His gunshot wound. A relic from his time before Fred. A battle wound which had, for a time, brought him and Gunn closer as brothers in arms. A reminder of how Virginia had not been able to live with the life he'd chosen for himself.

And Fred - sweet, clever, curious Fred - was kissing the marred skin. Allowing her tongue to dart out and taste him there. How was it that everything she touched was suddenly no longer ugly.

Wes drew in a shuddering breath, keenly aware of the delicate pressure of her lips and tongue against his skin. His fingers found their way into her soft brown hair, twining with the tousled strands.

Her name spilled from his lips with the softest of sighs. "Fred..."