

“Kevin Quinn.”

 

“Kevin Quinn?” Jason echoes. “Care to elaborate?”

 

Spinelli leans into his lover’s touch. “He was in school with me. He and his two friends – Tyler and Mark – always bullied me.”

 

“Next time we go to visit your family I think I might want to have a talk with Kevin, Tyler, and Mark.” Jason growls out, only partially kidding. “How’d you get the scar?” His fingers ghost over the slightly raised line that crosses Spinelli’s back.

 

Spinelli hums in thought. “Ugh, October of 2004. I was staying late at school to work on an assignment and Kevin and Mark and Tyler caught me as I was on my way home. I, of course, had my trusty laptop with me. They grabbed for my beloved laptop and, in the Jackal’s futile attempts to liberate it from the likes of my tormentors, the strap of my messenger bag ripped. I fell backwards, and landed on some broken glass in the street.” Spinelli sighs and looks nostalgic. “They destroyed my laptop, the heathen thugs, and left me bleeding in the street with pieces of glass erupting from my back, the empty shell of my laptop in front of me.”

 

 Spinelli doesn’t even have to turn around to know that Jason has shifted into Stone-Cold mode. He tenses, and when he speaks, his voice is thick and dangerous. “Forget your laptop, Spinelli. I’m definitely going to visit those punks next time we’re in Oakfield.”

 

“I’m not sure that’s exactly necessary, Stone Cold. Though I can’t say I would be opposed to some intimidating and potentially worrisome looks were we to… happen upon Kevin Mark and Tyler next time we’re in town.”

 

Jason makes some sort of noncommittal noise that makes no promises as to how the trio of bullies will fair in whatever confrontation might occur. For now, he has Spinelli in front of him and still more questions to ask. “Your turn now.”

 

He leans back, disrupting the motion of Jason’s hands on his back. “The last of the gunshot wounds on your stomach. That one.” He requests, and angles his head to meet Jason’s lips with his own.

 

“December of ’99. I went to a meeting with a guy named Moreno. It was an ambush and he took out the guard I was with. It was supposed to be Sonny there, that night, but he was off with Carly. I got shot, he got laid.” Despite the lengthy recovery time that he endured under Elizabeth’s care following that injury, he finds that incident mostly bemusing now.

 

“You have taken more than your fair share of bullets for Mr. Sir.” Spinelli notes, one of his hands entwining with Jason’s.

 

“Well, we won’t have to worry about that anymore.” Jason assures the younger man, running his fingers through Spinelli’s hair. Sonny is the cause of their most recent scars. Freshly bandaged marks on Spinelli’s wrist from where he’d been bound and held hostage for two days before Jason had figured it out, a light graze of a bullet wound patched up on Jason’s forearm. He’s dead. They’re alive. “We’re safe from him now.”

 

Spinelli nods. It had been a trying couple of days, but that’s over now. “Indeed, Stone Cold.”

 

Jason holds Spinelli tighter and endeavors to continue their exploratory exchange. “I have to say, I’ve been curious about this one.” He comments, and he extricates his hand from Spinelli’s in order to press against the oddly shaped scar that starts on his hip and disappears below the band of his pajama pants.

 

The younger stills and his breath gets shaky. “I, ugh, I was three. June 28, 1990.” He starts, awkwardly. “My Mom and Dad and I were going… somewhere. I don’t know where. Or don’t remember, as it were.”

 

He knows already, where this is headed. His arms curl around Spinelli protectively, as if he can keep the memory away from his lover. But if Spinelli wants to tell him, he’s more than willing to listen.

 

“As well as the Jackal can recall, from second hand information, from police reports of the accident, it was late, and a driver on the other side of the road crossed into our lane and hit us head on. My parents were killed on impact. The guy in the other car was fine, he ran off before the police got there. My only injuries consisted of a bump to the head and,” he pauses to gesture to the scar along his hip, “that.”

 

Jason stays quiet, lets him talk, even while he’s wondering if the guy who hit them was ever caught and brought to justice.

 

“The car kind of caved in on me, supposedly, even though I was in the backseat. The paramedics on the scene used the Jaws of Life to get me out, and somewhere in the chaos I ended up with the cut that is now the scar.” He summarizes. “I don’t remember any of it. Not the crash or being in the hospital, or… Or my parents.”

 

“You were only three, Spinelli.” Jason says softly, as his lover turns in his arms to curl up against him.

 

Spinelli presses his face into Jason’s chest. “This is true, but the only memory I have of my parents stem from that scar and the few home videos and old photos tucked away at my Granny’s house. I don’t remember them. At all.”

 

Jason knows what it feels like not to remember. He has scars from before he became Jason Morgan that he can’t explain. “Spinelli,” he says, pressing a kiss to the top of the younger’s head. “I hate that you had to go through all of that growing up.” He says, sweeping a hand up and down Spinelli’s arm in soft brushes. “I know that it was hard, and I know that it’s selfish to think like I am… but, if all those things hadn’t happened, would you be the same person you are today?”

 

“What do you mean, Stone Cold?” Spinelli asks, tilting his head to find Jason’s icy blue eyes.

 

“If the circumstances had been different, do you think you would have been working for Alcazar? That I would have found you?” His fingers trace over the fresh bandages on Spinelli’s wrists. “Granted, if that were the case, you’d have a few less scars, but we never would have met, and we wouldn’t be here right now.”

 

Spinelli nods in understanding of Jason’s point. “This is true, your Jackal would certainly be a different person had such events not culminated in the way that they did.”

 

The elder shifts them again, lies them down and lets Spinelli curl into his side, as he runs his fingers through Spinelli’s hair. “What do you say we plan a trip down to Oakfield soon? We could even leave today, if you want. You can show me all the places you went when you were growing up – maybe I’ll run into Kevin and Mark and Tyler – and we can get copies of your parent’s pictures and videos.” The few times they’ve been to Tennessee since getting together had mostly been short visits with Spinelli’s Granny on holidays, not really enough time to go exploring.

 

“The Jackal would be most amenable to such an impromptu excursion.” Spinelli smiles. “After a few hours of rest, I’ll set to work on the arrangements, if that’s alright?”

 

“Whatever you want, Spinelli.” Jason agrees, leaning over to flip the bedside lamp off, even thought it does little good with the sun high in the sky already. He tugs at the blankets and manages to get them covered up. He leans down to kiss Spinelli again, keeping him close. “Get some sleep.”

Comments

This was...

[suerum.livejournal.com]

A lovely little vignette. I like moments in time caught between people. We are reminded of all the times Jason has been wounded in his line of work, the violence of his world. Spinelli has the more prosaic scars that accompany day to day living but he also possesses the most poignant one from when he was orphaned. Yet, who is to say how mysteriously fate works and it is probably true that without that life altering event in his childhood he wouldn't have had the equally pivotal encounter with Jason. Everything is all entangled with everything else...