Title: Lovers in a Dangerous Time
Author: Lily
Archive: fanfiction.net under Lily1130 (no spaces), anywhere else, just ask...
Pairing: 1x2
Categories: angst, songfic, romance of sorts, yaoi, lime
Rating: R/NC-17 (for sexual references, but nothing explicit)
Warnings: none
Spoilers: none
Notes: *italics* Duo's POV. [lyrics]
Disclaimer: I do not own the g-boys, nor do I own the song "Lovers in a Dangerous Time" Also, the particular version I have is by the Barenaked Ladies.
Feedback: Hungry Bob loves to eat up positive comments! Throw snacks at him and he throws fic ideas at me. send to: ann_marie_martino@ emerson.edu

Lovers in a Dangerous Time

[Don't the hours grow shorter as the days go by
You never get to stop and open our eyes
One minute you're waiting for the sky to fall
The next you're dazzled by the beauty of it all]

When I look up into the night sky, I don't see the stars that poets swoon over. No, instead I see the colonies of space, the tyrannical rule of Dekim Barton, the thwarted attempts at Operation Meteor. I can still see the exploding yellow and orange flames that lit up the blackness of space, that drowned out the stars, that dwarfed the so-called beauty. I can still see L2 flickering in the light of the moon, the street rats stealing to survive, the instances - more than once - that I blew someone for a scrap of food. I've heard the others whisper at night, sometimes, that I've been scarred from a childhood of abuse, but I would have to disagree in this case. In a time of war, in a time where the most serene of personalities burst into passionate flame, in a time where food was only available to those who knew how to "organize" - open a history book and read about the Holocaust - you do what you have to to survive. I'm lying here in bed, cold despite the warmth of my lover that seeps into the mattress. He closes his eyes during sex, he turns the light off, he doesn't want to see it if my face twists in the candlelight from some past abuse. Innocence was an illusion on the streets of L2. You can't lose something that you never had - it was only afterwards, in the arms of Sister Helen or sitting on Father Maxwell's lap, that I would realize there even *was* such a thing as innocence. Such a thing as not knowing all of the world's dirty secrets. Such a thing as not being cynical - when cynicism is all that I ever had the privilege to know.

[Lovers in a dangerous time
Lovers in a dangerous time]

But I made peace with my past when I was piloting Deathscythe. Everytime my scythe ripped through another Aries or Leo, I saw the faces of the men I'd blown, the children I'd sacrificed myself to feed, the young girls standing on the corners with their lipstick thick on their lips. I could see the piece of stale bread I'd stuffed down my throat while I waited for the authorities to find me, while I waited to die. I would see the children that were orphaned by OZ's cruelty and I would get so angry that it would pour out of me like an ocean of bitterness, the salt souring my tongue. I can still taste the semen on my lips sometimes, and it's an aphrodisiac, a memory of what I had that I didn't know enough to want to lose. Now, when I taste the salt of my lover clinging to my tongue I feel no regrets. Except for one...

[These fragile bodies of touch and taste
This fragrant skin this hair like lace
Spirits open to the thrust of grace
Never a breath you can afford to waste]

What is my one regret? That I cannot lie here beside him for eternity. That in the morning when I wake up he will be powering up Wing and I will be alone, colder than an L2 winter in this bed. He comes to me at the darkest point of the night, when the moon is hiding and the stars are leering, and he climbs into my bed, his fingers clumsy on my imperfect body. He whispers in my ear as I arch my back into his fingers, as my hair is loosed and flows over us like the war that cannot be avoided. This war is a foolish thing, and we are broken pieces of glass in the sea of said war, lashed and beaten till smooth. Sensitivity is for others, those who lie at home in their comfortable beds with their permanent lovers and their rich meals, while I have only the time that I can steal between battles. The sweat sparkling on his body sticks his flesh to mine, the drops like little diamond slivers in the moonlight, the scent of him fills my nostrils as my body jerks upwards to kiss his caresses. His hair falls into his eyes and I watch - I never close my eyes until I cannot hold out any longer. I watch the passion as it twists his features, I see every time his face tightens with guilt, and my finger drifts down the graceful arch of his spine, trying to pull him into me, to tell him without words that it's okay, I'm not as fragile as spun glass. The lover without words. In the morning when the sun cools my passion on my skin I will open my eyes and look into the darkness of the day.

[Lovers in a dangerous time
Lovers in a dangerous time
Lovers in a dangerous time]

When I climb into Deathscythe's cockpit I wonder if today will be the day that I return to the safehouse alone. If this battle will be the one to shatter my illusions of love and burst the delicate glass bubble I've woven around us. If this will be the time that he is forced to continue on without me; if this will be the moment snagged between heaven and hell where there is only the two of us. That moment when everything is so sharply defined that my eyes tear and I cannot see my lover, the endless time suspended between seconds as I watch myself crash and burn to death. I may be Shinigami but I am mortal and I am afraid to leave him behind. I do not think he will survive beyond the relationship built under the sheets. Ours is a stolen love, the type that thrives on the screams of passion but withers under the onslaught of the screams of war and pain.

[When you're lovers in a dangerous time
Sometimes you're made to feel as if your love's a crime
Nothing worth having comes without some kind of fight
Got to kick at the darkness 'til it bleeds daylight
When you're lovers in a dangerous time]

I cannot say when this war will be over, I cannot say if any of us will survive it. It's entirely possible that once the war is a distant memory for the rest of the world it will still be eating us alive. My palm slides over the curve of his beautiful, scarred spine, my thumb flickering against his shoulder blades. The stars are so bright in the sky, but all I can see is the path of my scythe as it streaks through space. All I can see is the mirage of safety twinkling in those burning balls of gas. I admit it's not very poetic, and that it's not a very pretty picture. But neither is war the pretty picture that so many paint. I could paint the wall with your brains and prove to you that war can never be anything but hell. The sweat the clung to his upper lip has dried and faded and only the sheen remains, visible in the starlight. Trowa and Quatre have turned to each other for comfort first, but I knew Heero would follow not long after. His emotions seethe below the surface of his blank exterior and sometimes I catch him looking at me, fear shimmering in his blue eyes. I close my eyes as tightly as I can and wish that night could last forever, that he and I could build our own reality in the abyss, that we could turn this evanescent moment into something permanent. I can only pray to the God that deserted me long ago that we will come out of this war with our psyches intact - and barring that, that at least we will come out of it together and alive. But there are no promises that can be made, even in the darkest seconds swallowed up by the void. I can still feel the softness of his skin coupled with the hardness of his muscles, my fingers have memorized the feel of his body, my body remembers his as it covers mine, and I want to kiss his eyebrow and whisper promises that we will survive, that our love with come through a war unscathed. But will it?

[Lovers in a dangerous time
Lovers in a dangerous time
Lovers in a dangerous time]

It is for this reason alone that we do not share kisses. I've never tasted his mouth, and I want this war to be over so I can learn what his mouth feels like, so that I can explore a taste that is uniquely his. There are too many chances for death to claim us for me to allow him into the privacy of my mouth. These lips have been wrapped around the cocks of complete strangers, this tongue has sent those same strangers to orgasmic bliss, but I will not taint him with myself and my love until this war is over. It's a good thing he's never asked me why I won't allow him to kiss me, because I doubt that he can understand what it's like to give someone the intimacy of your mouth and then to lose them. I may say that I am Shinigami but Death has claimed too many of those that I love. Until then, my lover, my lips are sealed.

[We were lovers in a dangerous time
We were lovers in a dangerous time]