They weren't kissing.

Aurora Interlude

His arms weren't around her. Her fingers weren't tangled in his hair. They weren't whispering - desperate - meaningless silences to passionate, deaf ears. They weren't kissing.

But the edges of their lips touched in searing, crystal hesitance. Their eyes weren't closed, staring into color that had become its own meaning. It was its own sort of blindness.

The thin bond of contact was its own kind of possession.

The blue and green ribbons twisted electrically across the empty sky. Faint, chalked on blurs of pink wavered a harmonic counterpoint on their flowing borders. Silver starlight bent jealously around the spectacle and peered cautiously through the swirls. The moons had set, it was the brief interval when night was true, dark and intense.

When the auroras danced for earthly eyes.

Meryl imagined she saw those lights echoed on his white shirt or pale features as she watched him, reclined comfortably in the sand. The lines of anxiety that had drawn his face together so miserably were fading. A hint of a smile quirked the corner of his mouth.

Burying her nose into the arms hugging her knees, she hid her own smile. Content, tender eyes watched his outline in the dark. As he watched the sky.

Sharing his breath, tasting his intent, her eyes almost closed for an instant. He almost broke the contact, almost tried to steady himself. It wasn't falling. They were already there. But it was as dangerous and as frightening and she almost screamed at the hollowness when he did pull back.

He shivered, not cold, at her yearning. His. Ignorant of hands or arms, he leaned forward again.

"It's too intense . . ."

He was rambling, something scientific that she would have listened to if he didn't look so beautiful saying it, " . . . dangerous even. It's not just the simple electromagnetic activity that's increased, but the emission of radiation and ions is dramatically higher than any other time. That's run of the mill really, just part of the solar cycle.

"This is rare. The solar cycles almost never match."

He looked to her, hoping she shared his wonder So many years, so many wonders and experiences, and he shared this aurora with her.

Looking at his childish grin, she laughed, "It is rare."

She was dizzy. It was something real and happening to her; it couldn't be denied. He was making her dizzy.

He kissed her and knew it wasn't inevitable. It was his choice, hers, to sit in starlight and watch each other. He kissed her, and it wasn't more than that brush, that tiny spark of a caress that fueled and broke so much tension. Their eyes were still open, to remember. He kissed her and wondered why he hadn't sooner.

He pouted, "You're laughing at me."

Meryl sniffed, "Why shouldn't I, you spiky-haired fool?"

His glare was almost a grin, "Fine. I was just trying to keep you company."

Scooting over tiny, yellow sand that stirred and clung under her, Meryl closed the distance between them. Pretending the sand between her fingertips was his hand, clasping it tightly in fantasy, his hand unconsciously doing the same, she asked, "So why haven't I ever seen an aurora this far south before?"

They had drifted, or wandered, or moved. Closer. Grazing each other, almost touching more than lips. Her shirt crumpled against his, and that was fire. So much in so little. So slowly so quick. Speaking and then kissing. It was strange and fantastic and they hoped it would be real tomorrow.

"Our two suns give us this. Their combined solar wind flashes against our magnetic field and we get these auroras. Their heat and our desert are forgiven by these lights.

"The storms of our suns have contributed this time. The maximums, as I was saying earlier, coincide right now, so the solar wind is stronger than ever. Even this far south. Their fire burns our sky, I'm surprised we haven't seen it in daytime."

Separate or entwined with day, this was real. Her fingers skimmed across his cheekbone to tangle in blonde feathers. Her other hand was grasped in his, suddenly, and she didn't know if was for restraint or contact. A touch, a kiss; it was moving so quickly. The feeling bubbling in her would have been giggles, but she was already kissing him again.

He pressed her hand to the sand. It was no fantasy. An arm around her waist confirmed this. More contact. And less. He broke the kiss, pressing his cheek against hers.

He'd fallen silent. He had explained. She had understood. And now there was something he wanted to know. Their eyes met and it was minutes, waiting and asking.

Maybe he found it.

He leaned forward, but it wasn't a kiss.

His eyes found the aurora on her shoulder.

Quietly, her voice murmured, "Vash" and he found her again.

"Kiss me again."

note: I have officially joined the mush brigade. Why? Because I wanted to read some VxM and I couldn't find any!!!!! Umm, could some else write mush? I'm not very good at it. However, you should have known better. Jeez, the story does abbreviate to ai, afterall.

On a more interesting level, we actually are at the height of our sun's eleven year solar cycle and some of our auroras (btw, this is just as correct as aurorae (I didn't think the second fit the story)) have reached as far south as Mexico City.

Oh, and I promise to never again write in metaphor. It's weird and methinks perhaps too subtle.

Trigun is copyright (c) Yasuhiro Nightow and Young King Ours.