Cut and Run 1 - Cut and Run

to come out. At least the damage wouldn't require surgery this time. He would have sighed at Ty's seeming enjoyment, but it would have required him to move.
    Ty didn't touch him for several moments, just hovered next to him on the bed peering over the wounds quietly. Finally, he moved, the rustle of his clothing and the slight dip in the bed the only indication that he was even still there. A moment later cold steel touched the skin of Zane's nape. Once, twice, three times in rapid succession, merely brushing over the skin as if Ty were touching the side of the blade to his skin experimentally and then raising it again. The movement was repeated several more times, the only sound a swish of cotton and the tinkle of glass shards being deposited into Ty's hand after every three or four flicks of the knife.
    Zane's eyes squeezed shut and his fingers curled in the bedspread, but otherwise he didn't move or make a sound. He was breathing shallowly to keep his back still, and he thought after this a good, angry fit was in order. Some of the glass felt like pins being removed as Ty scraped, just little pricks. Other times he felt the knife cut in, and his breathing stilled as he felt the glass pry loose, leaving a tiny gouge behind.
    "When I was in the service they had us testing this stuff,” Ty told him in a conversational manner as he saw the muscles in Zane's back bunch with tension. “It was called Dragon Skin Body Armor. They wanted us to see how far it could go, you know, before it would give in. Put it through the wringer. And since we were these crazy-ass Recon boys with a bit of a reputation for destroying government property, they figured we'd be perfect to do it. Well, we took that shit everywhere with us. Threw it out of planes, planted landmines under it, tossed grenades at it, ran over it with a Humvee. My buddy and I even set it up on this pole once and launched a ground-to-air missile at it. God, that was funny as hell,” he mused with obvious fondness. “Only damage we ever did to it was tear the cover fabric,” he told Zane in a tone that could have been respect. “But the Bureau don't allow it. You tell me why that is, hmm?"
    "Because they don't want us to turn into pansy-asses?"
    "Natural selection, maybe,” Ty responded with a snicker. “You ain't smart enough to run away from the grenade, you get weeded out."
    Zane chuckled and winced. “Fuck, don't make me laugh,” he practically begged.
    "Hold still,” Ty warned with a hand pressed to the back of Zane's head. He laughed suddenly, nearly snorting as he said, “I've had dates like this."
    "Christ. Now, he develops a sense of humor,” Zane complained. “Please leave some skin intact? I'll need it to match the other scars back there."
    "I could just connect them all,” Ty responded with a brush of his finger over the mess of thin white scars covered with blood. He didn't ask what had happened. For someone who had seen combat, wounds from a car bomb or something similar were fairly obvious. What he did want to ask was how Zane would come by such mementos. He refrained, though. Mainly because he didn't really care all that much.
    "I'd look like a spider web,” Zane said, muscles shifting under Ty's fingertips.
    "We'll just call you Spiderman,” Ty offered with a smirk. “I don't know enough about him to make jokes,” he added with sincere disappointment.
    Zane snorted and the muscles in his back involuntarily clenched and shifted, catching against the knife. Ty jerked the knife back and immediately whapped Zane on the head for moving. “Shit,” he huffed as blood welled where his knife had cut into Zane's skin. “Asshole. That ain't my fault."
    "Get back to work,” Zane ordered curtly. “I need to bleed some more before I can have my afternoon bender."
    "Yeah, I've definitely had dates like this,” Ty responded with a small smirk.
    "You mean you actually date? You must pick some real winners. I need to meet one of them,” Zane said with obvious snark in his voice.
    "Good luck with that,” Ty answered sarcastically.
    "Damn,” Zane muttered, setting his chin back on his crossed hands. Then he shifted uncomfortably. “There's a chunk below my right shoulder blade."
    "I know,” Ty responded testily. “Stop moving,” he cautioned again as he pressed his hand down on the back of Zane's head. Zane stilled, but the smile still pulled at the corners of his mouth between grimaces. Ty had to lean closer, bracing his free hand on