2BHank oneshots <33

☁︎︎ / "Scars"

Doc wasn't a very self conscious person. He didn't really care how he looked. It was never a concern for him, he had other more important things to do than worry about how presentable he looked. He didn't care if his hair was frizzy and a complete mess, he didn't care what clothes he wore. he simply didn't care. He only cared what one person thought about him. that person was Hank.

Hank has told him many times he was perfect, gave him compliments a lot, and that's all he needed. His confidence was set. He didn't care not one bit. But if that was so, why was he so upset over something as simple as his scars?

He hardly had any. He was in hiding a lot, working from the safety of the base. The rare times he went on missions he'd gain at least one or two scars. No matter how hard he fought to avoid it he would get caught off guard and gain another.. or a few.

2B lifted up his shirt in the mirror, revealing his beaten up torso. A scar dragging from his belly to his hips, another right across the middle of his stomach, ranging near his chest. Other littler scars scattered across his sides. He didn't care about how he looked, but why did this bother him so much? Seeing the remains of large injuries littered on his body was so frustrating. The pink tinted lines so bold compared to his pale skin.

He couldn't figure out why he hated them so much. Maybe it was the memories that came with them. The severe one that was closest to his hips brought back some bad ones. The time he needed to get into one of the agents computers so he went along with the trio. He got slashed across the stomach and almost died. Though, it wasn't all bad. Actually, it brought more good ones than bad. Hank worrying his ass off about him made him feel special, the whole group was mindful of him for once, and some other things that were actually pleasant to remember again.

That couldn't be it. Even the ones that didn't have as great of memories didn't make him this emotional. What was it? What was it about them that made him this disgusted?

He grimaced as he gazed into the mirror more and more. His eyes traced over every gash to thin cut line. Tears glossed over his eyes, making his image in the mirror blurry. He knew it was wrong to be so upset over such a thing as scars, this was Nevada, everyone's body has been torn to shreds. Something about it just bugged him so much. More than deimos breaking into his office while he was working, more than not getting his morning coffee, it hurt him so bad he was in tears.

Before he knew it, tears started falling down his face rapidly. He couldn't help it anymore.

——

Hank arrived home from a mission. Sanford had flopped down on the couch with a groan, complaining about being sore. Normally he would eat after such a long and exhausting mission, but he just wanted to see Doc. He wanted to get out of his bloody clothes and get comfy in bed, cuddled up with his boyfriend.

When Hank made a beeline for his and 2B's shared bedroom, Sanford called after him. "Hey buddy aren't ya gonna eat?"

He shook his head, quickly signing 'Not hungry' before running to the bedroom. He knocked, hearing a faint voice tell him he could come in. He slowly opened the door, seeing 2B standing in front of the mirror.

The light was off and the sky was a deep red, providing hardly any natural light through the windows. Hank could only see the outline of his beloved. He came over to Doc, taking down his mask and pressing his metal jaw against 2B's cheek, resembling a kiss.