Honest to god when had it changed? When had his feelings changed for the scrawny girl who lay in his bed every night when had he stopped minding her sudden pushes and punches? When had it been that he looked at her with nothing but love?

When had it changed? When had he wanted her so badly that he couldn't talk if she opened her dry cracked lips? When had he ever thought that nothing was as important as her? When had he seen her and felt anything but this amazing over whelming feeling of love and pride.

Pride that she was making her own way in the world. When had he felt that for anyone? What was it about her?

There was nothing spectacular about her honestly she wasn't extraordinarily pretty. She had blonde hair, greasy and badly cut, always in a lose braid. Though he loved to run his fingers through it as he would kiss her neck and collar bone over her alabaster skin. Well it was pale if she had bathed, otherwise it was the same dirty gray as the city smog. She was thin, almost too thin, not enough to eat and she never really noticed it, never notices her ribs pressing against her skin.

She had blue eyes, watery from death and lack of caring, as if she was perpetually about to cry. Her face would be pretty though she had a series of scars decorating it. The scars not telling of heroic deeds, instead they show memories of a girl so worried, so terrified. Not of a battered and abused girl, of a girl who walked the streets, picking fights with everyone she saw. Picking fights so she wouldn't forget pain. Her raw anger at the world, hating it so much, thinking that the world had to fight her, so she fought it.

Her Scars were raised indentations against his lips when he kissed her cheeks. She would sometimes push him away for no reason. Her eyes apologetic but her body closed up. Skittery would nod and turn away. Once again contemplating why he put up with her.

Sometimes she would be waiting for him when he came home, tired, and wanting nothing more but food. She would kiss him lightly, touch his face. Feed him some stew. Then kiss his neck, licking him lightly. Telling him in her own way that everything was going to be alright. Her hands would massage his aching muscles, removing the tension. Times like those he knew why he was with her.

The first time he had seen her she had punched him, breaking his nose. Ever since then they'd shared a bed. At first it was only her curled up tightly, not letting herself be touched, nor touching him. Then one night she had grabbed onto him possessively, allowing herself to hug him and to have him hug her. Two days later he kissed her for the first time. Her lips had been cracked and almost bleeding. His hadn't been much better. She had a fresh cut on her cheek, which Skittery had kissed next, trying his luck.

It progressed slowly. And by the time they were ready to do anything he had rented an apartment and gotten a job at a factory. She was still walking around, fighting. Trying to get people to pay her to do so.

The first time had been tentative, Guard not knowing what to do. Her face puzzled as Skittery kissed her gently pulling her to him, his whispers against her neck. She relaxed, enjoying the feel of his hands on her body. Both were warm, it was in July. Guard had whimpered, one of the first times he had ever heard her do so.

Skittery figures that some where between the time she punched him and right now, as he held her close after a night of love making that he had fallen for her. He kissed her hair lightly smiling at her. She grinned her scarred hands moving against his chest lightly.

"Love you" He whispered, understanding now.

Disclaimer: I own Guard, They own Skits

Author's notes: Aww, found this while looking for another story. This is why I have to look around my database once in a while and post finished stuff. Not quite sure if anyone will read this as it has been a long time since I wrote anything on Guard or Skitts. So this should be interesting.